ʚ Nani ɞ

¿𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑖n𝑔 m𝑒 𝑎 𝑠𝑖nn𝑒𝑟?

[nanilis]

𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠, 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑦 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘀. 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝐺𝑜𝑑 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘. 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑏𝑜𝑤, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠, 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝘀𝗲𝗲.ᐣ

[nanilis]

I saw this on TikTok and I am actually going insane. Their pretty bodies with tattoos sobwlwkwnwpwnele instant drool fest istg. I’m sure someone matches my freak here pls

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

⁀જ➣ You wouldn’t say lying comes easy to you. Especially not when you’re surrounded by people you care so deeply about. But when you’re forced into a corner, there is nothing left for you to do but to lie your way out, dragging an innocent server down with you. Luckily for you, Soobin, the ever so helpful server, is more than willing to make your time here enjoyable. So what if he has to attend a wedding for people he’s never met before? As long as he’s by your side, he doesn’t mind anything you throw his way.

pairing ↣ server!Soobin x fem!reader genre ↣ romcom, fake dating, strangers to friends to lovers

contains ↣ smut, food mentions, alcohol consumption, original characters, mentions of being cheated on, and more to be added!

established word count ↣ 30k? this is just a guess I honestly can't tell established release ↣ July 24th (may change)

this work is part of the midsummer suites collab, so definitely check it out as well!

As if your previous request wasn't enough to mess him up, you have another. "Will you stay for a while?"

Meeting your eyes again, he takes the longest second before sighing. "I should go," he shakes his head.

"Please," you whisper. "It helps."

"With what?" He asks, confused.

"Not thinking about him."

You don't need to explain who you mean. He knows too well.

"Alright," he nods, not asking further. Offering him a brief smile, you try expressing how grateful you are to him that way. "Will you be okay in the bathroom alone? I'll wait right here." You nod, assuring him you'll manage before taking your pajamas from the bed and heading to the other room.

Soobin watches you walk around, doing his best to keep his eyes at a respectful height instead of all the flesh you're showing in just your swim wear. He'll feel a lot less like a creep once you get here with your pajamas on.

Settling in one of the armchairs the room provides, he looks around as if it's the first time he's seeing the interior. He's not sure what he expected. It's the same as the room he's been provided as an employee, except for a few layout differences. It's nothing huge though, and he's certain he could find everything here as well as he does in his room.

He's not sure how much time passes before you come back, letting himself rest for a bit while waiting. There's nothing to do, anyway. It's not like he's going to snoop through your space.

The realization of how wrong he was sets in as soon as you walk back into the room, your bikini no longer on, replaced with a cute little matching yellow piece. Shorts that sit high on your hips and a short sleeved shirt that buttons in the front. Your hair is brushed, and your make up off. He was so incredibly stupid for thinking it'll all be okay once you're wearing more on. The fact you're more covered right now does nothing to make him stop feeling like he's doing something wrong.

Maybe because he is. He has no right to look at you like he does as you walk past him to get to the bed, slipping under the covers with ease. He knows he is in no place to look at you and think about how attractive you are, but he can't help it.

"I'm sorry," you mumble into the silence, making him come back to his senses. "I wasn't going to call you and make you stay with me."

"It's okay," he assures you, shaking his head. "I'm glad you called."

You scoff quietly, making yourself more comfortable as you look at him. "I managed to sober up a little in the bathroom so the embarrassement is slowly coming to me. Don't take it to heart if I avoid you tomorrow."

He laughs, a soft sound that rings in your ears. "Let's not do that, hm? Friends help each other out when needed. There's no need to be awkward about it."

"Friends," you repeat after him, unable to contain your smile. "I'm happy to be your friend, Soobin."

"I'm glad I'm yours," he agrees. "You should sleep," he encourages. "It's been a long day and you need to rest properly to get the alcohol out of your system."

"You just want to get rid off me," you roll your eyes, joking.

He doesn't say anything else and you don't either. At least not for a while. You listen to the sound of the air conditioner in the room, gazing at the boy in the dark, trying to make out his features as best as you can. You wonder what goes through his head again. If he's truly okay with staying here or if he finds you annoying.

For some reason, you believe it's the former.

You can tell he's watching you too, careful as his eyes trail down your figure under the blanket. He doesn't say anything, but you doubt he has nothing on his mind.

"We broke up two months ago," you whisper, not sure if he can hear you. A part of you feels like you should tell him the full story, not only in case someone talks to him about it, but because you feel like it's important he understands how this all started. "I didn't see it if I'm being honest, but I guess we were broken even before that, though."

Soobin shifts in the chair, not interrupting. "It just wasn't the same anymore, but I never would have guessed he'd…" you sigh, turning to lay on your back. "I came home early from work wanting to have lunch with him, spend more time together because I thought that would make him happy, just to find him occupied."

The memory of him in your shared bed with his new girlfriend comes back to you and you quickly shake your head. "He cheated on me. Apparently he's been with her for a few months already when I found out."

The words hit him much harder than he expected. "For fuck's sake," he runs his hand down his face, his eyes closed in regret. It's not like he could have done anything about it, he didn't even know you back then, but he still somehow feels guilty about not helping more. The urge to escort Minho out this very instant grows more and more, and he has to steady himself not to do anything stupid. "I'm so sorry."

You shake your head. "It's okay," you assure him despite knowing it's not. It hasn't been okay for a while now. "I just… I wanted you to know."

He nods, "Thank you."

"Soobin?"

"Yeah?" He looks at you through the dark, the urge to comfort you strong.

"I'm so grateful to you."

izzy speaks... so happy to bring this to you guys!! We've been planning for a while and it's been so amazing!! I missed writing Soobin and I honestly didn't realize how much until this collab. I'm going to say this again and literally never stop but the biggest shout out to liv, my baby, for making this incredible banner because i'm sooo in love with it.

If you'd like to join the taglist for this fic, comment under this post! If you'd like to join the taglist for all the fics in this collab, please go to the collab post!!

perm taglist: @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez @bamgeutsz @lovingbeomgyudayone @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @dawngyu @xylatox @heesmiles @biteyoubiteme @t-102 @jellyyjn @1-800-jewon @heejamas @yeonmuse @bamgeutori @i-am-not-dal @starstrucktae @nanilis @cen116 @vanillakirstein @tyunningism @swangyu @poptambxm @strawberrydan1 @gyuzies @yvampyr @yunverie @flytomyro0m @l-lailaa @yjnwonstars @missingsarinha

[nanilis]

AHHHHH this is this year’s fake dating meal im so excited for it. And Izzy writing Soobin is always a guarantee 🙏

[nanilis]

I am completely obsessed with how he looks here like omfg he looks so good please i can't be normal about this

me and @flytomyro0m are listening to the album together in a spotify jam and we are freaking out how yeonjun says his cream is sweet in baby wassup wtffff

no labels part 02 two u are my favorite thing of this year ily.

[filmsbyun]

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 ── ⟢⸝⸝

Driftwood || Kang Taehyun

pairing: lounge singer!kang taehyun x fem!reader

tags: slow burn, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, smut

yun's ☕️: welcome to the midsummer suites ⟢ a collab i've been working on with some of my favorite people and am so excited to finally share with you all! the five stories stand alone but they all breathe the same summer air. that means the boys aren't just in our individual fics, they're in each other's too. you might catch a familiar face passing through the lobby, sharing a shift, or stealing a scene!

may this summer bring you something warmer than the heatwave and sweeter than anything the season has put you through so far. and if it hasn't yet — well, that's what we're here for.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ˚↷

"I'm giving you all of me so I can hold you better." His lips brushed over yours as the barest touch. "Please don't hurt me."

You had always been good at hiding. Good enough that people eventually stopped asking where you had gone. When your friend convinced you to trade your penthouse and your solitude for a fortnight at his family's resort, you reluctantly agreed with little expectation beyond filling empty days.

But that was before you met Kang Taehyun, who was not looking for love any more than you were.

He sang in the lobby every evening, and in his voice there was a grave of a person who had loved something deeply and lost it, who still showed up anyway, night after night, and poured what remained of himself into a room full of strangers who would never know the difference. You kept coming back to listen. You did not ask yourself why. Asking yourself things had never led anywhere you wanted to go.

Two people with no intention of being found, placed inside the same snow globe — and that, as it turns out, is not the same as not being found.

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞: AUGUST

The taglist for this story is OPEN; send an ask or comment in this post to be added.

[nanilis]

OH STOP TEASING ME LIKE THAT YUNBUGIE 🤤🤤🤤 u little tease

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒

𓂃 ོ⋆☀︎𓂃⛱ summer has always been the time of love, whether sparks fly at work, during a night out, or on a vacation—summer has it all!

💌 leave a message in the comments if you'd like to be tagged when the stories come out!

room 001 — the wedding play by @izzyy-stuff

・❥・You wouldn’t say lying comes easy to you. Especially not when you’re surrounded by people you care so deeply about. But when you’re forced into a corner, there is nothing left for you to do but to lie your way out, dragging an innocent server down with you. Luckily for you, Soobin, the ever so helpful server, is more than willing to make your time here enjoyable. So what if he has to attend a wedding for people he’s never met before? As lon as he’s by your side, he doesn’t mind anything you throw his way.

pairing → server!Soobin x fem!reader genre → romcom, fake dating, strangers to friends to lovers

teaser | full fic

room 002 — Mr. incompetent by @nanilis

・❥・The chairman’s son. Corporate’s golden boy. Future executive. Your newest shadow. You’d call Choi Yeonjun many things. Unfortunately… “Completely useless” turns out not to be one of them.

pairing → hotel owner’s son!yeonjun x events manager!f reader genre → workplace romance, enemies (kind of) to lovers, slow burn

teaser | full fic

room 003 — obessica by @gyuzies

・❥・beomgyu who happens to be your best friend and the bartender at the hotel you work at together, and the guy who rearranges your gut when nobody is looking. I mean its just sex — you're looking out for him, so when his 'situationship' comes into the bar and you 'accidentally' spill a drink on her, beomgyu has absolutely no choice but to deal with you the only way he knows how — fuck the attitude out of ya!

pairing → bartender!beomgyu x server!reader genre → fwb to lovers, jealousy, coworkers to lovers

teaser | full fic

room 004 — driftwood by @filmsbyun

・❥・"I'm giving you all of me so I can hold you better." His lips brushed over yours as the barest touch. "Please don't hurt me." You had always been good at hiding. Good enough that people eventually stopped asking where you had gone. When your friend convinced you to trade your penthouse and your solitude for a fortnight at his family's resort, you reluctantly agreed with little expectation beyond filling empty days. That was before you met Kang Taehyun, who was not looking for love any more than you were. Two people with no intention of being found placed inside the same snow globe. That, as it turns out, is not the same as not being found.

pairing → lounge singer!Kang Taehyun x afab!reader genre → slow burn, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers

teaser | full fic

room 005 — a mater of taste by @orbitondgtl

・❥・As a chef in a resort and the reigns completely in your hands, you were exactly where you needed to be. Food was the central point of your life. It was your way of expressing yourself, but like a language that people never truly got. That was until a receptionist and his lunch request unlocked undiscovered feelings. And they were like nothing you'd ever tasted before.

pairing → receptionist!kai x chef!fem!reader genre → coworkers to lovers, feel-good, culinary romance

teaser | full fic

we are so so so happy to finally bring this collab to you all!! Huge shout out to everyone involved!! If you'd like to be tagged in all of these fics, you can just leave a comment bellow. Otherwise, feel free to look out for individual teasers and/or full fics!

[nanilis]

I’m so excited to be doing an event with some of my closest friends >.< I would appreciate if yall could check all of the stories out!!! There’s a lot of work going into them and I can guarantee amazing quality 🙂‍↕️

[nanilis]

hi my sexu doctor wife

I love this picture and I’m stealing it. It feels very me and you idk. ily wife

[nanilis]

my best friends hate me 😔

[soobinsoudesu]

ALL THE WAYS WE LOSE 🫧⋆｡˚ choi yeonjun

Genre: rivals to lovers, idiots in love, mutual pining, summer romance Word Count: 35.9k

For as long as Y/N can remember, summers in town have meant one thing: competing with Choi Yeonjun. Whether it's festival games, academic achievements, or something as ridiculous as who can finish their tteobokki first, neither is willing to back down. But as another summer begins, Y/N finds herself struggling to separate genuine frustration from something far more complicated.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ choi yeonjun x fem! reader

a/n first part is finally here! I got so motivated to write this, I had so much fun.

Part of the Our Beloved Summer AU !

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

The summer of 1999 did not arrive quietly in Jeju; it came wrapped in the thick, salt-crusted air blowing off the sea, the omnipresent thud of Fin.K.L and H.O.T playing from a battery-powered cassette player outside a local fisheries cooperative, and the terrifying, electric countdown to a new millennium that everyone talked about but no one really understood.

The world was supposedly ending in five months under the weight of the Y2K bug, but down in the winding, stone-walled alleyways of a quiet coastal village on the island's southern rim, the only thing truly ending was youth.

The neighborhood itself was a low-slung labyrinth of black volcanic basalt walls, weather-beaten rooftops secured with thick ropes against typhoon winds, and stubbornness. It sat perched on the sloped cliffs overlooking the ocean, far away from the polished, wealthy high-rises of Seoul where rich families sent their children to elite private academies.

Here, the landscape was a breathless, unforgiving series of rocky coastlines and steep coastal inclines that tore through the rubber soles of cheap sandals. The air smelled permanently of drying squid, wild crushed hydrangeas, and the thick, pungent tang of fermenting mandarin groves baking under the heavy island sun.

By the afternoons, the heat didn't just sit in the air; it rose from the sun-baked black stone in shimmering, oily waves that made the distant horizon of the sea look like a mirage melting into the sky.

Y/N walked down the center of the narrow, sloped asphalt road leading up from the harbor, her feet heavy in her shoes. Every few steps, the soles would stick slightly to the softening tar of the pavement, leaving faint, gray smudges behind her.

She kept her head down, completely oblivious to the vast expanse of blue water cutting into the horizon to her left or the humid, salty wind blowing her bangs into her eyes. Her high school uniform blouse—the stiff, heavy synthetic blend that the school administration insisted on even in August—was glued to the skin between her shoulder blades, but she didn't care.

Her entire universe had shrunk to the size of a wrinkled, yellowing sheet of paper clutched in her hands.

[1999 PROVINCIAL MOCK EXAMINATION - JULY]

RANK 1: CHOI YEONJUN (JEJU NAM HIGH SCHOOL) - 396 / 400 RANK 2: JEON Y/N (JEJU NAM HIGH SCHOOL) - 392 / 400

Four points.

It was always four points. The equivalent of one poorly phrased classical Chinese poem she had second-guessed in the final five minutes, or a single miscalculated geometry proof. To the village elders, coming in second in the entire province was a miracle worthy of praise. To Y/N, it was a public execution. Her fingers tightened around the edges of the ledger, crumpling the cheap paper as she kicked a loose piece of volcanic gravel down the concrete path leading toward her house. She was so hyper-focused on the printed ink, replaying every single math equation in her head, that the rest of the world completely blurred out.

Whack.

A sudden, sharp rustle of leaves exploded from the heavy green ivy hanging over a low basalt stone wall to her right. Before she could even register the sound, a tall figure dropped out of the branches of an old, overhanging mandarin tree, landing squarely on the sloped path just inches in front of her.

"Boo."

Y/N shrieked, her heart violently leaping into her throat. Her tracks screeched to a halt, her shoes slipping slightly on the gravel. The heavy split-ring binder she’d been clutching slipped from her underarm, hitting the pavement with a loud, hollow thud as the mock exam paper fluttered out of her hands.

"Choi Yeonjun!" she gasped, pressing a hand flat against her chest, her heart hammering frantically against her ribs like a trapped bird. "Are you insane?! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Standing in front of her, entirely unfazed by her outburst, was the source of her four-point torment.

Despite spending every spare hour of his summer swimming out by the rocky piers or hanging out near the docks, Yeonjun possessed a striking, stubborn paleness that the island sun seemed entirely unable to touch. His skin was smooth, clear, and fair, making him look less like a coastal country kid and more like someone dropped into Jeju from a glossy Seoul music magazine. Against that pale canvas, his hair was a deep, ink-black. It fell loosely over his forehead in sharp, unruly strands that split down the middle, entirely defying the school's strict haircut regulations. It was long enough to brush the nape of his neck, damp at the tips from salt water and a quick splash at the harbor pump, catching the blinding white glare of the afternoon sky.

He was balanced on his heels, a half-eaten red-and-white double-bar popsicle in his left hand. An oversized, bleached-out t-shirt hung off his broad shoulders, and a thin silver chain sat flat against his collarbone, catching the harsh glare of the sun.

Standing at a commanding 5′11, he completely dwarfed her, his shadow swallowing her small frame entirely on the narrow incline. He had shot up unexpectedly over the last year, his presence suddenly heavy, broad, and entirely distracting.

"You're too easy to scare," Yeonjun drawled, a slow, infuriating smirk spreading across his full, slightly parted lips. He tilted his head down, looking down at her from his height with an easy, loose-limbed grace. He bent at the waist, his long fingers plucking her crumpled exam result out of the dirt before she could reach for it. He straightened back up, holding the yellow paper high above his head, well out of her reach, his dark, hooded monolid eyes scanning the text. "And you shouldn't walk while reading. What if you fell down the cliff? I'd have to tumble down into the sea after you, and my clothes are already dry."

"Give it back," Y/N snapped, her voice rising in defensive anger. She lunged forward and reached up to grab the paper, but Yeonjun simply pivoted his shoulder, using his sheer height advantage to keep it easily out of her grasp.

"Let's see," Yeonjun murmured, his eyes glittering with mischief as he looked down at her. "Ah. July results. Still four points, Y/N-ah."

Up close, the sun caught the tiny pale scar just below his left ear—the mark from when he’d fallen onto the jagged black rocks by the shore when they were nine, trying to prove he could dive off the high pier before she did.

"I don't need a commentary from the gallery, Choi," she spat, her face flushing bright red from a mixture of heat and sheer frustration.

"It’s not commentary, it’s a reality check," Yeonjun said softly. The smirk didn't leave his face, but his tone dropped into a lower, quieter register that made the small hairs on her arms stand up. He broke the popsicle cleanly in half down the wooden stick with a sharp crack and extended one side down toward her, the red syrup already melting over his pale thumb. "Here. Eat this before your brain cooks from overthinking. You always stall on the math logic section because you think about what the question is trying to ask instead of just looking at what's there."

Y/N felt a hot surge of blood rush to her ears. He had analyzed her failures just as closely as she had obsessed over his successes. She snatched the popsicle from his fingers, their skins brushing for a fraction of a second—a brief contact that sent a sudden, unwelcome jolt straight through her chest.

"The final university entrance exam is in November," she whispered, her teeth sinking into the red ice as she glared up at him. "Anything can happen before then. The millennium changes in five months, Yeonjun. I’m not letting you go out on top."

Yeonjun’s smirk faded slightly, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an unblinking focus that felt far too heavy for a simple high school rivalry. He leaned down just a fraction, bringing himself closer to her eye level, his gaze intense. "The world isn't going to end, Y/N-ah. But even if the lights go out... I’m still going to be exactly four points ahead of you. Because you're so busy looking for a fight, you never look at what's right in front of you."

The silence that followed his words felt heavier than the August humidity. For a terrifying, breathless second, Y/N couldn’t look away. Up close, she could see the faint violet shadows under Yeonjun's eyes—proof that despite his effortless front, the late-night lamp in his window wasn't just for show. She could taste the artificial cherry from the melting popsicle coating her tongue, cold and sharp, a stark contrast to the thick heat radiating from the sun-baked road.

"I look at what's in front of me just fine," she muttered, forcing her eyes down to his collarbone where the thin silver chain pooled against his skin. She took a step back, breaking the suffocating proximity. She bent down to retrieve her heavy split-ring binder, her fingers scraping against the concrete pavement. "And right now, what's in front of me is an absolute nuisance."

Yeonjun let out a low, breathy laugh that shook his broad shoulders. The heavy intensity vanished from his face as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by that familiar, loose-limbed ease. He swung his canvas school bag over one shoulder, adjusting the strap over his bleached-out t-shirt.

"If I'm a nuisance, Jeon, then you're a menace," he said, falling into step right beside her as she began walking again.

He didn't ask for permission. He never did. He just adjusted his pace to match her furious pacing, his long shadow stretching across the road and completely swallowing hers. The road began to slope upward, winding away from the harbor road and toward the tightly packed wooden gates of the village.

"Stop following me," Y/N said, her sandals sticking slightly to a patch of softening tar.

"We live next door," Yeonjun pointed out, taking a slow bite of his remaining half of the popsicle. His ink-black hair shifted with the movement, a stray strand catching on his thick eyelashes. "Unless you want me to hike through the Hallasan foothills just to give you space, you're stuck with me until the gate."

"Then walk faster. Your legs are twice the size of mine anyway."

"And miss the look on your face when you try to calculate how many hours of sleep you need to skip tonight to make up those four points?" He tilted his head down, his dark, hooded eyes glittering with pure mischief. "No way. It's the best part of my afternoon."

"You are insufferable," she hissed, but her heart gave a strange, unruly thud against her ribs.

They reached the top of the crest where the path narrowed into a residential corridor. The basalt retaining walls here were old, covered in salt-hardened vines and dry moss that survived the sea winds. Behind those walls sat their respective family homes, separated by nothing more than a waist-high divider of black stone that they had both been jumping over since they were old enough to scrape their knees.

As they approached her weathered wooden gate, Y/N snatched her exam paper back from his fingers with a sharp tug. He let it go easily this time, his lips curling into a soft, unreadable line as he watched her slide the yellowed page safely into her binder.

"See you at dinner, Y/N-ah," Yeonjun murmured, stopping at the edge of his own walkway.

Y/N paused, her hand resting on the wooden latch of her gate. "What dinner?"

"Our moms went to the five-day market up in the city this morning," he said, turning his back to lean casually against his stone wall, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Your dad bought a crate of that Jeju black pork. My dad got the Hallasan soju. It’s a 'celebration' for the mock exams." He looked back over his shoulder, his ink-black hair falling into his eyes as his smirk returned. "I want to see your face when our dads start talking about the Seoul National applications."

Before she could fling her binder at his head, he slipped through his own gate, the rhythmic thud of his canvas sneakers fading into the quiet hum of the front courtyard.

Y/N stood alone in the blinding heat, her uniform blouse sticking to her skin, her fingers tightly gripping the metal latch. The cicadas screamed from the trees alongside the crashing rhythm of the tide below, a deafening reminder that summer was fleeting, the millennium was coming, and Choi Yeonjun was still the only variable she couldn't solve.

By seven in the evening, the blinding white glare of the Jeju sun had finally bled out into a heavy, bruised violet behind the endless horizon of the sea. The temperature dropped by only a few degrees, but the air remained thick and sticky with salt and humidity, carrying the intense aroma of charred fat and caramelized garlic across the shared space between their properties.

The two families had set up a low, rusted iron grill over a bed of glowing charcoal right in the middle of Y/N’s yard, positioned beneath the sweeping branches of an old hackberry tree that grew right against the black basalt stone wall marking the property line.

Y/N sat cross-legged on a low wooden platform—a pyeongsang—her knees tightly pressed together under a loose cotton skirt she had quickly changed into after school. Her fingers were still faintly stained with blue ink. Across the small low-legged table sat Yeonjun.

He had changed out of his school bag and damp uniform into an oversized, faded white t-shirt that made his broad shoulders look even wider in the dimming light. His ink-black hair was still damp from a quick post-school rinse at the harbor pump, a few wet strands clinging to his forehead. Under the warm, flickering glow of the single lightbulb strung up on the hackberry tree, his fair skin looked smooth, almost translucent, completely out of place against the rugged, smoky backdrop of the coastal courtyard.

Between them, the small grill hissed violently as thick strips of Jeju black pork released their grease onto the coals, sending up plumes of white, savory smoke that drifted toward the open village windows.

"Look at this marble! You can't get meat like this up in the commercial grocery chains in Seoul, Jin-goo!" Y/N’s father roared, his face already a deep, flushed red from his second shot of clear Hallasan soju. He flipped a piece of pork with a pair of long metal tongs, dropping it directly onto the plate in front of Yeonjun’s father.

Choi Jin-goo laughed, a booming sound that echoed off the stone walls. He knocked back his small glass of liquor, slamming the heavy glass down onto the wooden table with a satisfying thud. "Eat up, Yeonjun-ah. You need the energy if you’re going to maintain that number-one spot until November. Four hundred points is within reach!"

Y/N felt her stomach instantly contract into a tight, hard knot. She kept her eyes fixed on her piece of lettuce, carefully wrapping a charred piece of garlic inside it to keep her hands from shaking.

"Our Y/N was only four points behind," her father chimed in, though his voice carried a faint, underlying edge of forced pride. He poured another heavy stream of soju into his neighbor’s glass. "Four points! If she hadn't tripped up on that final geometry section, Jeju Nam High School would have two students at the top of the provincial ledger. If she wants to join her sister up in Seoul... well, she can't be making those kinds of mistakes when competing with mainland kids."

He turned his gaze toward Y/N, the weight of his stare heavy and exhausting. "Your older sister is already sitting in the lecture halls at Korea University, Y/N-ah. The whole village is still talking about it. You think the agricultural cooperative is going to support a second elite mainland tuition if you're dropping points on easy logic proofs?"

The mention of her sister felt like a cold splash of water against the heat of her face. Her sister, the pride of the block, who had successfully crossed the sea to claim her place in the red-brick prestige of the capital's top tier.

"Oh, stop it, both of you," Yeonjun’s mother interrupted, her voice sharp enough to cut right through the men’s bluster. She walked over from the kitchen door, carrying a heavy stone bowl of steaming soybean paste stew, her gold bangles clinking loudly. She set it down right in the center of the table and gave her husband a pointed nudge with her elbow. "You’d think the boys in the Gangnam cram schools didn't have brains the way you two talk. Let the kids breathe. They walked all the way up that terrible incline from the docks in this heat."

She turned her sharp, discerning eyes toward Y/N, her expression softening into something warmer. "Y/N-ah, don't you listen to them. Korea University is practically waiting for you. Four points is nothing but a gust of wind on a coastal hill like this. My Yeonjun just happened to guess right on a poem this time. Next month, it could easily be you at the top."

"Mom," Yeonjun muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening as his fair skin flushed slightly around the cheekbones.

"What? It’s true," his mother said, settling onto the platform next to him and immediately moving a perfectly crisped piece of pork onto Y/N’s plate. "You study hard, but you're lazy about the margins, Yeonjun. Y/N has the discipline. If you aren't careful, she’s going to leave you behind on the island when winter comes."

"November is still five months away," Y/N’s mother interjected softly, giving Yeonjun's mom a grateful look as she placed a bowl of cold radish soup on the table. "Anything can change before the millennium turns."

"Nothing is going to change," Y/N's father muttered, ignoring the women as his eyes stayed fixed on Y/N. "Not unless she stops second-guessing herself. You're too cautious, Y/N-ah. Your sister didn't hesitate when she took the exam. You study until four in the morning, but you lack the killer instinct. Look at Yeonjun. He doesn't look back."

Y/N felt a hot, defensive sting behind her eyes. She gripped her chopsticks tighter, the metal biting into her fingers. The weight of her sister's shadow, her father's quiet anxieties about mainland tuition, and the terrifying countdown to the year 2000 all seemed to settle squarely on her chest, suffocating her more than the smoke from the grill.

She risked a glance up across the small table.

Yeonjun wasn't eating. He was staring down at his small glass of barley tea, his full, slightly parted lips pressed into a hard, rigid line. The lazy, teasing smirk he had worn on the sloped path was entirely gone. He looked just as tense as she felt, his pale fingers tracing the rim of his glass over and over again.

"She doesn't lack a killer instinct, uncle," Yeonjun said suddenly.

The table went quiet, save for the rhythmic crashing of the tide below the cliffs, the shhh-shhh-shhh of the cicadas in the dark trees, and the steady hiss of the pork fat hitting the coals. His mother stopped fixing the side dishes, her eyes shifting quietly between her son and the girl across the table.

Yeonjun raised his head, his eyes locking onto Y/N’s father with a calm, unblinking focus that felt intensely deliberate. "Y/N doesn't lack anything. The logic section on that exam was deliberately ambiguous. The examiners phrased the variables to catch people who rush through the proofs. She didn't fail because she was cautious. She just took the question seriously. She'll get into whatever university she wants."

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat. Her heart gave a sudden, erratic skip that had absolutely nothing to do with her sister's shadow or her father's disapproval. She stared at him, her lips parting slightly. He was defending her. Choi Yeonjun, the boy who lived to remind her of her defeats, was standing between her and her father's criticism.

His father pieces together a grin, a little awkwardly this time, breaking the sudden tension. "Listen to him. Already acting like a scholar. Eat your meat, boy."

Yeonjun didn't look at his father. He shifted his gaze across the narrow table, his dark eyes meeting Y/N's through the thin veil of rising white smoke. The intensity in his look was heavy, quiet, and entirely overwhelming. There was no mockery there, no triumph. Just a strange, silent understanding that made her feel like they were the only two people sitting on that wooden platform on the edge of the island.

"I’m full," Y/N whispered, suddenly pushing herself up from the platform. The wooden structure creaked under her movement. "I... I need to review my vocabulary errors."

"Y/N-ah, you barely ate—" her mother started, but Y/N was already stepping out of her sandals and hurrying up the concrete steps into the dark, quiet safety of her house, the heavy screen door slamming shut behind her.

Inside the house, the air felt cooler, but the heavy scent of grilled pork fat still drifted through the open kitchen window, paired with the muffled sound of her father’s booming laughter rising from the courtyard below.

Y/N leaned her back against her closed bedroom door, letting out a breath she felt like she’d been holding since she hit the top of the hill. She dropped her heavy split-ring binder onto her low laminate desk, the metal rings clinking sharply against her standing desk calendar. The calendar page was flipped to November 1999, with the 18th circled in bleeding red ink: CSAT (College Scholastic Ability Test).

Her bedroom window faced directly across the narrow gap separating her house from Yeonjun's, bounded by the ancient basalt wall, looking straight down into her own yard.

She walked over and pulled back the lace curtain, looking down through the screen. The dinner below was still in full swing. Her father was currently gesturing widely with a small glass of soju, pointing toward the dark sky as he rehashed his theories on the Y2K bug to Yeonjun’s dad.

Sitting right across from them on the wooden platform, looking completely checked out, was Yeonjun. He was leaning back on his hands, his long legs stretched out, staring blankly up at the hackberry branches while the adults talked over him.

“She just took the question seriously.”

His voice still rattled around the inside of her skull. It was infuriating. Why did he have to say it like that?

Why did he have to look at her like he actually understood exactly what went wrong in her head during that final geometry proof?

She didn't want his defense, and most importantly, she didn't want his pity. She just wanted to erase those four points.

Down in the yard, as if sensing the weight of her stare, Yeonjun’s head shifted. He didn't move the rest of his body, keeping his posture relaxed and unbothered so his father wouldn't notice, but his dark, hooded eyes lifted slowly, accurately positioning her bedroom window in the dark.

Even through the screen and the lace curtain, the eye contact was instant.

Yeonjun didn't smile. He didn't smirk. He just looked up at her through the warm, flickering glow of the lightbulb strung in the tree, his ink-black hair casting a slight shadow over his eyes. Then, he looked back down at his glass of soda as his mother dropped another piece of meat onto his plate.

Y/N let the curtain fall back into place, her heart giving a sudden, erratic skip against her ribs. She turned back to her desk, took a deep breath, and flipped open her workbook to page one.

She was going to beat him next month. She had to.

The fourth day of the four-week summer break was the kind of heavy, unmoving hot that made you feel like you were walking through warm soup. Inside the house, the small plastic fan on Y/N’s desk was merely rearranging the heat, aggressively pushing the warm, salt-tinged air around her small room until the pages of her closed books felt crisp to the touch. Realizing her brain was turning to absolute mush, she had abandoned her room entirely, dug a crumpled 1,000-won bill out from under her dresser, and walked down the coastal path for the sole purpose of surviving through the scorching heat.

Now, she was sitting on the low wooden bench right outside the neighborhood village store near the harbor, the only spot on the entire sloped block blessed by the roaring, icy exhaust of the store's outdoor ice cream freezer.

She had her legs stretched out in front of her, wearing a pair of loose cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt, her hair twisted up with a giant blue plastic claw clip. In her right hand, she held a red-and-white double-bar popsicle. She had already cracked it down the middle, but the mid-August humidity was working faster than her teeth. Red, syrupy drops were currently racing down her thumb, threatening to ruin her sneakers.

The store’s old outdoor speaker hummed in the background, playing a slightly distorted, tinny version of Fin.K.L’s "To My Boyfriend," completely drowned out by the deafening, rhythmic shhh-shhh-shhh of the cicadas hidden deep in the pine trees.

Clonk.

A cold, condensation-dripping can of Chilsung Cider was suddenly pressed directly against her bare, burning shoulder.

Y/N shrieked, flinching away from the icy shock so hard her sandals slid on the concrete pavement. She glared up, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Standing over her, entirely unbothered, was the source of her daily frustration. Yeonjun was wearing a loose, faded blue shirt, his pale shoulders looking broad and lean against the bright plastic storefront awning, and his thin silver chain sat flat against his collarbone. His hair was messy, sticking out in random directions from a nap, but his dark, hooded monolid eyes were glittering with pure mischief.

"You’re going to drop the cherry side if you keep shivering like that, Jeon," Yeonjun drawled. He didn't ask for permission; he just slid onto the opposite end of the low wooden bench, his long legs stretching out into the blinding sun. The old wood creaked under his weight, shifting her slightly closer to him.

"I know that, stop nagging, Choi." Y/N snapped, quickly using her tongue to catch a stray drop of melting syrup before it hit her knee. “What are you even doing here anyway?”

"My mom sent me down here to buy sesame oil," Yeonjun said, popping the tab of his soda with a sharp, crisp crack. He took a slow, deep sip, his throat moving as he swallowed. "Your mom is currently in our kitchen teaching her how to braise local hairtail fish."

Y/N groaned, leaning her head back against the stone wall of the store. The cold wood of the bench felt good against her bare thighs. It was true. With the four-week break only on its fourth day, their mothers had already pooled their resources to survive the heat, essentially turning both households into one giant, loud, domestic hub. It was impossible to exist in her own house without hearing the village gossip echoing over the shared basalt wall.

"They're completely losing their minds over there," Yeonjun muttered, staring blankly across the narrow coastal road at a delivery truck. He rested his cold soda can against his bare knee. "It’s only August and my dad spent the entire morning clearing out the back shed to store three crates of bottled water. He's convinced the digital meters on the local pipes are going to freeze up the second the clock strikes midnight on New Year's Eve."

"My dad bought a manual typewriter from the city market yesterday," Y/N admitted, a small, involuntary laugh escaping her lips before she could stop it. "He thinks the mainland bank records are going to entirely disappear into a black hole, so he wants to type out all our bank account numbers on paper. It's five months away! We haven't even finished the summer yet, and they're acting like the world ends tomorrow."

Yeonjun tilted his head down, a slow, lazy smirk pulling at his full lips as he looked at her. "A typewriter? Really? Does he even know how to use it?"

"Don't laugh at him," she said, though she was smiling too, the icy cherry syrup cold against her tongue. "He spent an hour trying to figure out how to ink the ribbon."

"Everyone's rushing it," Yeonjun murmured softly. The smirk faded into something more relaxed, his tone dropping into that lower register that always felt a little too quiet against the roar of the cicadas and the distant waves. He turned the green aluminum can around in his hands, watching the condensation pool at the bottom. "The adults are so busy panicking about the year 2000 that they're forgetting we still have to get through September first. It’s like they want to skip the rest of the year entirely."

Y/N watched a lone drop of water slide down the side of his cider can, mirroring the red syrup on her hand. For all their bickering and the constant weight of who was leading the provincial ledger, sitting here on the village store bench felt strangely normal. There were no fathers comparing their futures, no ferry rides to mainland college tracks, just the heavy mid-August heat and the sticky scent of cherry ice.

"Maybe they're just scared of what happens when the calendar resets," Y/N said quietly, taking another bite of her popsicle.

"Maybe," Yeonjun said. He reached out, his long, pale fingers lightly tapping the wooden slat between them, his knuckles brushing the edge of her oversized t-shirt for a fraction of a second. "Move your arm, Jeon. You're dripping red juice right onto your bag."

The tinny storefront speaker shifted smoothly from Fin.K.L into S.E.S.’s "Dreams Come True," the ethereal intro synthesizer sounding warped and heavy under the weight of the afternoon glare. Across the road, a stray dog lazily stretched out in the narrow strip of shade beneath a small pharmacy awning, panting in sync with the rhythmic hum of the grocery store's refrigeration units.

Y/N finished the remaining hunk of her popsicle in one massive, brain-freezing bite, wincing as the cold spike hit the back of her throat. She tossed the sticky wooden stick into the small blue plastic wastebasket beside the bench and leaned her head back against the warm stone wall again.

"If the world actually does end in five months," Y/N murmured, staring up at the dusty plastic fringe of the store awning, "What do you think happens to our school records?"

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, tilting his head back to look at her. "Your records? Is that seriously what you're worried about?"

"I'm just saying," she muttered, kicking her sandal against the ground. "We've spent the last three years turning our brains into mush for an exam that happens in November. If the Y2K bug wipes out the national database in January, does that mean we did it all for nothing? Does the ledger just vanish across the sea?"

Yeonjun didn't answer right away. He stretched his long legs out a bit further, his canvas sneakers catching the direct glare of the sun. He looked down at his green cider can, his thumb tracing the smooth rim over and over again. The lazy, teasing posture he usually wore around the village seemed to melt away, leaving something quiet and grounded in its place.

"The records doesn't matter," he said softly, his voice dropping into that lower, clearer register that always caught her off guard.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, her eyebrows knitting together. "Easy for you to say. You’re at the top of it."

"That’s not what I mean," Yeonjun said. He turned his head, his eyes locking onto hers with an unblinking focus that felt far too heavy for the middle of a hot Thursday afternoon. "Even if the computers crash, and the lights go out, and they lose every single test score between here and Seoul... we still lived through it. We still sat in those suffocating classrooms until midnight. We still walked up this stupid hill from the harbor every morning."

He paused, a tiny, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips; it wasn't his usual arrogant smirk.

"The database doesn't remember that, Y/N-ah," he murmured, his gaze dropping down to her ink-stained fingers before lifting back to her eyes. "We do."

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly in her throat. It was infuriating how he could do that—shift from being an absolute nuisance to saying something that made her feel completely laid bare, all within the span of a single conversation.

Before she could think of a single sharp retort to break the sudden, suffocating proximity, the plastic bead curtain of the grocery store storefront rattled loudly.

"Yeonjun-ah!" the storekeeper’s wife called out, poking her permed hair out of the doorway. "The sesame oil is on the counter! Tell your mother I threw in a handful of wild green onions for the hairtail!"

He picked up his cider can, finishing the last swallow in one long draught, and stood up from the wooden bench. His frame immediately blocked out the sun again, casting a long, familiar shadow over her lap.

"Duty calls," he drawled, his lazy, teasing tone returning so fast it made her head spin.

The next afternoon, the heat didn't just sit over the village; it felt like a physical weight pressing down on the back of Y/N’s neck. A deceptive breeze drifted off the southern coast, carrying the sharp, briny scent of low tide and rotting kelp, but it offered no relief. It only stirred the thick, suffocating air that smelled of sweet, overripe fruit and sun-baked basalt.

Y/N stood on the third rung of Mrs. Lee’s weathered wooden stepladder, her thighs burning from holding the stance. The ladder was wedged unevenly between two large, gnarled roots of an heirloom apple tree. Unlike the manicured mandarin groves that lined the rest of the slope, this tree was wild, overgrown, and stubborn. Its branches were heavy with tart, green cooking apples that needed to be harvested before the late-August typhoons turned them into bruised mush on the ground.

Her hair was twisted into an unruly bun, held together by a cheap plastic claw clip that kept slipping against the sweat dampening her nape. She wore an old, white t-shirt that had faded to a dull gray, its cotton fabric glued to the skin between her shoulder blades.

Thwack.

She twisted a particularly stubborn green apple off its stem, dropping it into the woven wicker basket hanging from the top rung. Her palms were sticky with a mixture of dirt, tree sap, and the gray residue of the lead pencil she’d been gripping until three in the morning while re-solving geometry proofs.

Every muscle in her body ached, but the frantic, rhythmic shhh-shhh-shhh of the cicadas deep in the foliage seemed to sync with the aggressive throb in her temples. She was exhausted, irritated, and running entirely on pride.

Crunch.

The sharp snap of a dry twig on the gravel path below made her freeze.

"You're reaching with your lower back, Jeon," a smooth, drawling voice cut through the heavy hum of the insects. "If you fall and crack your skull on these volcanic rocks, Mrs. Lee is going to make me clean up the mess."

Y/N’s jaw locked so hard her teeth clicked. She didn't look down immediately. Instead, she let out a long, ragged breath, her fingers tightening around a low-hanging branch until the rough bark bit into her skin.

She turned her head slowly, looking down through the dense canopy of dusty green leaves.

Choi Yeonjun was leaning against the low basalt stone wall that bordered the orchard, looking entirely too comfortable. He was holding a large, empty burlap sack in one hand.

He looked cool. He looked effortless. And it made a hot, volatile surge of irritation spike straight into Y/N's chest.

"Nobody asked for your commentary, Choi," she spat, her voice tight as she reached for another apple, deliberately ignoring the way her balance shifted precariously on the worn wood. "Don't you have a mock exam ledger to gloat over? Or did you come down here just to pollute my breathing space?"

Yeonjun let out a low, breathy chuckle that barely stirred the heavy air. He stepped over the low stone wall with an easy, loose-limbed grace, his sneakers crunching against the dry earth as he walked straight toward the base of her ladder.

"Mrs. Lee called my mom twenty minutes ago," he said, halting just two feet away. He tilted his head back, his eyes scanning her flushed face, tracking the stray, damp hairs glued to her temples. "She said she hired a helper who was moving like a snail and needed someone with actual vertical reach to finish the top branches before the rain starts. I’m just doing my civic duty."

"I am not moving like a snail," Y/N hissed, her face burning from a volatile mix of the oppressive heat and sheer, defensive anger. She looked at his empty burlap sack, then down at her half-filled wicker basket. The familiar, toxic spark of competition—the same one that had governed every single time of her life—flared up, bright and blinding. "In fact, I've already cleared the entire lower eastern quadrant."

Yeonjun looked at her basket, then slowly raised his eyes back to hers, a slow, infuriating smirk pulling at the corner of his full lips. It was his classic, arrogant look, but there was a subtle, heavy intensity behind his gaze that hadn't been there a moment ago.

"Is that right?" he murmured, tossing the empty burlap sack into the dirt and pulling a second, identical wicker basket out from behind the wall. He hooked it over his forearm with a fluid, practiced motion. "Tell you what, Jeon. Since you’re so confident in your 'strategic placement,' let's make it interesting. Ten minutes. Whoever fills their basket last gets pay for the gimbap and the loser also has to carry both loads up the hill to Mrs. Lee’s porch."

Y/N’s chest rose and fell in a sharp, heavy breath. Her fingers twitched against the branch. It was a ridiculous, childish bet—exactly like the tteokbokki races and the festival games they had engaged in since they were nine years old. But under the weight of her father's silent expectations, her sister's looming shadow, and those suffocating four points on the July ledger, she needed a win. She needed to beat him at something, even if it was just green apples in a dusty orchard.

"You're on," she snapped, her eyes narrowing. "But you stay on the north side of the trunk. If you cross into my branches, I’m throwing a rotten one at your face."

"Deal," Yeonjun drawled.

He didn't waste another second. He stepped up to the opposite side of the tree, his tall frame allowing him to easily reach the mid-level branches without even using a ladder.

The silence that followed was dense, broken only by the furious, aggressive rhythm of their movements. Y/N worked with a frantic, unyielding energy, her sandals shifting loudly on the wooden rungs as she grabbed, twisted, and dropped apples into her basket. Thud. Thud. Thud. The rough stems scraped against her fingertips, but she barely felt it. She was hyper-focused, her eyes darting from one green cluster to the next, her brain rapidly calculating the fastest route through the leaves.

To her right, she could hear the steady, rhythmic crack-drop, crack-drop of Yeonjun’s harvest. He didn't rush the way she did; he moved with a loose, deceptive speed, his long fingers expertly finding the heaviest fruit, his broad shoulders shifting fluidly beneath his shirt.

The heat between them grew suffocating. The air inside the canopy was trapped, thick with the scent of crushed leaves and the sharp, acidic tang of sap. Y/N’s breath came in shorter, heavier rasps. Sweat dragged a slow, ticklish path down the side of her neck, soaking the collar of her t-shirt. She risked a glance through the thick foliage, trying to gauge his progress.

Through the tangled branches, she caught the sight of his jawline. The lazy, teasing smirk was entirely gone from his face. His thick bangs were plastered to his forehead, and a single bead of sweat traveled down the sharp line of his throat, pooling right where his silver chain rested against his skin. He was working hard. He was actually trying.

The realization sent a strange, erratic skip through Y/N's pulse. He wasn't just humoring her; he was taking her seriously.

"Stop watching the competition, Jeon," Yeonjun muttered, his voice surprisingly rough and low through the leaves. He didn't turn his head, but his fingers wrapped around a large apple at the very top of his reach. "You’re losing momentum."

"I am not looking at you!" she yelled back, her face flushing a deep, violent crimson.

Determined to break his lead, Y/N shifted her weight, climbing up onto the very top platform of the stepladder. It was an unstable, narrow piece of wood, never meant to be stood on. She stretched her right arm out as far as it could go, her fingers straining toward a cluster of three massive, perfect green apples hanging from a high, isolated branch near the center of the tree.

"Y/N, don't go up that high," Yeonjun said, his tone instantly shifting, losing its competitive edge and hardening into something sharp, authoritative, and sudden. "The ground is uneven on that side."

"I've got it," she muttered through gritted teeth, her fingertips brushing the smooth skin of the furthest apple.

She leaned just an inch further.

The left leg of the weathered wooden ladder sank suddenly into a soft, hidden pocket of loose dirt beneath a gnarled root. The wood gave a loud, terrifying crack, and the entire structure tilted violently to the side.

Y/N let out a sharp, terrified shriek as her footing vanished into mid-air, her basket slipping from the rung and sending dozens of green apples cascading down like a hail of gravel.

She braced for the hard, unforgiving impact of the black volcanic rocks below.

Instead, a pair of solid arms crashed into her space, breaking her fall before she could even hit the ground. Yeonjun had lunged across the root system, his body colliding with hers as he caught her securely against his chest. The momentum sent them both crashing backward into the thick, dry grass at the base of the stone wall.

The air rushed out of Y/N’s lungs in a sharp gasp as they hit the ground.

For a long, breathless second, the entire world went completely still. The deafening roar of the cicadas seemed to drop away, replaced by the heavy, erratic thudding of a heartbeat that was far too loud to be her own.

Y/N opened her eyes, her vision swimming slightly.

She was pinned flat against the soft grass, completely cushioned by the solid weight of Yeonjun’s body. He had thrown himself underneath her to break the fall, his long legs tangled with hers in the dirt. His hands were locked firmly around her waist, his large palms warm and heavy through the thin fabric of her gray t-shirt.

Right above her, inches from her face, was Yeonjun.

His head was resting back against the ground, his chest rising and falling in harsh, ragged heaves against her ribs. His ink-black hair was completely disheveled, strands falling wild over his eyes, and his pale skin was starkly flushed around his cheekbones.

He was staring down at her. For the first time all summer, the protective, effortless mask he wore was completely fractured, leaving his expression raw, breathless, and laced with a terrifyingly fierce panic.

"Are you out of your mind?" Yeonjun breathed, his voice a low, rough whisper that rattled against her chest. His grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her sides as if he was checking to make sure she was still intact. "I told you not to go up there. Do you actually not have a brain? Are you that desperate to beat me?"

Y/N stared up at him, her lips parting slightly as her own breath hitched completely in her throat.

Y/N’s chest heaved under the sudden, suffocating weight of his presence. For a terrifying split second, the sheer panic in his eyes threatened to crack open the neat, organized boxes she kept her feelings in. The raw honesty on his face was a weapon she didn't know how to defend against.

But then, the defense mechanisms she’d spent a lifetime building slammed shut. If she admitted he was right—if she let him see that those four points actually kept her awake at night, or that the thought of him winning made her throat tight—she would lose. And Jeon Y/N did not lose and definitely not to Choi Yeonjun.

She forced a sharp, breathy scoff into her throat, aggressively shoving against his broad shoulders.

"Oh, please," Y/N snapped, her voice instantly recapturing its sharp, defensive edge even as her heart threatened to burst out of her ribs. She twisted her hips, wriggling out from under his heavy frame until she could scramble backward into the dirt, putting three feet of safe, dusty earth between them. "Don't flatter yourself, Choi. I'm not desperate to beat you. I'm risking my neck because your smug face makes me physically sick, and the thought of me having to pay for your meal while I carry two baskets of apples up the hill is literally a nightmare scenario."

She stood up quickly, ignoring the sharp ache in her ankle and the way her knees wobbled slightly from the residual adrenaline. She aggressively brushed the dry grass and volcanic dirt off her bare shins, avoiding his gaze entirely.

"And for your information, my balance was perfectly fine," she lied through her teeth, gesturing wildly at the collapsed wooden ladder. "The ladder is a safety hazard. Mrs. Lee should be reported to the town hall for having faulty equipment."

Yeonjun didn't move for a long moment. He stayed seated in the grass, his long legs sprawled out, his hands resting behind him on the dirt. The fierce, panicked intensity in his dark eyes slowly retreated, replaced by a cold, hard shutter as he watched her immediately re-erect her walls.

The silence between them grew incredibly tense—not the heavy, loaded silence of a moment ago, but the sharp, prickly silence of two people who had just stepped right up to the edge of a cliff and scrambled backward in a panic.

Slowly, Yeonjun let out a low, humorless breath that sounded almost like a sigh. He reached up, running a hand through his wild black hair, pulling the damp strands back from his forehead before his lips twisted into a familiar, defensive smirk. But the smirk didn't reach his eyes. They remained flat, guarded, and completely unreadable.

"Right," Yeonjun drawled, his voice stepping right back into that lazy, arrogant high school cadence. He pushed himself up from the ground with an effortless, fluid movement, brushing the dirt off his denim shorts with a single, aggressive slap of his palms. "My bad. I forgot who

I was talking to. For a second there, I thought you actually possessed human emotions, Jeon."

He stepped past her, deliberately brushing his shoulder against hers with enough force to make her stagger half a step. He reached down and grabbed his wicker basket, which was still mostly full of the green apples that hadn't spilled.

"Since you're so perfectly fine and definitely didn't just almost break your spine," he muttered, tossing a single, bruised green apple from his hand into her half-empty basket, "I'll see you at the top of the hill. Try not to pass out from the humidity on your way up."

Without waiting for her reply, he turned his back on her, his long strides quick and deliberate as he headed up the gravel path toward Mrs. Lee's house.

Y/N stood alone under the heavy shade of the apple tree, her fists clenched tightly at her sides, her heart still hammering a furious, unruly rhythm against her ribs. She had successfully kept her armor on, but as she looked down at the bruised apple he had left behind, her chest felt completely hollow.

By five o'clock, the bruised iron-gray clouds had crawled closer from the horizon, swallowing the last bits of the afternoon sun and plunging the orchard into a premature, eerie twilight. The wind was picking up now, rustling the thick canopy of the apple tree with a heavy, restless sigh that smelled of rain and cold slate.

Y/N knelt in the dirt, her fingers stinging as she gathered the scattered green apples that hadn't been completely pulverized by the fall. Every thud of a fruit hitting her basket felt like a dull echo of her own heartbeat. Her shoulder still felt warm where Yeonjun’s chest had been pressed against it, and no matter how hard she rubbed her ankles, she couldn't shake the phantom sensation of his fingers locking around her skin.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself, throwing a particularly small apple into the wicker basket. "Completely insufferable."

She was angry at him for being right about the ladder, angry at him for his effortless rescue, but mostly, she was furious with herself. For a single, weak second, she had wanted to stay down in the grass. She had wanted to let the ledger slide out of her mind.

Clutching the heavy wicker handle, she hauled herself up. Her left ankle gave a small, protesting throb, but she clamped her jaw tight and forced herself to walk with a straight, unbothered posture as she lugged the weight up the gravel incline toward Mrs. Lee’s porch.

When she rounded the corner of the low basalt wall, she found Yeonjun already sitting on the wooden edge of the veranda.

He was leaning back against a wooden pillar, one long leg dangling off the platform while the other was pulled up to his chest. In his right hand, he held a green aluminum can of Chilsung Cider—sweating heavily in the humidity, already popped open. He was talking quietly with Mrs. Lee, his face pulled into that polite, sweet-grandson expression he only used for the neighborhood elders.

"Ah, Y/N-ah!" Mrs. Lee called out, her wrinkled face crinkling into a smile as she spotted her over her glasses. She was sorting through Yeonjun's basket, wiping the dust off the green skins with a damp cloth. "Look at you, drenched in sweat. Put the basket down over there, dear. Yeonjun told me the ladder gave out. Thank goodness he was there to catch you, or your mother would have skinned me alive before the university exams!"

Y/N felt a hot prickle of embarrassment rush up her neck. She shot a sharp, warning glare at Yeonjun, but he didn't even flinch. He just took a slow, deliberate sip of his cider, the aluminum can clicking softly against his teeth. Her eyes instinctively tracked the movement of his throat as he swallowed.

"It was nothing, Mrs Lee," Yeonjun said smoothly, his voice dropping into that easy, respectful cadence. He finally turned his eyes toward Y/N, his lips curling into a lazy, victorious smirk that felt entirely manufactured compared to the raw panic she’d seen in the dirt ten minutes ago. "Y/N is just a little uncoordinated when she’s tired. I was happy to help."

"I am not uncoordinated," Y/N muttered under her breath, dropping her basket onto the wooden floorboards with a loud, aggressive thud.

"Here, take your wage, kids," Mrs. Lee interrupted, pressing a crisp 10,000-won bill into each of their palms, along with a heavy plastic bag filled with the bruised apples that weren't fit for selling. "Go home before it gets dark."

They walked out of the gate in a heavy, suffocating silence.

The village road was completely deserted, the local fishermen having already secured their boats at the harbor below. He walked half a step ahead of her, his long shadow stretching out behind him, cutting right across her path.

Y/N stared at the back of his neck, her chest tightening with an uncomfortable, itchy frustration. The silence between them was too loud. It was the kind of quiet that meant he was thinking, calculating his next move, and she hated not knowing the variables.

"You didn't have to tell her," she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the humid air.

Yeonjun stopped. He didn't turn around, but his broad shoulders dropped an inch. He took one last sip of his cider, tilted his head back, and tossed the empty green can into a recycling bin by the side of the road with a hollow, ringing clatter.

"Tell her what?" he asked, turning around slowly. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his denim shorts, his dark eyes shadowed under his messy black bangs. "That you almost broke your neck because you can't stand the thought of me being four points ahead of you? I omitted that part, Jeon. I was being charitable."

"I told you, it had nothing to do with the points!" Y/N stepped closer, her fists clenching at her sides as she looked up at him. "Why do you always do that? Why do you always twist everything into a competition? You act like my entire life revolves around trying to beat you."

Yeonjun let out a sharp, humorless breath. He took a single step forward, closing the distance between them until the sharp, clean scent of his soap and the heavy tang of the ocean completely enveloped her again. The lazy, teasing mask he had worn on Mrs. Lee's porch vanished in an instant, leaving his jawline locked and rigid.

"Doesn't it?" he whispered, his voice dropping into that lower, terrifyingly clear register. He leaned down just a fraction, bringing his dark monolids level with hers. "Tell me I'm wrong, Y/N-ah. Tell me you don't look at me every single day just to measure how much further you need to go to get off this place."

The honesty in his voice was a physical weight, pressing against her chest until she could barely breathe. The wind whipped a stray lock of his ink-black hair across his eyes, but he didn't blink, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that felt far too heavy for the middle of a deserted village road.

"I'm going home," she muttered, walking fast past him.

Three days later, the bruising gray storm clouds had finally cleared, leaving behind a sky so blindingly blue it looked fake. The heavy humidity had returned with a vengeance, baking the island until the black basalt walls practically radiated heat.

Y/N found herself dragged out of her dark bedroom and away from her English vocabulary cards for the sole purpose of playing pack mule to her mother. After spending two hours navigating the shouting throngs at the coastal five-day market, they had taken refuge inside Myeong-suk’s Boutique, the only real clothing store in their small seaside town.

The shop smelled heavily of mothballs, synthetic linen, and the industrial cooling mist of an old wall-unit air conditioner that aggressively rattled against its brackets. Y/N stood near a rack of oversized floral blouses, her arms aching from the heavy plastic bags of dried anchovies and garlic cloves resting against her shins.

A few feet away, her mother leaned over the glass jewelry counter, completely locked in a high-speed gossip session with the shop owner.

"I’m telling you, Myeong-suk, the price of hairtail fish skyrocketed this week," her mother complained, gesturing widely. "And don't get me started on the electricity bills with these kids keeping the lights on until four in the morning to study..."

Y/N sighed, letting her fingers mindlessly trace the rough texture of a linen dress on the rack. Her mind was entirely elsewhere—specifically trapped in the memory of the orchard three days ago. She still felt an annoying, hot spike of humiliation every time she remembered how she had scrambled away from Yeonjun in the grass. They hadn't spoken since. He hadn't even looked toward her window at night, keeping his desk lamp off or his curtains aggressively drawn.

“Did you see Yeonjun at the harbor pump yesterday?”

The quiet, giggling whisper cut right through the hum of the air conditioner. Y/N’s fingers froze against the hangers.

She glanced through the gaps of the clothing rack. Standing near a display of colorful plastic hair clips were two girls wearing lightweight summer clothes that were trending in Seoul. Y/N recognized them instantly—they were juniors, the type who spent most of their lunch breaks hovering near the outdoor basketball courts.

"I saw him!" the second girl squeaked, slapping her friend’s arm in a frantic rush of excitement. "He was helping his dad haul those heavy fishing nets off the boat. His shirt was completely drenched, and when he pushed his hair back... wah, I seriously forgot how to breathe for a second. His arms have gotten so much bigger since the spring. He looks completely different from the scrawny boys in our class."

"Right? He doesn't even look like he belongs on this island," the first girl whispered, leaning in closer until their foreheads almost touched over a display of plastic hair clips. "My older sister said all the girls at the academic academy up in Jeju City are talking about him too. They say he’s not just handsome, he’s probably going to place number one in the whole province for the CSAT. A perfect guy who studies like a monster and looks like that? It’s completely unfair. Some girl from the girls' high school apparently tried to hand him a letter by the bus stop last Friday."

"Oh my god, really?" The second girl gasped, clutching her chest. "What did he do? Did he take it?"

"No, my sister said he didn't even look at the envelope. He just kept his headphones on, muttered some excuse about being late to meet his dad, and walked right past her. He's totally untouchable. It's like he's completely blind to anyone who isn't a textbook."

"Well... maybe he's already seeing someone secretly?" The younger girl speculated, her voice dropping into a hopeful, nervous register. "Someone at school said he's always hanging around that girl who lives next door to him. The one whose older sister went to Korea University."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She pulled back slightly, her shoulder stiffening up behind the clothing rack as she tried to make herself completely invisible between a row of starch-stiff denim skirts.

"Who, Jeon Y/N?" The first girl let out a small, dismissive huff, waving her hand in the air. "No way. My brother is in their grade, and he says those two can't stand each other. They literally fight over everything. He said during the mock exam review, Choi didn't even look at her when the teacher read the ledger scores. They’re just neighbors who happen to go to the same school because their parents are close. I mean don’t get me wrong she’s pretty but they've known each other since they were toddlers, so she probably just annoys him like an annoying younger sister."

"Ah, that makes sense. I heard she's a total psycho about her grades anyway. Always sitting in the front row, glaring at the chalkboard like she wants to murder the teacher." The girl giggled, spinning a hair tie around her finger. "Who would want to date a girl who spends her entire Friday night memorizing English vocabulary? Besides, someone like Choi Yeonjun is definitely going to cross the sea to Seoul National University. He'll be living in the capital, hanging out in Hongdae, and dating a beautiful college girl by next spring. Why would he ever settle for someone here on the island? Especially a girl who's just a bitter runner-up."

The words hit Y/N like a sudden, cold splash of sea water, leaving a sharp, stinging sensation behind her ribs.

They can't stand each other. A bitter runner-up.

It was exactly what she had been telling herself for three years. It was the exact, clinical logic she used to justify her competitive rage. But hearing it out loud from a stranger’s mouth didn't feel satisfying or validating. It felt incredibly bitter, heavy, and frustratingly permanent, making the small boutique feel twice as hot as it actually was.

"Y/N-ah! What are you doing hiding back there like a ghost?" her mother’s loud voice boomed across the quiet store, shattering her train of thought. Her mother waved her over from the counter, holding up a pair of hideous, neon-pink sun-sleeves. "Come look at these. You need them for when you walk down to the library.!"

The two juniors snapped their heads toward the sound of her name, their eyes widening in sheer, terrified panic as they realized the exact person they had been gossiping about was standing five feet away.

Y/N didn't look at them. She kept her chin up, forcing her face into a cold, perfectly unbothered expression as she stepped out from behind the clothing rack. She picked up the heavy grocery bags from the floor, her fingers digging tightly into the plastic handles until her knuckles turned white.

"I don't need them, Mom," Y/N said, her voice sounding a little sharper, a little louder than she intended. "The sun doesn't bother me. Let's just go home. I need to study."

Her mother blinked, startled by the sudden shift in her daughter's tone. She looked from Y/N’s rigid posture to the two younger girls who were suddenly pretending to be intensely fascinated by a rack of discounted socks.

"My goodness, what is wrong with your temper today?" her mother sighed, shaking her head as she handed the shop owner a few bills. "Always 'study, study, study' the second the sun comes out. Fine, let's go. Myeong-suk, I'll bring the side dishes by tomorrow!"

Y/N didn't wait. She turned on her heel and pushed through the boutique's heavy glass door, the small brass bell above it letting out a sharp, mocking ting-a-ling.

The afternoon heat hit Y/N like a physical blow the second she stepped onto the asphalt, but it barely registered. She walked half a step ahead of her mother, her sandals slapping aggressively against the pavement, the heavy plastic bags of dried anchovies and garlic cloves banging against her shins with every stride.

Her mother was still muttering behind her about the price of goods, but the sound was completely drowned out by the rhythmic, mocking loop of the first-years' voices in her head.

He looks completely different from the scrawny boys in our class.

A perfect guy who looks like that.

Y/N’s fingers dug tighter into the plastic handles until her knuckles turned a stark, bloodless white.

Was Yeonjun attractive?

It was a stupid, hazardous question to even let drift into her mind. For years since they were kids, she had systematically trained her brain to view Choi Yeonjun through a strictly clinical lens. He was a number on a ledger. He was an annoying voice over the shared basalt stone wall. He was a set of broad shoulders blocking her view of the chalkboard.

But as she stared down at the sun-baked road, her mind traitorously flashed back to the orchard three days ago—and suddenly, the clinical lens completely shattered.

She remembered the solid, heavy feel of his chest pressed against her ribs when they crashed into the grass. She remembered the way his shirt had shifted, exposing the sharp, sun-browned lines of his collarbone and the lean strength of his shoulders. Her skin still felt hot where his large palm had slid up her ribs, his thumb resting right against her jawline.

Up close, he didn't look like the boys they had grown up with, running around the harbor in stained shorts. He had grown up over the summer. His jawline had sharpened into a tense, rigid line, his ink-black hair was always perfectly, infuriatingly messy, and those dark, hooded monolid eyes held a heavy, unblinking focus that made her chest ache with an unbearable tension whenever he looked at her.

No, her brain suddenly fired back, a fierce, desperate wave of denial slamming into her chest. Absolutely not. Delete that.

She forced herself to draw in a sharp, rattling breath of the humid air, her jaw locking so tight it throbbed. What were those underclassmen even talking about?

They were first-years; their brains were practically mush driven entirely by high school K-drama delusions.

Choi Yeonjun wasn’t attractive. He was ordinary. He was completely average.

If you stripped away the ridiculous, oversized rumors and the fact that he happened to hit a growth spurt a few months before everyone else, he was just the same annoying kid who used to wipe his sticky fingers on her gym shirt in middle school.

Those juniors were blind. The whole village was blind.

He was just a local harbor kid who happened to be tall. If he went to a real academy in Seoul, he’d blend right into the background of a thousand other high schoolers. He would be completely invisible.

So why did your heart stop when he caught you in the orchard? a tiny, treacherous voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Adrenaline, she fiercely argued back, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the sun-baked pavement. A basic, physiological fight-or-flight response to a near-death experience on a faulty piece of agricultural equipment. It had zero to do with him.

She gripped the plastic handles of the grocery bags until her knuckles turned a bloodless, stark white. He was her rival. He was a four-point gap on a piece of paper. He was an obstacle she needed to clear so she could get off this rock. That was the only variable that mattered. He wasn't allowed to be anything else, especially not some village heartthrob that other girls got to daydream about.

The sky over the western coast was bleeding a deep, bruised violet, the setting sun plunging into the seaa and painting the water in brilliant streaks of burnt orange and gold. The violent heat of the day had finally fractured, replaced by a cool, aggressive wind that roared off the tide, carrying a sharp spray of salt and the heavy scent of dry pine needles.

Y/N was stretched out on an old, weathered pyeongsang that sat tucked beneath the jagged shadow of an ancient pine tree right where the coastal path met the rocks. She was lying flat on her stomach, her chin propped in her palms, her bare feet swinging mindlessly in the evening air.

Buried in her lap was an old, battered paperback fantasy novel she had read a dozen times since she was ten years old. The edges were soft and yellowed, the cover taped together at the spine, and the pages smelled comfortingly of old paper. With the steady, deafening roar of the tide crashing against the black basalt rocks just twenty feet away, the entire world felt entirely distant. For the first time all week, the stubborn knot in her shoulders had completely unraveled.

Crunch.

The sharp snap of gravel under canvas sneakers cut through the roar of the waves.

"You're going to ruin your eyesight reading in this light, Jeon. Or did you suddenly develop night vision over the summer?"

Y/N’s shoulders went instantly rigid. The peaceful, private bubble she had built around herself popped with a violent zip.

She slowly closed the book around her thumb to keep her page, letting out a long, irritated breath against the smooth wood of the pyeongsang before rolling over onto her side to face her daily tormentor.

Choi Yeonjun was standing at the edge of the wooden platform. He was holding a crinkling plastic bag from the local cooperative store, the tops of a couple of ice cream bars and loose bags of shrimp crackers peeking out. He had clearly just been passing by on his way up from the harbor road, his long legs stretched out in a pair of faded denim shorts. He wore a loose, sleeveless dark shirt that sat wide on his shoulders, and the thin silver chain around his neck was catching the last, fiery glare of the dying sunset.

His dark, hooded monolid eyes were squinting slightly against the wind, but they fixed onto her with that slow, unblinking focus that always made her stomach do an unruly, defensive flip.

"This is a public space, Choi," Y/N snapped, shielding her book protectively against her ribs as she glared up at him. "And the lighting is perfectly fine. Go away. Go eat your snacks somewhere else."

Yeonjun let out a low, breathy chuckle, the sound easily cutting through the rushing wind. Instead of walking away, he smoothly stepped onto the edge of the wide wooden pyeongsang. The old timber gave a slight, familiar creak under his weight as he sat down on the opposite end, dangling his long legs off the side.

"I was planning on eating them at home," Yeonjun murmured, reaching into the plastic bag and pulling out a small melon ice bar, already starting to melt in its wrapper. He tilted his head, his dark eyes dropping to the taped spine of the book in her lap. The teasing smirk on his lips softened, a sudden, unexpected flash of recognition crossing his face. "Wait. Are you seriously still reading that thing? You've had that book since the fifth grade. I remember you crying when the binding broke in middle school."

Y/N’s face flushed a hot crimson that had absolutely nothing to do with the setting sun.

"I did not cry, you uncultured idiot," she muttered, rolling back onto her side so her back was completely turned to him, using her book as a physical barrier between them. "And it’s a classic. Leave me alone."

"Sure, it is." Yeonjun’s voice came from right behind her, sounding closer now—much closer than he had been a second ago.

Y/N felt the wood shift significantly under his weight. She tensed, her heart giving a sudden, violent thud against her ribs. She looked over her shoulder.

Yeonjun hadn't stayed on his side. He had moved, sliding down the length of the pyeongsang until he was lying flat on his side too, his head propped up by his elbow, facing her. He was barely a foot away, the melting ice cream bar held carefully away from the wood.

Up close, the sharp, freezing scent of the sea ocean clung to him, mixed with the clean, familiar smell of his soap. The amber light of the sunset hit the sharp line of his jaw and cast long, dramatic shadows over his eyes.

He's completely ordinary, she fiercely argued with her own brain, her knuckles turning white against her book cover. He's just a local kid. A messy kid.

But the lie felt entirely pathetic. Standing in a crowded boutique listening to juniors talk about how attractive he was was one thing, but having him lie next to her on a sun-bleached wooden deck, with his broad shoulders completely blocking out the entire golden horizon, made it impossible to deny. He wasn't ordinary. He was entirely too big for this platform, and the sudden, heavy proximity was suffocating.

Yeonjun shifted slightly, his dark monolids holding her gaze with an intensity that made the space between them feel dangerously small. He reached out, his long, pale fingers hesitating for a fraction of a second in the air before he lightly tapped the corner of her battered book.

"You always hide down here when you're in a bad mood," Yeonjun murmured softly, his voice dropping below the roar of the crashing tide, creating a private, heavy pocket of air under the shade of the pine tree. "You've been doing it since we were kids. Every time you're pissed at the world, you run straight to this tree. Who are you mad at today, Y/N-ah? Me, or someone else?"

Y/N’s chest tightened, the heavy roar of the waves suddenly feeling very far away compared to the low, gravelly timbre of his voice. Hearing her actual name slip past his lips—so quiet, completely stripped of that defensive, arrogant edge he usually wore like armor—sent a sharp, erratic spike straight through her pulse.

She pulled the book closer to her chest, her chin digging into the soft edge of the taped spine.

"I'm not mad at anyone, Choi," she lied, her voice tight as she desperately tried to reconstruct her walls. She stared at the small silver chain resting against his collarbone, refusing to look him in the eye. "I was perfectly fine until you showed up with your melting ice cream and your unsolicited psychological analysis."

Yeonjun didn't snap back. He didn't drop a lazy taunt or pull away. He just stayed right there, propped up on his elbow, his dark, hooded eyes tracking the fierce, defensive tension in her jaw. The fiery orange reflection of the sunset danced across his wet hair, casting long, sharp shadows across the bridge of his nose.

Slowly, he reached into the crinkling plastic bag between them, pulled out a second ice cream bar—a classic sweet soda pop flavor—and dropped it onto the weathered wood right in front of her nose.

"Eat it before it turns into soup," he murmured, his fingers lingering on the plastic wrapper for a beat before he drew his hand back. "You look like you're about to bite through your own lip."

Y/N glanced down at the ice cream, then back up at him, her eyebrows knitting together in suspicion. "What is this? A bribe? Are you trying to poison the competition?"

"Yeah, exactly," Yeonjun drawled, a tiny, familiar smirk finally pulling at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remained intensely focused, heavy with that unspoken weight from the orchard. "I put extra salt in that one just for you. Come on, Jeon. Just take it. Consider it a truce for the next ten minutes."

She hesitated, her fingers twitching against her book. She wanted to reject it. She wanted to stand up, throw her sandals on, and march right up the hill to show him that he couldn't just slide into her space and soften her edges. But the cold air radiating off the wrapper was entirely too tempting in the heavy twilight, and her throat felt parched from the salty sea wind.

With a sharp, reluctant huff, she let go of her book and snatched the ice cream. She tore the plastic open with her teeth, the sharp, nostalgic scent of sweet blue soda immediately bursting into the air.

"Ten minutes," she muttered through a mouthful of ice, rolling onto her back to look up at the dark pine needles swaying against the violet sky. "And then you leave. I have a chapter to finish."

"Deal," Yeonjun whispered.

He rolled onto his back too, mirroring her posture on the wide wooden platform. He tucked his hands behind his head, his long legs dangling off the edge of the pyeongsang, his shoulders entirely relaxed against the sun-bleached timber.

The silence that settled between them wasn't the prickly, aggressive quiet of the clothing store or the suffocating heat of Mrs. Lee’s orchard. Cooled by the freezing spray of the ocean and anchored by the steady, rhythmic crashing of the tide against the basalt rocks, it felt temporary, fragile, and strangely safe.

For the first time in days, Y/N let her eyes drift sideways. From this angle, she could see the clean, sharp profile of his face against the dying light—the slight curve of his nose, the full shape of his lips, the dark strands of hair plastered to his temple.

He's ordinary, she tried to tell herself one last time, staring at the small mole near his ear. Just a neighbor.

But as Yeonjun let out a slow, content sigh, the silver chain shifting softly against his throat, the lie completely evaporated in the wind. He wasn't ordinary, and no matter how many walls she built, she knew she was running out of bricks.

The sky had officially faded from a violent orange to a deep, velvety indigo, leaving only a thin ribbon of gold hugging the horizon where the sun had dipped below the sea. The wind coming off the water had grown cooler, rustling the heavy pine branches above them with a hollow, rushing sound.

Y/N bit into her soda bar, the icy sweetness numbing her tongue. She stared up at the dawning stars, waiting for him to break the silence with some annoying comment, but he didn't. He just lay there, staring up at the same sky, breathing in a slow, steady rhythm.

"My mom said your dad came back down from the Seoul office for the weekend," Y/N said suddenly, her voice cutting through the roar of the waves. She kept her eyes fixed on a bright planet blinking through the pine needles, shifting the conversation to something completely ordinary. "She said she saw him at the village bus stop yesterday morning. He was still wearing his corporate suit trousers in this humidity."

Yeonjun let out a low, breathy chuckle, the sound vibrating through the wooden planks beneath them. He shifted, rolling onto his side to face her fully, propping his head up with his hand. "Yeah. He literally got off the flight from Gimpo, took the express bus down here, and immediately started complaining about the lack of air conditioning at the terminal. He refuses to take off his dress shirts until he’s strictly inside the house."

Y/N glanced over at him. In the deepening twilight, she could see the clean, sharp outline of his profile. Even slouched on an old wooden deck in a loose tank top, he carried a certain striking presence that was getting harder and harder to ignore.

"He’s been working in the capital for three years now, right?" she asked, taking another bite of her ice cream.

"Four, actually," Yeonjun murmured, reaching into the plastic bag between them and pulling out a bag of shrimp crackers, tearing it open with a loud crink. He offered the bag to her first. "He only comes down to the island once or twice a month now. Every time he visits, he looks at the village like he's trying to remember where we keep the grocery store."

Y/N reached into the bag, taking a few crackers. The salty, familiar crunch was a perfect contrast to the melting soda bar. "Must be weird. Going back and forth between a glass skyscraper in Seoul and a house next to a mandarin orchard."

"It is," Yeonjun said quietly, his dark eyes reflecting the faint starlight as he looked out at the dark water. "He keeps telling me that the city moves so fast you don't have time to breathe. He brought home a mountain of corporate gift sets this time. Spam, premium cooking oil, ginseng... my mom told him to stop bringing that stuff because we don't have room in the pantry."

A sudden, genuine laugh escaped Y/N's lips before she could stop it. She covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking slightly. "My mom would gladly take the Spam off her hands. She was just complaining about the price of groceries at the market today."

"I'll tell her to drop a box over the wall tomorrow then," Yeonjun said, his eyes softening as he watched her laugh.

The intense, suffocating tension that usually defined their recent interactions had completely evaporated, replaced by the easy, comfortable rhythm of two neighbors who knew everything about each other's families. For a few minutes under the old pine tree, the unsaid things vanished, and they were just sharing snacks on a weathered deck while the tide rolled in.

Y/N chewed on a shrimp cracker, the salty flavor cutting through the artificial blue raspberry sweetness left on her tongue. "If he brings that much stuff back every time, your kitchen must look like a convenience store warehouse."

"It does," Yeonjun said, rolling onto his back again and staring up at the dark canopy of pine needles. "My mom literally barricaded the secondary fridge with boxes of premium seaweed snacks yesterday. If you want some, please come take them. Otherwise, I’m going to be eating them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner until winter."

"I might take you up on that," she murmured, her voice dropping into a softer, more relaxed register than she had used with him in months. "My sister uses those up like crazy when she makes her lunchboxes."

A comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the rhythmic, heavy shush of the tide dragging against the pebbles below. The cold air coming off the water was sharp now, raising tiny goosebumps along Y/N’s bare arms, but the proximity of the wooden deck and the shared warmth of the space kept her from shivering.

She turned her head slightly to look at him. His profile was painted in deep shades of blue and gray by the twilight, the silver chain around his neck glinting faintly whenever the distant harbor light swept across the shore.

"Is your dad going back up on Sunday night?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. The late flight," Yeonjun replied. He didn't turn his head, but his jaw tightened just a fraction. "He has a presentation on Monday morning at the headquarters. He spent most of this afternoon pacing around the living room, rehearsing it in his corporate voice. It’s weird hearing him talk like a manager when he’s standing in his socks in our living room."

Y/N let out a small, breathy huff of amusement, imagining the senior Mr. Choi who usually helped patch up the stone walls whenever the heavy summer typhoons hit acting like a high-powered Seoul executive.

"I guess he belongs up there now," she said softly, the words slipping out before she could think to filter them.

Yeonjun stayed quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward her, his dark, hooded monolids fixed on her face with that heavy, unblinking intensity that always made her chest ache.

"He thinks he does," Yeonjun murmured, his voice dropping into a lower, rougher cadence that seemed to vibrate directly through the weathered timber of the pyeongsang. "But every time he leaves, he forgets his favorite travel thermos or his reading glasses. My mom says it’s because a part of him keeps trying to leave an anchor behind so he has to come back."

Y/N looked at him, her fingers freezing over the empty ice cream wrapper. The way he said it—softly, with a heavy sort of gravity—made the cold sea breeze feel a little sharper against her skin.

"An anchor," she repeated, the word tasting strange on her tongue.

"Yeah," Yeonjun murmured, his eyes never leaving her face. He shifted his arm, his large hand flat against the wood, just an inch closer to her side. "He spends all month surrounded by gray buildings, glass elevators, and people who only know him by his title. Then he comes back here, and the first thing he does is complain about the humidity, but... he stays out on the veranda for three hours just watching the dark over the ocean."

He paused, a faint, almost imperceptible line forming between his sharp eyebrows.

"I think he's terrified of waking up one day and realizing he completely forgot what the salt air smells like."

Y/N felt a strange, tight ache bloom behind her ribs. For all her stubborn denial, for all her focus on running away from this island, she had never considered what happened to the people who actually managed to leave it. She thought about his dad's suit trousers, pristine and out of place against the dusty village bus stop, and suddenly, the capital didn't just sound like a glittering paradise of freedom. It sounded vast. It sounded lonely, almost like a prison somehow.

"Do you think..." Y/N hesitated, her voice dropping until it was barely a whisper against the roar of the tide. "Do you think that happens to everyone who crosses the sea?"

Yeonjun didn't answer right away. He looked up at the deep indigo sky, where the stars were now burning crisp and clear through the gaps in the pine branches. The silver chain around his neck rose and fell with his slow, steady breath.

"I don't know," he said quietly, his voice carrying a rare, vulnerable weight. "But if it happens... I guess you just have to make sure you're leaving something behind that's worth coming back for."

He turned his head back to her, his dark monolid eyes holding hers with an intense, unblinking focus that made the space between them feel dangerously small. The teasing rival she fought with every day felt entirely distant, replaced by the boy who had shared her childhood summers, standing right on the edge of becoming a man.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart giving a heavy, unruly thud against her ribs. She couldn't look away, completely trapped by his gaze under the shadow of the old pine tree.

"Like a thermos?" she tried to joke, her voice cracking slightly as she desperately tried to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

Yeonjun let out a low, breathy chuckle, his eyes softening as a familiar, gentle smirk returned to his lips. "Yeah, Jeon. Exactly like a thermos."

He opened his mouth, his gaze dropping to her lips for a split second before lifting back to her eyes. His expression went intensely quiet, that heavy, unblinking focus returning with a vengeance.

"Or maybe," Yeonjun murmured, his voice dropping into a lower, rougher cadence that barely carried over the sound of the wind, "it's not an object you leave behind. Maybe it's a person who makes you want to stay in the first place. Someone you've been with for—"

He cut himself off. The words hung suspended in the cool sea air for a single, breathless second, heavy and terrifyingly real. Y/N’s heart gave a violent, erratic wallop against her ribs, her fingers locking so tight around her paperback book that the taped spine groaned.

Yeonjun stared at her, his jaw tightening as if he’d suddenly realized exactly how much of his guard he had just dropped.

Then, just as quickly as the intensity had flared, he blinked, a sudden, casual mask sliding back over his features. He let out a sharp, breathy huff of a laugh, looking away toward the dark horizon as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Anyway," he muttered, his voice shifting back into his familiar, lazy drawl, though it sounded a little rougher around the edges than usual. He smoothly swung his long legs over the side of the platform and stood up, the old timber giving a loud creak. "It's getting pitch black out here. If we don't head back now, your mom is going to think I kidnapped you, and my mom will never let me hear the end of it."

Y/N sat frozen on the wooden deck for a beat, her brain scrambling to process the sudden whiplash. One second the air had been thick enough to choke on, and the next, he was just her annoying neighbor again, dusting sand off his denim shorts.

He was going to say something else, a tiny, frantic voice whispered in her head. He almost did.

"Right," she managed to say, her voice sounding tight as she hastily shoved her feet into her sandals. She stood up, clutching her book against her ribs like armor, desperately trying to ignore the chaotic thumping in her chest. "Obviously. It's freezing anyway."

Yeonjun picked up the empty plastic wrapper and the grocery bag, slinging the strap over his broad shoulder. "Come on, Jeon. Move those legs. Let's see if that high-and-mighty walking speed of yours works in the dark."

"I walk perfectly fine, Choi," she snapped, marching past him onto the gravel path, her face still burning hot despite the chilly wind coming off the tide.

As they walked side-by-side up the dark hill, the shadows of the mandarin trees stretching out across the road, neither of them spoke. But every time his shoulder brushed against hers in the narrow lane, Y/N gripped her book a little tighter, acutely aware that the space between them had permanently changed, no matter how hard he tried to brush it off.

Three days later, the usually sleepy concrete courtyard of the village community center had completely transformed into a frantic, chaotic construction zone. The upcoming annual summer festival had sent a sudden jolt of adrenaline through the entire neighborhood, dragging everyone out of their houses to prep the town’s central hub.

The air smelled entirely different today—the familiar, crisp scent of raw sea salt was completely masked by the rich, savory smoke of charcoal grills being test-fired, the sharp tang of fresh paint, and the sweet aroma of crushed mandarins from the juice stalls being set up along the perimeter. Everywhere Y/N looked, there was movement. Elderly village men in wide-brimmed straw hats were shouting instructions over the rumbling roar of a flatbed truck unloading heavy wooden stage platforms, while a group of neighborhood aunts argued fiercely over the exact placement of the banner for the local marketplace stall.

Y/N stood near the main entrance of the building, her shoulders already aching as she balanced a heavy, splintering wooden crate of plastic banners against her hip. Her mother had abandoned her twenty minutes ago, marching into the air-conditioned depths of the center to bark orders about the festival's side-dish distribution, leaving Y/N outside to serve as a utility pack mule for the decoration committee. She adjusted her grip on the crate, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with her shoulder, squinting against the blinding afternoon glare.

Thwack. Thwack.

The sharp, rhythmic ring of iron hitting wood cut through the noisy clatter of the courtyard.

Y/N turned her head toward the center’s main concrete awning. Yeonjun was standing near the very top of a tall, weathered wooden stepladder that looked entirely too unstable for her peace of mind. He was tasked with securing the main string of traditional red-and-blue silk lanterns to the high roof frame. He had two extra iron nails clamped firmly between his teeth, his sharp focus entirely narrowed at the wooden bracket he was fixing.

He was wearing a faded, oversized white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled tightly up to his shoulders, exposing the lean, functional muscles of his arms and the sharp definition of his back as he swung the hammer. A light sheen of sweat made his skin glisten under the hot sun, and his ink-black hair was messy, a few strands sticking to his damp forehead.

Ever since that night under the pine tree by the beach—ever since he had left that sentence hanging, suspended and terrifyingly close to a confession—a strange, fragile truce had settled between them. They hadn't spoken a single word about what he almost said, but the sharp, defensive walls they usually hid behind felt noticeably thinner.

Yeonjun swung the hammer one last time, driving the nail flush into the beam. He wiped his brow with the back of his forearm, took the nails out of his mouth, and dropped them into his palm. As he shifted his weight to look down at the courtyard, his dark, hooded monolid eyes scanned the crowd before locking instantly onto her.

A slow, familiar smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, breaking the intense concentration on his face.

"If you're just going to stand there using my hard labor as free entertainment, Jeon, the least you could do is hold the bottom of this ladder," he called down, his lazy, gravelly drawl cutting easily through the surrounding noise. He climbed down two rungs, letting the hammer dangle carelessly from his fingers as he looked down at her from his height. "This thing wobbles every time a truck drives past. My life is flashing before my eyes up here, and you're just watching like a spectator."

Y/N let out a dramatic, exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes as she marched across the concrete courtyard, her sandals slapping loudly against the pavement. She set the heavy wooden crate down by the base of the awning with a solid thud, dusting her hands off on her shorts before planting them firmly on the sides of the weathered wooden ladder.

"If you fall, Choi, I'm not catching you," she said, looking up at him through her eyelashes, squinting against the fierce afternoon sun. "In fact, I might just step aside and let gravity do its job. It would certainly make my shifts at the boutique a lot quieter."

"Wow. Cold-blooded as always, Jeon," Yeonjun drawled, though his smirk only widened. He shifted his weight intentionally, making the old wood give a loud, ominous creak just to watch her knuckles turn white as she gripped the frame tighter. "See? I'm risking my life for the cultural integrity of this village, and you're out here plotting my demise."

"Don't flatter yourself. You're up there because the elders know you're the only one tall enough to reach the rafters without needing an extension cord," she shot back, a small, involuntary smile tugging at her lips. "Now shut up and nail the next lantern before my arms freeze in this position."

Yeonjun let out a low, breathy laugh that vibrated down the wooden rungs. He reached into his pocket for another nail, placing it between his teeth with a practiced ease before reaching for the heavy blue silk lantern dangling from his shoulder.

"Hold it steady then," he muttered around the nail, his voice dropping into that lower, slightly muffled register.

As he leaned forward to secure the bracket, his loose t-shirt shifted, and the silver chain around his neck swung forward, catching the bright glare of the sun. Up close, Y/N could see the slight tremor of fatigue in his biceps from holding his arms up for so long, but he didn't slacken his pace. He worked with a surprising, quiet efficiency that she rarely got to see when he was busy lounging around the village.

"You missed a spot on the left," Y/N called up, leaning her chin slightly forward against the smooth wood of the ladder. "The red lantern is crooked. It looks like it’s throwing a tantrum."

Yeonjun stopped, his hammer suspended in mid-air. He looked down at her over his shoulder, his dark monolids narrowing in mock irritation. "It's not crooked. It's artistic tilt, Jeon. You clearly have no eye for festival aesthetics."

"It looks like a deflated mandarin, Choi. Fix it."

"If I fix it, do I get a reward?" he asked, a sudden, playful glint flashing in his eyes as he looked down at her. He rested his forearm against the top rung, completely ignoring the hammer for a second. "Like, say... you actually admitting that I'm doing a good job for once?"

"In your dreams," Y/N scoffed, though the tips of her ears felt suddenly warm under the summer heat. "Fix it, or I let go of the ladder right now."

"Alright, alright! Threats of violence, typical," he chuckled, quickly turning back to the beam and aggressively nudging the lantern into a perfectly straight line with the butt of his hammer. "There. Pristine. Are your exacting standards satisfied, Director Jeon?"

Y/N tilted her head back, narrowing her eyes as she critically examined the newly adjusted lantern. "Hmm. I suppose it will do. At least the tourists won't think our village decorations were put up by a toddler."

"A toddler? Ouch. You really know how to cut a man down to size," Yeonjun said, though his chest heaved with another silent laugh. He deftly tucked the hammer into the looped canvas tool belt resting low on his hips, a motion so fluid and casual it looked entirely practiced. Carefully, he began his descent, his long legs navigating the narrow wooden rungs with a lazy sort of grace until his sneakers finally met the solid concrete of the courtyard.

The moment he stepped down, the space between them shrank drastically. Standing at his full height, he easily blocked out the harsh glare of the afternoon sun, casting a long, cool shadow completely over her. The faint, clean scent of his soap mixed with the sharp tang of sweat and the earthy aroma of the nearby mandarin crates drifted over to her, making her pulse give a small, unprompted skip.

"Man, my shoulders are completely fried," Yeonjun groaned, rolling his neck until a loud, satisfying pop echoed through the air. He raised his arms, stretching his hands high above his head. As he did, the hem of his faded white t-shirt rode up just enough to expose a brief, tantalizing sliver of his lean, tanned lower back and the sharp line of his hip.

Y/N immediately ripped her eyes away, fixing her gaze intensely on the splintering wooden crate by her feet, her cheeks flaring with a sudden, localized heat. "If you're going to complain, go do it to the village foreman. I'm just the ladder dynamic stabilizer."

"The what?" Yeonjun let out a sharp, delighted bark of a laugh, dropping his arms and leaning forward slightly so he was directly in her line of sight again. His dark, hooded eyes danced with pure amusement. "Is that the official corporate title you're giving yourself, Jeon? 'Ladder dynamic stabilizer'?"

"Shut up," she muttered, kicking the corner of the wooden crate with the toe of her sandal. "It sounds better than 'person who stopped Choi Yeonjun from cracking his skull open on the pavement.'"

"Fair point," he drawled, a soft, incredibly gentle expression overtaking his face before he could stop it. The teasing smirk melted into something warmer, his gaze lingering on the stray wisps of hair stuck to her damp temples. He reached out, his hand hovering in the air between them for a fraction of a second as if he wanted to brush the strands away, before he

thought better of it and dropped his hand into his pocket. "You've been hauling those banners around all morning, haven't you?"

"My mom has zero mercy when it comes to festival prep," Y/N sighed, letting her shoulders slump as the banter finally wound down into a comfortable, shared exhaustion. "She wants the entire entrance lined with the plastic flags before the evening bus arrives from the ferry terminal."

Yeonjun looked over at the massive crate, then back at her small frame. Without a single word, he stepped past her, bent at the waist, and effortlessly hoisted the heavy wooden box into his arms, his biceps flexing tightly under the strain.

"Hey—what are you doing?" she asked, blinking in surprise.

"What does it look like, stabilizer?" Yeonjun said, giving her a wink over his shoulder as he began walking toward the main entrance gates. "I'm protecting my investment. If you throw your back out today, who's going to hold my ladder tomorrow?"

Y/N stood rooted to the concrete for a second, her hands completely empty and her brain temporarily short-circuiting. Her eyes were still helplessly glued to the line of his back—to the way his shoulder blades shifted under the thin cotton of his shirt and the undeniable, effortless strength it took to lift something that had been making her knees buckle.

A sudden, aggressive wave of heat rushed straight up her neck, flooding her cheeks until they felt like they were on fire. Get a grip, she told herself frantically, ripping her gaze away to stare intensely at a random crack in the pavement. It's just Choi Yeonjun. He's just... lifting a box. Muscles do that when people lift things. It's biology. Stop being weird.

"Hey! I didn't ask for your help, Choi!" she called out, her voice coming out a little sharper and higher than intended as she quickly jogged to catch up with his long, effortless strides. She desperately needed to cover up the fact that her heart was currently performing a drum solo against her ribs.

"You didn't have to," Yeonjun said over his shoulder, completely oblivious to the internal crisis happening two feet behind him. He navigated through a cluster of neighborhood elders who were busy untangling a massive knot of extension cords, carrying the heavy box like it was a crate of feathers. "Your face was doing all the asking for you.'"

"My bones are perfectly sturdy, thank you very much," she huffed, falling into step beside him and keeping a very strict, very safe distance so her arm wouldn't accidentally brush against his. She kept her eyes locked dead ahead, terrified that if she looked at his rolled-up sleeves again, her face would actually combust. "And I am not fragile."

"I know," Yeonjun murmured. His tone shifted, losing the mocking edge so quickly it caught her entirely off guard. He slowed his pace just a fraction, keeping his eyes trained on the path ahead but shifting the crate slightly so it wouldn't bump against her. "You're about as fragile as a block of volcanic rock, Jeon. That’s why I'm helping. If you pass out from heatstroke, I won't have anyone left to argue with, and this festival will be incredibly boring."

Y/N felt that familiar, unruly flutter behind her ribs again—the exact same dangerous, breathless sensation from the beach three nights ago. She squeezed her hands into fists inside her pockets, praying the shade of the community center gates would hide how utterly flustered she was.

"You really can't stand being alone with your own thoughts for five minutes, can you?" she muttered, trying to shield herself with her usual sarcasm, though it lacked its normal bite.

"Not when my thoughts are this exhausting," he replied smoothly. He stopped right by the main iron gates of the center, setting the heavy crate down on a concrete ledge with a dull thump. He wiped his palms on his shorts and turned around to face her fully, leaning his lower back against the ledge.

The afternoon breeze suddenly picked up, blowing a few messy strands of black hair across his eyes. He didn't brush them away; he just looked down at her, his dark monolid eyes reflecting the bright, glittering sunlight, a lazy, knowing tilt to his mouth.

"Alright, Director," Yeonjun drawled, crossing his arms over his chest—which only served to emphasize his shoulders even more, a fact Y/N's brain noted against her will. "The cargo has been delivered. Where do you want these banners strung up first? And don't say the top of the gate—I'm not climbing another ladder unless you promise to actually look after me this time."

A few hours later, the blistering afternoon heat had finally given way to a soft, golden twilight. The frantic pace of the courtyard had slowed down, leaving the community center looking ready for the big night.

Y/N and Yeonjun had retreated to the concrete steps of the main building, splitting a cold can of pear juice they’d swiped from one of the communal coolers. Y/N sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, her back leaning against the cool wall, while Yeonjun lounged a step below her, his long legs stretched out across the stairs, the half-empty can dangling carelessly from his fingers.

They sat in a comfortable, tired silence, simply people-watching as the village families began wandering home to wash up for dinner.

"Hey," Yeonjun said suddenly, his posture straightening just a fraction. He set his juice can down on the concrete and squinted across the courtyard toward the main gate. "Is that... wait, no way. Is that Soobin?"

Y/N followed his gaze. Walking through the iron gates was a strikingly tall, broad-shouldered guy holding a large duffel bag. He was wearing a simple, neatly ironed oversized blue button-down shirt and long beige trouser shorts—clothes that practically screamed big-city university student.

"Choi Soobin?" Y/N blinked, her eyes widening. "The elder Mrs. Choi's grandson? He's actually here for the summer?"

"Yeah, that's him," Yeonjun said, a grin breaking across his face as he watched the guy look around the courtyard with a shy, familiar smile. "He always comes down from Seoul right

before the festival to stay with his grandmother. I haven't seen him since last August." Yeonjun rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. "My mom mentioned he's in his second year of college now. Doing engineering up there."

Soobin noticed them from across the lot and gave a polite, hesitant wave, his dimples flashing even from a distance before he followed his mom and grandmother.

Y/N watched him walk away, genuinely impressed by how much the scrawny kid who used to hide behind his grandmother's skirt had grown. "Wow," she murmured, taking a sip of her juice. "He really grew up. He looks incredibly good. Seoul must be treating him well."

Beside her, the relaxed atmosphere instantly evaporated.

Yeonjun’s head snapped toward her so fast she could practically hear his neck click. His dark, hooded eyes narrowed into an intense, incredibly judgmental glare, and the easygoing smile completely vanished from his face.

"He looks what?" Yeonjun asked, his gravelly voice dripping with sudden, petty disbelief. He leaned his elbow back against the step above him, looking up at her as if she had just spoken in a foreign language. "He looks good? Jeon, he’s wearing a giant blue button-down. He looks like a walking corporate recycling bin."

Y/N couldn't help the smirk that spread across her face at his immediate, volatile reaction. "He looks put-together, Choi. The blue suits him, and he's huge now. Engineering looks good on him."

Yeonjun let out a loud, dramatic scoff, rolling his eyes as he picked his juice can back up and took an aggressive gulp. "Engineering. Please. It just means he spends all day looking at blueprints and calculators."

His expression shifted, a sharp, dangerously playful glint flashing in his eyes. He leaned back on his elbows, shifting his weight to nudge his shoulder teasingly against her shin as he looked up at her through his messy black fringe.

"Wait a minute," Yeonjun drawled, a slow, mocking smirk spreading across his lips. "Is that what this is? Do you actually have a little crush on the engineering boy? Is that your type now, Jeon? Tall, quiet, and looks like he wears a starch-pressed collar to sleep?"

"What? No!" Y/N shot back instantly, her voice rising a sharp octave.

"Oh, it totally is," Yeonjun teased, his voice dropping into a low whisper as he thoroughly enjoyed the sudden panic in her eyes. "Look at you, getting all defensive. Should I go call him back over here? Introduce you properly now that he’s a big-city college guy? See if he can calculate the structural integrity of your sudden crush?"

"Choi Yeonjun, shut up, he is not my type!" she snapped, desperately trying to ground herself.

But as she fought to keep her composure, her traitorous brain completely refused to cooperate. When Yeonjun taunted her about her 'type,' her mind didn't picture a neat blue button-down or engineering textbooks at all.

Instead, a vivid, overwhelming image flashed behind her eyelids: Yeonjun, standing on that wobbly ladder three hours ago, the hot afternoon sun making his skin gleam, the lean, functional muscles of his arms popping tightly as he swung the hammer, and the casual, effortless way he had hoisted that heavy wooden crate right out of her hands.

A violent, explosive blush rushed straight up her neck, flooding her cheeks with a heat so intense it felt literal.

Oh, no, she thought, a wave of genuine panic spiking in her chest. No, no, no.

She wasn't flustered because of Soobin. She was flustered because the only person currently occupying her thoughts—the only person who actually fit the description of what her body was reacting to—was the infuriating, beautiful boy currently smirking up at her from the step below.

"See! You're turning into a total tomato!" Yeonjun laughed triumphantly, completely misinterpreting the source of her sudden meltdown. He leaned back, thoroughly pleased with himself, his dark eyes crinkling completely at the corners. "I knew it. You're totally blushing."

"I am hot from working in the sun all day, Choi!" Y/N practically yelled, abruptly standing up from the concrete steps to hide her burning face. She clutched her empty juice box like a shield, her heart hammering a chaotic, deafening rhythm against her ribs. "I'm going inside to help my mom. Unlike you, some of us actually have things to do."

She turned on her heel and marched toward the community center doors, her sandals slapping furiously against the pavement. Behind her, she could hear Yeonjun’s low, amused chuckle echoing through the twilight air, but all she could focus on was the terrifying realization that her defenses against him were completely, utterly failing.

Yeonjun watched her retreat, his chuckle slowly tapering off until the heavy glass doors of the community center swung shut behind her. The moment she disappeared from view, the smug, triumphant grin on his face faltered, slipping away into the quiet twilight.

He looked down at his empty juice can, his thumb absently tracing the aluminum rim. A blue button-down, he thought, his chest tightening with a sudden, localized prickle of annoyance. 

Seriously?

He knew he was being ridiculous. It was Soobin. Soobin was a good kid, quiet, polite, and completely harmless. But the second Y/N had muttered that he looked incredibly good, something ugly and volatile had flared up in Yeonjun’s throat before he could even think to filter it. He hadn't just been teasing her to be annoying—he’d done it because the alternative was admitting that the comment had genuinely thrown him off balance.

He leaned his back against the concrete step, staring up at the darkening sky as the first few paper lanterns began to flicker to life around the courtyard.

She had blushed. She had turned an undeniable, explosive shade of crimson, her eyes widening in a panic that he had immediately jumped to label as a crush. He’d weaponized his usual banter to mock her for it, completely satisfied with his victory. But now, sitting alone on the stairs, a heavy sense of doubt began to creep in.

What if she actually does like him?

The thought sat like a stone in his stomach. He’d spent the last three days trying to convince himself to take a step back, trying to smooth over the terrifying moment on the beach where he had almost laid all his cards on the table. He’d told himself they were just neighbors, just childhood friends who bickered because it was easy. He’d deliberately hidden behind the teasing today, trying to keep things light, trying to keep her at arm's length so he wouldn't scare her off.

But watching her run inside, flustered and angry, his mind kept replaying the way her voice had spiked. He had assumed it was because of Soobin. He’d assumed she was hiding a secret interest in the smart, put-together university guy from Seoul.

Yeonjun let out a low, frustrated sigh, burying his face in his hands as his broad shoulders slumped. His skin still felt hot from the afternoon sun, his muscles aching slightly from the hours on the ladder, but none of that compared to the sudden, sharp ache of jealousy currently making his ribs feel entirely too tight.

If she really was looking at someone else like that... he was going to have a very hard time keeping his mouth shut for the rest of the summer.

The day of the festival finally arrived, heralded by a blazing sun that slowly began its descent, painting the island sky in long, bleeding streaks of deep amber, bruised violet, and brilliant gold. By 4:00 PM, the heavy, suffocating humidity of the afternoon was beginning to break, chased away by a cool breeze rolling off the ocean. Through Y/N’s open bedroom window, the distant, rhythmic thumping of traditional janggu drums and the faint, echoing sound of soundchecks from the main stage were already drifting into the house. The entire village was vibrating with life, but inside her bedroom, the air felt strangely thick, trapped, and entirely too quiet.

Y/N stood in front of her open closet, her bed already buried under a chaotic, colorful graveyard of discarded hangers and wrinkled fabrics.

She pulled out a simple cream linen sundress, held it up to her frame in the full-length mirror, and immediately tossed it onto the pile with a frustrated groan. Next came a neat pastel blouse—too formal, she’d look like she was going to a bank interview. A casual graphic t-shirt and denim shorts—too plain, she’d look like she hadn't even tried. She dragged her hands down her face, staring at her reflection with a growing sense of utter exasperation.

Why am I acting like this? she thought, her fingers tensing against her flushed cheeks. It's literally just a village festival.

Her heart was doing a strange, erratic flutter against her ribs—a restless, electric buzzing that had been humming under her skin since the exact moment her eyes snapped open that morning. She had attended this exact festival every single year of her life. It was a predictable, routine affair. Usually, she threw on whatever was clean and lying on her chair, brushed her hair to tame it, grabbed a skewered stick of grilled pork from the nearest stall, and spent the night trying to dodge the neighborhood grandmothers who wanted to matchmake her with their distant nephews. There was absolutely no reason for her palms to be damp right now. There was no reason for her stomach to be tied in a tight, twisting knot.

"Why am I so nervous?" she muttered aloud to the empty room, her voice sounding incredibly small and breathless against the distant backdrop of festive music.

She forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath, closing her eyes to clear her frantic mind. But the second darkness hit her vision, her brain completely betrayed her, entirely bypassing logic. It didn't flash to the bright paper lanterns she’d helped secure, or the prospect of the midnight fireworks over the harbor, or even the thought of running into Soobin in his neat big-city clothes.

Instead, her mind maliciously conjured an image from three days ago.

It replayed the sight of Yeonjun standing on that weathered wooden ladder, the fierce afternoon sun catching the sharp line of his jaw and making his skin gleam. It made her remember the precise, heavy shift of his broad shoulders under that faded white t-shirt, and the way his biceps had flexed so effortlessly when he ripped that crushing wooden crate out of her hands. Worse, it replayed the low, gravelly vibration of his voice when he had leaned over her on the steps, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners as he teased her about having a type.

Is that your type now, Jeon?

Y/N's eyes snapped open, a violent gasp escaping her throat as her face instantly flushed hot.

No. Absolutely not, she thought frantically, her internal voice shouting over the pounding rhythm of her pulse. I am not doing this. I am not getting dressed up for Choi Yeonjun.

The very idea was mortifying. They were neighbors. They were a localized disaster zone of bickering, insults, and aggressive eye-rolling. He was the boy who had once pushed her into a mud puddle when they were seven, the boy who stole her snacks, the boy who knew exactly which buttons to push to make her lose her mind.

But he was also the boy who had looked at her under the pine tree by the beach with a sudden, suffocating intensity that had nearly stopped her heart.

She looked back at the mirror, her eyes wide and dark with a panic she could no longer suppress. She was terrified. She was terrified because for the first time in her life, she

cared—deeply, horribly cared—about what he would think when he saw her tonight. She was terrified that if she wore something too pretty, he would see right through her, smirk that devastating, lazy smirk of his, and realize he had completely won. But she was equally terrified of wearing something ordinary and having his eyes just... pass over her.

"Get a grip, Jeon Y/N," she whispered fiercely to her reflection, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edges of her vanity table.

Steeling her jaw, she marched back to the closet and aggressively grabbed a breezy, square-necked navy sundress she had bought online months ago and never found an occasion to wear. It was simple, but it cinched neatly at her waist and left her collarbones bare. She stepped into it, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled up the zipper along her spine.

As the fabric fell into place, she stared at herself, her heart hammering a fierce, unmistakable rhythm against her ribs—a rhythm that she could no longer pretend was just excitement for the village fireworks.

She spent another fifteen minutes in front of the mirror, convinced she was losing her mind. She lightly patted a bit of lip gloss onto her lips, combed through her hair so it fell loosely over her shoulders, and immediately regretted it, half-tempted to pull it back into her usual bird's nest of a scrunchie just to spite her own anxiety.

A sudden, sharp knock on the front door made her jump entirely out of her skin. "Y/N-ah! Are you ready yet? Your mother already left for the food stalls an hour ago!"

The voice was loud, raspy, and instantly recognizable. It was Mrs. Kim from down the lane, probably sent as a scout to drag her out.

"Coming!" Y/N called back, her voice squeaking slightly. She took one last, desperate breath, smoothed down the skirt of the yellow dress, and slid into a pair of simple leather sandals.

When she stepped out of the front door, the village was bathed in a breathtaking, cinematic transition of light. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a deep, bruised indigo sky lit up by the brilliant, glowing strands of red-and-blue lanterns she and Yeonjun had hung just days prior. The air was thick with the mouth-watering scent of sizzling pork belly, sweet tteokbokki sauce, and the underlying crispness of the evening tide.

She walked down the narrow gravel path leading toward the community center lot, her hands nervously clutching the small strap of her purse. The closer she got, the louder the music became—a lively, chaotic blend of traditional festival melodies and the chatter of hundreds of locals and tourists.

And then, she saw him.

Yeonjun was standing near the main entrance gates, right beneath the very awning they had worked on. He was talking to a couple of the village elders, nodding politely, but his posture was completely casual, one hand shoved deep into the pocket of his dark trousers.

Y/N’s breath hitched squarely in her throat.

He had actually dressed up. The faded, oversized white t-shirt from a few days ago was gone, replaced by a crisp, short-sleeved white button-down that was slightly unbuttoned at the top, exposing the sharp lines of his collarbones and the silver chain glinting under the lantern light. His hair was neatly styled, parted just enough to show his forehead, looking effortlessly sharp. He looked so devastatingly attractive it felt like a physical blow to her chest.

As if sensing her presence, Yeonjun’s eyes drifted away from the elders, scanning the incoming crowd.

His gaze cut through the sea of people and locked onto her instantly.

Y/N froze mid-step. She watched the exact moment his expression changed. The polite, vacant smile he wore for the elders completely vanished. His eyes widened by a fraction, tracking the line of her bare collarbones, the way the yellow dress cinched at her waist, and the loose waves of her hair shifting in the evening breeze.

For three agonizing seconds, Choi Yeonjun completely forgot how to blink.

The sudden lapse in his composure was all the leverage Y/N needed to salvage her own crumbling defense system. Seeing him completely stunned sent a sudden, intoxicating rush of confidence straight through her veins, replacing the frantic nerves that had been suffocating her in her bedroom.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, put on her best, most effortless smirk, and closed the remaining distance between them.

"Take a picture, Choi" she said, her tone dripping with a lazy, practiced amusement as she stopped right in front of him. She crossed her arms, tilting her head up slightly to meet his gaze. "It’ll last longer."

Yeonjun blinked, finally snapping out of his trance. He cleared his throat, a sharp, uncharacteristic cough escaping him as he quickly shoved his other hand into his pocket. A faint, localized pink hue crept up the tips of his ears, though he tried his absolute best to mask it by rolling his shoulders back and looking down at her with his usual hooded, lazy stare.

"I wasn't staring," he drawled, his voice a little rougher than usual. His eyes darted down to the square neckline of her dress for a fraction of a second before snapping back up to her face. "I was just checking to see if you actually managed to clean up for once. Who knew you owned clothes that didn't make you look so rugged?"

"Look who's talking," Y/N shot back, a bright, genuine laugh breaking through her facade. She gestured broadly at his chest, her eyes lingering just a second too long on the open collar of his shirt. "What is all this? A crisp white button-down? Styled hair? Who are you trying to impress tonight, Choi? Did a scout from a Seoul modeling agency secretly come down on the afternoon ferry?"

Yeonjun let out a low, breathy chuckle, though he looked visibly flustered by the sudden call-out. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"The elders told me I had to look presentable since I'm helping with the opening ceremony," he muttered, though the territorial, smug tilt of his lips was slowly returning. He stepped an inch closer, completely invading her space, the clean, intoxicating scent of his cologne washing over her. "Besides... I couldn't let Choi Soobin have all the glory, could I? If I didn't dress up."

"In your dreams, Choi," Y/N laughed, instantly shifting back into her comfortable armor of competitive defiance as they finally stepped through the main gates and into the heart of the festival grounds. They might have cleaned up nicely tonight, but a pretty button-down didn't change the fact that they were still, first and foremost, bitter rivals.

The community center parking lot and the surrounding park had been completely transformed into a sprawling, glowing night market. Strands of red, blue, and gold paper lanterns stretched overhead, casting a warm, flickering canopy of light over the surging crowd. The air was a thick, intoxicating sensory overload—the sharp, savory smoke of grilled samgyeopsal and sizzling scallion pancakes fighting with the sweet, sugary aroma of fresh, cinnamon-filled hotteok from the local vendors.

On either side of the wide dirt paths, row after row of brightly tarped booths had been set up. To their left, a crowded food lane was in full swing, with older village women aggressively waving fans over hot grills. To their right, the game stalls stretched out, vibrating with the loud, tinny sounds of trendy hits and the cheers of kids trying to win oversized plush toys.

"Wow," Y/N murmured, her eyes darting from a booth offering traditional ring-toss to a lively stall where a group of teenagers were crowded around a goldfish-scooping basin. "They really went all out this year. It looks completely different from the previous ones."

"Told you," Yeonjun said, his deep voice cutting through the noise right beside her ear. Because of the tightly packed crowd squeezing past them, he had closed the distance between them again, his broad shoulder solid and warm against her bare arm—a contact Y/N stubbornly refused to shrink away from. Giving him an inch meant letting him win. He looked around the bustling grounds, a satisfied, protective sort of pride settling into his features. "Though I'm pretty sure half these game booths are rigged. Old Man Park’s shooting gallery hasn't been calibrated since 1998."

"Are you just saying that because you lost 50,000 won trying to win a giant fox plushie three summers ago?" Y/N teased, tilting her head up to give him a thoroughly mocking look. "A true winner wouldn't blame the equipment, Choi."

Yeonjun’s eyes narrowed playfully, a competitive spark instantly igniting in his dark gaze as he looked down at her. "That fox was structurally compromised, Jeon, and you know it. I hit the target dead center." He stepped directly into her path, cutting her off slightly as he gestured toward the shooting gallery down the row. "Alright. Since you think you're such a pro, let's settle it right now. The loser buys the samgyeopsal skewers. Unless you're too scared to put your money where your mouth is?”

"Scared of you?" Y/N let out a sharp, mocking laugh, her chin tilting up in defiance. "Please. I've been aiming better than you since we were playing with water guns in elementary school, Choi. Get your wallet ready."

"Big words for someone who couldn't even lift a decoration crate on Tuesday," Yeonjun shot back, a dangerous, lazy grin spreading across his face as he turned on his heel and marched toward Mr. Park’s shooting gallery.

The stall was draped in faded red tarp, lit by a single buzzing fluorescent bulb that cast a harsh light over rows of small plastic targets and cork-loaded rifles. Mr. Park himself was sitting on a plastic stool, fanning himself with a newspaper, looking utterly bored until the two of them stepped up to the wooden counter.

"Two games, please, Ajusshi," Yeonjun said, sliding a crisp 10,000 won note across the counter. He didn't take his eyes off Y/N, his gaze dropping to her lips for a split second before locking onto her eyes with a heavy, intense challenge. "Make sure her rifle is working perfectly. I don't want any excuses when she loses."

Mr. Park grunted, sliding two plastic, spring-loaded cork rifles toward them. "You kids try not to shoot each other."

Y/N snatched her rifle up first, pumping the plastic slide back with a satisfying, aggressive clack. She rested her elbows on the wooden counter, lining up her sight with a row of small plastic spinning top targets. "Five shots each. Whoever knocks down the most wins. Sound fair, or do you need a handicap?"

"I'll even let you go first," Yeonjun drawled, leaning his hip casually against the counter right beside her. He crossed his arms over his white button-down, completely unfazed by the crowd bustling behind them. He was standing entirely too close, his cologne mixing with the scent of fried festival food, but Y/N locked her focus forward.

Squint, aim, fire.

Pop!

The cork flew straight, striking a plastic target directly in the center. The target spun violently and dropped.

"One," Y/N smirked, not looking at him as she quickly pumped the rifle again.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Two more dropped, but her fourth shot clipped the edge of a target, leaving it wobbling but stubbornly upright. Her fifth shot knocked down a clean final target.

"Four out of five," Y/N declared proudly, slamming the plastic rifle down onto the counter and turning to face him, her chest heaving slightly with adrenaline. "Beat that, Choi."

Yeonjun didn't look impressed. He lazily picked up his rifle, his large hands gripping the plastic frame with an ease that made it look small. He didn't even lean over the counter like

she had. He stood tall, raising the rifle to his shoulder, the fabric of his white shirt tightening across his back and drawing her eyes straight to the hard line of his shoulders. He aimed with one eye closed, looking devastatingly concentrated.

Pop! Target down.

Pop! Target down.

Pop! Target down.

He pumped the slide effortlessly, his rhythm steady, completely unbothered by her staring. On his fourth shot, pop, another one dropped. He had a perfect streak.

Y/N’s heart began to thump violently against her ribs. He was going to win, and she was going to have to pay for dinner while enduring his smug face for the rest of the night. Desperate to break his focus, she leaned into his peripheral vision, whispering maliciously, "Is that a bug on your shoulder?"

Yeonjun didn't even flinch. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he pulled the trigger.

Pop!

The final target snapped clean off its hinge and dropped instantly. Five for five. Perfect score.

"Nice try, Jeon," Yeonjun drawled, casually setting the rifle down on the counter. He turned his head to look at her, leaning in close enough that she could see the triumphant glint in his eyes. "But it's going to take a lot more than that to throw me off."

He turned to Mr. Park, who lazily handed over a small, ridiculous-looking plush keychain of a frowning cat. Yeonjun took it, spinning the plastic ring around his finger before dangling the cat right in front of Y/N’s nose.

"A deal's a deal," he smirked, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that made her stomach do a dangerous flip. "Five out of five means you're buying the samgyeopsal skewers tonight. And since I'm such a generous winner..." He dropped the cat keychain into her palm, his fingers brushing against hers just long enough to send a jolt of heat up her arm. "...you can keep the prize. It looks just like you when you're mad."

"I look nothing like this," Y/N grumbled, though her fingers closed tightly around the little frowning cat anyway.

"Oh please, you actually do." Yeonjun let out a loud, incredulous laugh, throwing his head back as he followed her away from the booth.

True to her word, Y/N dragged him over to the busiest stall in the food lane, aggressively counting out her 15,000 won to pay for two massive, sizzling skewers of samgyeopsal slathered in sweet-and-spicy glaze. She had slammed the money onto the counter with a dramatic sigh, but the triumphant, lazy grin Yeonjun flashed her made the minor hit to her wallet entirely worth it.

Twenty minutes later, the suffocating smoke and the roaring noise of the night market had faded into a soft, distant hum.

They had wandered away from the heart of the festival grounds, seeking refuge in a quiet, dimly lit park area overlooking the rocky coastline. They sat side-by-side on a weathered wooden bench, the night air suddenly crisp and smelling heavily of salt water. Overhead, the brilliant red-and-blue paper lanterns were fewer and further apart, casting long, gentle shadows across the grass.

Y/N took a careful bite of her skewer, savoring the smoky flavor, before resting her elbows on her knees. Beside her, Yeonjun was already polishing off his food with effortless efficiency, his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossing at the ankles.

For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. The comfortable, familiar silence of the island settled over them, broken only by the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the shore below.

"Alright, I'll admit it," Y/N murmured, looking out at the dark horizon where a few fishing boats glinted in the distance. "The festival looks good this year. All that back-breaking labor on Tuesday actually paid off."

"Of course it did," Yeonjun drawled, setting his empty wooden stick down on the bench between them. He leaned back against the wooden slats, turning his head to look at her profile. In the faint, bleeding light of a distant blue lantern, the sharp lines of his jaw and the styled fringe of his hair looked soft. "We built it. Well, mostly me, since you spent half the time complaining about the heat."

"I did not—" Y/N snapped her head around to glare at him, but the retort died instantly in her throat.

He was leaning his elbow on the back of the bench, looking down at her with a quiet, unreadable expression. The fierce, competitive armor they had been wearing like shields all night suddenly felt entirely too heavy to hold up. Without the bustling crowd to distract them, the space between them felt microscopic. The clean, intoxicating scent of his cologne was drifting toward her in the cool ocean breeze.

Yeonjun’s dark eyes traced the slope of her nose, then drifted slowly down to her bare collarbones highlighted by the square neckline of her navy dress, before settling back on her eyes. The smug, victorious smirk he'd been wearing since the shooting gallery was entirely gone, replaced by a heavy, breathless stillness.

"You..." Yeonjun cleared his throat, his gravelly voice dropping into a low, quiet register that made Y/N’s heart instantly stall against her ribs. He reached out, his long fingers hesitant for a fraction of a second before he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His knuckles brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of pure fire in their wake.

"...you look really pretty tonight, Y/N-ah," he whispered, using her actual name for the first time all day. "I've been trying to find a sarcastic way to say it since four o'clock, but I'm tired of lying."

Y/N froze, her breath catching so sharply in her throat that the cool night air felt like a physical weight in her chest. The small, rigid plastic edges of the frowning cat keychain were biting hard into her palm, but she couldn't even register the minor sting. Every single one of her senses was entirely locked onto the boy sitting next to her, frantically trying to process the sudden, tectonic shift in the atmosphere.

Choi Yeonjun did not do sincere. He lived and breathed sharp, irritating grins, petty retorts, and exhausting athletic flexing designed purely to get under her skin. But right now, the lazy, mocking veneer he always wore like armor was completely absent.

"What?" she managed to say. The word slipped out much softer and more breathless than she had intended, completely ruining her attempt at a flat, unimpressed delivery. She tried to pull her standard scoff, but the blazing heat radiating across her cheeks entirely betrayed her defense. "Did the pork belly fat finally clog your brain, Choi? Where is this coming from?"

Yeonjun didn't flinch or immediately pull back. Instead, his hand slowly retreated from her hair, his long fingers trailing off with an agonizingly deliberate slowness. He kept his elbow propped securely on the back of the weathered wooden bench, leaning just a fraction closer into her personal space. A faint, slightly self-deprecating smile touched his lips—not his usual arrogant smirk, but something far more grounded. Far more human.

"It's not coming from anywhere," he said quietly, his eyes unwavering as they fixed onto hers. He let out a brief, quiet huff of a laugh, his gaze dropping down to his own hands for a split second, tracing the neat fabric of his black trousers before lifting back up to her face. "I'm just stating a fact. You spent the last three days covered in paint and dirt, and then you show up tonight looking... like this."

His eyes lingered on the delicate, square neckline of her yellow dress, tracking the subtle rise and fall of her collarbones before snapping back up to lock onto her wide eyes.

"I'm just giving you an honest compliment," he added, his voice finally returning to its familiar, slightly defensive drawl as he rolled his broad shoulders back against the bench, clearly trying to reclaim a bit of his usual cool composure. "Don't let it go to your head, Jeon. I still beat you at the shooting match."

The subtle, stubborn return of his competitive edge was the only thing keeping Y/N's soul from completely evaporating into the night air. It was a lifeline of familiarity in a conversation that had suddenly become terrifyingly uncharted. She let out a shaky, quiet laugh, forcing her eyes away from his sharp jawline to stare out at the dark, crashing waves of the coastline.

"Oh, please. You won by a single point, and it was entirely due to an unfair trajectory advantage," she muttered, her voice trembling slightly as she fought down the massive, traitorous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that to sleep at night," Yeonjun murmured smoothly. He didn't look away from her profile, but the territorial, tense rigidity in his shoulders had completely dissolved, replaced by a quiet, protective stillness as the distant sound of the festival drums echoed softly over the dark water of the ocean.

"An unfair trajectory angle," Yeonjun repeated under his breath, a low, genuinely amused chuckle vibrating in his chest. "You really have an excuse for everything, don't you?"

"It’s not an excuse, it’s science," Y/N retorted, her voice finally regaining a bit of its usual defensive bite, though her heart was still hammering a furious rhythm against her ribs. She kept her eyes glued to the dark horizon, desperately waiting for the burning heat in her face to cool down.

"Right, science. Next time, I'll bring a ruler so we can—"

"Hey! Choi Yeonjun!"

A loud, boisterous voice cut through the quiet ocean air.

Y/N and Yeonjun both flinched, their heads snapping toward the gravel path. Shuffling out from the shadows of the tree line were Minho and Jinwoo, two of Yeonjun’s close friends. They were holding paper cups of festival drinks and skewers of their own, looking thoroughly loud and cheerful.

"I told you that was him," Minho grinned, pointing a greasy skewer at the bench as they marched over. He clapped a heavy, familiar hand onto Yeonjun’s shoulder, completely missing the tense atmosphere. "What are you doing all the way out here, man? The guys are setting up a tournament at the basketball court hoops. Mr. Jung brought out the proper leather balls tonight. You have to come carry the team."

"Hey, Y/N. You're here too? You should come watch us destroy the neighboring district's stats. Yeonjun's been bragging all week that he’s going to break the festival record." Jinwoo glanced down at Y/N. He gave her a casual nod.

Y/N forced a polite, easy smile onto her face, but internally, she felt the fragile, dizzying bubble that had spent the last ten minutes wrapping around them instantly pop.

It wasn't that she was a stranger. Everyone on the island knew exactly who she was—she was the top-ranked student, the sharp-tongued director of the festival's aesthetic design, and Yeonjun's permanent, formidable shadow. They were always mentioned in the same breath by the teachers and the elders. But when it came to moments like this, under the bright lights of a crowd, Yeonjun was the one who naturally carried the spotlight. He was the effortless athlete, the charming guy everyone wanted at their table, the center of gravity.

Sitting here in the dark, watching his friends immediately pull at his attention, the familiar reality settled back in. She was his rival in the classroom and on the court, but she was still the one who preferred the quiet fringes. He belonged to the crowd.

"I was just taking a breather," Yeonjun said. His voice smoothly transitioned back into his casual, easygoing banter tone, but his dark eyes immediately cut down to Y/N, checking her expression.

"Well, breathing time is over, Jun," Minho laughed, tugging at Yeonjun’s arm to steer him back toward the bustling paths. "Come on, Taehyun and the guys are already placing bets on who shoots the first three-pointer."

Y/N swallowed the sudden, dry lump in her throat, shifting her weight on the bench. She clutched the small plastic cat keychain tighter in her palm, refusing to look like she was waiting around for an invite.

"Go ahead, Choi," Y/N said, her tone perfectly flat, masking the sudden, hollow ache in her chest with a lazy wave of her hand. "Don't keep your team waiting. Someone needs to go show off for the village."

Yeonjun stopped mid-step, his body tensing as he pulled his arm out of Minho's grip. He looked back at her, his brows knitting together in a sharp, sudden frown as he sensed the immediate, invisible wall she had just constructed between them. Minho and Jinwoo kept walking ahead, calling his name over their shoulders, but Yeonjun stood under the dim blue lantern, his intense gaze searching her guarded face.

"You're not coming?" Yeonjun asked, his voice dropping out of that easy, public banter tone and back into the quiet register he had been using just minutes ago.

"I've had enough of your flexing for one night," Y/N replied, forcing a careless, dry chuckle as she leaned back against the weathered wood of the bench. She looked up at him, her expression perfectly engineered to look bored. "Go on. Taehyun’s actually going to take your money if you don't get down there to defend your pride."

Yeonjun didn't move. Minho and Jinwoo’s boisterous laughter was fading down the gravel path, but Yeonjun remained anchored right in front of her, casting a long shadow across her lap. His dark eyes narrowed, searching her face, completely unconvinced by the effortless dismissal she was projecting. He knew her too well. He knew the exact shade of her armor.

"Choi! Hurry up!" Minho’s voice echoed from the trees.

Yeonjun let out a sharp, frustrated breath through his nose. He shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets, his shoulders tensing under the crisp white fabric of his button-down.

"Don't go anywhere," he muttered, his tone suddenly laced with a quiet, fierce authority that caught her completely off guard. He stepped a fraction closer, his gaze dropping to the little plastic cat keychain still gripped tightly in her hand before locking back onto her eyes. "I'm going to win my money back from Taehyun. It'll take twenty minutes. Stay right here, Jeon. If I come back and you've sneaked off to the library or your bedroom, I'm counting it as a total forfeiture of tonight's rematch."

Before Y/N could even formulate a retort, Yeonjun turned on his heel and strode down the path, his long legs quickly eating up the distance as he disappeared into the warm, glowing haze of the festival grounds.

Y/N let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her shoulders slumping as the absolute silence of the coastline rushed back to fill the void he left behind. She looked down at her palm, slowly uncurling her fingers to look at the ridiculous, frowning little plastic cat.

The spot on the bench next to her was still warm. She stared at the empty space, her heart doing a strange, conflicted ache. He was always like this—effortlessly pulling her into his

orbit, refusing to let her fade into the background even when the entire world was shouting his name.

A quiet, helpless smile finally broke through her guarded expression. "Idiot," she whispered to the empty air, settling back against the bench to wait.

The thirty minutes she had promised herself bled into forty-five. Down by the courts, the distant roar of the crowd flared up, followed by a chorus of rhythmic chanting—Yeonjun’s name, echoing clearly even all the way out here. He had obviously won. He was probably surrounded by his friends, getting slapped on the back by the elders, and soaking in the effortless adoration that always seemed to find him.

Y/N looked down at the little frowning cat keychain in her lap.

A quiet, heavy sigh slipped past her lips. She wasn't angry; it was just a sharp reminder of how things actually worked. The fragile, dizzying bubble they had shared under the lanterns was a temporary fluke.

Standing up, she brushed the stray pine needles off her dress. She wasn't going to sit here like a ghost waiting to be remembered. She slipped the keychain into her pocket, turned her back on the glowing lights of the market, and took the quiet, dark path leading out of the park toward the residential hills.

The walk back to her neighborhood was peaceful, the roar of the festival fading into a dull hum before disappearing entirely. By the time Y/N reached her front gate, the only sound left was the steady chirping of cicadas. She unlocked the door, kicked off her sandals, and felt the immediate, grounding comfort of her quiet house.

After changing into a pair of pajamas and a worn-out t-shirt, she tied her hair up messily. She sat down at her desk, pulling a stack of practice exam papers toward her. Back to reality, she thought, clicking her mechanical pencil.

She had just finished shading in her first row of answers when a sharp, frantic beep-beep-beep startled her.

Her translucent pink Motorola pager was vibrating violently against the wooden desk, its tiny green backlight flashing in the dim room. Y/N picked it up, squinting at the small monochrome screen.

051-744-XXXX * 8282

She stared at the digits. The first part was the public payphone near the market, followed by

8282—the numeric slang for palli-palli ("hurry up").

Tossing the pager face-down onto the desk, Y/N let out a dry, dismissive sigh. She didn't move an inch. She wasn't about to put her shoes back on, walk down to the neighborhood public payphone booth in the dark, and waste a 50-won coin just because he sent a page. She ignored the blinking green light, picked up her pencil, and went right back to her studies. She was completely shutting him out for the night.

Three days passed in a blur of heavy silence and the steady scratching of her mechanical pencil against rough practice exam booklets. True to her word, Y/N had entirely buried herself in her studies, using the upcoming mock exams as a perfect, airtight excuse to block out everything else. She hadn't left her room except for meals, intentionally letting her pager sit dead and uncharged on the corner of her desk. The small, translucent pink device hadn't flashed once since Friday night. She had drawn the curtains, turned her radio to a quiet indie station, and forced herself back into the rhythm of being Jeju’s top-ranked student. The festival, the blue paper lanterns, and Yeonjun were supposed to be locked away in a compartment of her mind labeled temporary distractions.

But by Tuesday morning, the walls of her bedroom felt less like a sanctuary and more like a cage.

Her eyes were burning from memorizing historical timelines, and the air inside her house felt suffocatingly still. Recognizing she needed a change of scenery if she wanted any of the math formulas to actually stick, Y/N packed her canvas bag with her workbook, a pencil case, and her heavy flask of iced barley tea. She slipped on a pair of simple denim shorts and a faded t-shirt, sliding her feet into her well-worn canvas sneakers.

The summer sun was already baking the coastal roads by the time she stepped outside, the thick, humid air smelling faintly of salt and pine. She walked down the residential hills with a determined, steady pace, heading straight toward the public library.

The library was an old, red-brick building situated right near the harbor, its back windows overlooking the quiet concrete docks where the old fishermen moored their wooden boats. It was usually deserted during summer break—the perfect place to disappear.

Y/N pulled open the heavy wooden door, the familiar, comforting scent of aged paper and floor wax instantly washing over her. She gave a quiet, polite nod to the elderly librarian dozing behind the front desk and walked straight toward the back rows, aiming for her usual corner table by the window.

She set her bag down, pulling out her study guide, but as she glanced out the large glass pane toward the shimmering blue water of the library docks, her heart gave a sudden, traitorous thud.

Sitting on the edge of the concrete pier, his long legs dangling precariously over the lapping waves, was Yeonjun.

He was wearing a simple yellow t-shirt and loose shorts, a far cry from the crisp white shirt from Friday night. His head was bent low over a thick textbook resting on his lap, a silver ballpoint pen twirling effortlessly between his long fingers. He looked tired—there were faint shadows under his eyes—but there was a stubborn, unyielding rigidity in the slope of his shoulders.

He was actually there. He had been waiting.

Y/N stood entirely frozen behind the glass, the heavy silence of the library suddenly roaring in her ears. She looked down at the open page of her workbook, but the printed numbers blurred into meaningless ink.

Just stay inside, her practical side whispered. He’ll eventually get bored and leave.

But the suffocating stillness of the library rooms suddenly felt unbearable. She couldn't just sit here and stare at the back of his head through a pane of glass for the next four hours. Deciding she’d rather study at the quiet pavilion further up the hill, Y/N quickly packed her workbook, her pencil case, and her heavy flask back into her canvas bag. She threw the strap over her shoulder, walked past the dozing librarian, and pushed open the heavy wooden front doors.

The moment she stepped out onto the library’s concrete steps, the heavy summer heat and the sharp, briny scent of the sea hit her full force.

And then, a shadow fell over her.

Yeonjun had already stood up from the pier. He was standing at the bottom of the library steps, as if he had been tracking her movements the second she cleared the threshold.

Y/N instantly tightened her grip on the strap of her bag, her defensive armor snapping right back into place. She made a move to step past him toward the hill path, her expression perfectly flat. "Excuse me, Choi. I'm going to find another place to read."

"Y/N, wait."

Yeonjun didn't reach out to grab her, but he stepped directly into her path, blocking her exit. His shoulders slumped slightly, all the usual teasing energy completely drained from his posture. He looked down at her, his dark eyes carrying a heavy, genuine vulnerability that caught her completely off guard.

"I haven't seen you," he said softly, his voice a little raspy. "For three days. You completely shut your pager off."

Y/N swallowed hard, keeping her face rigid despite the sudden, erratic thud of her heart. "I have mock exams to study for. I don't have time to stand around."

"I know," Yeonjun interrupted quietly, stepping a fraction closer. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his sneakers for a brief second before forcing himself to meet her guarded gaze again. "I completely lost track of time, and by the time I ran back, you were gone."

He let out a quiet, defeated sigh, his chest rising and falling heavily in the summer heat.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to leave you sitting out there in the dark like that. I went to a payphone and tried to page you twice, but... I knew you were mad. I just wanted to apologize properly."

Y/N stared at him, her fingers wrapping so tightly around the canvas strap of her bag that her knuckles turned white. Hearing him say her actual name—not "Jeon," not some sharp, competitive nickname, but just Y/N—felt like a physical blow to the defensive wall she had spent seventy-two hours building.

The heat radiating off the concrete steps was intense, but the genuine, uncharacteristic vulnerability radiating from Yeonjun was what really made her feel faint. He looked completely stripped of his usual golden-boy armor.

"I wasn't mad," she lied quietly, her voice dropping lower as she tried to regain her footing. She looked past his shoulder toward the glittering harbor, refusing to let herself melt under his gaze. "I told you. Thirty minutes was my limit. You didn't show, so I went home to do what I was supposed to be doing anyway."

"You were mad. You have every right to be," Yeonjun countered softly, refusing to let her slide into her usual detached indifference. He took another small step up the stairs, narrowing the distance between them until she could smell the faint scent of sea salt and the crisp citrus soap he always used. "I messed up, Y/N. I hate that I made you feel like you were just waiting around for me while I was showing off down at the courts."

He reached into his pocket, his fingers fumbling for a moment before he pulled out a small, tightly folded piece of crumpled receipt paper. It was slightly soft at the edges, as if he’d been carrying it around and flattening it out with his thumb for days.

"I actually went to your gate on Friday night," he admitted, a faint, embarrassed flush creeping up the back of his neck into his ears. He glanced away for a split second, looking down at the concrete. "I was going to just slide this into your mail slot, but the second I stepped onto your pavement, my own mom opened our kitchen window to throw out the dishwater. I had to dive behind your wall so she wouldn't see me hovering outside your front door at one in the morning."

A tiny, involuntary twitch tugged at the corner of Y/N's mouth, but she quickly bit it down. It was completely ridiculous. They lived right next door to each other, sharing a brick boundary wall, yet here he was, tracking her down at the harbor docks just to hand her a piece of paper he could have thrown over the fence. "You're an idiot, Choi."

"I know," he said, a small, relieved trace of his usual smile finally breaking through his tired expression when he saw her guard slip, even just a fraction. He extended his hand, offering her the folded note. "I've been sitting on that pier since the library opened today hoping you'd show up. I just... I really didn't want summer break to pass with you refusing to look at me, even if we only live a wall apart."

Y/N’s laugh cut off abruptly, her defensive walls trying to snap back up, though the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her. "Don't say things like that, Choi. And how did you even know I'd be here? I didn't tell anyone I was coming to the library."

Yeonjun rubbed the back of his neck again, his smile turning a bit sheepish as a faint pink tint bloomed across his cheekbones. He looked out at the fishing boats bobbing in the harbor, suddenly finding the horizon very interesting.

"Well..." he dragged out the syllable, a rare, embarrassed chuckle escaping him. "I might have casually lingered by our shared wall this morning. Your mom was outside hanging up the laundry."

Y/N stared at him, her eyes widening. "You didn't."

"I did," Yeonjun admitted, finally looking back at her, his eyes full of a helpless, endearing sort of defeat. "I asked her if you were still alive because your pager was dead. She laughed and told me you were about to go crazy from staring at math problems, so you packed a bag for the harbor library. She basically ordered me to come find you and force you to take a break."

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. "I am going to lock her out of the house."

"Hey, don't blame your mom. She's on team Yeonjun," he teased, his confidence fully returning now. He stepped right up to the edge of the pier, kicking his sneakers back and forth over the water before looking up at her through his messy fringe. "Besides, she’s right. Look at your eyes, Jeon—you're exhausted. Sit down with me."

He patted the sun-warmed concrete right next to him.

Y/N looked at the empty space, then down at the tightly folded receipt paper sticking out of her shorts pocket. The carefully built isolation of the last three days was entirely gone, shattered by a boy who was willing to brave neighborhood gossip and her own mother just to find her.

With a quiet, defeated sigh that was actually full of relief, Y/N let her canvas bag slide off her shoulder onto the concrete and sat down, letting her legs dangle over the lapping waves right next to his.

The cold, sad hotteok from the festival night became a running joke that carried them through the rest of July, a silly little bridge that brought them over the awkward gap of their unspoken feelings.

Once the ice was broken on the library docks, the shared brick wall between their houses practically ceased to exist. Their relationship shifted from a tense, guarded rivalry into something deeply fluid and domestic. They developed a silent rhythm that didn't need to be explained to anyone else. Whenever the morning heat in Y/N’s bedroom became too suffocating, a sharp, rhythmic clack-clack would rattle her window pane—Yeonjun, standing

on the flat stones of the wall dividing their yards, tossing small gravel pebbles against her glass.

They spent their mornings at the harbor pavilion, their textbooks spread out between them like a shield against the rest of the world. It was in those quiet hours that Y/N really watched him change. The effortless, golden-boy swagger he wore around the village elders and his friends melted away, replaced by a raw, stubborn focus that she secretly found mesmerizing. He would complain bitterly about historical dates, aggressively spinning his silver ballpoint pen until it flew out of his hand, but he never gave up. Y/N would silently pull his workbook toward her, correcting his formulas in her neat, precise script, hiding her small smiles behind her heavy flask of iced barley tea.

In return, Yeonjun looked after her in ways she hadn't realized she needed. He kept track of the time she forgot existed, gently snatching the mechanical pencil from her stiff fingers when she had been tracing lines for three hours straight. He’d force her to walk down to the rocky shore with him, their bare feet dipping into the cool tide pools while the humid July breeze rustled his dark hair.

There were afternoons where they didn't speak at all, just sitting side-by-side on a dry towel on the sand. His translucent blue pager and her pink one would sit forgotten between them, completely silent, because the only person they wanted to page was already sitting right there. Once, when the summer sun was particularly blinding, Yeonjun had casually shifted his broad shoulders, blocking the light to cast a shadow directly over her workbook so she could read without squinting. He hadn't even looked up from his own vocabulary list when he did it, but the casual, protective nature of the gesture had made Y/N’s heart do a violent, chaotic flip.

For nearly a month, the fragile, dizzying bubble they had shared under the festival lanterns wasn't a fluke anymore. It was their entire reality. They were softer with each other, their sharp edges rounding out until "Jeon" and "Choi" felt more like endearments than competitive taunts.

Until the calendar on Y/N’s wall cruelly turned its page. 10

The bold, black number was circled in aggressive red ink on her desk calendar. Ten days until the mock exams. Ten days until the entire province’s rankings were published, determining their entire trajectory for the final semester of high school.

The realization hit Y/N like a bucket of ice water on a Tuesday morning.

The humid summer air suddenly felt heavy again, thick with the looming pressure of their futures. Looking down at her workbook, she felt a sudden, familiar spike of panic. For the past three weeks, she had been pacing herself, letting Yeonjun pull her away for walks by the docks or ice cream runs to the corner store. But ten days was the danger zone. If she dropped her rank, everything she had worked for would slip away.

Her mechanical pencil clicked, a sharp, decisive sound in the quiet room. The bubble had to pop.

Right on cue, a sharp clack hit her window pane. Y/N didn't move. She kept her eyes fixed on a complex trigonometry problem, forcing her shoulders to remain rigid.

A few seconds passed, and then another pebble hit the glass, followed by a muffled, familiar voice shouting from below. "Jeon! Hurry up, the librarian said she’s turning on the standing fan in the back corner today!"

Swallowing the lump of guilt in her throat, Y/N stood up and slid her window open just an inch, looking down into the yard.

Yeonjun was balanced precariously on top of the brick wall, wearing a loose white t-shirt and light cotton shorts, his canvas bag slung over one shoulder. He was squinting up at her against the bright morning sun, holding up two frozen ice pops—one of them cider-flavored, her favorite. He gave her a bright, effortless grin, the kind that had spent the last month becoming her favorite sight.

"Get down from there, Choi," Y/N said, her voice deliberately flat, completely stripped of the warmth they had shared over the last few weeks.

Yeonjun’s grin faltered slightly, his eyebrows knitting together as he tilted his head, his hand lowering. "What? Aren't you coming? I even bribed the store ahjumma for the good flavors."

"I can't," she said, gripping the wooden windowsill until her fingers ached. She forced herself to look at his forehead rather than his eyes. "There are only ten days left. I’m locking myself in until exam day. Don't disturb me."

Yeonjun froze, the two ice pops slowly melting in his grip, sticky sweet drops of cider and soda running down his knuckles. The bright, easy light in his eyes instantly vanished, replaced by a sudden, sharp confusion that quickly deepened into a heavy frown.

He didn't hop down from the wall. Instead, he adjusted his footing on the flat stones, stepping a fraction closer to her window pane. "Y/N, what are you talking about? We've been reviewing the material together every single day. We're on schedule."

"We're behind," she corrected sharply, her voice cold as she tightened her grip on the wooden window frame. "You might be fine with a comfortable score, but I'm not. Ten days is when the actual top-rankers lock down. I can't afford to lose focus over ice pops and walking down by the docks."

The words were intentionally harsh, cutting straight through the soft, comfortable space they had built over the last month.

Yeonjun's jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling beneath his white t-shirt. The silence between their two houses stretched out, thick and heavy, broken only by the relentless, mocking buzz of the morning cicadas. He looked down at the melting ice pops in his hand, a

bitter, self-deprecating chuckle escaping his lips before he tossed them carelessly into the small cooler bag hanging from his arm.

When he looked back up at her, the vulnerability she had seen at the library steps was completely gone, replaced by a rigid, defensive armor that mirrored her own.

"Is that what the last three weeks were to you?" he asked, his voice dropping into a low, quiet register that made her chest ache. "Just a lack of focus? A distraction from your rank?"

Y/N swallowed hard, the lump in her throat feeling like a piece of lead. She wanted to take it back. She wanted to tell him that she was just terrified—terrified of losing her placement, terrified of how much she had come to look forward to the sound of pebbles hitting her glass every morning. But looking at the circle of aggressive red ink on her desk calendar behind her, she forced her face to remain completely expressionless.

"Yes," she lied smoothly, staring directly into his eyes. "That's exactly what it was."

Yeonjun stared at her for three long seconds, as if waiting for the punchline, or a small slip in her expression, or any sign that the girl who had shared her iced barley tea with him yesterday afternoon was still in there. But she didn't give him anything.

Slowly, his expression turned into a hard, closed-off mask.

"Fine," he said quietly. He didn't use her name. He didn't call her "Jeon." He just adjusted his canvas bag on his shoulder, turned his back to her window, and dropped down from the brick wall, disappearing into his own yard without another word.

The heavy wood of her bedroom window slid shut a second later, the lock clicking into place with a definitive, final snap. Y/N walked back to her desk, her knees trembling slightly as she sat down, staring blankly at the complex formulas in her workbook. The silence of her room, which had once felt like an airtight sanctuary, now felt entirely hollow.

The next eight days were a brutal test of endurance.

Y/N didn't lift her head from her desk. She studied until her vision blurred and her fingertips were permanently stained with graphite. She memorized entire passages of classical Korean literature, derived advanced calculus proofs until her wrists ached, and kept her radio completely turned off. The silence in her room was total, heavy, and absolute.

But the hardest part wasn't the material. It was the lack of sound from the outside.

Every single morning, right around 9:00 AM, her eyes would instinctively dart to the window pane. Her ears strained, listening for the distinct, sharp clack-clack of gravel hitting the glass. But it never came. The brick boundary wall between their houses remained entirely quiet. Once, when she went down to the kitchen to refill her water flask, she caught a glimpse of Yeonjun's mother through the window. The older woman looked over at Y/N's house with a small, visibly worried sigh before pulling her laundry basket inside.

Yeonjun had taken her at her word. He was completely gone.

By the time the day before the mock exam arrived, Y/N felt like a hollow shell of herself. Her mock exam scores in her practice booklets were flawless—perfect percentages across the board—but looking at them didn't give her the rush of satisfaction it used to. It just felt cold.

The heat that afternoon was oppressive, the late-July humidity wrapping around the island like a suffocating blanket. Unable to look at the walls of her room for another second, Y/N grabbed her bag and walked down to the harbor pavilion. She told herself it was just to get out of the stuffy house, but the second she reached the wooden structure, her chest tightened.

The pavilion was empty. The spot where they usually sat—where their ankles would accidentally brush under the table—was covered in a thin layer of dust.

She sat down heavily, pulling out her final review packet, but her mind kept drifting to the tightly folded piece of receipt paper still tucked into the zippered pocket of her bag. She hadn't opened it since Tuesday. She had been too afraid that reading his messy handwriting would completely break the rigid focus she had fought so hard to maintain.

With trembling fingers, she unzipped the pocket and pulled the paper out. It was soft from being carried around. Slowly, she unfolded the creases.

I'm sorry I was late, his rushed, oversized script read. The chief cornered me and I lost track of time. I bought the hotteok you wanted, but they're cold now. Don't give me the forfeiture point yet.

A sharp, painful lump formed in her throat. I'll keep trying anyway.

But he hadn't tried this time. Because she had looked him dead in the eye and told him he was nothing but a distraction. She had weaponized the one thing he respected—her future—to push him away.

"Stupid," she whispered to the empty pavilion, her eyes stinging as she clutched the note against her knee. "You're so stupid, Y/N."

Right then, a shadow fell over the wooden floorboards of the pavilion.

Y/N's head snapped up, her breath catching in her throat.

Standing at the entrance of the pavilion was Yeonjun. He wasn't wearing his casual cotton shorts or holding ice pops. He was wearing his formal school uniform shirt, his hair neatly brushed back, looking every bit the pristine, top-tier student he actually was when he tried. He had a heavy stack of reference books tucked under his arm, and his face was completely unreadable, his dark eyes fixed directly on her.

The morning of the mock exam arrived with the suffocating, motionless heat typical of early August.

The main hall of the high school was dead silent, save for the synchronized, frantic scratching of mechanical pencils against rough paper and the heavy, rhythmic hum of the large industrial fans mounted on the walls. Rows of identical wooden desks stretched across the room, each occupied by a student staring intently at the booklet before them.

Y/N sat in the second row, her posture rigidly straight, her fingers tightly gripping her mechanical pencil. Her eyes were burning from the late-night cramming, but she kept her focus laser-locked on the pages. For ten straight days, she had known nothing but the walls of her room, formulas, and timelines. She hadn't looked out her window, and she hadn't let herself think about the boy sitting just a few columns over.

Three rows back, in the aisle next to the windows, sat Yeonjun.

They hadn't spoken a single word to each other since their fight by the brick wall. When they had crossed paths in the school courtyard an hour before the exam, they had walked right past each other like complete strangers, their shoulders nearly brushing but their eyes fixed straight ahead. The comfortable, sun-drenched bubble of July had been completely obliterated.

Even now, Y/N refused to turn her head. She kept her gaze pinned to a complex trigonometry derivative, her chest tightening as she filled in the small graphite bubbles on her answer sheet. But she could feel the heavy, unyielding weight of his presence in the room. Every time the silver ballpoint pen on his desk clicked, or every time he shifted slightly in his wooden chair, a sharp, traitorous jolt went straight through her pulse.

They were back to being rivals. The soft edges were gone, replaced by the rigid, familiar armor of the island’s top two students fighting for the same exact spot.

When the sharp, high-pitched ring of the school bell finally shattered the silence, signaling the end of the test, a collective, massive sigh of relief rippled through the hall.

"Pencils down," the proctor announced loudly. "Pass your answer sheets to the front."

Y/N let out a long, shaky breath, her stiff shoulders finally dropping an inch as her papers were collected. As the room dissolved into the chaotic chatter of students aggressively comparing answers, she quickly packed her pencil case into her bag and stood up. She didn't look back at him. She walked straight out of the stuffy main hall and went home, the silence between them stretching out, thick and heavy, through the rest of the grueling week it took for the papers to be graded.

The morning the mock exam results were posted, the main hallway of the high school was a chaotic sea of white uniform shirts. A dense crowd of students pressed tightly against the bulletin board, the low, anxious buzz of whispers echoing off the concrete walls as everyone scrambled to find their names on the master ranking sheet.

Y/N stood at the very back of the crowd, her fingers gripping the strap of her canvas bag so tightly her knuckles ached.

Taking a slow, steady breath to quiet the frantic thudding of her heart, she excused herself through the tight wall of her classmates. The crowd naturally parted for her, their eyes darting between her and the top of the paper with hesitant, nervous expressions.

Y/N’s eyes skimmed past the long column of names, flying straight to the very top line.  RANK 1: CHOI YEONJUN (JEJU NAM HIGH SCHOOL) - 396 / 400 RANK 2: JEON Y/N     (JEJU NAM HIGH SCHOOL) - 394 / 400

Two points.

Y/N stared at the numbers, the crisp black ink blurring slightly before her eyes. She was two points behind him. For the first time all year, the number one spot didn't belong to her. The absolute lockdown, the sleepless nights, the grueling isolation—it hadn't been enough to bridge the gap.

"Woah, Yeonjun actually took the top spot again..." someone whispered nearby, but the voice sounded muffled, as if underwater.

A sudden shift in the crowd made Y/N turn her head.

Yeonjun was standing at the edge of the hallway. He wasn't celebrating, and he wasn't surrounded by his usual group of friends. He was just standing there, his school bag slung over one shoulder, his dark eyes locked intensely on her face. He looked entirely different from the boy who had smiled on the pier; his expression was serious, guarded, and laced with a quiet intensity that made her breath hitch.

Slowly, the rest of the students began to drift away toward their classrooms, sensing the thick, unyielding tension radiating between them.

Within a minute, the hallway cleared, leaving just the two of them standing a few feet apart in the morning light filtering through the high windows.

Yeonjun didn't look at the bulletin board. His eyes never left hers. He took a single, deliberate step forward, his leather uniform shoes clicking sharply against the linoleum floor.

"Two points, Jeon," he said quietly, his voice low and raspy in the empty hall. There was no teasing edge to his tone, no arrogant swagger. "I told you I wasn't going to let you drop your rank. But you shut me out anyway."

Y/N took a shallow breath, her fingers tightening around her bag strap until the canvas cut into her palm. She didn't want to look at the bulletin board behind her, but the numbers 398 and 396 seemed burned into her retinas anyway. It was the same story as always. No matter how many hours she locked herself away, no matter how many practice booklets she bled her graphite into, Choi Yeonjun remained an immovable wall at the very top of the ledger.

"I didn't drop my rank," she said, her voice tight, forcing her chin up to meet his intense gaze. "I'm still second. You're always first anyway. Congratulations."

"Don't do that," Yeonjun interrupted, his tone sharp but dropping even lower as he took another step closer. The gap between them narrowed until the familiar scent of his citrus soap, faintly mixed with the morning humidity, reached her. "Don't act like this was just about maintaining the status quo, Y/N. You practically treated me like a disease for ten days. You didn't even look at me when we passed each other in the courtyard on exam morning."

"Because I had to focus!" she burst out, her composure finally fracturing. The frustration, the exhaustion, and the absolute hollowness of the last week and a half came rushing to the surface. "You don't get it, Yeonjun. You hold the top spot so effortlessly. You can sit on a pier, spin your pen, and just stay up there. I have to fight for every single inch just to keep up with you. If I lose my footing for even a second, the gap widens. I was terrified."

Yeonjun stopped right in front of her. The hard, defensive mask he had been wearing since their fight by the wall finally cracked, revealing a deep, painful frustration underneath.

"I do get it," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "Why do you think I pushed myself to hold that score?"

Y/N blinked, caught entirely off guard by the raw vulnerability in his eyes.

"I didn't study just to keep you below me, Jeon," Yeonjun whispered, leaning down slightly so he was looking directly into her eyes. "I studied like my life depended on it because you told me I was a distraction. You told me that being around me was going to ruin your future and cost you your placement. So I forced myself to pull off that score just so I could stand in front of you today and prove that I'm not dragging you down. I'm right here with you."

He let out a quiet, shaky breath, a bitter, lopsided smile touching his lips.

"I wanted to show you that we could both be at the top and still have... whatever this is. But you wouldn't even give me the chance to try."

The heavy wooden front door of the Choi household was propped wide open, letting the rich, savory aroma of grilled pork belly and seasoned soybean stew spill out into the narrow alleyway. Inside, the sound of laughter, clinking glass bottles, and the enthusiastic chatter of their parents echoed through the small house.

It was a joint celebratory dinner. For the adults, a first and second place finish for the neighborhood kids was the ultimate bragging right at the local market, and they had spared no expense setting up the low table in the living room.

Yeonjun sat cross-legged on the floor, politely pouring a fresh glass of barley tea for Y/N’s father. He was wearing a clean navy polo shirt, his hair still slightly damp from a quick post-cram-session shower. He smiled and nodded at the right moments, but his eyes kept drifting toward the open sliding door leading out to the small courtyard.

The sun had already dipped below the horizon, painting the island sky in deep shades of violet and bruised gold.

And Y/N’s seat across from him was still completely empty.

"Ah, look at how much our Yeonjun has matured," Y/N’s mother beamed, leaning over the table to hand him a small dish of freshly made scallion kimchi. "He used to skip his workbook sessions just to run around the village, but look at him now! First in the province!"

"He worked very hard this time, Sun-Hee," Yeonjun’s mother agreed, nudging her son with a proud elbow. "Though I think he had a very good motivator living right next door."

Yeonjun offered a small, sheepish smile, but the tightening in his chest only grew heavier. He set his chopsticks down, his eyes lingering on the unused set of utensils waiting at the empty place setting.

Carefully sliding back from the table, Yeonjun stood up. "Excuse me for a moment," he murmured politely to the adults. "I'll go check on the rice cake order."

He stepped out of the lively living room and into the cooler air of the kitchen. Y/N’s mother was just finishing up at the sink, wiping down a large metallic platter.

"Um, Mrs. Jeon?" Yeonjun asked softly, stepping closer so his own parents wouldn't hear him from the other room.

The older woman turned around, a warm, knowing expression instantly softening her face when she saw the hesitant look in his eyes. "Looking for Y/N?"

Yeonjun rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Yeah. I went to the brick wall earlier, but her window was locked. Is she still studying?"

Y/N’s mother let out a soft, gentle sigh, shaking her head as she set the dish towel down. "That stubborn girl. She refused to sit at the table tonight. She told me she didn't deserve a celebratory dinner for second place, no matter how many times I told her how proud we are."

She reached out, gently patting Yeonjun’s arm.

"She took a flashlight and walked down toward the rocky beach about an hour ago," her mother whispered, giving him a small, encouraging nod toward the back door. "Go find her, Yeonjun. She listens to you, even when she’s being an absolute mule."

"Thank you, Mrs. Jeon," Yeonjun said, his heart executing a sudden, frantic kick against his ribs.

He didn't grab a jacket. He didn't even bother switching into his proper sneakers, just sliding his bare feet straight into his outdoor sandals. Slipping quietly out the back gate, he bypassed the main road entirely, taking the narrow, unpaved shortcut that led straight down the hill toward the dark, crashing sound of the tide.

Y/N didn't reply right away. She stared down at her bare feet, her toes digging into the coarse sand at the base of the rock. The flashlight in her hand cast long, distorted shadows across the tide pools below them, the water reflecting the pale silver of the moon.

"I'm not punishing myself," she said quietly, though the slight crack in her voice gave her away. "I'm just tired, Yeonjun. I feel like I’ve been running a marathon for three years, and every time I think I’m about to cross the finish line, you’re already standing there, perfectly fine, not even out of breath."

She finally turned her head to look at him, her eyes bright with a mixture of exhaustion and a vulnerability she usually kept under lock and key.

"I locked myself away for ten days. I didn't sleep more than three hours a night. And it still wasn't enough to close the gap. It makes me feel like no matter how hard I work, there's just a limit to what I can do."

Yeonjun’s lopsided smile completely disappeared. His expression softened, a deep, genuine seriousness taking over his features. He reached out, his long fingers gently but firmly wrapping around the barrel of her flashlight, tilting it down so the bright beam wasn't blinding her.

He didn't let go of her hand afterward. Instead, his thumb slid over the back of her knuckles, his skin warm and grounding against the chilly night air.

"Do you really think I don't get out of breath, Y/N?" he asked, his voice barely louder than the crashing waves. He used her actual name, completely dropping the competitive 'Jeon' persona. "You think I hold the top spot because it's easy? I stay up until four in the morning staring at the same exact pages you do. The only difference is, I do it because I’m terrified that if I slow down for even a second, you're going to breeze right past me and never look back."

Y/N blinked, the wind catching a few loose strands of her hair as she stared at him.

"I'm not some untouchable wall," Yeonjun continued, shifting his body so he was facing her completely on the narrow rock, his knee brushing against hers. "I'm just a guy who is trying entirely too hard to keep up with the smartest girl on this island. When you shut me out for those ten days, I didn't study to beat you. I studied because the thought of you looking at me and seeing a distraction—someone who was holding you back—scared the hell out of me."

He squeezed her hand, his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made the rest of the world fade into the background.

"Two points isn't a defeat, Y/N. It's a tie in everything but the ink on that board.Your mom knows it, my mom knows it, and I know it. So stop hiding down here." A tiny, familiar trace of his playful grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Come back up to the house. If you want, I'll even let you have the biggest piece of pork belly to make up for the forfeiture point."

Y/N let out a dry, bitter laugh, but it cut off quickly as she pulled her hand out of his grip. She twisted the flashlight in her palms, the beam skittering wildly across the dark rocks.

"A tie?" she murmured, looking out at the black horizon. "My dad doesn't see a tie, Yeonjun. He sees a rank. And next to my name, it says two."

She drew her knees even closer to her chest, burying her face against her shins for a second before looking back at the sea. The coldness that had settled into her bones over the last ten days wasn't just about the score—it was the crushing weight of the house she had to go back to every night.

"You know what my dad said when he saw the ranking sheet this morning?" Y/N asked, her voice dropping into a hollow, quiet register. "He didn't say 'good job.' He didn't even acknowledge the 396. He just looked at me and asked if I was slacking off because the weather was getting warm. Then he reminded me that by the time Hye-jin was my age, she had already locked in her early admission template for Korea University."

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened, the easy warmth in his expression instantly vanishing. He knew about her older sister, of course. Everyone on the island knew about Jeon Hye-jin—the golden child who had escaped the village on a prestigious scholarship to one of the top three universities in the country. Her framed acceptance letter still sat prominently on the sideboard in the Jeons' living room, a silent, looming shadow over every single meal.

"Hye-jin is all they talk about," Y/N whispered. "Every single dinner, every time a neighbor asks how I'm doing, my dad brings her up. 'Y/N just needs to follow her sister's footsteps.' 'Hye-jin never needed to be reminded to study.' It's like I'm just a defective copy trying to replicate her blueprint. If I don't get into a prestigious university, if I don't take that number one spot back from you... I'm just the daughter who couldn't make it."

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes shining with a raw, agonizing pressure that she had kept locked behind her perfect posture and sharp tongue for years.

"That's why I couldn't have you around, Yeonjun," she said, her voice trembling. "When I'm with you, I forget to be afraid. I forget about Korea University, I forget about my sister, and I forget about my dad's face when I bring home anything less than perfection. But fear is the only thing keeping me running. If I lose it, I fail. And I can't afford to fail."

The crashing of the waves against the boulders suddenly felt incredibly loud in the silence that followed.

Yeonjun didn't speak right away. He stared at her, his dark eyes absorbing the raw, fragile honesty she had just stripped bare. The playful, competitive banter they had used as a shield for years completely evaporated, leaving behind the stark reality of the heavy burden she had been carrying alone in that room next door.

Slowly, without a word, Yeonjun reached out. He didn't take her hand this time. Instead, he slipped his palm around the back of her neck, his thumb resting gently against her jawline, and gently pulled her toward him.

Y/N stiffened for a fraction of a second, her breath catching, but as his warm, solid shoulder pressed against her cheek, the rigid posture she had maintained for weeks finally collapsed. She let her forehead drop against his collarbone, her fingers tightly clutching the fabric of his navy polo shirt as a heavy, shuddering breath escaped her lips.

"You're not a copy of her," Yeonjun whispered, his voice deep and fiercely steady right next to her ear. His other arm came up, wrapping securely around her back, pulling her into a tight, grounding hold that shielded her from the cold sea wind. "And you're not defective, Y/N. Your dad is wrong. He’s completely blind if he thinks a number on a bulletin board defines what you're worth."

He rested his chin lightly against the top of her head, his chest rising and falling in a slow, calming rhythm.

"Hye-jin didn't have to compete with me," he murmured, a faint, serious trace of a smile in his voice. "She had it easy. You're fighting the toughest rival on this island every single day, and you're still sitting at a 396. You're brilliant. You're terrifyingly smart, and you do it all while carrying the weight of that entire house on your back."

He tightened his grip slightly, letting his warmth seep through her oversized t-shirt.

"If fear is the only thing keeping you running, then let me hold it for a while," Yeonjun said softly, his thumb gently caressing the nape of her neck. "You don't have to run twenty-four seven, Y/N. You can stop and breathe when you're with me. I won't let you fall behind, and I definitely won't let you fail. I'll make sure of it."

Y/N closed her eyes, the familiar scent of his citrus soap wrapping around her like an airtight sanctuary. For the first time since the calendar had turned to August, the suffocating pressure in her chest began to ease, replaced by the steady, unwavering heartbeat of the boy who refused to leave her side in the dark.

The late-August heat eventually broke, washing away the sticky humidity of the island and replacing it with the crisp, biting winds of autumn. As the green leaves of the courtyard trees turned into a brilliant, brittle gold, the dynamic between the two houses changed completely.

The brick wall between them was no longer a barrier. It became a bridge.

The strict separation Y/N had tried to enforce during the mock exams never returned. Instead, a silent, seamless routine established itself in the months leading up to the final stretch. Every morning at precisely 8:30 AM, the familiar clack-clack of a single pebble would

hit Y/N's window pane. She wouldn't open it to argue anymore. She would simply grab her canvas bag, slide her thermos of hot barley tea into the side pocket, and meet Yeonjun at the back gate.

They became an inseparable force. In the library, they occupied the quietest desk in the back corner, tucked away behind the heavy rows of encyclopedia shelves.

When the pressure in the room became too suffocating—when the looming specter of her father's expectations or her sister's perfect legacy started to claw at her chest—Yeonjun would simply reach under the wooden table, find her hand, and lock his fingers with hers. He wouldn't say anything. He would just hold on tightly until her breathing steadied.

They never explicitly labeled what they were. On an island where everyone’s eyes were fixed on their futures, they didn't need to. But the shifting boundaries were undeniable. It was there in the way Yeonjun would automatically take the outside of the sidewalk whenever they walked along the harbor docks to shield her from the chilly ocean wind. It was there when Y/N started intentionally buying two boxes of the sweet, warm hotteok from the market stall, always giving him the one with extra brown sugar syrup.

It was there in the quiet, late-night hours when the island went dead silent. They would sit on their respective sides of the low brick wall, their shoulders pressed against the cold stone from opposite sides, talking in hushed, smoky whispers into the autumn air about anything other than the exam.

Then, the golden leaves fell, the branches turned bare and skeletal, and the calendar ruthlessly flipped to November.

The morning of the College Scholastic Ability Test (CSAT) arrived with a bitter, bone-chilling frost that coated the island's narrow streets. The sky was a pale, icy blue, and the air was so cold that every breath they took formed thick, white clouds.

The high school gates were surrounded by lowerclassmen beating drums, holding banners, and shouting encouraging cheers, but inside the testing center, the atmosphere was as heavy as a courtroom.

Y/N stood in the crowded, drafty hallway of the exam building, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her padded winter coat. Her fingers were trembling, ice-cold despite the heat packs she was clutching. The weight of her father’s silent glare from breakfast—the rigid, unspoken mandate that today she must secure her ticket to Seoul—sat like a massive block of concrete on her chest.

"Jeon."

She turned her head quickly. Yeonjun was walking through the crowd toward her. He was wearing his heavy black puffer jacket, his hair slightly messy from the biting wind outside. His face was pale from the morning chill, but his eyes were completely focused, tracking her down instantly amidst the sea of anxious students.

He stopped right in front of her, ignoring the whispers of the classmates around them. Without a word, he reached into his pockets and pulled her hands out into the open air.

His palms were incredibly warm. He wrapped his large, long-fingered hands entirely around hers, squeezing tightly to transfer his heat into her freezing knuckles.

"Look at me," Yeonjun murmured, his voice low, steady, and completely grounding against the chaotic noise of the hallway.

Y/N lifted her eyes, meeting his dark, unwavering gaze.

"The formulas are in your head. The timelines are perfect," he said, a tiny, fiercely confident trace of his signature smile touching the corners of his lips. "You've run the marathon, Y/N. You're the smartest, most terrifyingly brilliant person on this island, and there isn't a single question in that booklet that you haven't already beaten a hundred times in the library corner."

He stepped a fraction closer, blocking out the rest of the hallway, his thumbs gently rubbing the backs of her hands.

"I don't care about the two points, and I don't care about the ranking sheets," Yeonjun whispered, his voice dropping into that intensely gentle register reserved only for her. "Just go in there and take what's yours. When it's over, I'll be waiting right by the front gates. We're getting off this island together."

The heavy, metallic ring of the first warning bell echoed through the corridors.

Yeonjun gave her hands one last, firm squeeze before slowly letting go. He didn't look back as he turned toward his assigned testing room down the opposite hall, but the lingering warmth of his grip stayed behind, completely shattering the icy fear that had paralyzed her all morning.

Y/N took a deep, clear breath of the cold air, adjusted the strap of her bag, and walked into her classroom.

The heavy iron gates of the high school finally groaned open, and a massive, exhausted flood of students spilled out into the freezing November dusk. The frantic energy of the morning cheers was entirely gone, replaced by a surreal, quiet daze. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long, bruised purple shadows across the frosted pavement. The CSAT was finally over. The three years of absolute hell had ended in the span of a single afternoon, leaving everyone feeling strangely weightless and hollow.

Y/N walked down the concrete steps of the main building, her padded coat zipped tightly to her chin. Her fingers were numb, and her mind felt entirely blank, as if the exam booklet had completely scraped her brain clean.

"Hey."

She didn't even have to turn around to know the voice. Yeonjun stepped up beside her, his hands buried deep in his black puffer jacket pockets, his shoulders moving in a loose, relaxed stride that contrasted sharply with the rigid posture of every other student around them. The heavy, intense focus he had worn that morning was gone, replaced by a soft, quiet relief.

"You look like a zombie, Jeon," he murmured, leaning his head down slightly to catch her eye. The cold air turned his breath into a thick puff of white steam.

"I feel like a zombie," Y/N muttered, though she couldn't stop the small, faint tug of a smile from breaking through her frozen expression. "My brain stopped functioning somewhere around the section-four listening comprehension."

"Mine too," he lied easily, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He nudged her shoulder with his own, steering her away from the main group of students who were already aggressively fighting over their answers. "Don't look at them. Don't even think about the answer sheets. The results won't be official for weeks."

They walked past the school boundaries, the chaotic noise of the village gradually fading as they took the familiar, winding path down toward the quieter part of the harbor. The ocean wind was bitter, cutting straight through their coats, but neither of them suggested going home yet. Going home meant facing her father's silent, heavy expectation; it meant the inevitable interrogation about how many questions she thought she missed.

"Let's go eat," Yeonjun suddenly suggested, stopping under the dim yellow glow of a streetlamp near the harbor crossroads. He turned to face her fully, his dark eyes bright in the twilight. "Not at home. Let's go to that small tent place by the old pier—the one with the spicy rice cakes and the hot fish-cake broth. My treat."

Y/N hesitated, looking down the road that led toward their neighborhood. "Our parents are probably waiting..."

"Let them wait," Yeonjun cut in smoothly, taking a step closer to block the chilly wind from hitting her face. He pulled one of his hands out of his pocket and reached out, his long, warm fingers gently catching the edge of her sleeve, tugging her slightly toward the pier path. "We’ve spent three years eating dinner with a textbook propped against the water pitcher, Y/N. Just tonight, let's eat somewhere where nobody is going to mention Korea University or templates. Just you and me. What do you say?"

Y/N looked at his hand resting on her sleeve, then back up at his face. The yellow streetlamp illuminated the faint, hopeful curve of his lips and the quiet intensity in his eyes. He was right. If she went home now, the suffocating atmosphere of her living room would instantly undo the fragile peace she felt.

"Okay," she whispered, her breath blooming into a small cloud of white mist. "Let's go. But I want the extra fried seaweed rolls too."

"Deal," Yeonjun chuckled, his smile widening into something brilliant and relieved.

He didn't let go of her sleeve. Instead, his hand slid down the fabric until his fingers brushed against her bare, frozen knuckles. Without a word, he slipped his hand into hers, his large, warm palm completely enveloping her cold fingers as he pulled her along the dark pavement. They didn't walk at their usual hurried, competitive pace. For the first time in years, they had nowhere they needed to rush to.

The small pojangmacha tent by the old pier was a small sanctuary of warmth against the brutal November wind. Thick, translucent plastic flaps shielded the inside from the cold, fogged up entirely from the rising steam of the large, bubbling metal trays. The rich, savory scent of spicy gochujang and boiling turnip broth hit them the moment Yeonjun pulled the plastic curtain aside.

An elderly woman cooking behind the counter beamed at them. "Welcome! You two look exhausted. Sit, sit! The heaters are on."

They slid into a small plastic table in the corner, the heat from the small portable gas stove immediately thawing Y/N’s numb cheeks. Yeonjun ordered a massive spread—spicy rice cakes, hot fish-cake skewers in steaming broth, and a double portion of fried seaweed rolls.

As the food was set between them, the steam rising between their faces, the surreal weightlessness of the day finally settled in.

"We actually did it," Y/N said softly, staring at the bright red tteokbokki. She picked up her chopsticks, her hands notably steadier than they had been that morning. "It's over."

"Told you we'd survive," Yeonjun murmured. He grabbed a small paper cup, ladled some of the hot fish-cake broth into it, and carefully pushed it across the table toward her. "Drink this first. Your lips are literally blue."

Y/N took the cup, the warmth of the paper transferring to her palms. She took a slow sip, the savory, peppery broth instantly warming her throat. Across the table, Yeonjun was watching her, his chin resting in his hand, his dark hair falling slightly over his eyes. The easy, lazy charm he usually wore around the village was replaced by a deep, quiet softness.

"What?" she asked, suddenly feeling a flush that had nothing to do with the floor heaters.

"Nothing," Yeonjun said softly, a lopsided smile touching his lips. He reached across the small table, his index finger gently tapping the back of her hand. "Just thinking that you look a lot better when you're not trying to memorize the entire Joseon dynasty timeline in your head."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest spread rapidly. "Don't get used to it. The results come out in December. If you beat me again, I'm going back to being your worst nightmare."

"I look forward to it, Jeon," Yeonjun chuckled, his eyes crinkling. He picked up a rice cake and pointed it at her. "But until December... you're stuck with me."

The early December wind blew a flurry of light, powdery snow across the school courtyard, dusting the dark branches of the trees and turning the frosted windowpanes white. Inside the main hallway, the atmosphere was entirely different from the anxious, frantic energy of August. The final, official CSAT scorecards had arrived from the national evaluation board.

There was no master ranking sheet pinned to the bulletin board this time; instead, the homeroom teachers handed out the crisp, white sheets of paper individually, sealed in official brown envelopes.

Y/N sat at her desk, her winter coat still zipped up to her chin. Her hands were completely steady this time, tempered by the quiet months of autumn and the steady warmth of the boy sitting just a few columns over. She didn't look around the room. She carefully slid her thumb under the adhesive seal of the envelope, pulling out the stiff paper.

Her eyes skipped past the percentiles and standard deviations, landing squarely on the final, raw composite score printed in bold black ink at the bottom.

A clean, undeniable 395. It was a spectacular score, a definitive ticket to any SKY university in Seoul. The weight that had crushed her chest for three long years—the ghost of her sister's legacy, her father's silent, unyielding pressure—suddenly felt lighter, as if a tight knot in her chest had finally unraveled.

Instinctively, she turned her head toward the window.

Yeonjun was already looking at her. His scorecard was resting flat on his desk, completely open. He wasn't smiling, but his dark eyes were bright, holding a profound, intense clarity as he looked across the quiet rows of desks.

Slowly, he lifted his right hand, holding up his index finger, then his middle finger. Two. Then, he tilted his head toward the door.

Y/N understood instantly. She carefully slid her scorecard back into its envelope, stood up from her desk, and quietly walked out into the hallway. A few seconds later, the heavy wooden door of her classroom clicked shut, and Yeonjun stepped out into the corridor beside her.

The hallway was quiet, the rest of their classmates still huddled around their desks comparing standard scores. Yeonjun stopped right in front of her, the winter light filtering through the high frosted windows casting a pale, soft glow over his features.

"Well?" he asked softly, his voice low and raspy in the quiet space.

Y/N didn't say a word. She simply held up her scorecard, tilting the paper so he could see the bold black digits.

Yeonjun looked at the number 395. Then, without a word, he pulled his own crisp white paper out of his blazer pocket and held it up right beside hers.

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat.

They had tied. Down to the very last decimal point, the very last scaled score, they were perfectly, flawlessly equal. The long, grueling years of fighting for the exact same inches, the sleepless nights behind their respective sides of the brick wall, the two-point gap from August—everything had converged into a single, identical number.

"A tie," Y/N whispered, her eyes darting between the two papers. A sudden, massive wave of relief—and something entirely wild and joyful—rushed through her veins. "Choi Yeonjun, we actually tied."

Yeonjun let out a quiet, breathless laugh, his shoulders finally dropping as he folded his scorecard and shoved it back into his pocket. The defensive, unyielding mask of the island's top student was completely gone, replaced by a brilliant, radiant smile that crinkled the corners of his dark eyes.

He took a step closer, completely ignoring the school boundaries, and reached out. His long, warm fingers wrapped firmly around her wrist, pulling her gently toward him until the familiar scent of his citrus soap and the winter cold completely enveloped her.

"I told you," Yeonjun murmured, his voice dropping into that intensely gentle register, his dark eyes locked onto hers with absolute certainty. "I told you we could both be at the top together."

He smiled down at her, his thumb gently brushing against the inner skin of her wrist. "Your dad can't say a single word about a rank anymore, Y/N. There is no number two."

Y/N looked down at his hand on her wrist, then back up at the identical scorecards. The tight, bitter knot that had lived in her chest since freshman year finally dissolved completely. For the first time in her life, she didn't feel like a defective copy of her sister, and she didn't feel the suffocating terror of her father's disapproval. She had held her ground against the best student on the island, and she had done it on her own terms.

A soft, breathless laugh escaped her lips, her eyes crinkling as she looked up at him. "You really planned this, didn't you? You slacked off on a question just to make it even."

"Please," Yeonjun chuckled, leaning his shoulder against the cold hallway wall, though his fingers didn't leave her wrist. His gaze softened, tracing the genuine, unburdened smile on her face. "I bled graphite for that 395, Jeon. You just finally stopped running scared and caught up to me." He pulled her slightly closer.

The celebratory dinner at the Choi household had been a stark contrast to the tense night back in August. This time, there was no empty chair, no heavy silence, and no lingering shadow of comparison. Sun-hee and Yeonjun’s parents had clinked their glasses together in genuine, unburdened joy. Even Y/N's father had sat quietly, a rare, nod of definitive approval settling on his face when he looked at the identical numbers on their scorecards. The ghost of her sister's perfect legacy had finally been laid to rest.

But as the night wore on and the adults drifted into deep, nostalgic conversations about the village, Yeonjun had caught Y/N’s eye across the low table, tilting his head toward the back door.

Now, the lively noise of the house was a distant echo, replaced by the soft, rhythmic lap of the dark tide against the shore.

They had bypassed the cold, jagged boulders of the rocky beach and walked down to the soft expanse of the sandy cove. Yeonjun had dragged down a couple of thick wool blankets and a tangled strand of warm, battery-powered fairy lights he’d scavenged from his mother’s holiday boxes. The lights lay coiled in a soft, glowing amber circle around them on the sand, casting a gentle, romantic haze that shut out the vast darkness of the winter ocean.

Y/N sat with her legs stretched out, leaning back on her hands, her face buried in the high collar of her oversized sweater. Yeonjun was sitting right next to her, his long legs bent, his shoulder locked perfectly against hers to keep out the chill of the December breeze.

"My dad actually smiled tonight," Y/N said softly, her breath forming a faint, clear plume in the amber light. She looked out at the black horizon, but the heavy tightness that usually accompanied thoughts of her family was completely gone. "He told me he was proud of me. For the first time, Yeonjun. He didn't mention Hye-jin once."

Yeonjun turned his head, watching the way the soft light caught the relaxed, peaceful curve of her profile. "He should be proud. You forced him to see you, Y/N. Not a copy, just you."

He reached out, his hand sliding across the rough wool of the blanket until his fingers found hers. He didn't just hold her hand; he tangled their fingers together, pulling her hand into the deep, warm pocket of his heavy jacket.

"It feels weird," Y/N murmured, shifting her weight to lean more heavily against his side. "For three years, my entire life was defined by the next mock exam, the next textbook, the next rank. Now... there’s nothing on the calendar. We actually have a future to think about."

"Does the future scare you?" Yeonjun asked quietly, his thumb slowly brushing over the back of her knuckles inside his pocket.

"A little," she admitted, turning her eyes to meet his dark, steady gaze. "Seoul is huge. It's not like this island where we know every alleyway and every face. What if we get swallowed up up there?"

Yeonjun let out a soft, low chuckle, the vibration shaking his chest against her shoulder. He pulled his hand out of his pocket, taking hers with it, and lifted it up between their faces.

"Let it try to swallow us," he whispered, his eyes locked onto hers with that fierce, unwavering certainty that had anchored her all through autumn. "We fought each other for three years just to survive this place. You think a couple of subway lines and a bigger city can handle the top two students from this island?"

He leaned down slightly, his forehead gently brushing against hers, his warm breath fanning across her cheek.

"Wherever we go, the rank stays behind. It's just you and me now."

The distant murmur of their parents’ voices faded into the cool night air as they left the warm, brightly lit house behind, walking down the familiar path to the sandy shore. In a quiet hollow of the beach, away from the cutting wind, the amber glow of battery-powered fairy lights cast a soft, shifting circle over the sand. It lit up the heavy wool blankets they had pulled around their shoulders, sealing them into a private, quiet sanctuary against the vast darkness of the December ocean.

Y/N leaned back against the smooth drift of sand, her eyes tracking the rhythmic, white foam of the tide breaking in the dark. For three years, every breath she took had been measured in percentages, rankings, and the suffocating distance between herself and the boy sitting beside her. She had been the permanent shadow to his light, the perpetual second place, defined entirely by what she couldn't quite reach.

But as she looked down at the pale gold light reflecting off their tangled fingers, the old, bitter hunger for the top spot didn't flare up.

She turned her head slightly, watching the quiet, relaxed line of Yeonjun’s shoulders as he stared out at the black horizon. The sharp, untouchable rival from the school bulletin boards had dissolved over the long months, replaced by the steady, unyielding warmth of his hand holding hers in the deep pockets of his winter coat. He was no longer the wall blocking her path; he was the anchor keeping her grounded.

In the silence of the winter beach, looking at the identical numbers that had finally satisfied her father and silenced the ghost of her sister's legacy, Y/N realized the truth. The victory wasn't in beating Choi Yeonjun, nor was it in the perfect symmetry of their final scores.

Her real triumph was right here, on an isolated island beach. For someone who had spent her entire youth terrified that closeness would cost her the future, she had managed to fight her way to the absolute top of the province without losing the only person who truly understood the weight of the climb. She had kept her ambition, secured her freedom from the island, and kept him, too.

As Yeonjun squeezed her hand, pulling her just a fraction closer against the chilly sea breeze, Y/N closed her eyes and let her head rest against his shoulder. For the first time in her life, she didn't feel the need to look at the scoreboard. She had already won. 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

permanent taglist @flytomyro0m @nanilis @fairfootedflekk @swangyu @frostymatcha @starlami @jellyybelly @bakudon @twinklefairyland @monosung taglist @sleepystar0304 @ssdandelion177 @stqrgr7 @bamgeutori @pageraf

[nanilis]

Long yeonjun summer fic 🤤🤤🤤 my dream

[jakedustry]

𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 - 𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆

IN WHICH You have a lot of standards to meet. You’ve always had. Your family, your company, your fans, they all expect the best from you. And while it is your company who signs your checks, you have yet to disobey your family. So, when your mother demands you go on a blind date to find yourself a competent husband to take over the family business, you listen. You go on a blind date and meet with the worst possible man you could imagine—Joshua Hong. Annoying, careless, Joshua, who manages to make an impression on you nonetheless. But you refuse to fall for him or his shenanigans, especially after the series of events following your first meeting.

pairing » demon!Joshua x fem!idol!reader genre » romance, stangers to lovers, bodyguard romance, my demon au featuring » Chaewon of le ssera (non idol), Lee Chan of svt (non idol), Kim Mingyu of svt (not idol), Choi Seungcheol (non idol)

contains » blood, graphic descriptions of violence, themes of stalking and obsessive fans, heavy on the sicko fans, reader’s mother sucks, Joshua may or may not be killing people, he stabs himself (he is okay), mentions of death of other people, traumatic past (for reader), they’re lowk just flirting all the time, religious themes a little (heaven and hell, angels and demons, the possible existence of god) smut warnings » shower sex, masturbation, fingering, slight breast play, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), multiple orgasms, a hint of a blow job

word count » 34k

↪ izzy adds... This story is inspired by the kdrama MY DEMON. It is, however, not the show simply rewritten with Joshua as the main character. Reader and Do Dohee are different, their situations are different, and I only took inspiration from the show. Please don't go into this expecting everything that happens in my demon. Also, please read the warnings for this fic. There are a lot of things that could upset you so pay attention to them before you proceed.

With that being said, the fic is finally out <3 I had a lot of fun writing this and figuring out the story. It created some inside jokes and I'm so so happy I got to write this.

A huge shout out to @100vern for hosting the SVTLIX collab! A big thank you goes to everyone participating and especially to @straylightdream for this awesome banner!!

seventeen mlist | joshua masterlist

Despite being in the car with only one more person, it still feels as suffocating as it did sitting in a conference room with your entire family. Chaewon watches you through the rear view mirror but you don't pay her any attention, looking out the window at all the streets you pass.

Getting married is the last thing you want right now.

You still have so many goals you want to achieve before settling down, so many more songs to perform and fans to please. But like your mother loves to remind you as often as she possibly can, family comes first. And no matter how much you don't want to get married right now, you need to find someone who would be able to lead the company you tried so hard to run away from.

Managing an electronic store is the opposite of what you want to do with your life. You'd much rather pass the chain to whoever worked for your parents the longest and just keep performing on stage. That is where you belong. Under all the lights, with a microphone in your hands. Not in an aisle of TV screens and phones.

"How long is an appropriate time to stay in order not to be rude?" You wonder, still not taking your eyes off the window.

"Thirty minutes?" Chaewon suggests. "That should be enough to complete dinner and fulfill all expectations."

You hum in agreement, looking down at your phone to check the time. "You can go once you drop me off, Chae. I'll drive myself home after."

"Of course, miss," she nods. She is in no place to argue with you even if she wanted to anyway.

The first floor of the building is made as a parking lot which you are grateful for. If your mother doesn't care about what you want in life, at least she makes reservations in places secure enough for you not to worry about your career.

It's once you're out of the car and Chaewon is officially off the clock that you allow yourself to sigh. "I'm a call away if you need anything," she assures you, her smile painful as she crosses the space between you. You've known her for five years now, ever since you first joined your company. She's supposed to be your manager, but she's honestly your friend more than anything.

"It'll be fine. What's the worst that could happen? I just need to get this over with to get my mother off my back and then I'll be able to focus properly again. Practice is at noon tomorrow?" You ask to reassure yourself. She nods and that's all you need. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Parting ways, you head to the elevator to get to the top floor where the restaurant is.

"We are sorry, ma'am, the place is all booked out for today," you are stopped as soon as you open the door.

"I know," you nod, looking around until you find the only other person in, relaxed on a couch. "I'm here to meet Mr…" you hesitate, realizing you weren't even told his name before they kicked you out of the door, claiming there is no time to waste. "To meet your customer."

The butler steps aside immediately. "My apologizes," he lowers his eyes, letting you walk past him. "I'll be there to take your order shortly."

You thank him briefly, taking in the decor as you head towards the only figure you see at the table. He's sitting with his back turned to you, his gaze locked on the newspaper he picked up earlier today.

"Hope you weren't waiting too…" your words trail off as you sit down on a chair opposite him and watch his dark eyes lift to meet yours, "…long."

You blink, the little raise of his eyebrow having you act up. Get it together. You curse at yourself, shaking your thoughts off and regaining your posture. You've been on many blind dates organized by your mother before. You know what to do.

It's just that they've never been this much of your type.

Fluffy black hair that cover the back of his neck, cut perfectly to compliment his other features. Dark eyes, defined jaw, and a simple cross necklace sitting under his white suit jacket. There is a brown watch around his wrist as well, your eyes instantly trailing all the veins he has.

"And you are?" His voice makes you snap out of it. Again. What is with you today?

Your brows furrow. "Don't tell me you weren't told who you were meeting." When he only stares back at you, still just as confused, you sigh, reaching your hand over to him in a polite manner. Your name slips past your lips as you wait for him to tell you the same while shaking your hand.

He doesn't. He glances down at your hand and then back at your face, showcasing his bad manners. Of course. If your mother finally found someone decent looking, he just had to be a terrible person. That adds up, doesn't it? "Your name," you prompt. "Or business card."

He assesses you once more before reaching into his suit pocket to pull something out of it, throwing his business card to you on the table. You scoff, already annoyed as you take it in your hand, flipping it over to look at it. "Joshua Hong?" You question and he nods, barely paying you any attention as he goes back to reading. "And you're the CEO of Hong F&B?"

If he's already managing one company, how do your parents expect him to take care of two if this blind date was to work out? It doesn't make any sense.

"Yes. Now that you've had your fill of my presence, can you go? If you can't see, I rented out the entire floor for myself and my company."

"Oh my god," the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, a disbelieving laugh escaping. "This is a first," you shake your head. "Mother has really topped herself this time." Resting your hands on the table, you take a good look at him. "I didn't know they still made them this arrogant and self centered."

"Excuse you?"

Leaning back in your chair, you cross one leg over the other. "Still, since I promised I'll keep you company for a short while at least, I'll allow you those thirty minutes of my time. I'm leaving as soon as the clock hits nine."

He makes a show of himself closing the newspaper and leaving it beside him on the couch, making you roll your eyes. To think you thought he was attractive at first glance. "Suit yourself," he says, almost as if he saw this all as some sort of a challenge.

You sit quietly, both of you deciding to go with the cold shoulder as you eat your dinner. You catch your server's eyes on you every once and then, but every time he notices you looking back at him, he disappears as quickly as he appeared.

You have no doubt it looks weird from an outsider's point of view. Who even goes on dates like these? It's one thing to be rude to you, but to ignore you the entire time after? Your annoyance only keeps growing, feeling pettier and pettier each second that passes without him even trying to sooth you over. Why come out on this date if he knew he was going to be like this the entire time?

It's different in your case. You never wanted to be here. You were forced to come and you don't want anything from him. If anyone can be self centered and mean, it's you. Not him when he is trying to take over your company.

He should really get his shit together.

"Why are you even here?" You finally ask, dropping your utensils down and forcing your eyes to meet his. You're pissed with him—pissed at how uninterested he looks despite being in on this with your parents, pissed how unbothered your anger makes him, pissed how good he looks despite everything.

Raising his eyebrow, he finishes chewing on his food before answering. "Shouldn't I be asking that?"

You wish to wipe that look off his face. If he keeps annoying you, you as well might. Maybe you'll try to see how strong your right hook is.

"I'm not the one who wanted to go on a date with you," you scoff in response, picking your fork again and stabbing it into your meat.

"Date?" He questions, a mix of surprise and confusion lacing his tone.

"Are you— Are you seriously dense?" You ask back, unable to hold back.

"I'd say you are since you still didn't pack your stuff and left," he retorts back, now just as annoyed as you are as he leans back in his seat. "In case I didn't make it clear enough yet; I don't want you here."

"As if I wanted to be here!" God, he's got you good. You haven't been this triggered since your failed stage at Inkigayo where the staff completely messed up the music. "I'm the last person who wants anything to do with you or that stupid company!"

Joshua opens his mouth to answer, another retort hanging on the tip of his tongue, but before he can do so, another voice interrupts.

"We are sorry, we are fully booked—"

"There he is!"

You blink at the guys at the entrance, confused what's going on. You can't read Joshua's expression well, but you don't think he knows what's happening either. A group of men—in their late thirties if you had to guess—makes their way past the server who is trying his hardest to keep them out, heading straight for your table.

Joshua's eyes narrow at them as he scans them one by one, finally tilting his head to the side tiredly. "Why don't you go to the bathroom?" You don't think the question is directed at you since he doesn't even bother glancing your way, but you're shortly proven wrong when his gaze snaps to yours and he repeats himself.

"Unbelievable," you mutter, collecting your purse and phone before getting up from your chair and trying to make your way past the group of guys.

"Hold up, hold up, lady," one of them shakes his head, his voice filled with anger as he wraps his hand around your arm, keeping you from being able to leave.

"What are you—" Your brows furrow as you turn to face him, ready to brush him off. Punch or kick if you have to. With all the feelings growing inside you thanks to the worst dinner you've ever had, you won't be surprised if you actually do resort to violence with whoever thought it'd be a good idea to hold you like this.

"Why don't you get your hands off her?" Your gaze instantly falls to your side, having to look up to come face to face with your date. Of fucking course he is tall as well. You want to argue with him more, tell him to get lost and that you can handle yourself, but before you can do so, they are exchanging another set of words and then Joshua's hand is flying to his face. Ouch.

As soon as your arm is free again, you quickly rush away, heading straight for the exit. You don't know what's happening in that restaurant and you don't want to know. In fact, getting messed up in that is the last thing you want to do. You'd much rather sit through another date with Joshua than get involved in that. Not that you'd want to see him ever again. The first thing you'll do when you get home is call your mother and complain about her terrible taste in men.

It's only once you're in your car that you feel calm again, your hands gripping the steering wheel and your head falling down against it. "What the fuck was that?" You yell, raising your head again. The parking lot is empty, only a few cars standing around. You can imagine it's much fuller when they aren't dealing with dates like yours and the restaurant isn't all booked out.

You don't go home straight away, heading towards your company to get some training in and sweat the anger away. It's the best and only way you can think of right now. You need to challenge all these build up emotions somehow, and if you can't keep arguing with him, you'll have to do with dancing it off.

Greeting the night guard, you run into a few more people on your way to your practice room, doing your best to offer them all a smile. You hope it doesn't look too fake. You're all alone in your practice room, surrounded by mirrors and point marks on the floor. Setting up a camera on the side, you do a simple intro before you move on, playing your newest song. If nothing, at least you'll have more practice content for your channel.

Hours pass in the large room, but you still don't stop until you feel all your strength run out. Dropping in the middle of the floor, you close your eyes for a second, catching your breath again slowly. You should get home. You have practice in the morning and then a challenge to film. The more hours you'll get in tonight, the better.

It's weird. Something is wrong.

You feel it as soon as you step out of your car again and head into your house. From the outside, everything looks ordinary—lights turned off just like you left them, no movement on your garden, and everything quiet this late into the night. But you feel it. You swear you do.

Unlocking your front door carefully, you try your best to ignore the creeps you get. Flicking the light on as soon as you walk inside, you jump a little when you see a pair of shoes you don't recognize beside your heels. What the actual fuck?

If your brother is playing another one of his pranks on you right now, you swear you'll kill him the moment you come face to face with him. It's too late for this shit. It's one am, you need to shower, and get to bed. You don't have the energy or mood for any of this.

Looking around, you close the door behind you quietly, taking off your shoes like you normally would and heading into the living room. "Chan, stop playing with me, this isn't funny."

"I agree."

It's not Chan's voice you hear in response. It's not a voice of anyone you know. Quickly spinning around, you struggle to take out your pepper spray from your purse. Your eyes flicker all across the dark room, trying to make sense of anything—anyone.

The living room light turns on without you getting to the switch, shivers running through your entire body as you turn around once more, desperately trying to find whoever is in the house with you. Lord help me. It's the only thing you can think about, your desperation growing as your hope slowly dies. "Chan, this really isn't—"

"Chan this, Chan that." You hear his footsteps before you see his face, stepping back into one of your shelves and knocking over a vase in the process. "Careful," he shakes his head as he keeps stepping closer to you. Who the fuck is that and why is he walking around your house so carefree? "We don't want you stepping on it and getting a piece stuck in your precious foot."

"Who are you?" You yell after him, ignoring his previous comment. You keep moving away from him, heading towards the kitchen with your eyes locked on him, worried what would happen if you lost sight of him again.

"Don't you remember me?" He tilts his head, his expression full of hurt. "Minjae. We met on your fan meeting last month."

Oh he's got to be joking. This is supposed to be your fan? "Why are you here? In my house?" You try to sound as calm as possible despite feeling anything but. It's okay. You can do this. You need to distract him for a bit and call the police. It'll be okay then.

"What do you mean?" He blinks confusedly. "Why else would I be here than for you?" His smile sends another shiver down your spine. God. You need to find a way to call for help way faster. "We are meant to be," he states almost desperately. "I've known it since I first laid my eyes on you. There is no one better for you than me."

Your back hits your kitchen island, forcing you to a stop.

"Are you scared of me?"

"No!" You say quickly, not wanting to tick him off. Who knows what he'd do if he found out you're not as happy to see him as he is to see you. "I'm just— You surprised me! Of course I remember you, Minjae. How could I not?" Your voice shakes as the words leave your lips. You grip the island behind you, holding on for dear life as if it could save you. Anyone. If there is anyone who could save you right now…

"Why is everything always a mess when I see you?" A low grumble catches your attention, your eyes flickering to Joshua standing at the living room entrance. Joshua. Did you not close the door when you walked in? Has he been following you? God, is he with this freak?

Just what is with your luck today?

"Who are you?" Minjae turns to him defensively. Thank god. Not with him then. Still, that doesn't explain why he's at your house right now.

Even though, you don't think you're in a place to question that. As long as he can get you out of this situation, you don't care how he got here. "Joshua," you breathe out, everything about you desperate and pleading.

"You know this guy?" Minjae turns to you again, accusing. Crap.

"Kind— No! I mean no! I've only seen him on the TV," you try to excuse quickly.

Joshua steps closer to you without a single care about the other dude in the room, ignoring his yells after him to get away from you. A part of you is glad he does. Now that he is standing between you and your fan, you feel much safer. "Let's make a deal."

"What?" Your eyes widen. "Now? Don't you see there's—"

"I said get away from her!"

"Joshua!" You gasp when you see another one of your vases flying his way, only for him to raise his arm and snap his fingers as if that were to do anything. Your vase lands right on the kitchen island beside you in perfect condition.

Wait, what?

"Deal," he prompts.

You catch Minjae taking out a knife from his pocket over Joshua's shoulder, your panic growing. "Fine! Okay! Whatever you want!" You nod eagerly. "Just help me, please."

Joshua tilts his head from side to side as if to stretch, turning his back to you. "I don't usually get involved before getting a signature, but this guy gives me the creeps," he mumbles, crossing the room to get to the intruder.

You take your chance as Joshua makes himself busy and make your way past them, rushing to the window door connected to your garden. The police, you remember. Your hands shake as you try to get your phone out of your purse, your legs weak.

You get to the fence, leaning on it with one hand for more support while you try to open your phone with the other. You don't think you've ever been as scares as you are right now. Your fingers won't work properly, typing in the wrong pass code. God damn it, focus.

Glancing back at the house, your fear only grows when you don't catch a sign of anyone inside. You drop to the ground, unable to stay on your feet any longer. What are you going to do if Joshua is somehow involved after all? What if they are making up a plan how to kidnap you right now without causing a scene? What if there is someone else inside the house you haven't seen yet?

Quickly scanning your surroundings to check for anyone waiting to jump at you, you force your fingers to unlock your phone. Once that's done, dialing the police number is not as big of a struggle. You need to let them know what's happening. You need to make sure you aren't letting go of your possibly only chance at saving. You have no idea what Joshua's deal is, but you're not risking anything. Not when you got the chance to save yourself.

The call goes through, but you don't manage to say anything as your hand falls down to your side, your eyes glued to the man walking through your glass door. You know you should talk to the police. You know that's the only way of making sure nothing will happen to you. But as Joshua comes into your view again, glowing in the darkness of the night, you can't help but freeze.

He's got this weird pull to him. One that makes you forget everything about what's happening.

Offering you his hand, you feel your breath catch as you take it carefully.

The glass door slides open again and your eyes widen, the momentary feeling of comfort vanishing when you see Minjae running towards you at full force with a knife in his hands. God. Is this how you die? Closing your eyes, not wanting to look at his face when the knife comes, you drop Joshua's hand again, ready for the end.

But the knife doesn't come.

Your eyes slowly crack open, partly in surprise and partly in curiosity. How come nothing happened?

You learn why as soon as you open your eyes to find Joshua in front of you, his brows furrowed in pain. "Why did you— Joshua!" You panic, your hands trembling as you try to think of what to do. He falls to the ground in front of you, the same knife you thought was going to kill you now stabbed in his flesh. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Pressing your hands to the wound, you desperately try to stop all the blood from leaving his body. Your eyes can't seem to settle, flickering all over him.

"No, no, no, stay still," you beg him as he turns over on his side. He doesn't listen to you at all through, wincing as he pulls the knife out of his body. "You're going to bleed out! You can't just—"

"Will you stay quiet for a moment?" He hisses at you, pressing his palm to his wound and closing his eyes.

You're not sure what he's trying to do because the only thing that happens is that his hand gets soaked in his blood. "What—" he coughs, the words catching in his throat as he feels the blood on his tongue. It's the first time in forever he's felt like this—weak—pain consuming his whole. Why is he not healing?

It's not the right time for "I told you so" though so you join him instead, pressing both of your hands over his, hoping to help a little. The police. Of fucking course.

"Help!" You yell into your phone lying on the ground. You're not sure when you managed to drop it. Probably somewhere between the second you saw Minjae and when Joshua was stabbed. "There's— I— I've been attacked and then— there is so much blood—"

You hear a faint response, taking one of your hands away from him while the other presses against the wound harder than before, putting the call on speaker. Thank god they didn't hang up on you when you weren't responding. You can only assume they heard the background noise and figured it wasn't a prank call.

"God," Joshua whines weakly but you don't pay him much attention, needing to get help for him as soon as possible. If you don't get a professional to him soon… you don't even want to think about what that'd mean.

"We need an ambulance immediately—" You yelp as Joshua grips your wrist, pulling it to himself. Turning your head to face him again instead of the phone, you let your eyes quickly scan his figure, wondering what he's doing. It's no time for games. No matter how much he has you questioning his motives and what he's doing at your house, you aren't letting him die.

"You…" his voice is so quiet you doubt if it's him speaking.

"Me?" You question, panicked.

Whatever he wanted to tell you, he doesn't finish, the rest of the sentence dying in his throat as his eyes close. No, no, no, no. You refuse to let it end like this.

You won't watch him die. You refuse to.

Joshua's head feels like it's been split apart.

His whole body hurts. Making out the faint noises in the background is hard. Opening his eyes is even harder. Is this what being dead feels like?

He's been dreading this his entire life. He's been escaping hell for over two hundred years, and it's a crazy guy with a knife that gets him in the end? He refuses to believe that.

But hell doesn't come. Instead of the heat he expects, it's cold that surrounds him, his body shivering. Instead of loud roars and the sounds of desperate screams, it's your soft voice that rings in his ears. And instead of seeing everyone he sent to suffer for eternity, he sees a white room and a doctor when he finally forces his eyes open.

What's going on?

He was convinced the knife in his back was the end of him. When he realized his tattoo and powers had disappeared, there was no hope left for him. There was no way he could have saved himself.

"Fucking hell," you breathe out when your eyes land on him, dropping back down to the chair you've been occupying all night, waiting for him to wake up.

"Far from there." Joshua's eyes close again, pain rushing through him. "I think."

"I need you to limit your movements to minimum, Mr. Hong," the doctor stops him before he can push himself up from the hospital bed, only then making him realize where he is. He is in no hell after all. He's in the hospital.

Because he couldn't save himself, he reminds himself. His powers are gone.

This is so much worse than hell.

"Give me your hand," he prompts, reaching for you, ignoring the doctor's orders.

"Why?" You frown, confused.

"Give me your hand," he repeats, this time more demanding. You hesitate as you offer him your left hand, only for him to brush it off. "The other one."

"Seems like nearly dying didn't make you any less of an asshole," you huff, giving him your right hand this time. He tugs you closer in an instant, ignoring your lost eyes and rolling your sleeve up. There it is. His little cross mark. And it's still resting on your wrist just like it was last night when he was unable to heal himself.

"How did you do this?"

"Did what?" You shake your head, letting your eyes drop to your hand, not understanding what he's talking about. Your eyes widen instantly. "Why is there a tattoo on my skin?" You gasp, forcing your hand away from him to look at it from up close.

"I'll leave the two of you alone for now," the doctor says, but neither you or Joshua are listening to him, both too focused on the magic mark.

"Stop rubbing it," Joshua hisses and your eyes flicker to his. "It's not a tattoo."

"You know something about this?" Your confusion only grows. "Oh my company is going to kill me! I can't have any visible tattoos. And my mom! God, she'll be furious when she finds out I inked my skin without her permission!"

"It is not a tattoo," he reminds you. "And it's mine," he reaches for your hand again. "So tell me how you managed to steal it from me."

"Steal it from you?" You scoff in amusement, finding him ridiculous. "I don't want your stupid tattoo!"

There is a strong pain in his back but he refuses to let go of your hand, holding you as close as he can. It's the only way he can think properly. Touching his mark like this.

His grip gets tighter as he desperately clings onto it, making your brows furrow. "Let go of me, Mr. Hong," you tell him, trying to pull your hand away. It doesn't work. "Mr. Hong," you plead again. Nothing. "Joshua!"

His eyes widen, almost as if your voice only reached him now. His grip loosens and you immediately pull your hand again, hiding it behind your back. Your eyes are filled with pain as you look at him, trying to make sense of what's happening. Nothing makes sense. From the moment he suddenly appeared in your home up to now. You can't explain it, but everything feels odd.

You hear the door sliding open and finally pull your gaze away from him, locking eyes with the one person you've been waiting to get here. Chaewon clears her throat as she steps inside, her eyes giving away how scared she is despite her trying to look indifferent. You can read her too well for that, though. "The detectives are looking to speak to you," she claims, stepping aside to create more space for them.

Before you can tell her to bring them in, two men are already walking in, notepads in their hands. You briefly remember one of them greeting you when you first got here last night, but you were so busy praying the doctors could still save Joshua that you couldn't say what he told you or what his name was.

"Officer Lee Seokmin. We met earlier," he offers you a smile as if he could read your mind, extending his hand towards you. You stand up from your chair, not giving Joshua another glance as you join the police officers.

"Officer Xu Minghao," the other, slightly taller, officer greets you as well. "We need to take your statements about last night's incident. Separately if possible."

"The more you'll tell us, the easier it will be to identify the suspect and take legal maters."

"We'll help in any way we can," you nod quickly.

"I'm out of here as soon as I give you that statement," Joshua shakes his head, pushing himself up on the bed.

You can clearly see the panic in Officer Lee's eyes as he rushes towards him, trying to help. "Mr. Hong, you shouldn't be moving much. I will talk with you here while Mr. Xu talks to your girlfriend."

"We are not together," you both tell him at the same time and you shoot him a look. The fact you are offended by someone believing you are with him is one thing, but why would he make it sound like being with you would be something terrible?

"Oh, that's my mistake," Officer Lee apologizes quickly. "But to be frank with you, that information only puts more questions in my head."

Well, maybe you'll be able to get your answers as well. You still can't figure out how Joshua got into your house at the exact time you needed someone to save you. As grateful to him as you are, he has a lot of explaining to do.

"Are you positive you're okay?" Chaewon asks you for what feels like the hundred time, walking with you to her car to get you to the company and then your new apartment.

When you gave her a call last night after making it into the hospital, she did everything she could to prevent more situations like this. But you're not naive. You know you can't just escape this in the blink of an eye. If you could, you would have done it a long time ago.

No matter how much she or the rest of your staff tries, there is no way to control every single fan and make sure none of them are sick in the head or wanting to kill you. Both attributes you believe the guy that broke into your house last night possessed. You should have been more careful. You loved that location.

"I'm all good," you tell her again. "Fortunately, I made it out without a single scratch unlike someone," you mumble, your smile disappearing at the memory of you trying to hard to stop the bleeding. "Can we make it up to him somehow? A financial reward or something?"

"I've taken care of that already," she assures you. "I've gotten Mr. Hong's contact information and promised a compensation for all the trouble he went through as well as gave him my dearest apologies."

"Good," you nod, more to yourself than to her. Sliding into the passenger seat, you wait for Chaewon to join you so you can go. "Has the police said anything to you?"

"I'm sorry," she shakes her head. "They assured me they'll give me a call once they have anything, though."

"Okay," you nod again, the entire situation suddenly making you feel small.

You couldn't do anything last night. You barely managed to call the police while Joshua was saving your life, and then when it came to it, it was him again who got hurt. As if that already wasn't bad enough, now you just have to sit back and wait for them to figure it out on their own? You want to help. However you can.

"Your mother called me this morning," Chae tells you as she drives off into the busy street. "She wanted to know about your date, and when I told her what happened last night, she demanded you give her a call first thing. As much as I'd like to give her the benefit of the doubt, I don't think it's about your well being, though."

A heavy sigh leaves your lips. "I'll call her when I settle in. I can't deal with her before I have my coffee."

"If you'd like I could give her a call instead and claim your busy schedule doesn't give you any time in the near future to see her or any other dates?"

"It's okay," you shake her head. "We both know that wouldn't stop her. I'll call her."

Just like you said you would, a phone call to your mother is the first thing you do as soon as you've made yourself a cup of coffee and settled in the corner of your new couch.

Chaewon found a new apartment for you just a few blocks from your company, making it more comfortable for you as well as making it more accessible in case of an emergency similar to last night. It's nice. Not as big as your previous house was, and you certainly don't have a garden on this top floor, but it'll more than do.

It's a modern style place with four separate rooms, filled with all kinds of memories of your career. The decorators must have had fun while you were in the hospital. All of your previous albums line a bookshelf in the living room, and there are posters of you on the walls—ones you are sure to take down before night comes around. As much as you're proud of what you've built, you don't need to look at old pictures of yourself on stage every morning.

You're glad for the full length glass doors that lead to your balcony. If there is one thing you would have missed about your old place, it'd be the ability to look outside at the night sky whenever you want. You're glad they managed to keep that in.

You look out as you make yourself more comfortable, waiting for the call to go through. The sky is clear this time around, no clouds in sight. It's starting to be warm out again.

"Where have you been all day?" Is the first thing you hear when she picks up.

Closing your eyes, you prepare for the mental slap this phone call will give you. "The hospital."

"I thought you weren't hurt?"

"I wasn't," you roll your eyes. "I'm all good, thanks for asking. I stayed in with Joshua so I could make sure he was alright as well. It was my fault after all."

"Joshua? Who is that?" You can hear the disapproving look on her face as she speaks. It's the same look she used to give you whenever you mentioned a boy she didn't personally hand pick when you were younger.

"Joshua Hong? The CEO of Hong F&B you set me up with?" You frown back. "Have you forgotten already?"

"How are you talking to me right now?" She snaps and you pull the phone away from your ear, seriously debating just hanging up on her. Her next words stop you, though. "I thought I finally put some sense into you yesterday just for you to not show up on your date? Do you know how embarrassed I was when I got the call earlier?"

"I went on the date," you argue, confused. "With Joshua. We ate together and then he was the one to save me from that stalker."

"Joshua this, Joshua that," she huffs, annoyed. "Mr. Choi was waiting for you for two hours before he left! He didn't want to make a big deal out of it but his father called me to let me know. Thank god he did. What were you even thinking?"

"Who's Mr. Choi?"

"Choi Seungcheol? The man you were supposed to go on a date with?" Her annoyance only grows, making sure you know she's tired of having to explain everything to you.

"Joshua was the one waiting at the restaurant, though." The longer you talk to her, the less sense it all makes.

"The one on main street?"

"What? No. This is the location you gave us," you claim, quickly sending her the restaurant address.

"That is not the place I gave your little manager. Did she manage to mess this up as well?"

"Stop putting Chaewon in your mouth."

She scoffs on the other side of the phone. "Why don't you just date her if she's so important to you and cut us off completely?"

"I as well might," you mumble back, tired of this all.

But she doesn't stop. "I do everything for you and your future and this is how you repay me? You don't listen! How many times have we told you not to mess up your life and stay in our company? How many times have I tried my hardest to make you happy just for you to dismiss me like some stray cat?"

There it is. The victim card she loves to play. "I'm hanging up, mom," you announce, not giving her a chance to answer before throwing your phone on the other side of the couch with a sigh. You can't wait to go to sleep.

Reaching for your cup of coffee, your eyes land on your right wrist and the mark. How on Earth did you come to it again? Right, there is no explanation. Other than Joshua being a wizard who can just place a tattoo on someone without them noticing, of course.

The memory of Joshua on the ground flashes through your mind and you close your eyes shut, trying to shake it off. You need to think about something else. Anything.

Sitting on your date with Joshua is the first thing that comes to mind, a tiny smile spreading on your lips as you think about your arguments. He's a prick. A weirdo with no manners, and quite definitely your type.

You're not sure if you want to see him again.

Your phone rings, forcing you out of your thoughts. If it's your mother again you might as well call the creep from yesterday and tell him to finish the job.

Leaning forward to grab it back with a groan, you scan the unknown number before picking up. "Hello?" You ask confusedly. Who would even be calling you right now? When Chaewon found out what happened last night, she canceled all schedules today, so no one should be needing you.

"It's Joshua," he says simply and your frown deepens.

"How did you get my number?"

"Your manager was trying to save my number, talking about some money, and I saw your contact."

Did you mention that he's weird yet? It feels like you don't say it enough.

"So you, what? Stole it from her? Do you have no sense of personal space?"

"You weren't asking me that when I moved in front of you to save your life." You can practically see the smile on his face, clearly proud of himself for making you feel bad.

"I'm sorry for getting you involved, again. Even though, if I'm honest, I'm still not sure how you got there or what you were doing at my house." You stretch your legs on the couch, bringing your coffee to your lips as you wait for his answer.

"I had an inkling."

"About?" You raise an eyebrow, doubting him.

"A desperate person willing to sell their soul."

"You make no sense," you shake your head, deciding to ignore the bullshit explanation he just gave you. He surely does have the mind of a poet to be speaking like this. "What does that make you? A superhero saving the world?"

"The opposite, in fact."

The villain of the story. Sure, why not? Despite having no idea what those little metaphors mean, you don't plan on popping his bubble or anything. If he wants to play the bad guy, then you're not going to stop him.

"Is this why you called? To tell me how terrible you are?"

"No," Joshua rolls his eyes. "I want to meet up. I'm out of the hospital so let's go out."

Go out? With Joshua? What?

No is the right answer. Absolutely not is what you should respond. Going out is the last thing you want to do today, and with him on top of everything? Why should you? Your date with him was terrible and the two of you only argued— Fuck. The date you weren't supposed to be on.

God, you need to apologize.

With how many times you've already said sorry to him, you might as well just drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness now.

Screw you blind dates and screw you mom. Had it not been for her demands on setting you up with someone, you wouldn't be in this situation at all.

You would also likely be dead.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you look at the current time. "They let you out already?"

"Sure did," he hums. "The doctor kept saying something about a miracle but I'm pretty sure it was because of you."

Huh? Since when is it so hot here?

You feel your cheeks heat up, unsure what he means. Is he flirting with you? Maybe it's the consequence of yesterday's trauma and you're hearing things. That would make much more sense than Joshua Hong—the same guy who would die if he were to be nice to you on your date—asking you out and flirting with you.

But then again, if you think about it, he did save you more than once already.

Maybe he wasn't just all bad after all.

"Okay," you nod.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I'll meet you for dinner."

Slipping out of your car, you scan your surroundings to see if Joshua is already here. You don't catch him anywhere. You're not sure if you like the place he wanted to meet at. It's public. Maybe a little too public to your liking. And while that should be technically perfect since you both have witnesses and everyone can see what you're doing, both of those advantages feel a little unfortunate at the same time.

A part of you wishes you could be alone with him.

"Has no one taught you not to let a lady waiting?" You cross your arms in front of your chest as soon as you see him walking towards you. "Then again, it would be on brand for you."

He ignores your comment, grabbing your wrist before you can realize what's going on, and tugging you back towards his car. "We are going on a trip," he explains simply.

"What— hold on, Joshua—" Despite your mouth trying to protest, your legs keep following him as if it were the easiest thing they've ever had to do. "My car!" You remember. "I have my car there," you try pointing towards the parking spot but he doesn't even glance back.

"You can get your car later," he brushes you off. "I need you right now."

It's as if he had you under some sort of spell, all the reasons why you shouldn't just follow him—barely an acquaintance—anywhere he wants disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Your eyes flicker around the place to make sure no one is following you or any rumors are about to start, letting him take you to his car. You dip into the passenger seat, scanning the interior. The display is huge, taking up the entire length. He's got the radio on but the volume is set so low you barely hear it. Pushing your seat forward a bit, you get a good feel on the leather covering it, humming in satisfaction.

You quickly shake yourself out of it. You're not supposed to be appreciating his choice of vehicle right now.

So instead of appreciating it, you decide to analyze it instead.

The car screams luxury in every shape and form. It fits him perfectly. Without knowing anything about the brand or model, you can tell he likes being able to look at what his money bought him. You don't blame him in that sense. What you can blame him about, though, is how entitled he is because of it.

You hate this car already.

"Which brand is this?" You wonder when he joins you, deciding not to focus on the fact he could literally kidnap you right now if he wanted to. Maybe you should send Chaewon a quick text.

"Hongqi H9," he answers without pondering over your question much. You hum, making a mental note to never buy that car. As much as your body seems to love having him close and the thrill of it, your brain is on your side and wants nothing to do with him. If only your mind was strong enough for your body to listen as well.

He doesn't say anything else after, driving off. You look out of the window, making sure to watch carefully where he is headed. You can't tell him no no matter how hard you try, though. So after a few minutes, you finally ask. "Where are you taking me?"

"I have a contract that expires today."

You frown, averting your eyes from the outside and staring at him. "What now?"

"A contract. Surely you know what that is."

"I'm not stupid," you roll your eyes, annoyed. There it is. You like this reaction much more than the one you had before when he used his sweet words to lure you in. "What on Earth do you need me for?"

"My powers are gone," he mumbles as if that were to make any sense to you. You watch as his hands grip the steering wheel tighter, making sure to keep his eyes on the road and not look at you. You tilt your head to the side. Okay. Maybe this isn't some sick joke he is playing on you. He looks seriously pissed. "And for some stupid reason—" he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, "You have them."

"Joshua, I bet you sound really incredible in your own head and that these metaphors make sense to you but—" You don't get to finish your sentence as he reaches for your right wrist, leaning all over the consol to get to you. Your eyes widen, panic over him not having a proper control of the wheel taking over you for a split second. But then the car keeps going in a straight line, no dangerous slip ups or anything.

"I have no idea why they suddenly jumped to you, but I can't use them without holding you." His eyes look tired. You don't even think he's angry anymore, he just seems exhausted. "Trust me, I tried," he sighs, letting his eyes close for a second. The panic settles in you all over again. How the hell is this car still going safe and steady?

"Joshua, the car—"

"The car won't crash as long as I'm holding your wrist," he assures you, way too calm for your liking. No matter what he believes, what metaphors he is spitting at you hoping you'd understand, this doesn't make any sense. "What do I need to do to have you believe me?"

"Let's start by you paying attention to the road—" Doing the exact opposite of what you just asked him for, he lets go of the wheel completely, leaning back in his seat and gripping your wrist tightly. You watch as the wheel turns on it's own, the car taking a left turn. What the fuck? No, this doesn't— this isn't— "What the fuck?" You breathe out finally.

"Will you finally listen or do I need to let go of your hand and crash the car first?"

Okay, you need to relax. Your eyes flicker all over his calm self, trying to mimic it. The car isn't crashing, you tell yourself. You have no idea how, but he's got it under control. You'll live. "Okay so," you swallow all your worries, turning to face him fully and avoid looking at the road. "What the fuck?" You repeat your previous question, now actually willing to hear his answer.

"I'm not lying to you," his eyes meet yours, doing their best to convince you. "This mark—this tattoo like you like to call it—is not just some ink on your skin. It's mine. And it carries everything I exist for."

So maybe you've gotten Joshua Hong wrong. Maybe he isn't a spoiled brat who never had to work a finger in his childhood which caused him to grow into an asshole. Maybe he is just a mentally ill psycho. That would explain everything, wouldn't it?

But the longer you look into his eyes, the harder it is to think he doesn't believe with every inch of his soul that what he says is true. What if it is the truth? What if, by some sick twist of the universe, the mark on your wrist does have powers than are now in your body. What if he does have powers? What if there is an entire new world beyond what you've known and trusted your entire life?

You don't say anything else. You can't. The words won't leave your mouth. Instead, you lean back in your seat, staring mindlessly on the road ahead as Joshua drives the car to who knows where—still refusing to put his hands on the wheel.

The car comes to a sudden stop after taking a swift turn. It's only then that you blink out of your thoughts, quickly scanning your surroundings. You're parked in front of a judo studio. Huh? You look at Joshua to question why he took you here, but before you can voice your curiosity, he is leaning over your side, making a little finger gun and whispering "bang."

Your eyes trail his, landing on a group of four guys standing in front of the entrance. They each have their own gym bag over their shoulder, laughing as soon as they see you in the car. Based on Joshua's proud grin as he leans back in his seat again, you have a hunch they aren't laughing at you but at him. Glancing back at them to apologize, your eyes widen in horror as you watch one of them fall to the ground. "What—" The rest of the men quickly gather around the fallen one, asking what's happening, asking the same you're wondering as Joshua starts the car again and quickly drives off.

"Did you just kill the guy??" You question, petrified.

"The terms of our deal came to an end," he says simply. "He killed himself."

You finally tear your hand away from him, hiding it in your lap. He quickly grabs the steering wheel again, forced to actually drive instead of just using his—your?—powers. "Did he?" you ask in disbelief. "Is that what would have happened if I signed the contract last night? You would have saved me just to kill me right after?"

Joshua's grip on the wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white. You wonder what's going on in his head. "I provide offers—solutions to problems, chances at brighter futures, money, you name it—in exchange for the soul. People get ten years of the life they want, they get to live out their dreams, their desires, and then their souls go to where they belong."

"And where would that be?"

"Hell."

Your mouth closes as soon as he gives you an answer. You think back to the man, wondering what could have possibly been worth shortening his life like this. Surely Joshua must have stated the terms of the deal beforehand. Surely he had to know what he was getting himself into.

Just like you did? A voice in the back of your head speaks. Your throat feels dry.

"Who was he?" You break the silence.

A part of you expects the obvious answer—for him to tell you he doesn't know, doesn't care. Instead, his voice bubbles in your ears again. "When I fist met him, he was a street fighter getting involved with people that would have easily made his life far worse than hell is. He was suspended from his old judo when he almost killed an opponent in a match. It resolved to him picking fights anywhere he went instead."

Oh. You try answering, even though you're not sure what you want to say, only for him to continue. "I sense the feeling of desperation," he explains. "I sensed it on you last night, and I sensed it on him those years ago when I found him in the middle of a bar fight, about to run out of his luck and die. I made sure he lived and could compete under judge's eyes again. He's been winning tournaments in this judo since then."

"You saved him from the streets," you think out loud.

"I wasn't doing it to help him," Joshua claims, but you still feel like a part of him did. Like it wasn't just for his own good—for whatever it is that he gets out of these deals.

"What are you?" You ask, turning to face him. You look at him for the first time since he started driving off, scanning his features. "An angel?"

His eyes meet yours briefly, "Angels never come to save you, darling."

Joshua dropped you off right beside your car again. He suggested driving you home, but you insisted. You need to clean your head and a little drive around the city is more than great for that. Your car is certainly smaller than his—not because you couldn't afford it, but because you never wanted anything more—less modern too, but it's perfect for rides alone. People expect for idols to be driving in more expensive cars, but you like falling into place with everyone else. No need to be extraordinary.

It's late, the sky no longer the bright blue it was during the day, stars decorating every bit. You don't get to look at them much, though. You only look at the road ahead of you and go over your earlier conversation with Joshua. The terms of our deal came to an end. He killed himself.

My powers are gone. For some stupid reason, you have them.

I sense the feeling of desperation. I sensed it on you last night.

Everything he told you today rings loud and clear in your head. You go over them, break the sentences apart and restructure them again. Nothing comes up. You can't change the meaning of what he said in order to make more sense of it. There is no single scientific answer to this, and it makes you feel like you're going crazy.

Angels and demons. Heaven and hell. Good and bad. You never thought much about it. Why would you? The life after always seemed so far away. But now…you can't help but wonder. Wonder what awaits you, how Joshua falls into all of this, and if you've done everything you could right.

You're so lost in your own thoughts, driving around for what might as well be hours. Thank God you filled up your tank just last week. Should you even be thanking God? Can you? Your eyes instinctively fall to your right wrist, to the black cross mark on there.

You don't let yourself get distracted for too long, checking your mirrors again and paying attention to the road. You should get home.

But it doesn't feel right.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. The voice in your head won't stop, making you frown.

Something is wrong. What though?

Checking your map, you assure yourself you didn't drive somewhere too far away. Looking at your gas icon, you make sure you aren't about to run out. The road ahead seems clean, no other cars in sight that could cause you to get into a traffic jam. There is a car behind you, but it's been there for a while, so it's nothing out of the ordinary either.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Your eyes widen. How long has the car been following you for?

You take the first left you can, checking your mirrors to see if he's still behind you.

He takes the same left.

Fuck.

You try slowing down, hoping that maybe he'll get bored and overtakes you, but not even the difference in speed stops him. You hold the wheel with one hand, doing your best to make sure you're not going off the road as you switch from your phone maps to your contacts. Joshua's number is the first you see, and you don't hesitate for a second before calling him.

He picks up on the second ring, his voice echoing in the car. "Your powers," you blurt out instead of hello. "Did your sixth desperation sense jump onto me as well?" Joshua frowns on the other side of the call, questioning what you mean. "Because I can really feel my own desperation right now."

"What's going on?" He asks, the switch in his tone obvious. "Are you okay?"

You're not sure if his concern comes from the mark of his you carry or genuine worries for your well being, but you don't question him right now. "Someone is following me."

"You're still not home?"

"I needed to clear my head," you explain. "I've been driving around since you dropped me off. I'm not sure— he's been behind me for some time, though. I'm going in circles so it doesn't make any sense."

"Don't drive home," he advises. "Where are you? I'll come get you."

"I'm," you look around, not sure yourself. "I'm a few blocks from the JYP building."

"Alright, drive around for a bit more and then meet me there. I can get there in fifteen minutes."

"Are you sure it'll be okay?"

"You're safe," he assures you. "I'm on the phone if you have doubts."

You nod, forgetting he can't see you over the call. "Joshua?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Just like he told you so, you decided to drive around for a few more minutes, your anxiety getting worse with each turn the black SUV took after you. But you made it to the JYP building in exactly fifteen minutes, just like Joshua told you to. You parked your car at the last open spot in the front, watching as whoever was driving the car kept on going, taking the first right he could find.

Your fingers hover over your phone screen, wanting to get Joshua on the line again. Before you can do so, a knock on your car window startles you.

All your worries wash away as your eyes lock on a familiar figure, Joshua standing outside your car in all his glory, a simple white sweater and dress pants on. He changed in the while you haven't seen him. You roll your window down, taking down the barrier between you. "Hi," you breathe out in relief.

"Hey," he offers you a small smile. You blink up at him, your eyes scanning the new look you've just discovered. Is this the first time he smiled at you? It doesn't reach his eyes completely but it's a step forward, you think. Not that you'd want a step forward. Even though, you're not sure if the option of never seeing him again is still available now that you apparently possess his powers. "Get out, I'll drive you home."

You arch your eyebrows at him and he rolls his eyes. "Or if you'd like to keep driving and try your luck, I can go home."

"No!" You shake your head quickly. "What about my car, though?"

"Have someone pick it up for you later."

"What if he breaks in here or something?" You argue.

"If you can't buy a new one I can get you one," he claims as if it wasn't a big deal. As if he had money to throw around without a problem. Maybe he does. You don't even want to take a guess at his status.

"Why?"

"Why what?" He tilts his head, eyeing you as if you were the confusing one.

"Why are you doing this? Helping me so much?"

It seems to confuse him even more, his smile turning into a grimace. "Have you already forgotten?"

"Forgotten what?"

"My mark."

Right. Of course. What other reason would he have to come rushing to you across town because you are convinced someone is tailing you.

Turning your engine off, you motion for him to step aside so you can get out of your car. You make sure there isn't anything important your stalker might find liking in before locking the car behind you, following Joshua into his Hongqi.

It's the same moment Joshua drives off that you catch a glimpse of a male figure walking around the JYP building, hood over his head and hands tugged into his pocket. He keeps glancing around, as if to check if anyone else is nearby. You swallow a lump in your through as you watch him head towards your car through the window, your nerves only getting worse.

You've got too used to the quiet. If this happened last year, you would have just called Chaewon and asked her to change your address again. But it's been so long since you last dealt with with something at this extend that you completely forgot the anxiety it leaves you with, making it so much worse. A weird fan here and there happens, and you've gotten used to that. But it's been over a year since you last had someone follow you. You're not sure what changed then, when the stalking behavior stopped, and you're not sure what changed now that they're back, but no part of you likes it. Two so early after themselves makes it so much weirder.

You don't talk to Joshua except for giving him your new address and making him promise this information stays between the two of you, opening your contacts again to reach your manager.

Chaewon picks up on the first ring, just like always. "No, yeah, I'm okay. Kind of. No, you don't have to worry," you assure her while shaking your head. "I just need someone to pick up my car in the morning and make sure there aren't any tracing devises attached or anything. No, Chae, I promise I'm okay. I'm with Joshua. Yes, Mr. Hong."

Joshua glances at you briefly at the mention of his name but doesn't interrupt your conversation. "Someone was tailing me so he suggested I park at the JYP building and he picks me up. I called him. No, I'm pretty sure he isn't a stalker as well," you roll your eyes despite not being certain in your answer. But what could he possibly get out of following you? He might be unusual, but what dude that thinks he's the demon isn't?

"Want to assure my manager you aren't going to kill me?" You ask him, holding back a giggle. You put the call on speaker when he gives you a nod in return, holding it high enough for the speaker to catch his voice.

"I have no intentions at murdering someone tonight," he says, keeping his eyes on the road. "I'm not a murderer." This time, as he speaks, he meets your eyes and you know he's referring back to your earlier conversation. The terms of our deal came to an end. He killed himself.

"Thank you for ensuring she is safe, Mr. Hong," she sighs, relief clear from her tone. "The entire staff team is grateful to you for everything you're doing."

"Alright, no need to raise his ego with this," you stop her before she can start praising him for breathing. You know she wouldn't go that far and what she says is valid, but you feel to embarrassed to have him listen to more. "Can you get someone to get my car? I'm just hoping it stays safe."

You stay on the phone with her for a while longer, only hanging up once Joshua parks in front of your new apartment building. You step out, lingering at the door as you meet his eyes again. "Thank you. For everything."

He nods, not giving you the pleasure of smiling again. "Call me tomorrow when you're free."

"Why?"

"So we can figure out how I can get back what's mine."

You fight the urge to sigh, nodding instead. It's the least you can do. He did save you twice already. Three times, if you count the weird encounter at the restaurant. "Good night, Joshua."

He hums, "Night."

Company meetings might be your least favorite parts of the job. This one is bearable, it's for your safety after all, but you can't say all meetings are like this. Most of them just feel unnecessary and like a waste of your practice time.

"It's getting out of hand."

"It was out of hand when someone broke into her house."

"Have there been any recent threats online we should trace back?"

"We need to double the security. She shouldn't be alone anymore."

Your eyes snap up to Chaewon when she adds her opinion to the conversation, shaking your head quickly. You value your alone time too much for that. Is there no other solution? She knows how much you appreciate the free time you get and opportunities, which only answers your previous question. If there was any other option she wouldn't be saying this.

"Joshua," you blurt out quickly, joining the conversation for the first time since you started. "He can accompany me."

"Who?" Eyebrows are raised in a question and you struggle to speak again. You should have thought this through before.

"He… We've been on a date before." Kind of? It's not a lie, is it? Technically it was a date even though you were never supposed to be in the restaurant with him. "He was the one who was with me when the intruder appeared and he came for me yesterday as well."

The looks the staff around exchanges are all uncertain, clearly not liking the idea of letting in someone from the outside to look after you. "I've met Mr. Hong before. He does not seem dangerous," Chaewon tells them but you both know she is not as sure in her words as she'd like to be.

You don't tell them he is too invested in the mark you carry to hurt you. Instead, you settle for a more believable reasoning. "We'll be spending more time together either way, and it'll be more comfortable for both of us if there isn't anyone from the company following us all the time. I'm sure you understand that," you give them a look that suggests there a lot more between you and Joshua than actually is, hoping that could work.

"Are you sure about this, Miss?" Chaewon is the first one to speak, but everyone follows right after, repeating the same question.

"I am," you nod. "We'd make it official. Make him my personal bodyguard. He'll be able to protect me at all times." You're not sure if that's even possible, if he can make himself available from his own work and keep by your side. If he wants to keep his precious little tattoo safe, then he should.

"This Joshua," a staff whose name you don't remember clears his throat. "Is the real deal?"

"We plan on continuing to see each other," you assure them. "If he's my bodyguard, it also won't raise questions in the pres when we are together. There are only pros to this."

"I'll arrange a meeting with Mr. Hong and see what we can do," Chaewon offers you a smile, one that tells you just how surprised she is by you. You're not sure if it's because you just told the entire staff team that you are seeing Joshua or because of how engaged you were in a meeting for the first time in months.

"Perfect. Shall we call it a day then?"

You don't wait for their answer, collecting your things and heading back to your practice room. As soon as the door shuts behind you, you take out your phone and dial Joshua's number.

"Off work already? Give me ten minutes and I'll pick you up," he asks instead of a greeting.

"Hello to you too," you shake your head. "And no. I'm only now starting my dance practice. I'll be here for a few more hours before we can go do whatever you think will reverse this sick joke."

"What is it then? Don't tell me you have another stalker on you."

"Don't even joke about that," you warn him. "If someone follows me as I leave today I will curse your whole bloodline."

He laughs. A sound so pretty and special your brain categorizes it as a starting addiction.

You are quick to snap out of it, shaking the thoughts off and burying them deep inside. You don't need to be thinking about how good his laugh sounds or how you want to hear it again.

"If there is another stalker, I'll just take care of him for you. You just have to let me hold your hand."

If anyone else overheard your conversation, they would probably think Joshua is smitten by you. It sounds so innocent, a boyfriend flirting with his girlfriend, saying he'll save the day if his lover just lets him hold her hand for a moment. Had you not known better, you might fall for it as well. But if Joshua managed to do anything in the short while you've known him, it's convince you that he only cares about himself and his powers. It's an inconvenience that his powers are now in your hands—quite literally—and he has to care for you as well.

Had it not been for the stupid mark, he would have been long gone from your life.

"I kind of threw you under the bus in my meeting just now," you finally tell him the reason you called as you go take a seat on the large couch opposite the window lining a whole wall. "And I really hope you don't do the same to me and agree to help."

"Help with what?" He sounds skeptical. You don't blame him. You would feel the same way.

"Be my bodyguard."

"No," he scoffs immediately, not giving you a chance to explain yourself.

"Please," you beg. "You need this as much as I do. If you don't take the position they'll have someone else fill in the spot and there won't be a chance for you to try and figure out what happened or how to have everything go back to normal. There will be someone on my side all the time and I won't be able to meet you properly again."

It's quiet on his side of the line as he thinks about it. It's a shitty situation either way, but only one scenario make life a lot less miserable for the both of you. You can help him and he can help you. It's the only way.

"What does being your bodyguard mean for me?"

"You get to carry a gun around?" you offer. "I think, maybe. I'm not actually sure," you mumble, so quietly you're not sure if he can make the words out. You don't want him to decide not to. You need him on the job. "And I'll be forever grateful to you?"

He doesn't shut you down right away like before, and you take that as a good sign. "I'm assuming your assistant will want to call me?"

"Chaewon, yes. And she is my manager, not an assistant."

"Same thing," he brushes you off. "Alright, I'll have the talk with her. I'll tell her I'm the best for the job or whatever."

A smile spreads on your lips. "Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!"

"Okay," your name leaves his lips as he laughs at your reaction, the sound even more beautiful than last time. "Calm down. Don't you have to dancing to do or something?"

You laugh with him, relieved to have that taken care of as you hang up the call. You look at your phone screen for a second, staring at the call history. It's a while since you had someone else there other than Chae or your mother. Deciding he deserves to get his number saved, you add a new contact, your fingers hovering hesitantly over the name section. After giving it a second thought, you type in Joshua the Demon and save it.

If anyone sees and asks, you'll just turn it into an inside joke between lovers. Maybe you'll claim he calls you an angel. Maybe you'll complain he snores so bad it makes you think a demon possesses him.

Somehow, both options put a smile on your face.

You leave your phone on the couch, starting the music and getting into position. You'll practice for a while alone before your choreographer comes in. She should be here any minute now.

You're exhausted, sweating, and probably smell terrible when your choreographer calls the end of practice because Joshua decided to pay you a visit. You offer her a brief smile with your goodbye, getting back up on your feet. You fix your shirt—definitely not because you'd want to look your best when seeing him—as you meet his eyes, offering him the same smile.

"Hey, you uhm… talked to Chaewon?" Jesus. Since when are you this awkward around him? Just two days ago you were drowning in the urge to punch his face and now you're practically stumbling over your words? It must be the exhaustion. Practice drained you today. There were multiple changes in the choreography you needed to get down, and once you started pairing singing with the dance it was even worse.

"I did," he nods. "Just now." He searches for something in his pants pocket, having you blink curiously. You make use of that little time he gives you to admire his clothing. Not admire, you quickly tell yourself. Assess. That's a better word.

He's dressed for the job. A well tailored, black suit hugs his skin, the cross necklace he had when you first met him now replaced with a black tie, adding to the security look. It's the same attire you've seen most of the bodyguards at the company wear, but something tells you this piece was already sitting in his closet before he got the job. It makes it so much more attractive. "Got this little thing after signing a few papers." He takes out his earpiece and swings it on his fingers. A soft laugh escapes your lips at the sight.

"Aren't you supposed to be wearing that?"

"So I've been told," he shrugs, letting his eyes wander around the room. "I've also been asked if I am willing to move to a room in your apartment."

"What now?" You blink, pushing all the exhaustion aside. "Did Chaewon suggest that?"

He waves his hand in the air, as if to shut the conversation down. "I told them our relationship isn't at that stage yet and I'd rather just rent out my own apartment in the building." He walks closer to you, putting the earpiece where it belongs in the process. "Apparently with how much you chatted about me, the staff started thinking we were about to get married."

You nudge him away from you, rolling your eyes. Asking him to move in is something you might believe, but you definitely didn't talk about him enough for them to come to conclusions like that. If anything, his sick head did that. "Didn't you want to get this stupid mark back? If I were you I wouldn't test my patience like this."

A smile spreads on his lips as he watches you pat his shoulder before walking past him to grab your stuff from the couch. "You're the one who told them we're seeing each other," he raises his hands in surrender, keeping his eyes on you—just like he promised Chaewon he would a moment ago. "You should have just told me you were interested in me, I would have rejected you gently."

"Right," you scoff, your back turned to him as you rummage through your bag. You refuse to look at him, knowing your cheeks are red. You did that, didn't you? You told your whole staff you were seeing Joshua and you were planning on seeing him for a while. Just what did you get yourself into? The hole you dug is much deeper than you realized.

Joshua joins your side as if he couldn't read you at all, not noticing the fact you want to be anywhere but with him right now. Clearing your throat, you push your bag into his hands and walk out first, deciding not to stop even when you hear him mumble something to himself. "Let's go! We need to figure out how to get rid of this thing as soon as possible."

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckles. When then hell did he get to your side again? Are his powers working despite him not holding your hand? You look up at him, wanting to figure it out. Not superpowers, you realize. Just a pair of long legs.

"What's the plan?"

"Just follow my lead."

"I don't like the sound of that," you tell him honestly.

He shrugs in response, "You don't exactly have a choice here."

"Great," you mumble, letting your eyes drop to the floor again. This is just going to be great.

Joshua drives you to your apartment before anything else upon your request. He doesn't seem too happy with having to prolong this, but after you argued with him about not letting him use your powers again if he doesn't drop you off at home so you can shower, he was quick to give in.

Which is why he is now standing in the middle of your apartment, his eyes wandering over every piece of furniture you own. When you first met him, you didn't peg him for a curious cat. "I'll be right back. Don't break anything in the meantime, please."

"Sure," he brushes you off, sitting at your dining table. He takes off his earpiece again and rests it in front of him. To his surprise, Chaewon hasn't directly contacted him through it so far, but if he can avoid it happening, then he will. You're right under is nose, he doesn't need to receive any commands right now.

He can hear the shower through the closed door, listening to the soft sound of the water running as he waits. Maybe he should use this time to think through what even it is he wants to try today. Because truth is, he doesn't have a plan.

He spent hours searching through all the books in his home library, as well as letting Mingyu—his right hand—look through them for the first time. Still, they came up empty. Not even his demon guide (as Mingyu likes to call it) had anything about powers suddenly transferring, and it's been driving him insane. The only thing Mingyu managed to come up with before Joshua got a call from you that you need for him to be your bodyguard was to recreate what happened that night. He has no idea what he's going to do if that doesn't work, though.

The sound of the water stops, but he doesn't pay it any attention, too busy going through everything he learned while studying the books with Mingyu. Your voice almost doesn't reach him either. It's only when you call out to him for the third time that he snaps out of it and raises his head to meet the still closed bathroom door. "Yes?"

"Could you search through the drawers in the living room? I threw my towel into wash last night and need a new one."

He gets up with a sigh but doesn't complain. "Why don't you have your towels in the bathroom?"

"I wasn't the one who moved in my stuff but the company!" You explain. "I forgot about it because of the hurry I was in, trying to get under the water as soon as possible. They should be under the TV, though!"

Joshua shakes his head at you briefly before crouching down in front of the TV, opening one drawer after another until finally finding the one that stores your towels. He takes the first one he sees, spreading it in his arms to see if it's a small or standard sized one. "Do you want a small or a big one?"

"Big one, please!" Silence comes after your response, and it makes you frown. Still behind the shower curtains, you wonder what he's doing. Do you have that many drawers in the living room? "Are you thinking about something inappropriate?" Your frown disappears at the realization. You should have not asked him for anything.

The door cracks open and you step forward, hiding your naked body with the curtain as your head peeks out from the side. "I wasn't until you suggested that," he claims, extending his hand to you so you can take the towel from him.

You roll your eyes at him, snatching it away and disappearing behind the curtain again to dry yourself off. "You know you can leave now, right?"

"Can't, I'm in the middle of inappropriate thoughts."

With your towel carefully wrapped around your body, you push the curtain to the side, meeting his eyes with the deadliest stare you could manage. It's then that he finally cracks into a laugh, shaking his head at your reaction. "You think you're so funny."

"I am funny," he nods, the grin on his lips huge. "You should have seen yourself."

"Ha ha ha, as you can see I'm laughing really hard."

"For your information, I don't have inappropriate thoughts," he says, still finding your reaction funny. You make it seem like all he needs isn't to hold your hand in order to break all the bones in your body if he'd want to. Not that he would. While your deadly gazes don't threaten him, the idea of you taking his powers forever does. "I have no interest in those."

"Right, because you're God almighty and you're better than us humans," you roll your eyes. "How could I forget?" You step out of the shower, holding your towel tightly around yourself. Joshua doesn't turn to leave as he should, he doesn't even take a step back, forcing the two of you much closer than you'd like.

You look up to meet his eyes, only to find your face inches away from yours. You swallow all the words building up in your throat, quick to take a step back yourself when he won't do it. His eyes dip down to you, his gaze indifferent as he takes the sight of you in just a towel in. At least until you step away and the proximity you put the two of you in disappears. In that moment, when you avert your eyes from him, there is a tiny spark in his eyes. One he'd rather not think too hard about.

Clearing his throat, he finally turns his back to you, telling you to hurry as he rushed out of the room and back to the seat he claimed before.

Relief washes over you as soon as the door shuts behind him again. What was that? You don't know, and you don't think you want to. Joshua never made sense to you, so why should you start understanding him now?

You shake your head as you gaze at the door, knowing he is behind it somewhere in your apartment.

You've got one of your dresses on when you meet him again in the kitchen, leaning on the chair opposite him to get his attention. Joshua's eyes snap up to you, his eyes scanning your figure before he decides to stand up again. "You okay with that dress getting ruined?"

You arch an eyebrow at that. "You're planning on ruining my dress?"

He shrugs, "I can't promise you it won't get ruined."

You narrow your eyes, debating if you should go change or not. You have better pieces in your closet, but there are also definitely worse ones that you wouldn't mind at all ruining. He seems to see right through you, shaking his head as he reaches to wrap his hand around your wrist, changing your clothes for you by a simple finger snap. "I'll give you your dress back when we're done. Come on, we need to get to your old house."

You follow him out of your apartment while staring down at your new clothes. He managed to fit exactly into your style while also giving you a more practical options, something you can move freely around without showcasing him the whole world. Black fitted dress pants and a pastel blue blouse hugs your skin, and you have to force back a smile as you think about how good you look.

You didn't think about how his powers could be used before. Now, though, there is a whole new universe full of ways you could benefit from him with. And while you don't want to use him, it would be great if someone could help you rearrange your apartment in the way you like best instead of how you staff deemed appropriate.

Sitting in Joshua's car now almost feels like sitting in your own. You hate to admit it, but it's starting to grow on you. You swore to yourself you would never buy this brand and that you wouldn't think about how good it is, but it's hard when the seats are so comfortable.

But if you are honest, it's not the seats you like about the car the most. It's the fact it comes with a driver, and you can just lay comfortable in the passenger seat while Joshua takes care of the rest.

Still, there must be something special about the Hongqi. After all, it doesn't feel this good when it's Chaewon driving you around town.

As soon as Joshua parks his car in front of your last house, you mourn the place. It truly was your favorite of all the places you lived in until now. You're not sure why, what made it so special, but you always looked forward to coming back home after a long day at the company. You enjoyed just relaxing in your living room and watching movies on the TV. You loved being out in your garden and watching the stars once night came. You loved it all.

Joshua hesitates, not opening the door or turning the engine off as he watches you stare at the house. Your expressions holds a lot of emotions, but the strongest one, the one he doesn't think you even realize are feeling, is fear. He reaches over you to grab your hand again, forcing you to meet his eyes again. "Let's go, hm?" He nods towards the house and you watch as the Christmas lights outside you set up in the winter and never took down again turn on. The house is now lined up with colors, and even though you can't explain it, it does feel like a weight falls from your shoulders.

The house is practically empty, most of your stuff moved out and in your new apartment. Some things still stayed in place, though. The TV still hangs on the wall, your old couch is still in the room, and the vase you knocked over that night is still shattered on the floor. You don't blame them for not bothering to clean it up. They probably didn't think anyone would move in so soon after.

"So what are we doing here?" You turn to face him.

"We are going to retrace our steps," he explains, repeating the same words Mingyu told him. Who knows, maybe it will work out. "If you're okay with that?"

You avert your eyes, laughing it off. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that? It's not me who got stabbed that night."

"But it is you who would have died if I didn't show up."

You close your eyes, putting on the best smile you can as you nudge him forward, telling him to go stand in the living room. He listens, but his steps are wary either way.

"I came in through the front door," you say, putting yourself back into the night. "I walked in, feeling like something wasn't right. I called out to my brother, thinking it was him pulling a prank on me or something. It wouldn't be the first time, and I didn't think there would be… well," you clear your throat again, walking from the front door to the living room just like you did that night.

"I walk in, can't see anything. I knock over the vase," you point at the broken thing on the floor. "When I see him I start backing away." You do just that, and Joshua takes on the role of the intruder, following you into the kitchen. Being in here again, you can admit that you were scared. You were terrified that night, and recreating the night has sent a shiver down your spine. But as you back into the kitchen and Joshua follows after you, you don't feel scared anymore.

The feeling is replaced by an entirely new one, your breath catching for a different reason when your back hits the kitchen counter and Joshua doesn't stop in his track. "You come in then," you whisper, your voice quieter than before for some reason. "You come save me."

He nods, only stopping once he is a few inches away from you. "You stand right here while he stands over there," you point to a place behind him, swallowing when you meet his eyes again. "How did you get into my house?"

"I teleported right to you," he explains, tilting his head slightly as he finds his eyes gazing into yours. "I always find my way to a desperate soul." He doesn't take his eyes off yours as he brings his hand to your face, tugging a few lost hair strands behind your ear. You lean into his touch on instinct, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

But the moment is over just as quickly as it started, Joshua clearing his throat and taking a respectful step back. "How did he get in?" He wonders, averting his eyes from you.

You clear your throat as well, forcing your eyes off him. Stupid girl. You can practically hear your mother's voice in your ears. Just like every time you chose a guy for yourself on your own, you can hear the speech she'd give you had she seen the two of you just now. Naive, easy, daughter of hers she thought she raised better. Because how dare you ache for a man that she didn't hand pick for you? How dare you wish Joshua's hand was still on you? How dare you hope he'd touch you in different places as well?

"I'm not sure," you admit, focusing on what the two of you are doing again. "The front door was locked just like I left it when I came back."

"The garden then?" He suggests but you're quick to shake your head.

"He would have needed to climb over the fence or something, and unless he had another person to help him with that, he wouldn't be able to."

"What if he did?" Joshua thinks out loud.

"What?"

"What if he did have another person with? When I picked you up at the JYP building, there was a guy heading for your car. He was taller than the one that stabbed me."

Your eyes widen as you realize what he's implying. Is it possible those two are connected? Was there anyone else in the house that night? Is there still anyone? Panic overtakes your body again as your thoughts spiral, going over the night again and again. Broken vase, the kitchen, you running into the garden. Joshua bleeding on the ground.

Joshua.

His hand is squeezing your shoulder as your own thoughts eat you alive, forcing you back to reality. Your eyes lock with his, needing to see that he is okay. Needing to know that he didn't die that night.

"Let's go out." You nod, letting him take your hand in his as he leads you to your old garden. It's only once he lets go of you again that you realize he wasn't holding your right hand but the left one for the first time.

You press your back against the fence, similarly to how you did that night. Joshua asks for your right hand, staying far enough not to cross a line like the two of you did in the kitchen, but close enough to reach you. As soon as he wraps his fingers around the cross mark on your wrist, he snaps his fingers in the air, making a knife appear in his empty hand. Your eyes widen at the sight, questioning what he's doing.

"Stab me."

To say you are shocked is an understatement. "What? No," you shake your head harshly, pulling your hand away from him and hiding it behind your back.

"I'd much rather have you stab me than do it myself, so please," he offers the knife to you, making your eyes flicker all over him. He is completely serious, isn't he? "Don't make me beg."

"Joshua, I'm not stabbing you," you refuse, wishing you weren't already pressed up against the fence and could put more distance between you. "This isn't— It's not going to help us anyhow," you keep shaking your head, not sure if it's the memory of that night or the idea of being the one to stab him that makes your panic worse.

"I'll heal myself after," he assures you, a heavy sigh leaving his lips when he sees what it does to you.

Closing his eyes for a second, he debates all his options. He could give up, or he could just do it himself and see what happens. But for some reason, he doesn't want to leave you in your feelings when it's clear as day you're spiraling inside. He crosses the space between you, cupping your cheek and making you look at him. He doesn't say anything, just lets you find comfort in his eyes.

It feels like time slows down the moment you're gazing into his eyes and he is holding you as if you're something incredibly precious. You wish you were. You wish you would be so precious to him he would just keep holding you like this and the two of you would never have to go back into the real world.

"Shua," you breathe out softly.

He nods, "I'm right here. I got you."

Everything is okay, you remind yourself. He isn't dying, no one is dying. You're all safe. Your brother, Chaewon, Joshua—they're all okay. Nothing is happening to the people around you.

Except everything is happening.

One moment, you're relaxed in his hold again, thinking about how everything is good, and then the next, your panic is at it's peak again. Your fingers shake as they hover beside his torso, your eyes glued to the place where the knife he is holding disappears in his flesh. "Joshua!"

He laughs weakly, his brows furrowing. Still, even through all the pain, he doesn't let go of you, only mere inches away from you and his eyes on yours. "It's okay," he assures you, his thumb moving in soothing circles on your cheek. "I'll be— okay."

You shake your head, your eyes flickering from the red staining his suit and his eyes. "You're—" you quickly force your right hand to his, urging him to wrap his fingers around it. "Here. Use it. Heal yourself."

A loud groan escapes his lips as he pulls the knife out again, averting his eyes from you for the first time to look at the wound. Nothing is happening. Nothing is fucking happening. "Shit," he grumbles, watching the stain grow with each second he isn't doing anything to stop the bleeding.

"I told you not to!" You yell, fighting the urge to push him away and complain about how stupid he's being. But you can't, not right now at least.

His fingers finally wrap around your wrist, a sign he's given in. The red that pooled at his stomach just a second ago slowly disappears, his clothes looking as brand new as they did when he came to meet you in the practice room. He changes your dress pants and blouse back for your dress, and it's only then that you realize it probably got stained as well. With how close the two of you are, it would only be natural.

"You're such an idiot!" You huff, your free palm pushing against his shoulder. He doesn't step back, though. Instead, he simply catches your hand in his, pining both of them behind your back. It somehow brings you even closer, your head tilted back as you gaze up at him. "I hate you."

"I'm okay," he tells you, completely ignoring your previous statement. "Everything is okay. There won't even be a scar after today. My powers are still in your body, but I'm okay."

You swallow a lump in your throat, slowly nodding. "You're okay," you repeat.

"Let's get you home." His grip on your hands loosens as he takes a step back, not waiting for you to yell at him again or ask what it even was that he wanted to accomplish with that. He leaves you standing against the fence, wondering what on Earth is happening with you and him.

Your eyes drop to the knife at your feet, still covered in blood. You don't have the heart to pick it up and clean it, taking a mental note to make Joshua come back for it later. You force your feet to start moving again, walking back to the house and then out to get to Joshua's car.

Both of you are silent as you take a seat and he drives off. You don't even bother turning the radio on, simply leaning your head on the window and looking out. It's night again, but for some reason, the sky isn't as calming as it once was.

"I lost my best friend," you offer into the quiet. You can't look at him to see if he's listening, though. You keep your eyes on the road, holding your head in your hand. "She got involved in my mess and ended up getting hurt."

"What happened?" Joshua asks, glancing at you as he drives.

"At first it was my flight tickets that got leaked. We had a lot of weird 'fans' on board when we took a trip to Japan together. Some of them followed us around and even got a room in the same hotel we were staying at." The memory flashes in your mind, the nights she spent wondering if you shouldn't find a different place to stay at, and all the times you told her it would be okay.

"It crossed all the lines on our last night there. A guy broke into our hotel room, wanting to get a picture of me sleeping or whatever." You feel as small as you did that night when you were crying to the police officers about what exactly happened. You swore to yourself then that you would never let anything like that happen again, only to end up in an awfully similar situation with Joshua now. "She was never a heavy sleeper, so the moment he stumbled in the hall, she woke up. She interrupted him, ruined his little plan."

"And he wasn't happy with that," Joshua finishes for you.

You nod. "There was this key bowl on the drawer in the hall. He used it to knock her out. By the time I got out of bed to see what on Earth was happening, she was on the floor, unconscious."

"It's not your fault."

"It is," you argue. "Had it not been for me, nothing would have happened. She spent the next week in the hospital and her boyfriend refused to let me see her. I spoke to her parents after. They assured me she would be okay and that they are sure she'd contact me as soon as she's out but…"

This time, Joshua doesn't interrupt, doesn't take a guess on what could have happened. "When she got out of the hospital, he ran her over with his car. I never got to talk to her after all."

Shit. It takes everything in him not to take you in his arms at the moment. It's the human part of him, the one that's been growing every moment he spends with you. It's loud in his ears, yelling at him to help you. To hold you and promise you everything will be okay. Tell you that now that he's here, you have nothing to worry about. But that wouldn't be fair of him, would it? After all, it's him who made you feel anxious in the first place. Him who you had to watch stab himself, worried you were going to lose another person.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens as he takes the next right, wanting to be out of this car as soon as he possibly can. "He was arrested only two blocks away, and when asked what lead him to it, he claimed that he couldn't stand her walking around freely like that when she stopped him from being with the love of his life." The words rot on your lips the same way they did when you first found out. No matter how many times you say it, how many times you think about what happened, it doesn't get any better.

"What was her name?" Joshua asks instead of apologizing like everyone else you've told this story before did. It's the reason you finally take your eyes off the road and decide to face him again.

"Jia. She was my biggest supporter, and the only real love I got to know."

"Tell me about her."

And so you do. You tell him about how the two of you met in high school. You tell him about all the classes you used to take together and how she always dreamed big. You tell him about the precious memories you shared with her, and the times she stood by you when you most needed her. And when you walk to your apartment, you tell him about just how much you used to hate yourself for everything she had to go through because of you, and how much it hurts to know you don't hate yourself as much now that time passed.

"You shouldn't be blaming yourself for something you aren't responsible for," he says, leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom. "It was not you who attacked her that night and it was not you who ran her over. It was that man's fault. What was his name?"

"I don't know," you shake your head, your back turned to him as you take your pajama from your closet, slowly getting ready for bed.

"We both know you do."

"Park Jiwoo. He was arrested in the past for stalking already, so they assured me he wouldn't get to walk away just like that for the second time."

Joshua hums, repeating the name in his head. "Don't do anything stupid," you warn him, reading his mind perfectly.

"I could offer him a deal. Take his soul to hell."

"Do you know what he'd want in exchange? What he desires?" Joshua shrugs and so you continue. "Hunting people. Wrecking them. I've seen more guys like him than I'd like to. He's the same as Minjae. He'd want for you to set him free so he could pick a new prey."

"I could arrange for him to die as soon as he steps out of his cell."

You shake your head at him. "Thank you for the offer, but I'd rather you don't."

"Whatever the boss wants," he complies.

"Don't call me your boss." You finally set your pajamas on the bed, turning to face him again. He's incredible beautiful as he leans against the doorframe, his hands tugged in his pockets and his suit jacket unbuttoned. His hair is a mess from the wind outside, but he doesn't seem to mind. You don't mind either.

"You are kind of my boss since I'm working for you, don't you think?" You shake your head no and he raises a teasing eyebrow. "No?"

You slowly cross the space between you, stopping only when you're right in front of him. Pretending to fix his tie, you allow yourself to gaze into his eyes for a moment. Then, as if it were the most natural thing you've ever done, you let your palm wander up, feeling his chest and then shoulder under your fingers. He doesn't say anything to stop you, only watches you in amusement. "You're not working for me now." A small smile spreads on your lips as you take his earpiece off his ear, letting it rest on his shoulder instead. You take a step back, proud of yourself. "You're not on the clock now. You're not my bodyguard but just Joshua, the demon."

"Joshua, the demon," he repeats, the words sounding like your favorite song when he says them.

"Yes," you nod, stepping back again innocently. "Isn't that who you are?"

"I'm many people," he shrugs, his eyes following your every movement as you walk around the room. "Joshua Hong the CEO of Hong F&B, Joshua Hong the movie director, Joshua Hong the bodyguard."

You chuckle, "that one might be my favorite."

"You're not going to ask me about the director position?"

"You probably did that fifty years ago or something, didn't you?"

"Sixty two actually, thank you so much for asking," he answers, the biggest grin you've seen so far decorating his face. And while you didn't think it was even possible, it makes him so much more beautiful.

You take your pajama in your hands again, ready to head for the bathroom. "Good night, Joshua."

He nods, his smile still attached as he wishes you good night as well. "I'll be here at ten tomorrow to drive you to work. Be ready on time."

"Yes, sir," you giggle, nudging him out of your apartment on your way to the bathroom. "I'll call you if anything," you promise when he still hovers at the door. It's only then that he moves his feet again, heading down the hall to get to his own place.

A part of you wonders if he was serious when he said he would rent out an apartment in the building to be closer to you. As your bodyguard, it would only be welcomed for him to do so. As Joshua, the demon, it would only raise the spark of hope growing in the back of your head every time you find yourself hanging out with him.

"I can't possibly lead the entire company for you," Mingyu argues, finding Joshua's request ridiculous. "It's your company! What will your employees think when all of a sudden I'm the one in meetings, making decisions for everyone."

"You've already been to thousands of meetings in my place," Joshua comments, flipping through his demon manual—as much as he doesn't like the name, he must admit it has a catch—for the hundredth time. He dropped you off at your company so you could practice two hours ago, and he spent the entire time with Mingyu in the office, trying to figure out a way to get his powers back. Again.

And once again, he has nothing.

"It's not the same! You need to make an appearance from time to time too at least. You can't just take off and become a bodyguard on a whim."

"Do I need to remind you how important it is to keep her safe?" He finally looks up from the book, meeting his friend's eyes.

Mingyu doesn't miss a beat before his question, "Because of your mark or because you're falling for her?"

"I am not falling for anyone."

"Right," Mingyu scoffs. "Keep telling yourself that. Maybe it'll go away."

Joshua doesn't respond again, lowering his eyes instead and flipping through the pages as if he didn't read them all already, hoping that by some miracle, something new that would solve his problem would show up. But no. All that stares back at him is the warning of spontaneous combustion if he doesn't make enough deals in time. Every time he reads those words, he finds another reason why he should find a solution as soon as possible. He needs his powers. And he needs them now.

Mingyu sighs. jumping up on the table, his hands braced on each of his side as he watches his boss and long term friend. His eyes are filled with worry as he speaks once more, "What are you going to do if you can't get them back?"

That is a scenario Joshua doesn't want to think about. There isn't a world in which he doesn't have them. He can't walk the streets as a mere human being. He just can't. It's been so long since he last did, he doesn't even remember it. To him, the only life he's ever known is the one he lived as a demon.

Your name rings in his ears, and it takes him a moment to realize it's not his own inner voice but Chaewon, speaking to him through the earpiece he forgot to take off when he came into his office. "She needs an escort in ten minutes." Joshua would love to answer, tell her he is busy and can't, but he bites the words back before they can leave his lips. This is exactly what he agreed to. He needs to be by your side at all times, no matter how suffocating it feels to be beside you, knowing his powers are now yours.

"I gotta go," Joshua states simply, getting up from his seat.

Mingyu's eyes follow him, a knowing look on his face. "To meet your lover?"

"Not my lover," he rolls his eyes, but the truth is, the thought has him smiling deep down. He's quick to shake it off, though. He refuses to show Mingyu that he might not be far from the truth.

You're already waiting in the lobby when Joshua arrives. He steps out of the car, leaning on the hood as he watches you through the glass door, his arms crossed. You notice him immediately, ending your conversation with who he assumes to be another idol and waving bye to Chaewon, who's been waiting with you. She says something to you briefly but you're too busy making your way out to meet him to pay her enough attention.

"I've been told you need a ride," Joshua says instead of a greeting and you have to roll your eyes at how cheesy he sounds.

"If it wasn't for the fact you have signed a contract to be my lord and savior I wouldn't have asked."

He ignores the comment and waits for you to get in the passenger seat, climbing back in right after. "Where are we even going? I thought you said you'd stay practicing until late."

"My mom called and freaked out that I need to meet her immediately. Sorry in advance for whatever is waiting for us there."

"So you don't just need a driver," he hums. "I am here as your bodyguard after all."

"You're here as my guardian demon," you correct, clicking through his navigation and setting it to your parents' house. "So you can do your magic if she is about to kill me. Or if she sets me up on another date."

"So she is the reason you were interrupting my alone time that day!"

You turn your head away from him, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't… You should have told me you weren't waiting for your date, though!"

Joshua scoffs at your sudden outburst, only glancing at you briefly before locking his eyes with the road again. "I feel like I said it plenty."

"No, you didn't!" You argue, turning your head to look at him so quickly you almost get a whiplash. As much as you'd love to sound mad, there is a smile on your face and your tone is laced with laughter. "You were all like "I want to enjoy a good time with my company but you don't interest me."" You mimic his voice—not even trying to sound close to how he speaks— before giving him a deadpan look.

"Exactly! I just wanted to eat my cake and enjoy my day. But someone," he turns to look at you, his brows arched in a teasing manner "Just had to crash my fun."

You cross your arms over your chest, "I hope you're talking about that group of men that interrupted us and not your beautiful boss."

"I thought you said you are not my boss last night?" A smile spreads on his lips as he focuses back on the road. He realizes exactly what Mingyu would have said if he'd seen him, but he doesn't want to think about it. Not right now at least. Because truth is, the memory of last night— leaning on your bedroom door and talking—puts a smile on his face.

"Oh? You want to be just Joshua, the demon, again?" You tilt your head.

It takes everything in him not to look at you again. A part of him is sure that if he did, the car would really crash.

"Isn't that what I always am when we are alone?" He turns the question right back to you. "Joshua, the demon."

"Not always," you shake your head, your smile falling just slightly. "Sometimes, you're just Joshua to me."

Joshua doesn't answer you but you can see the flash in his eyes. It's so brief, so small, you almost think you made it up. But you're sure. Whatever it is that is going on in his head at the moment, your words seem to have an impact on him.

After a moment of silence, you decide to change the topic, clearing your throat awkwardly. "The men that interrupted us that night, who were they?"

"A gang," Joshua explains simply.

You blink at him confusedly, "A gang?"

"I'm not completely sure," he admits. "But I think they were mad about a deal. A contract came to an end earlier that day, which is why I was at the restaurant in the first place. I was celebrating."

"You were celebrating the end of a deal?"

"A soul caught by me is a soul added to my life."

You frown, scanning him for a second. "What do you mean?"

He hesitates, clearly debating how close he wants to let you to get. It's something only Mingyu is aware of—not even because Joshua would tell him himself but because he snooped around his office once and read through the demon manual. Which then led to him naming it the demon manual—and he never thought he'd be telling anyone else. "If a deal isn't made after a while, a demon will lead to spontaneous combustion," he repeats what he learned in his little manual.

"Spontaneous combustion?" You repeat after him, more surprised than confused on what he means. And if you're honest—scared.

Joshua nods. "I don't know what the time frame is, which is why I've been trying to make as many deals as possible. All I know is that I don't want to burn down."

"We should get you a new deal after this," you blurt out quickly. Joshua glances at you, his brow arched. "I mean," you hesitate. "I wouldn't want you to burn down while I still have this mark on my wrist."

"Right," he nods, taking the next left just like his navigation tells him to. "Makes sense."

You nod along, trying to not think about how weird it would be to just wake up one morning, knowing Joshua wasn't going to be a part of your day. It's a weird feeling knowing you've only known him for a few days yet you feel so strongly about not having him around. You don't want to imagine a world in which he is gone.

The realization hits you like a tsunami. Becoming one with the leather seat, you look ahead at the familiar road leading to your childhood home. What a great time to be a mess who just learned she doesn't want to not have Joshua in her life.

Joshua is the first one to get out of the car when he parks in front of your parents' house. You watch him walk around to your side but don't make a move to unfasten your seatbelt or open the door. You're too in your head for that. He is the one to get your door, and it's only when he prompts you to get out that you finally move again. By the look in his eyes as you step out, you know he can tell something is going on. Thankfully, he doesn't ask, simply waiting for you to walk ahead of him.

He registers another car parked beside his, but with the way you don't pay it any attention, he decides to ignore it as well. It's probably your parents', he tells himself. Who else would be in the house when they are already expecting you?

The house looks bigger from the inside. All the rooms are open spaced, with little to no furniture. It looks like no one even lives here. Are you sure you got the right address? Joshua wants to ask, but with the way you walk around as if it were completely normal, he doesn't. He simply follows you like a lost puppy, trying not to let his confusion show.

He feels out of place. He's used to large living spaces, but this just feels wrong. There are no pictures anywhere or a sign of a living being. The first time he sees proof of life is when you lead him through three different rooms into what he assumes is the dining room.

An elderly man sits at the head of the table, a woman on his side. Two more men are at the table with them, talking among themself. None of them seem to pay you any attention until you decide to speak up. "I see we have the whole family present. And you must be…" you start despite having no idea who the man talking with your brother is.

He is quick to get up when his eyes land on you, walking around to table to reach you. "Choi Seungcheol," he introduces himself, extending his hand for you to shake. Your eyes widen just so slightly, your own name slipping past your lips.

"And this young gentleman?" Your mother asks, eyeing Joshua up and down. Her words might seem welcoming, but by the look in her eyes, you can tell she isn't happy you brought someone with you.

"My bodyguard," you smile up at him, a gesture which he returns. "Joshua Hong. you probably heard of Hong F&B?" Her eyes widen instantly and it forces a smile on your face. It's been long since you last felt like a winner with her.

"I've heard a bunch about you," Seungcheol offers him his hand as well, one Joshua simply eyes. The lack of manners you noticed on your first date with him is showing again, but you're starting to realize it's not that he doesn't know how to behave, he just doesn't care enough about Seungcheol to show it. "You're on the clock, I get it," he smiles instead of being offended.

You shake your head at their interaction—if you can even call it that—and lock eyes with the person who called you over. "I thought you had something to discuss with me?"

"We started drafting your prenup."

"You what?" You blink at her, the shock you feel written all over your face. "I'm not getting married to anyone right now as far as I know!"

"You should sit down," Chan speaks up finally, the smile he offers you so forced you almost curse out loud. Whatever is going on right now, it's nothing good.

Hesitant, you slowly take a seat at the table, on the far end, opposite your father. Joshua comes to stand by your side, not sitting down even when you tell him to. "I am not getting married," you repeat, completely serious. Seungcheol clears his throat, sitting beside your brother again, but you don't pay him any attention. Your eyes are on your parents.

"We talked about this many times. It's time. We need someone who can take over our company, and Seungcheol here is the perfect man for the job."

"Absolutely not," you shake your head. "No offense," you glance at the man briefly, "But I'm not getting married for the sake of some company I couldn't care less about. I agreed to your stupid blind dates, never did anything that wouldn't be to your imagination, and this is what I get in return? If you listened to me for even a second, you would know I don't want to be with someone I barely know, marry him on top of that!"

"It's been decided," your mother states as if she didn't hear anything you just said. Typical. "You are to marry Seungcheol next month. He's been so kind to us all for even wanting to marry you, and you're just throwing another one of your tantrums as always."

You scoff. Tantrums? Is that what she thinks this is? A child's cry because she didn't get a new toy? "I'm not having a tantrum," you argue.

"Please," she laughs at you.

It's times like these that you wish your brother was different. Deep down, you know he isn't on their side. You spoke to him about this many times before, but it still hurts to see you are the only one fighting them while he just sits quietly at the table, his head down.

"If I could—" Seungcheol starts but you're quick to interrupt him.

"Please don't."

Still he doesn't listen to you and continues. "—I'm not asking for anything of you here. We'd be married on paper. I don't care whether you spend your days at the company, at home, or singing. You're an idol I heard?"

He doesn't even know anything about you! He doesn't know what you like and don't. He doesn't know you had to move houses because someone broke into your apartment. He doesn't know anything about how you grew up or what your idea of the future is. He barely even knows what you do for work!

There is not an universe in which you marry him.

"I'm sure you're amazing, Seungcheol, but I am not willing to negotiate about my future here. I have to be the one who decides who I marry. Not my parents, and certainly not you."

"Watch the way you speak to your husband," your father is the one speaking this time. It angers you even more.

"He is not my husband!"

"Will be in a month," your mother shrugs, reminding you just how terrible the people you grew up around are.

"We are leaving," you state. "Delete my number. You won't reach it anyway after today." You don't wait for their response, pushing your chair back so hard it screaks against the floor.

You don't look back as you walk out of the room, ignoring your mother's calls after you. You cannot deal with her any longer. You're getting to the car, blocking her number, and never coming back to this house again.

Joshua raises his hand, ready to shut everyone up. Sew their mouths together or take away their ability to speak. Either would work. But he quickly realizes he can't. "The stupid mark," he mutters, dropping his hand back down. "I'd love to say it was nice meeting you, but I don't feel like lying today," he offers everyone a fake smile, turning on his heel.

"Look after her!" Chan calls after him. The last thing before escaping the family is your mother yelling at him to stay in his place, causing him to roll his eyes. What a great family you have.

You're already waiting at the car when he makes it out of the house. He doesn't say anything at first, simply unlocking the door for you so you can climb in. It's clear as day that all the stress falls off your shoulders as you melt into the seat, hidden from the rest of your family.

"I don't want to marry him," you tell him as Joshua climbs into his own seat. He turns to look at you, his eyes flickering from one feature of your face to another. From your left eye to your lips, back up, to your nose, then to the right eye. He takes all of you in, wishing he could take all your troubles and give them to someone else. To someone who actually deserves them.

"Marry me instead."

You laugh at him but it's quiet. "It's a little early for jokes but still, thank you."

"I mean it," he says confidently. "Marry me instead before they can wed you to him."

"You— You're being serious?" You blink at him, trying to make sense of what he's saying. Joshua Hong, the demon, is actually asking you to marry him right now? Did he lose his mind?

"Marry me," he repeats himself, his eyes locked on yours.

"But— I thought— I thought you'd want to go back to your old life once we get you your powers back."

"We can break the marriage off then," he offers a solution, even though for some reason, deep down, he hates the thought of that. He doesn't want to leave you and go back to his old life. He is learning to love the little thing the two of you have going on right now. Even if it means he doesn't have his powers. It should scare him. He should be freaking out and doing everything he can to get his powers and run. But he can't find it in himself to do so.

You scan his face, looking for any sign of him joking around. No matter how hard you try, you don't find anything. "Okay."

The words are out of your mouth before you can rethink them. You don't want to take them back, though. To your surprise, you wouldn't mind marrying if it's with Joshua. You know he's only doing it to have his powers as close as possible and your arrangement will be over as soon as he gets them back, but it's okay with you.

"I'll marry you," you nod, and the smile that appears on his lips when you agree is something you won't forget for a while.

Chaewon's mouth hung so low you wondered how it didn't end up on the floor. It was an expected reaction. If she looked anyhow differently once you told her you are getting married, you would have thought she was an imposter.

At first, it was just confusion. You don't blame her. Honestly, you are confused with yourself as well.

Then her confusion turned into panic, worried how this is going to go with the company and what your mother will do. The chances of both of them ripping your head off the body are higher than you first thought they were.

She asked you a bunch of questions, making sure this is your decision and it is what you want. You just laughed as you repeated to her for what felt like the hundredth time that yes, you do want to marry Joshua. Eventually, she simply sighed, promising you to talk it over with the company and figure it out for you.

"There is nothing that would say you can't get married while working under us, but we still need to figure out how we'll go about this," she explained to you. You nodded, fully aware of the situation you were in. Then, her eyes locked with yours, and a genuine proud smile appeared on her lips. "I'm happy for you."

Which is how you ended up at your apartment again, with Joshua leaning against a wall in your living room, commanding everyone around.

"Are you sure having this many stuff doesn't just make you a hoarder?" You arch a brow, your eyes flickering between him and all the boxes moving in.

"I've been telling him for ages," Joshua's best friend—even though you're sure he'd hate you thinking of him that way—Mingyu chimes in, carrying one of the heavier boxes.

"You've been working for me for two years," Joshua reminds him.

"Like I said, ages."

You laugh at them, glancing at Chaewon beside you as she watches the moving crew in disbelieve. "You know, it's not too late to back out of this."

You shake your head, "No matter how much of a hoarder he is, I still want to marry him."

Your eyes lock with Joshua's as you speak, your cheeks heating up.

"I admire you," Mingyu says and you force your eyes off him. Still, Joshua isn't able to take his off you. "I could not live with him for a day."

"Well then, thank God I'm not marrying you."

"Don't take lord's name in vain!" He calls after him before disappearing in one of the rooms you didn't have a purpose for until now. Looks like from now on, they'll be Joshua's little storage.

"You don't tell me," Joshua shakes his head, pushing himself off the wall and crossing the room to get to you.

"Is that everything you have?" You wonder, swallowing as you look up at him. He stops in front of you and judging by the way Chaewon clears her throat and steps away, she must be uncomfortable with how close the two of you are. Had you been in her position you would have done the same. Watching a couple like this would only make you feel terrible about being single.

But as the girl involved, instead of stepping away, you want to inch even closer to him. But you're quickly reminded you aren't alone as you hear some of the movers chat on the side.

"The rest is staying in my office," he nods, brushing a messy strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers are gentle against your skin. It's hard to remember the two of you aren't actually in love. If anything, this is a strictly a business arrangement.

"I thought it was my office now," Mingyu says, and the annoyance in Joshua's eyes as your moment is interrupted makes you laugh again.

"As far as I know, you were crying to me about how you don't want it," Joshua glances over his shoulder, pining his friend with his gaze. Mingyu raises his hands in surrender, telling the rest of the movers to get out. Seems like he can get a hint when it's thrown his way.

"We should go too," Chaewon says when it's only the three of you again. You offer Joshua an apologetic smile when his eyes find you again, question written all over them.

"I need to get to the studio and record today," you explain. "I should be done by dinner time. We should have something nice together." You're not saying it only because Chaewon is standing in the room but because you genuinely hope to eat with him tonight. You hope he knows that.

"Alright," he nods, a small smile decorating his lips. It doesn't quite reach his eyes but it still feels sincere. He turns around, heading for the door. "Do I need to hang around once I drop the two of you off or can I take a meeting off Mingyu's back?"

The question is directed towards Chaewon but you're the one to answer. "You can go do your things," you nod. "We got it for a few hours. I'll only be at the company, after all. Right, Chae?"

She hesitates for a split second before nodding as well. "Go ahead. I'll contact you if anything happens."

As soon as you and Joshua arrive back home later that night, you hop into the shower. You offered to make dinner while he showers when he was driving you here, but he quickly turned your offer down, reminding you his powers can make you a feast in the span of a second. You didn't have an argument against that.

The hot water feels like heaven against your skin. You needed this. You and Joshua have been apart most of the day, but you somehow ended up thinking about him every single second of it. He hasn't left your head since the moment you parted ways when he lead you to the recording studio. He wished you good luck and smiled at you—an image that managed to get engraved in the back of your mind.

There must be something wrong with you. You haven't felt like this in forever. The last time you genuinely liked a guy was when you were in high school. You didn't have time or urge to repeat the emotional rollercoaster since then. Until you met Joshua.

To say your entire world turned around when you met him is an understatement. As if figuring out demons and angels exist and that there is a heaven or hell waiting for you wasn't a blow strong enough already, he just had to make you fall in love again.

Love.

You dip your head under the water, trying to get yourself back together. To think what you and Joshua have is love is foolish. Have you always been this naive? There is no way in hell this could be anything. He is leaving you the moment he gets his powers back, isn't he?

The water doesn't help your thoughts at all. If anything, it makes them worse.

You remember the day he brought you a towel after you forgot to take one yourself (thank myself, you think). You think about his gaze and how he told you he doesn't do inappropriate thoughts. You haven't seen anything to prove you otherwise but for your own sake, you'd like to think you're not the only one thinking of him that way.

The image of him in this very bathroom is what has you acting to foolishly. You wish he was here against instead of settling in. You wish he'd stand under the running water with you. You wish his bare skin would press against yours and that he would have his eyes all over you again.

You wish you could feel his hands wander all across your skin like your own do at the moment.

You step back from under the water, your back hitting the wall behind you. This is wrong. You know it's wrong. Thinking about Joshua as your hands wander down your body is not something you should be proud of. But you can't help it.

One of your hands squeezes your breast, your thumb rubbing over your nipple. The other hand dips lower, exploring your stomach and thigh. Teasing, but never dropping to the heat between your legs. Your eyes are closed, imagining Joshua is the one roaming your body so much easier this way.

You bite your lower lip, holding back moans. Your skin feels like it's burning. You tease your clit softly, running a middle finger over it. Your body aches for more immediately, the need you feel increasing.

You throw your head back, a soft whine leaving your lips as you think about how badly you want to have him here with you. If he still had his powers and could put that sixth sense of his to use, you're sure it would lead him right to you. You have to be the most desperate person in the world right now.

Unable to hold back any longer, you let your fingers dip between your legs, slowly circling your clit. It feels good. You don't remember when the last time you touched yourself was but it feels like ages. And even when you did, it certainly didn't feel this good.

Your fingers slide lower, pushing past your folds. It's only your middle finger at first, but once you realize that isn't enough, you add another one. You stretch your pussy with your fingers, Joshua's face clear as day in your mind.

Your hand leaves your breast so you can steady yourself, pushing against the bathroom tiles. You spread your legs a little more, breathing through it as you finger yourself. Soft moans leave your lips, mixed with whines filled with need for more. But you can't get more. Your fingers are the only source of pleasure you'll get here.

"Shua," you cry, desperate. It's not like you think he'll hear you. You aren't even sure if you want him to hear you. All you know is that imagining it's him touching you isn't enough anymore. "More."

Despite feeling like you aren't getting enough, you're still completely in the moment, the outside world tuned out. All you can hear are the lewd sounds you make and the wet sound of your pussy as your fingers slide in and out.

You're so absorbed you don't hear the bathroom door opening, or the steps that follow after.

"You know, my powers might be gone but that doesn't mean my hearing abilities are as well."

You gasp as soon as the familiar voice reaches your ears, your eyes shooting open. Fuck. You glance his way but there is a shower curtain between you, hiding the view. Whether it's his view at your bare body or your view at his that's being blocked, you don't know.

Your fingers slip out much to your dislike, your lips shut as you try to pretend nothing happened. But it doesn't work how you wish it would. How could it? There is no coming back or pretending it didn't happen when he just heard you moaning his name. God. You want to run away as far as you possibly can. But the odds of being able to do so without running straight into him are to your disadvantage.

"Are you going to open the curtain or keep hiding in there for the rest of your life?" You can practically hear the smug grin on his face. You hate how attractive the image looks in your head.

"I think I'm good right here," you pipe and the sound of your own voice surprises you.

"You're seriously going to make me stand out here?"

"I'd prefer if you'd just leave entirely," you shake your head.

"It did not sound like it."

"Please leave and let me die in peace," you groan.

There is a soft chuckle on the other side of the curtain, followed by careful footsteps. You can tell he is right in front of you now. Your name slips past his lips, and it's the hottest it ever sounded. Have you just been completely ignorant to the way he speaks before or did something change? Because despite your embarrassment, you swear every word that leaves his mouth is incredibly attractive.

"Will it help if I tell you I'm having some inappropriate thoughts right now and it would be much better if you'd just let me see you?"

"You're having what?" You blink.

Joshua rolls his eyes, "You heard me, wife."

That's all it takes for you to open the curtain and grant him a sight at your bare skin. But his eyes stay on yours, not daring to dip down. "I did hear you," you nod. "So can you please come join me?" Desperation reeks from your tone and he doesn't waste any more time, dropping his shirt over his head. You watch it fall to the floor, immediately locking your eyes with his hands after as he unzips his pants.

He keeps his eyes on you at all times, and it's incredibly hard to focus on anything other than how handsome he looks. His hair is tussled a bit from him taking his shirt off, and his toned abs are staring right at you.

Your hand slides down your body on its own again, rubbing your clit softly as he undresses himself. "Shua," you pout, needing him here already. His hands need to be the ones touching you as soon as possible or you'll go insane soon.

Joshua finally let's his eyes wander down your body as he stands in front of you in just his underwear, the bulge hidden behind the garment obvious.

He thought he was hearing voices again when he heard your voice calling his name from the bathroom. He's been stuck with you on his mind all day, unable to stop thinking about the look in your eyes when you talk to him, the way your cheeks flush whenever he says something even merely flirty, and the way his name sounds on your lips. It felt like just another figment of his imagination.

Until a moan followed from the bathroom.

No matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was his own self conscience and just his body testing his limits, there was no denying it was your real voice he heard.

His feet took him into the bathroom before he could rethink what he was doing and he is so glad they did. Now that he's seen the beauty of your naked body, there's no more denying anything. Mingyu was right all along. He does have feelings. More than he thought was even possible.

He steps into the shower to join you, his smile growing when you frown. "Take it off."

He cocks his head to the side in a teasing manner, "Where did your please go?"

"Joshua."

"Take it off yourself if you don't like it."

You don't need to be told twice, tugging at the piece of garment. You lower yourself as you do, kneeling in front of him. There is a lewd groan that leaves Joshua's lips at the sight. It feels great to know you aren't the only one feeling like this. But truth is, the hard cock that comes into your sight as soon as you drop his boxers to his ankles is a sign enough.

"Come back up," his hand cups your cheek, tilting your head back so you can look at his eyes instead of his cock.

"I quite like it down here," you smile back at him and he shakes his head. You notice the smile he wears, though.

"I want to kiss you," he tells you. Your eyes widen for a split second before you're quickly scrambling back up to get to his lips. A small chuckle leaves his lips as he cradles your neck, pulling you into him. Your chest pushes into his and his cock is hard against your stomach, but it's only the kiss that you can focus on.

His lips are soft, moving with yours in a perfect rhythm. Your hands slide up his torso, feeling his body. You wonder if he doesn't actually go to his own company whenever he says he does and just spends time in the gym instead. It would explain the muscles he has. Hooking your arms around his shoulders, you push yourself up to your tiptoes.

The kiss deepens, your tongues sliding together as he steps forward, pushing you onto the wet wall. A loud moan mixes into the kiss and you're not sure if it's yours or his.

"Thank God I heard you," he mumbles, lowering his mouth to kiss down your neck.

"I thought you were better than us humans and don't have feelings like this?" You giggle softly, tilting your head to the side to give him a better access. The wet kisses he leaves on your skin feel too good for your own good.

"Turns out you make me more human than I thought possible," he whispers, the words tingling against your skin. "I've been having too many feelings lately."

You shiver, pulling him closer. There is no more space between the two of you, but you wouldn't have it any other way. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he chuckles. Raising his head to look at you, he lets his eyes simply gaze into yours. A smile creeps up your lips when he does, the warm feeling in your chest impossible to ignore. "Show me what you were doing before."

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth, keeping his eyes on him as he takes a step back to watch. Your hand dips to your legs, your thumb gently brushing over your clit, while your other hand cups your breast. "I wanted it to be you," you admit softly.

Joshua's eyes fall to your pussy, his cock twitching at the sight. "You imagined my fingers in you?"

You nod, watching him with a pout as you finger yourself again—much slower than before, hoping he'll step in. Fortunately for you, he'd rather die at the moment than to not have his hands on you.

His hand replaces the one cupping your breast first, pinching your nipple between his fingers and watching as your mouth falls open in a moan. He captures your lips in his right after, slowly guiding his other hand down, feeling your skin beneath his fingertips.

Anticipation builds with each touch, especially when he pulls your fingers out of your pussy without even looking at them. But he doesn't replace them with his like you wish he would. Instead, he pulls away from the kiss, causing a disagreeing whine from you, and brings your fingers up to his mouth. Before you can say anything, he wraps his lips around them, sucking them clean while watching you.

If you've been wet before, you are a fucking waterfall right now. The sight of him sucking your fingers is wild. It makes you feel like an animal, the urge to jump him right here and now getting stronger with each passing second.

"Shua," a gasp escapes your lips and a a grin spreads on his face all over again. "Please."

"Since you ask so nicely," he nods. Finally, finally, he brings his hand to your aching core. His fingers circle your clit in a similar motion yours did, but it feels so much better coming from him. Your hips inch forward, looking for more friction. You can't tell how long you've been in this bathroom for, but it's about time you reach your relief.

You bring his lips to yours again. You feel so hot. His cock twitching against your stomach, his tongue battling with yours, his fingers sinking inside you—is this what heaven feels like? You'd bet good money it's pretty damn close.

It doesn't take him long to bring you to your orgasm, your nails digging into his shoulders as spasm around his fingers and fill the bathrooms with moans of his name. He holds you through it all, kissing every inch of skin he can get to. "That's it, you're doing so good," he praises, letting you ride it out slowly.

You moan at his words, feeling like you could come all over again just because of the way he speaks to you. It must have been too long since you last had sex because the way you're behaving around this man is insane.

When he pulls his fingers out of you, it doesn't surprise you this time as he sucks them clean. You take the moment when he's busy, letting your hand wander down his body, brushing his cock lightly. "Behave," he shakes his head at you but doesn't do anything to stop you as you wrap your fingers around his length.

"Don't tell me what to do," you arch a brow, wanting to gain at least some respect back.

But it's too late, now that he's seen you so desperate for him, you don't think he'll ever wipe that smug smirk off his face. "It seemed like you'd do anything I say just a second ago, wifey." The nickname rolls of his lips with such ease. It's pathetic how it has you whimpering.

"Yeah, just like that," he nods at the sound you make, loving your vocals. It suddenly hits him that they are the same vocals thousands of people love as well and pay to hear live. How did he get so lucky to be here with you again? You squeeze his cock in your hand, making him snap out of his appreciation. "Keep your eyes on me," he orders, tilting your chin up.

Biting your lower lip, you listen to him as you slowly jerk him off. Watching every one of his reactions, you learn what feels good to him. Rubbing a thumb over his tip and collecting some of his precum, you hold back your own moans when he pinches your nipple with his thumb as well.

He can't seem to keep his hands off you despite it being your turn to make him feel good, only having you falling so much more for him. As if your feelings weren't already strong enough, the way he looks at you with so much love and holds onto you like you're his only anchor in the entire world has your head spinning.

Joshua's abs tense as his orgasm builds up, doing his best to focus on your pleasure instead of his own. The only thing that's been holding him back from coming as soon as he laid his hands on you is the reminder of why he is here—to make you feel good.

"Stop it," your name leaves his lips and you blink up at him confusedly, dropping your hand immediately. You suddenly feel a lot more self conscious, worried you're messing everything up. He quickly takes care of your stress, pressing his lips to yours. "I need to be inside you before I come," he whispers an explanation into your lips, wrapping his arms around your thighs.

Gasping, you wrap your legs around his waist and hands around his shoulders as he lifts you up, your back pressed firmly to the shower wall and his cock hanging just a few inches from your pussy. "Shua, please," you cry, your eyes falling down to where he rubs his dick between your folds. He's so close. "I need you."

"Fuck," he curses, slipping himself inside without hesitation. Your mouth falls open at the stretch instantly, your eyes widening. "Relax for me, darling. I'm going to need to last at least a few seconds," he groans.

Your head falls to his shoulder, "You feel so good."

Joshua closes his eyes as your words reach his ears, doing his best not to come on the spot. the way your walls wrap around his bare length is the best feeling he's ever experienced, and he's beginning to wonder just how much he missed out on in his life by never getting involved with humans like this. Even though, the truth is, he wouldn't want to do this with anyone else.

If it's not you, then what's the point?

Joshua grunts as he slowly thrusts into you, his hands moving from your thighs to your ass. Your flesh fits perfectly in his hands. It feels like you were made for him. Your perfect boobs bouncing in his face, your perfect pussy clenching around his length, your perfect ass sitting in his hands, and your perfect mouth making those perfect sounds. Not only are you absolutely stunning, but in his head, you are also all his.

And that's more than he ever hoped for.

The idea of God making you just for him has his hips moving faster. Your soul being a part of his, your body made to mold with his into one, the stars aligning together at the day you were born just so he could be with you one day—it all does things to him.

"You're so gorgeous," he groans, his eyes locked on yours through all this. "Taking me so goddamn well."

"You shouldn't… take God's name light," you gasp between thrusts, your eyes rolling back.

He chuckles, dropping his eyes to where your bodies connect. "Yeah, let's not bring him into this. This is just between you and me."

"God, yes," you gasp as he hits your sweet spot.

"What did I just say?"

You want to laugh, you really do. But the pleasure is too strong, the way his cock pushes in and out of you the only thing on your mind. Thankfully, Joshua doesn't seem to be doing much better, twitching inside you as he nears his release.

"More," you whine, rolling your hips forward. "Don't come yet."

"Fucking hell," he groans, the sound so loud and strained you can tell exactly how much he wants to do the exact opposite.

He captures your lips in his, getting a better grip on you with his right hand so he can use the left to cup your cheek and hold you. You lean into his touch instantly, allowing him to tilt your head however he wants for a better feeling. Your mouths move together in a perfect sync, hungry but tender at the same time.

Your orgasm reaches you faster than you can warn him, and by the pained whine leaving his lips you can tell it takes everything in him not to do the same. But you wanted more, and who is he to refuse that?

"I can't believe I'm going to marry you," you moan, running your fingers through his hair. He has his eyes on you, as if he wanted you to see the way his eyes flash when you say it. "Mr. and Mrs. Hong."

As much as he wanted to last longer and get you to a third orgasm, the picture you just painted in his head, the two of you sharing his last name and doing this every night in the bed as a married couple, causes him to cover your insides white in the split of a second.

You don't mind, though. It feels so good. He feels so good. "Shit, shit—" your head falls to his shoulder, biting onto his skin as an attempt to steady yourself. Your legs shake at the pleasure, his warm release like a drug you're getting addicted to. There is no way you won't do this again. You need every corner of this apartment to be filled with the two of you, whether that means you'll be bend over it, lying flat, or doing your best to stand straight as he pounds into you.

You'll take all three and much more.

Joshua presses you down again, looping his arm around your waist to help you stand, ignoring the itch from where you bit him. "I couldn't—" he tries to excuse, but before he can finish his sentence, you give him another long kiss.

"I loved it," you say, holding back on telling him you love him. It's true. There is no other way you would explain what is between you and Joshua. Even if it were to be only how you view it, it wouldn't change the way you feel.

"Same," he exhales, cupping your face with both hands and pressing his lips to yours, this time with so much love you could cry on the spot.

You and Joshua shower again—together. But even when you tease him by rubbing soap all over your breast or lingering your hand on him for a little too long, he doesn't fuck you again. Not that you'd mind. You're sure you'll be sore in the morning after this anyway. It doesn't stop him from kissing you, though, loving the softness of your lips on his. He helps you clean thoroughly before stepping out of the shower, drying you off and then carrying you into the kitchen.

Much to your begs for him to let you off without a dinner because you just want to climb into bed and sleep, he makes use of his powers and quickly creates food for you. You sit on the kitchen counter, plate in hands and your eyes on him. You giggle a lot with him, and then, when he gets you into the bedroom, you suck him off lazily in the bed.

Sleep comes much easier to the both of you after that, your limbs tangled together and soft whispers of affection leaving your lips.

It's a phone call that stirs you awake. Before you can properly get up and see who is calling you, you catch a familiar pair of hands reaching for the device and decide to close your eyes again since Joshua's got it. He speaks to the person on the other side but you barely listen.

It's been two weeks since he moved here with you and you've gotten so comfortable with him in that time. You spent every day since then together, exploring each other's bodies and slowly falling for one another. You trust him with your entire self, which makes it a lot easier to sleep at night, knowing he's got you no matter what.

He whispers your name as he hangs up the phone, making you hum back in response. "Are you coming with me or do I go alone?"

That makes your eye peek open. "Go where?"

"The police station."

You are definitely not awake enough for this. You blink at him confusedly, questioning why on Earth you would go there. "It was officer Lee that just called you. They have Minjae and who seems to be his accomplice in custody."

"I'm coming with," you state immediately, sitting up faster than ever before upon hearing the name. You've been waiting to hear these news for what feels like ages now.

"Okay," Joshua nods, taking his time to take you in. He offers you a gentle smile. "Get ready and we can go. I'll call Chaewon to tell her we will be late today." His thumb brushes your cheek before he leans down to press his lips to your forehead, "Good morning, darling."

A smile spreads on your lips as well, the little kiss calming you more than anyone else ever could. "Good morning, baby."

Whispers of good mornings and good nights might be on top of the things you love the most about being with Joshua. He is incredibly sweet, and every time his lips touch your skin you have the urge to tell him just how much you love him. He only ever gets sweet when he is around you and occasionally with Chaewon if he's in the right mood, and you can't help but cherish the person he is when he is with you.

He watches you get ready after preparing breakfast for you, not saying a word. Your eyes flicker up to him from time to time, your lips forming a smile bigger than the last one each time. He looks at you with so much love. Who would have guessed the same man you struggled to stay even half an hour with before will be the same one you can't get enough of now?

It feels like you're sitting in your own car when you sit in Joshua's Hongqi. When you were little, both you and your brother had chairs that were 'yours,' seats at the table that you had to occupy every dinner because they were your designated ones. It always only made you want to sit anywhere else to spite your parents. But sitting in the passenger seat of Joshua's car is completely different. You wouldn't trade this for anything else.

"Are you okay?" Joshua's eyes flicker to you briefly.

"Yeah," you nod, letting your eyes drop to your thigh where his hand rests. You mean what you say, especially when you are with him. "I just can't wait for this to be over. I think I'll feel a lot safer when I know he is locked up and unable to get to us."

Us. It escapes your lips before you can think about it. But it's the truth. Deep down, you were always worried more about what would happen to him than to you. The sooner you'll see Minjae get locked up and wrap yourself in Joshua's comfort again, the better.

Your feet move faster than you expected through the police station. Joshua follows right behind you, and even though you noticed the flicker of disappointment in his eyes when you refused to hold his hand after stepping out of the car, you stand by your decision. You can't focus on anything other that the police officers waiting for you. So despite how much you'd love to hold his hand and have his fingers wrapped around yours, you need to take this time to sort out your thoughts and not worry about your hands sweating too much.

Officer Xu is the first one you meet, greeting you right outside the integration room. "We are sorry to call you so suddenly," he offers you an apologetic smile but you simply shake your head. "We wanted the two of you to be the first to know." His eyes drag from you to Joshua beside you, "I guess we were lucky the two of you happened to be together when officer Lee called."

Officer Xu opens the door for the two of you to walk in, but before you can make a move for it, Joshua's voice ringing in your ear stops you. "She's my wife," he informs the officer and you almost choke on nothing but air.

"Are you okay?" Mr. Xu's eyes are wide as he looks down at you, but it's not his voice your mind comprehends. It only registers Joshua's hand on your shoulder, worry written all over him.

You clear your throat. "We are getting married soon," you correct his statement, to which officer Xu nods confusedly.

He walks into the room first, sensing something is off. Thank god he does. Joshua wraps his hand around your arm and stops you from walking into the room. "What was that?" He blinks, trying to get a good look on your expression.

All it tells him though is that you are tired. "I'm not sure. I'm sorry," you shake your head. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you look down at your feet. Joshua laces his fingers with yours, giving your hand a tight squeeze that makes you raise your eyes again. "I just want this to be over and for us to be back at the apartment."

He leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead. "I know," he nods. "Let's get this done and go home."

Home. You love the sound of that. You melt into his touch, your thoughts suddenly a lot calmer than they were when you first stepped into the building. Joshua seems to have that influence on you. He calms you and brings out the best of you, just like you do with him.

There is a chair prepared for you when you finally walk inside. Both officers look your way, smiles lining their faces when you see holding hands. Chaewon telling you she is filled with joy to know you are happy again is one thing, but seeing other people wear the same smiles she does whenever she sees you and Joshua together is a completely different one. It makes your chest warm.

"Miss," officer Lee reaches his hand out to you in a greeting. You gladly shake it before your eyes drift to the one way mirror behind him, falling on the same guy you saw in your house that night. He seems to catch the change in your eyes because he steps aside to give you a better view. "We need you to confirm the suspect is the same man that attacked you at your house last month."

You know he has no way of telling you or Joshua are on the other side as he can't see through, but when you see the sinister smirk on his face, only having a simple mirror between you doesn't feel like enough. There are two more men beside him, both with their hands tugged in their pockets and heads down. Despite making themself appear little, their builds don't help them much. The one in the middle is tall, messy black strands getting in front of his eyes. The one on the right is the shortest of them all, but he has the biggest build regardless. His arms are easily the size of your thighs, and it makes you swallow. You've never seen the other two men before, but they manage to scare you more than Minjae does.

Joshua notices you tense in place, squeezing your hand. "It is him. The one on the left. He is the one who broke into the house and then stabbed me."

It takes you a second to snap back into reality. When you do, you nod immediately, agreeing with what Joshua said. "It is him."

"Okay," officer Xu nods, motioning for you to sit down on the chair, "Please."

You take a seat, taking a deep breath as Joshua stands behind you with his palms resting on your shoulders. Both officers stand opposite you, blocking your view at the three guys. "Who are the other two?" You blink up at them in question, needing to know in order to feel better.

The two men share a look, clearly debating what to tell you. "Suspects," they settle on eventually. You don't like the answer at all.

"In what case?" It's Joshua asking this time, but he voices exactly what you're thinking.

"This case."

Your breath hitches. "There…There was a guy that followed me in a car," you remember, glancing back at Joshua to see if he is thinking the same. "Is that— Is that one of them?"

Officer Lee clears his throat, his eyes flickering between you and Joshua. "Possibly. I'm sorry but we can't tell you anything else right now. All we can share is that we are glad we caught them before they could hurt anyone else."

"Give me your hand, darling." Joshua's words might sound like a gentle attempt at comforting you to the officers, but you catch onto the venom that laces them. You narrow your eyes at him before hesitantly offering him your left one, only for him to reply with an annoyed glare that confirms your suspicion. Whatever it is that he has in mind, it is nothing good. Definitely not anything the officers would love.

"Wait for when we are home, baby," you smile, trying to be as playful as possible.

"We won't hold you for much longer," officer Xu assures you. "We just need to go over some paperwork with you and then you'll both be free to go again."

You nod, standing up again, appearing as loving instead of distressed as you can. "Did you hear that?" You stand on your tip toes, brushing your lips with Joshua's softly. It's barely a peck, but it certainly is enough to convince the officers there is nothing weird about your interaction. "We can get back to bed soon."

Had it not been for the mood he is in, Joshua might groan at your suggestion. But his head is filled with the image of the three men behind the glass mirror. He's starting to understand why you've been so off on the way here. Now that he's got a good look at them, the only thing on his mind is the urge to wipe those smirks off their faces.

He likes the version of him you bring out. The one where he is so in love his chest physically hurts and he thinks he could die a happy man any day because it would mean he got to spend his last minutes with you. But right now, he is the complete opposite of that. There is only blood behind his eyes, the image of what he could do to all of them so clear, he almost forcefully grabs your hand and just breaks their necks in front of everyone.

But before he can do so, you lace your left hand with his, tugging him out of the room with you. "Shua," you hiss at him. "Stop even thinking about it."

He doesn't listen. "It would be easy for me," he reminds you, his eyes full of determination as he looks down at you. "I could get rid of them in the blink of an eye. You wouldn't even know it was me. Or I could torture them. I could make them suffer for what they put you through—"

"Shua," you interrupt him, this time with more force. "No. You're not going to do anything about this. You are going to sign the papers where it says you are certain that guy stabbed you and almost killed you and call it a day. You'll let the professionals handle this so they can all sit in the cold cell waiting for them."

He wants to argue more. You can tell he does. But you don't let him. You pull him down to kiss him again, this time longer and harsher than before. "I love you, but you can't be doing this."

"You love me?" He asks, wide-eyed.

Crap. You didn't think properly about what you were saying, only focused on calming him down again. You shouldn't have said that. It's too early and you're only going to freak him out. Maybe it'll only anger him more, and what are you supposed to do then? If he decides to just throw hands, you have no way of stopping him before he ends up behind a cell himself.

He says your name, cupping your face in both hands. "Do you love me?" He repeats his question and you nod. "God," he chants, pulling you in for another kiss. The door opens again and you're sure it's the officers walking out as well to lead you to their office like they said they would, but you can't give them the time of the day. Not now. "I love you," he groans back, your eyes widening when you feel his hard cock press against you through the layers of clothing you're both covered in.

It's when the officers clear their throats that you manage to push yourself off him, reminding yourself you aren't in the comfort of your house where you could do anything you'd possibly want. "Not to interrupt—"

"Let's get this over with," Joshua claims, hurrying them forward. "We got somewhere important to be."

His behavior makes you chuckle, the sight of him all giddy and excited again a pleasure to your eyes. A part of you wishes you would have used a more special place to confess your love to him, but this will do as well. Knowing you got him so messed up he just got hard in the middle of the station is a happy memory enough.

Either way, you are sure anywhere with him would have been great.

"We are at the police station," you remind him.

"The parking lot," Joshua corrects, pressing his lips to yours again.

"There are people outside," you argue, but don't make a move to get off his lap.

Once all the papers were signed, you didn't waste any more time and made your way back into Joshua's car. You wanted to get back home as soon as possible, but he was even more impatient than you, pulling you over the consol into his seat. With your knees now on either side of his legs, caging him in, you sit on his lap, kissing him like he deserves.

He ignores your comment, resting his forehead against yours. "I love you." His breath feels tingly against your skin, the smile you wear impossible to hide. You love him so much. You've never felt like this before, and it's making you realize how much you've been missing out on. Both of you were.

You also couldn't be happier that you are both experiencing this for the first time with each other, though.

"Let's get home," you whisper back, grinding your hips forward. "I want to love you in the comfort of our home."

His groan echoes in your ears, only making you so much more needy. It takes everything in you to hold your word and not fuck him right here in his car in the middle of the day. You're not sure how you'd explain that to officer Xu and Lee once someone would complain about you.

"Let's go home," he nods, clearly thinking the same.

He watches you climb back into your seat and fasten yourself in, offering him the pretties grin he's ever seen. He drives off the parking lot, resting his right hand on your thigh as soon as he connects with the road. You lace your fingers with his on top, looking ahead.

Ever since he started driving you around, whether for work or a run to the store you begged him for, he's been enjoying his car more and more. He never really saw the appeal before, used to just using his powers to get around. But without his powers and with you by his side, this has been great as well. He would continue to drive you anywhere you could possibly think of if you'd just let him.

The way you slide his hand up on your thigh is anything but innocent, but now that he is getting further and further from the police station, the questions he knows he needs to ask you are getting louder and louder. He squeezes your thighs, stopping you from pressing his hand against your aching pussy. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty in love," you smile, not catching on the worries in his eyes.

"About what happened, I mean," he explains, letting his eyes drop to you for a split second.

"Oh," you breathe out. You shift in your seat and clear your throat. "I'm… okay." You watch as he raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "I am, really," you assure him with a tight squeeze to his hand. "It… It was scary, to look at them," you admit, thinking over your next words. "I felt this strong ache in my heart when I looked at them. Without even knowing who the other two guys were, I could tell they weren't good. It was scary but…. it feels good to know they are in the police's care now."

Joshua's thumb provides soft soothing movements on your thigh, helping you feel much better as you speak. "Having you by my side helped a lot, but knowing there are finally going to rest in a cell brings so much needed peace to my soul."

Joshua's lips form a smile. "You are the strongest person I know."

You are quick to shake your head. "There are so many amazing people out there who went through worse than me. All I did was hire a bodyguard who knew what he was doing," you giggle softly as you look at him again.

Smile decorates his lips as well as he looks at you, his eyes carrying the same love yours do. How did you get so lucky again?

"I'm glad I have you," you tell him, slowly averting your eyes to look back at the road. Your eyes go wide, seeing the crash before it even happens. "Shua!" you try to warn him quickly, but he doesn't turn the wheel fast enough. It's too late.

Everything goes by so fast. Joshua's car drives into another one before anyone can do anything. Your ears are buzzing, everything around you spinning until it all stops, and you can't see anything but black.

Joshua's head feels like it's been split apart.

Has this happened before? He feels like it has.

A loud groan leaves his lips, but it's not one he'd like. Forcing his eyes open, he can barely make out his surroundings. Everything is a blur of colors, nothing making sense. Someone is calling out to him. At least he thinks it's meant for him. But he can't make out the words or the intentions behind them.

It takes him two more seconds before the voice gets clearer. "Sir! Sir, can you hear me?!" the voice sounds frantic. It's not one he would recognize, which only confuses him further.

"Yea—" he chokes on his own saliva as he tries to speak, forcing his mouth closed immediately. He hasn't felt this much pain since the day he was stabbed. His brows furrow together as he takes his time catching his breath.

The car door beside him opens—more like falls apart—and he glances the stranger's way. There is a concerned older man on his side, trying to help him out of the car. Joshua shakes his head, pulling his hand away from him. His eyes flicker around, trying to make sense of what's happening.

The car, his eyes widen. He crashed the car. Before he can think about anything else, his eyes snap to your side, needing to know you are okay.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. There is so much red in front of his eyes. His hands struggle to move as he tries to reach you. He needs to get you out. He needs to hold you in his arms and assure himself everything will be okay.

But it's far from okay right now. Your eyes are closed and your head is down. You're lucky the seatbelt pulled you back. The front glass is shattered into pieces that scratched your skin all over, but it doesn't look like any of the shards got too deep into your skin.

"Sir! You need to get out!" The man on his side calls again, trying to unfasten Joshua's seatbelt.

"My wife," he chokes on his own words, the pain he feels when he looks at your motionless body much worse than the one caused by the crash. "You need to help my wife!"

He curses quietly as he reaches over to you, grasping your right hand in his. If he can do something, it's this. He pulls your hand closer, rolling up your sleeve to look at the mark carrying all his powers. "No, no, no, no," he shakes his head in denial, watching the mark fade away with his own eyes. What the fuck is happening?

There used to be a time where he would love to see his mark leave your body and go back to him, but right now, the fact only scares him. It doesn't make any sense. Why now all of a sudden?

His eyes flicker to his own wrist, the black mark slowly appearing on his skin again.

The thought of all the times him and Mingyu tried to figure out the reason why his powers were flickering like this flashes in his mind. None of the memories seem important right now, though. At least until he hears Mingyu's voice. "Try recreating what happened that night." The two of you did that. You went back to the house and he stabbed himself in the same place Minjae did. He stood in the same place and it didn't work.

But of course it didn't work. Him getting hurt all over again couldn't do anything. His powers weren't in his body anymore, so it didn't matter that he was the one with a knife in his flesh. You're the one who had possession of his powers.

He calls out your name, trying his best to wake you up—to get himself out of this nightmare. You don't answer. He holds your hand tightly in both of his, whispers of prayers leaving his lips as he tries to use his powers to save you.

Joshua getting hurt was never going to do anything to help. You were the one who needed to lose her breath in order for his powers to go back.

He would rather never have his powers back than do this. He should have kept his eyes on the road instead of you. There were so many times you've told him to drive carefully in the time you've known him, and he still managed to fuck that up.

"The door doesn't open!" It's a different voice this time and Joshua realizes the guy on his side isn't the only one around.

Scared is not a feeling he does. He can't remember the last time he felt like this. But right now, as he is forced to watch your dying body, fear is the only thing he knows. Nothing is working. His powers are flickering in his hand instead of helping, and the people around aren't able to help either. Is this really the end? Is this how the universe finally takes revenge on him for everything he's done?

In a moment of weakness, when he thinks giving up is the only option he has left, his head throbs in pain. His eyes squeeze shut, his ears buzzing. The outside voices vanish completely. Not only is he going to lose you, but he is also going to lose himself.

But then again, it's better this way. If he can't keep living with you, he'd rather not live at all.

The afterlife looks different than he thought. There are children running around him, playing a game. One of them bumps into him. Joshua is ready to ask if he's okay, but as soon as the child locks eyes with him, he runs away before he can even open his mouth. He blinks confusedly, looking around.

As soon as his eyes land on you, he feels his heart skip a beat. You're standing with your back to him and your clothes are completely different, but he has no doubt it's you he is looking at. No matter what you wear, how much you try to hide, or how much you run away from him, he will always recognize you and find his way back to you.

You're here. You are with him. His feet move faster than he can comprehend, chasing after you. He calls out to you, but you don't answer. You seem mad at him. Is it because he wasn't paying attention to the road? He speeds up to get to you faster, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling you towards him.

A soft gasp leaves your lips as your body crashes with his. "Your highness," you push yourself off him as quickly as you can, your eyes wide as you look up at him. "You can't be doing this here, you know it," you shake your head at him. What? "People will look." He drops his hand from yours hesitantly, letting it fall to his side.

Your name slips past his lips, a pathetic sound he wouldn't take back no matter what. "What happened? Why are you—"

"Your Highness," you sigh. "We both know our love isn't strong enough against society."

It hits him then, as you walk away from him and his feet stay glued in place, a strong pain in his chest making itself known, that this isn't the afterlife. If it were, he would be happy in your arms. His skin would be pressed against yours and you would be smiling at him with that pretty smile of yours. This is the opposite of what it's supposed to look like.

Another strong wave of pain rushes into his head, and he crashes down to the ground. With his head buried in his knees, he bites back a scream. He needs this pain to stop.

A hand wraps around his arm, dragging him away. He doesn't stop it, the pain in his head too strong for him to focus on anything else. Your name leaves his lips in a soft cry but it doesn't do anything to bring you back to him. You left. You decided that he wasn't worth it all after all.

God, may this torture come to an end.

When his eyes open again, he isn't where he was before. He isn't even in the car. He is lying on a hospital bed, his own body too heavy for him to move. There is no one else in the room with him, and it only reminds him of everything that happened. The last time he woke up in here, you were waiting for him. Last time, he got to wake up to your face.

But right now, you are nowhere to be seen. He is all alone again. In the two hundred years he's roomed this world, offering deals to helpless souls, he never felt as alone as he does now. Without you around, it's like someone took away a part of his soul, a piece of his heart.

The door opens and his eyes snap to it, but it's not you he sees. All his hope vanishes instantly. He closes his eyes as Mingyu slowly walks in without saying a word. The sound of a chair scratching against the floor makes it known that Mingyu is sitting down beside him, but he doesn't have enough strength to look at him. If he were to look, he isn't sure he wouldn't break down.

"It's good to see you awake," Mingyu breaks the silence softly. Joshua only hums in response. "I've been worried about you. That manager, what was her name?" He thinks out loud, looking for an answer in his head.

"Chaewon," Joshua supplies.

"Chaewon," Mingyu nods. "She's been worried about you as well."

He doesn't answer. She is the last of his worries right now. His throat feels tight, his chest pulling in and squeezing his heart in the process. It's the first time he is experiencing anxiety, and he absolutely hates it. "What happened with…" The words catch in his mouth, the rest of the sentence dying along with the last bit of strength he had.

"She's getting there," Mingyu assures him, figuring out the rest of his question.

Somehow, the simply three words manage to save his entire world. "Where is she?"

"Her room is down the hall. She was in a more serious condition than you but she pulled through. She isn't awake yet, but doctors think she should be okay soon."

"Take me to her."

Mingyu opens his mouth to argue, clearly not pleased with the command. But before he can say anything, Joshua sighs and reaches for his hand, snapping his fingers effortlessly. He has a destination to go to, but before he teleports himself right to you where he belongs, he heals himself completely to get rid of the lingering pain.

It doesn't take away the anxiety he feels when he sees you on the hospital bed, asleep. This is all his fault.

"Whoa," Mingyu breathes out when he finds himself standing in your room, his eyes flickering from you to Joshua. "You have your powers back?"

Joshua grits his teeth, "Yeah, it only almost took her life." The hate he feels for himself is so strong it fills every word that leaves his mouth. If he could take back time, he would. If he only could change what happened and make sure you never got hurt like this in the first place, it would all be okay.

"It's not your fault," Mingyu rests his palm on Joshua's shoulder but it does nothing to calm him. "The doctors said that the coma is good for her. Her body gets the rest it needs without any stress from the outside world. It helps her heal better."

He hums, unable to take his eyes off your face. "I tried saving her as soon as I realized what happened. My powers…" he closes his eyes at the memory, his voice weak as he speaks. "They weren't working. I think— What if she died for a moment there and that's why? What if I killed her?"

Mingyu blinks, clearly taken aback. What does one say to that? How is he supposed to assure his friend it's not his fault when he can see how much it eats him alive? When he fully believes the burden is all on him? How would he convince someone like that that you aren't going to blame him for what happened?

"There was nothing you could have done that would prevent it. But the doctors did everything they could and she's okay. She's alive," he reminds him. "She's still breathing and I'm sure she is waiting to see you again."

Joshua only hesitates for a brief second before taking a few steps forward, crossing the room to get to you. Pulling forward a chair to rest beside your bed, he takes a seat and reaches for your hand. His eyes drop to his wrist, assuring himself his mark is still there. If his powers don't work again, he isn't sure what he'll do.

The room is quiet with Joshua focused on his powers and Mingyu not wanting to disturb. It's so quiet, Joshua immediately knows you're waking up just by the soft sound of the mattress. It worked. His powers worked. A heavy sigh full of relief escapes him, seeing you waking up again instantly warming his heart.

"The doctors are going to be awed when they find out she's all healed again," Mingyu chuckles a little, watching it all from the entrance.

"Don't tell them," Joshua's head snaps to him. "I'm going to take us home. I don't want them keeping us any longer."

"What's going on?" Your sleepy voice sounds like a song in Joshua's ears. It feels like along with you, a part of him was healed as well.

"I'll leave you two to it then," Mingyu smiles, saying his goodbyes before leaving the room.

Joshua is quick to apologize to you when it's just the two of you, only confusing you further. When the reason he is blaming himself so much finally slips past his lips, realization settles in and you pull him closer. He's big but he still fits into the hospital bed with you when you squeeze so close half of your body is on him. Resting your head on his chest, you drape your arm around him. "Please stop apologizing. We are both okay. We are both safe and alive."

"We are," he nods, drawing small circles on your back with his arm. You're not sure if it's to help you or himself, but you let him. Pressing his lips to the top of your head, he lingers just a second too long, inhaling your scent. "I got my powers back," he whispers.

You almost hit your head against his chin with how fast you look up at him, surprised. Searching for the cross mark on your wrist, you don't find anything. "Oh my god!" Your smile grows. "You have them back!"

He chuckles at your excitement, nodding. "I have them back. But most importantly," his eyes soften as he looks at you, "I have you back."

There isn't an universe in which you would guess that Mingyu and Chaewon would be making out at your wedding.

You had to recheck twice and ask Joshua—who was currently in the middle of arguing with the DJ about his song request—if he was seeing it as well. You watched as confusion took over his expression, clearly as lost as you were. It only took five seconds before you both started laughing.

"Cheers to that," you chuckle, shaking your head.

Joshua smiles as he looks down at you, taking in the sight of you all over again. You, in a beautiful white dress. You, with your eyes staring up at him. You, filled with all the love in the world. You. His wife. Now, finally, on paper. He doesn't think he'll ever get enough on the way you look tonight, all dressed up for him. "Cheers to us."

A smile spreads on your face, but before you can say anything, Joshua sends one more glance towards the DJ and pulls you towards the center. "What are we doing?" You giggle, wrapping your arms around his shoulders without hesitation.

"Dancing," he shrugs, unable to look away from you. His hands rest on your waist as the upbeat song your brother has been absolutely rocking to until now switches to a slow one—your own song. Had it been a different situation, you might cringe at the sound of your own voice echoing through a place like this, but you are too focused on your husband to care right now.

"Hi."

"Hi," you repeat after him, stepping closer and resting your cheek to his chest.

"You look incredible tonight," he whispers into your hair, moving in a slow rhythm with you. "You always do. But today especially."

"Thank you," your smile only grows.

You were never looking forward to getting married. Not when it was your mother who was deciding everything on your behalf. Marriage seemed like a trap, like a way to force you to settle down instead of chasing after your dreams. But with Joshua by your side, it feels like the exact opposite. You would marry him thousand more times if he wanted to.

"You look handsome yourself if I may say," you add, your voice quiet so only you two can hear. Your guests make a circle around you, but you don't pay them any attention. It's just you and Joshua in your little bubble.

As if he could read your thoughts, a little flower bubble actually appears around the two of you, creating a barrier between you and the rest of the wedding party. You pull away just to look at it, your eyes wide. Judging by the gasps full of awe, everyone else finds it just as incredible as you do.

"One might think you are an angel with all the beautiful you do around me," you comment and he instantly rolls his eyes.

"Angels are the opposite of beautiful. For your information, I've seen some of them and they are more ugly and scary."

You laugh at the disgust on his face. "You've just been designed to seduce everyone!" You shove his shoulder weekly.

He laughs with you, a sound so beautiful you can't believe you'll be able to hear it for the rest of your life. "This has always been my face, darling. Nothing to do with my demonic side. And I'm sure you know a lot about that one," a smug smirk decorates his lips as he whispers the words to you, adding more blush to your makeup.

"I don't believe you," you shake your head, hiding your face in his chest again.

A chuckle leaves his lips. "That's okay. Deep down, you know I've been born this blessed."

He's impossible. Annoying, but so addicting. You hate how much his words work on you.

"So were you, thought," he adds, and you find yourself looking up at him again. He sees your questioning eyes and decides to share a bit of himself he wasn't sure how to tell you yet. "I've been having these dreams ever since my powers came back." You listen closely, surprised you haven't heard anything about this until now. It's been months since that happened.

Even thought the decision for you two to get married was made because he wanted to save you from being forced into a marriage with another man, you both agreed to take your time and not rush. You sat down with your mother again and told her you will be marrying Joshua and not anyone she picked out for you, and that she was free to leave the company to him if that was what she wanted to do. Just to make sure nothing would happen behind your back, you made sure to call Seungcheol as well and ask him to meet you for a coffee.

Over the warm drink, you realized he wasn't exactly up to the idea either. Turns out, he has it as hard at home as you do, and even though he didn't want to force you into anything, marriage with you would have been his escape. You apologized to him and explained how Joshua was not only your escape but also the love of your life, and he seemed to understand.

It all allowed you to take your time with planning and create a wedding this perfect.

"It took me a while to realize, but they are actually memories. I'm not even sure if they are mine, though."

"Whose would they be if not yours?"

"Yours."

Your confusion only grows. You tilt your head to the side, letting him spin you around as a part of your little dance. "What do you mean?" You ask as soon as you're in his arms again. This conversation reminds you of the first time he was trying to convince you he was a demon. He doesn't make sense to you, but unlike last time, you don't try to search for a different meaning in his words or argue with him that what he's saying isn't true. You simply listen.

"I think we knew each other in another life. In the previous one. Before I became a demon." Your eyes widen. "You're in all of them. You're mad at me sometimes, you refuse to talk to me and send me away every time I crawl back to you. But there are also times when we are in love. When it's just the two of us alone and I get to hold you in my arms and whisper love notes in your ears," he leans down to you to add to it, his breath tingly against your ear.

"Then, in the most recent ones," his jaw ticks a little and you know whatever he is about to say next isn't something you'll like. "I've been seeing what happened to you when I was gone. It's like I'm watching through someone else' eyes. I know they aren't my own, but I can't whose they are."

"What's happening in those memories?"

"Pain," he settles for a single word that somehow manages to carry it all. With his brows furrowed together and his smile turned down, you can tell the memories aren't nice. "So much pain that lead me to become what I am now when I arrived back at our old kingdom and realized you were gone."

"You became a demon after I died?" You take a step back so you can look at him properly, the little flower bubble around you bursting and creating a beautiful effect. You wish you could see it and fall in love like the rest of your guests, but you cannot look away from him right now. "You—"

If this isn't what soulmates are, you don't think there is such a thing then. To find out you and Joshua have been connected this entire time, long before you even met him, is a confusing but also a warming feeling.

"I had so much anger in me. I… saw your body after… it happened, and all I could see was red. The place went out in flames after that and I think that's when," he makes a point to look down at himself, trying to lighten the mood again, "this became reality."

Your conversation must look super confusion to everyone around, especially as the slow song comes to an end and you're just left standing in the middle of the circle, staring at each other. You'd love to say you don't believe that happened, that for sure you couldn't have been the reason he turned into a demon. That seeing your dead body couldn't have done this and that he didn't set the entire place on fire, but deep down you know to believe what he tells you.

"I think I just fell in love with you even more," you breathe out.

The laugh that leaves his lips is a mix of surprise and awe. You don't blame him because you wear the same feelings in your eyes. "Welcome to my life," he closes the space between you again, his hand finding its way around your waist so naturally it almost looks like it's where it's been all his life. "I fall for you more and more each time I wake up."

Joshua's lips press against yours in a warm, tender, kiss. Your hands instantly wrap back around his shoulders, pulling him as close as you physically can. It's all so easy with him. He makes you believe in so many things you never though you would before—and not only about angels and demons—and always reminds you what life is all about.

Despite enjoying what you had before you met him, you don't ever want to go back to that time. You don't ever want to experience a life without him by your side again.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @liaatiny @cherrylovescheol @bamgeutsz @codeinebelle @livelaughloveseventeen @xylatox @cristy-101 @assoulacaratassil @ladytree @nonuverse @fairyprincesslvr21 @cheolcheolieee008 @yvampyr @bramos91 @amisuh @lunaxgyu @livmarauder @evemds @nanilis @eskoupe @ashleytjw @jaja-salute @thegalaxyisunfolding✶⋆

[nanilis]

AHHHHH ITS OUT ITS OUT ITS OUT IM SO EXCITED TO READ THIS will be my science seventeen au

[nanilis]

I heard doctor Taehyun? 👀 I'm listening..

I totally forgot I said this lol 🫣 but yes I will 100% write it, I need to write my own taehyun doctor. Even more so because I’m a med student. I need to bring more representation of my field in the au world!

But I’m curious to know, would you (everyone) be interested in like a short one shot or a full on series/longer work?

Because it could be like taehyun’s your doctor and you are his patient. Or you and taehyun are both med students, maybe in the internship. Or both are doctors working in the same hospital, maybe different specialties or the same one. What do you guys think?

Which one?

doctor!taehyun x patient!reader

med student!taehyun x med student!reader

doctor!taehyun x doctor!reader

Voting ended onJun 20

[jaylaxies]

THE ART OF SEDUCTION

PAIRING: jake x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, fluff, attempt at humour, porn with plot, down bad jake, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), lots of kissing, cunnilingus, dry humping, fingering, spit kink, edging, marking, multiple orgasms, crying. mentions of nicknames, jungwon needs to be saved, lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 26.7k words!

SYNOPSIS: There are a few things to note about Jake, starting with how he’s a shameless flirt, two—no rejection is harsh enough to stop him from trying (his friends call it his foolishness, but he’s been plenty successful, courtesy of his face), and three, once he falls, he falls completely.

A/N: hihi loves <3 not sure what this is but i js wanted to post sumn on my birthday, also cause i love jake <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <3

Travel companies are a hoax. 

Relatively speaking, when someone books a holiday with their friends, they don’t do it to be ushered into a group of random people because they purchased the same package. 

“It wasn’t even mentioned on the website,” Jungwon’s voice chimes in, and rightfully so. 

Maybe the problem could have been bigger had you been stuck around some judgmental families or a group of old men maybe, but your merciful fate said otherwise as you observed the flock moving and chatting in whispers amongst each other. 

Well, it certainly is a group to look at—you with Jungwon and Karina, had claimed a shaded corner near the welcome drinks table. Across from you, a trio of guys who looked like they stepped out of a cologne advert and were laughing loudly. Then there was the loudest bunch—four people who seemed physically incapable of lowering their volume, currently arguing over who got the bigger room when they were all the same size.

Perfect, just what you needed. But hey, at least they were easy on your eyes, because you did come here to feast your eyes a little (a lot). 

Your tour guide was a jolly man called Chris, he kept on bouncing on his feet as if he was the one on the trip actually, “so nice to have you here! Lovely to see a group full of enthusiasm!” He said, making grand gestures. 

Jungwon pursed his lips to prevent a laugh from escaping, which turned into a yelp when you all got shoved into the lobby where more champagne is being served. The next hour is supposed to be like a mixer—get to know each other activity of some sort without any plan. 

Chris basically yeets everyone toward a long table loaded with champagne flutes and suspiciously bright (?) tropical snacks. “Share fun facts, become besties!” He cheers before vanishing. 

The three groups eye each other like rival gangs at a peace treaty signing that no one actually wants, it was clear that no one knew about this setting but oh well, you suppose it could be peaceful and civil if everyone tries. It did start that way with everyone introducing themselves, before it turns into an icebreaker attack by this guy named Hyuck, his friend Beomgyu vlogging everything for no apparent reason. 

So much for things being peaceful, though you are humoured enough when their friend Ningning smacks them on the back of their heads. Yeah, you will be befriending her soon. 

On the other hand, three guys were still trying to make sense of things, because obviously, no one expected to get dressed for the pool only to get roped into a low budget gathering. Jake wasn’t complaining though, none of them were actually, they looked rather jolly coming across beautiful females, especially Jake who keept glancing your way with a smirk. 

Sunghoon on the other hand was actually attentive as Jay explained the basics of how he can connect his phone to the hotel Wi-Fi. Karina nudged you to look at his biceps, which kept on flexing with each movement of his and you both exchanged a knowing smile—that man was your designated eye candy for the trip now. 

“You’re drooling,” Jay deadpans, which is much directed towards Jake, “can’t you behave for once?” 

“Can’t blame him,” Hoon adds, much to Jay’s dismay who’s trying his hardest to not make his friends appear ill mannered on the very first day.  

“What did I tell you guys about treating women with respect—”

Jake shoved his hand on Jay’s mouth, having heard the same lecture thrice in the airplane where he tried to garner the attention of a flight attendant, to no avail. But there’s a few things to note about Jake, starting with how he’s a shameless flirt, and two, no rejection is harsh enough to stop him from trying. His friends call it his foolishness, but he’s been plenty successful, courtesy of his face. 

You catch all of this from the corner of your eye while pretending to scroll on your phone. The dude is clearly on a mission. And unfortunately for him (and hilariously for you), that mission now has a target, you.

Chris eventually rounds everyone up like lost ducklings and marches the whole chaotic group number 3 towards the pool area. Now, this is exactly what you’d paid for, the sun is blazing, the kind of perfect summer heat that makes the water sparkle like it’s showing off. You ditch your cover-up, settle into a lounger with Karina on one side and Jungwon on the other, and finally let yourself relax. God knows you three need it, especially after the brutal week you all had at work. 

Jungwon shared his strawberry with chocolates, and you graciously took some, meanwhile the other guys didn’t waste much time in showing off their bodies. Jay pulled his shirt off first, revealing a surprisingly toned chest as he stretched his arms overhead with a sigh. Sunghoon followed quietly, peeling his shirt off in one smooth motion and tossing it onto a chair like it was nothing. Jesus, the man was carved. No wonder Karina had nudged you earlier, a low whistle leaving your mouth as Karina too took off her sunglasses and ogled. 

Jake, of course, made a whole production out of it. He grabbed the back of his shirt with one hand and tugged it off slowly, like he was in a damn commercial, shaking his hair out after. He caught you looking (again) and shot you a quick, cocky little smirk, flexing his arms not-so-subtly as he stretched.

You just raised an eyebrow and looked away, biting back a smile. So he’s the delusional kind, interesting. 

The deck was loud and alive, probably scaring off some families who too were planning on having a peaceful vacation. Hyuck and Gyu had already started their swimming competition, the one who manages most laps wins apparently, splashing around like idiots while yelling trash talk at each other.

You were still chewing your strawberry when two girls from their group wandered over—Ningning and Yunjin, both looking a little fed up with the noise.

“Hey,” Ningning offered a warm smile, plopping down on the lounger right next to Karina like she’d known you forever, “mind if we crash here? The boys are being a lot and we need a chill zone before I lose it.”

Yunjin sat beside Jungwon, flashing you a bright, friendly grin as she kicked her legs out, “I’m Yunjin. You guys look way more relaxed over here. Plus your snacks look better than whatever the guys are hoarding.” She leaned in a little, voice soft and sweet, “your swimsuit is adorable, by the way.”

Ningning nodded, bumping your arm lightly in that casual, already-friends way. “Yeah, and you three seem normal. We’ve been stuck with Hyuck and Gyu since the airport and I need actual conversation before my brain melts.”

You laughed, already liking them both, “Y/N. And please stay—we were literally just saying the same thing. Welcome to the so called safe zone.”

The four of you clicked fast. Karina started swapping little complaints about the surprise group thing, Jungwon shyly passed around more chocolate strawberries, and the conversation flowed easy. Ningning had this dry, funny vibe that had you all giggling within minutes, while Yunjin was genuinely sweet, asking about your jobs and what you were hoping to get out of the trip. 

You were mid-laugh at Ningning’s impression of Gyu hyping up the swimming race when Jake decided it was his moment.

He came strutting past your lounger, shoulders back, towel slung cockily over one shoulder, abs out and glistening a little under the sun. He was clearly feeling himself after that dramatic shirt removal, oh and worse, he caught you looking his way.

His whole face lit up with pure, delusional triumph. He stopped right in front of you, not even paying attention to where your eyes were, and did the most ridiculous thing you’d ever seen—slowly wrapping the towel around his waist like a shy maiden protecting her virtue, while still flexing his abs at the same time.

“What’s up, princess?” He called out with a smirk, “can’t keep your eyes off me, huh? C’mon, I don’t mind, you can stare.”

Wow, you’d seen your fair share of men who reeked of confidence, but this was new. Maybe you didn’t appreciate his insinuation of you staring his way, or simply his cockiness, so you rolled your eyes. 

You slowly pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, tilted your head, and gave him the most bored, deadpan stare you could muster. 

“Sorry?” You said flatly, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, moving your hand in a gesture that basically screams move aside. 

Then you proceeded to point your finger right past his shoulder, and it was rather adorable how Jake seemed like a confused little burrito with the towel still wrapped around him as he managed to turn around, his face showing clear implications that he’d be betrayed—betrayed by none other than one of his best friends. 

The sight was nice he supposes, Sunghoon in all his glory, casually knocking out pull-ups on the poolside rig like it was the most normal Tuesday activity, back muscles doing their thing without him even trying. The man looked like a sculpture that had decided to work out, a Greek god if you must. 

Jake’s expression went from cocky to completely short-circuited in half a second. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again like a fish that just realized it was on dry land. The towel slipped a little lower on his hips but he didn’t even notice. His cheeks flushed this cute, embarrassed pink that spread all the way to his ears.

Jay, who watched the scene unfold, could only muster a slow shake of his head with this long, exhausted sigh. God, he was cute when he did that—the whole gentleman looking guy with a sharp jawline thing really worked for him. You caught yourself staring a beat too long before snapping your eyes back to the main disaster.

“Oh my god, you absolute menace,” Karina wheezed, already tearing up from laughing.

Jungwon tried to hide behind the bowl of chocolate strawberries but his shoulders were shaking so hard he almost dropped the whole thing. Ningning and Yunjin slow-clapped, leaning over to bump your shoulder with a grin. 

Jake still hadn’t recovered. Then, in classic Jake fashion, he tried to save face the only way he knew how—with maximum drama and zero brain cells. He spun around dramatically and launched himself backward into the pool like he was auditioning for the Olympics. But, it was not Olympic worthy, much to his dismay. Jake showcased what youd possibly call the most tragic belly-flop you’d ever witnessed in your entire life. Arms windmilling, legs kicking everywhere, the splash so big it drenched you, Karina, Yunjin, and half the loungers like someone had set off a mini tsunami.

When he finally popped up, gasping and coughing, hair plastered to his forehead in wet, messy clumps like a sad golden retriever who’d been denied walkies, the girls around you completely lost their minds. Karina was cackling so hard she had to hold her stomach. Ningning was slapping her thigh. Yunjin leaned into Jungwon’s shoulder trying to breathe through her giggles.

Jay had decided to abandon this big dog and stay by Hoon, telling him exactly what went down on the other side of the pool, and well, Hoon could care less about Jake acting like a loser when he learns that you’d be staring his way. 

Regardless, Jake paddled straight over to the edge of the pool right in front of your lounger, folded his arms on the warm tiles, and looked up at you with those big, wounded puppy eyes. Water dripped down his face, but there was this reluctant, sheepish little grin starting to fight its way through all the humiliation.

He groaned, but like we’ve established, he didn’t give up, “I’m Jake, by the way, and I think you just murdered my ego in front of my friends, that’s not too fair, is it?”

You smirked down at him, wiping a few stray droplets off your thigh with the back of your hand. Maybe there were a few good things about Jake too, like his accent, and how he looked so—dramatically endearing in all his loser glory. 

“Y/N,” you introduce, tilting your head and taking another sip of your piña colada just to be extra, “honestly, you did that to yourself, and let’s—maybe not assume that every girl looking in your general direction is dying to see your abs. But hey, points for the splash.”

Jake bit his lower lip, eyes narrowing in that playful, competitive way even while he was still dripping wet and thoroughly humbled. He tilted his head right back at you, tongue playing with the piercing he had on the right side of his bottom lip. 

“Oh, this isn’t over,” he promises, and you wonder how he even got this confidence back within seconds, “not even close. You’re gonna be staring at me for real by the end of this trip, I swear, consider yourself seduced.” 

You raised an eyebrow, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him squirm a little under your gaze, but he took that time to appreciate the beauty of your eyes—which led him to staring at you, shamelessly. Even Hyuck and Gyu had stopped to see this man make a fool out of himself. 

“We’ll see about that, Jake.”

He grinned then, and there you gave him another ten points for having a pretty smile, okay maybe he wasn’t bad to look at. He kept the smile, pushing off the edge and swimming backward a bit, still looking at you like you’d just become the highlight of his entire vacation.

You leaned back, the girls still giggling and teasing around you, sun warm on your skin, and tried (and completely failed) to wipe the stupid smile off your face.

Jay shook his head again from a few feet away, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “absolute idiot” while shooting you a quick, amused little glance that made your stomach do another tiny flip. Good lord, being surrounded with such fine men was definitely not for the faint hearted. This trip was already a mess.

But damn if it wasn’t the funniest one you’d ever been on.

Turns out, a nap was exactly what you needed to get rid of jet lag, and it worked wonders, leading to the group being more energetic than before and deciding to have dinner together at this Italian restaurant they managed to find in the vicinity. 

It was a beautiful open terrace spot filled with the scent of garlic bread and wood-fired pizza. Amongst all this, the chatter felt normal like you were all good friends already, but you opted to sit next to Karina regardless, and you were about to sit down when Jake appeared out of nowhere, aiming straight for the empty chair on your right like a man with a mission. He was already sliding in with that cocky little smirk when you planted a hand on his chest and gave him a firm push back.

Quite frankly, it is rude, but it’s also funny to see Jake’s face when he’s presented with rejection of any sort. Jungwon seems to have been on the same wavelength as you, sitting down on your left—the place which Jake wanted. 

“Why’s he always around you?” Jake raises a brow, and Jungwon seems to lean closer to you, head touching your shoulder. 

“Take a wild guess?” Jungwon not so helpfully asked, making it very hard for you to control another chuckle which was threatening to escape. 

It was comical, really. Jake was also very gullible and not good at catching lies, resulting in his eyes going wide, “wait—he’s your boyfriend?” He shrieked, and took a step back. 

Jungwon nodded, ever the problem maker, and wrapped his arm around you with an adorable pout. Everyone else had stopped to observe Jake’s reaction, and also caught on to the simple fact that Jungwon was acting with you, but another thing about Jake—he can be oblivious towards the very obvious things. Gullible, yeah. 

“Okay, uh—” Jake doesn’t really get to complete his sentence because Sunghoon pulls him back and into a chair, sandwiched between Jay and him, sitting right across from you with a defeated sigh. 

Even Hyuck and Beomgyu point out how Jake appears to be a sulky puppy, golden retriever to be more precise, and he only throws two balled up tissues their way, which somehow ends up hitting the target. Then, he goes back to playing with the food on his plate while watching you chat with Yunjin and eating your share of pasta. 

“Are you getting the tingles again?” Jay muttered as he stared at Jake. 

“I am not spiderman,” he sighs, though he was getting a tingle indicating that something is not right. 

“You certainly do have reflexes for it,” Sunghoon adds before turning to wink at the pretty waitress who slid her number his way. Classic Sunghoon. 

Jake did end up trusting his reflex, though his ways were concerning. He saw the opportunity when you were indulging in a deep conversation with the girls about the new Met Gala outfits, leaving Jungwon behind with Jay, who’d somehow managed to befriend the younger man. 

One second Jay was walking ahead and explaining the origin of Pizza, and the other second he looked back to see that Jungwon had disappeared. Jake was responsible for it, of course, he’d dragged the poor boy into the alleyway despite his protests. Hyuck popped in his head the very moment Jake decided to open his mouth. 

“You swing both ways?” Hyuck asked with a smirk, “if yes then join me and Gyu tonight—”

Jake’s face was red as he pushed Hyuck out and returned his focus back on Jungwon, who was hissing like a cat (?), but yeah Jake had more important matters to discuss. 

“Are you actually dating her?” He managed to ask with a croak. 

Jungwon gave him an unimpressed look, “that’s what you dragged me for? Don’t tell me you fell in love with her at the first fucking sight?”

“Hey! I’m just curious. What’s wrong with love at first sight anyway?” Jake scoffed. 

Jungwon only rolled his eyes and proceeded to walk out, only to yelp as Jake put him in a light headlock. The conversation after that was interesting to say the least, leaving Jungwon pissed as he made his way towards your room, which was right across his room. 

You opened the door, and Jungwon wordlessly extended a piece of paper your way, “huh?” You took it from his hand. 

“God, I swear you always attract crazies,” Jungwon complained, “do you have a thing for eccentricities?” 

Well, you couldn’t deny that. The piece of paper had a number scribbled on it, and an equally messy writing that said, you’re single so we can mingle ;). 

Zero points for pickup lines truly. You had to apologize to Jungwon and hand him your favourite gummies for the torture he went through in that alleyway, and he was happy saying oh jelly! Despite it all, you felt your face heating up, Jake was truly a dork, and now you had to entertain his advances throughout the trip. 

It was adorable too. So, yeah maybe you should get your taste in men checked. 

Once Jungwon had retreated to his room for the night, you washed up and changed into your pajamas, mind still fixated upon that pout Jake held as he stared at you throughout the dinner without even blinking. You stood outside in the balcony, staring at the night sky which was blanketed with stars—something you couldn’t find in the city on a usual basis. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” 

You almost flinched, because of course it’s Jake’s room right next to you, with his balcony practically attached to yours. He looked beautiful in the moonlight, you could give him that much, yes. Hair a little tousled, a pathetic smile on his face that he deemed to be flirty. 

“Couldn’t sleep either?” He asked, leaning on the railing with his hand cupping his face, “or did you just miss me already?”

You let out a quiet scoff, turning back to the stars like they were far more interesting than the walking golden retriever next to you, “bold of you to assume I was thinking about you at all.”

“Liar,” he grinned watching the twitch of your lips, “you were smiling at dinner every time I looked over. I counted. Seven times.”

“I was smiling because Jungwon kept kicking me under the table trying not to laugh at you.” You shrugged, trying your best not to look his way. 

He clutched his chest dramatically, like you’d shot him, “ouch, right in the ego. Even after I gave you my number? C’mon I was waiting for a call, or a text.”

You finally turned his way, leaning closer so his breath hitched, eyes dropping to your lips because he couldn’t control himself—you looked so beautiful like this, especially in your comfy pajamas. 

“It’s been like half an hour, chill,” you chuckled. 

“A lot can be done in thirty minutes, y’know? Like kissing and falling in love and making babies.”

You raised your brow, “okay, let’s say I did text you, and it would take you two minutes to come to my room, then it’d take seven minutes for you to even initiate a kiss, twelve minutes to fall in love and another six minutes to talk about it. So, you’re saying you last three minutes in bed?” 

Jake’s eyes widened comically, “what—no! I have good stamina, I can last all night and have you—”

He rambled, and you simply stared at the grand hand gestures that accompanied him in the midst of him trying to tell you how he can fuck you so good you’d lose your voice. You nodded alongside with an amused expression to humour him, but he kept on going explaining his tongue skills and how foreplay is important in a relationship, what?

“Oh god,” you mumbled, grabbing his t-shirt and pulling him closer, which did cause him to stumble and press harder against the railing, but did he care? Certainly not when your lips brushed his enough to move his lip ring, “aren’t you getting way ahead of yourself?”

He breathed out a chuckle, wrapping his warm fingers around yours over his t-shirt, “just getting started. Call it future planning, and trust me, I can do way better than three minutes. Let me prove it?” 

You probably would let him, but not so easily, opting to tease him more with your hand sliding up, letting your thumb press against his plush lip where the piercing rested. No one had done that to Jake before, and you could physically feel the shiver that went through him at the touch. 

His breath caught sharp in his throat, a quiet, surprised “shit—” escaping before he could stop it. The cocky grin faltered, eyes widening as his grip on your hand tightened. His chest rose and fell faster, cheeks flushing deeper under the moonlight. It was cute how he looked stunned, a little dazed. 

You tilted your head, still pressing the piercing just enough to make the ring shift against his lip, “cat got your tongue now, Jakey?”

He let out a shaky breath, eyes half-lidded as he stared at you, “fuck—you’re actually evil,” he muttered, voice suddenly rough and way more breathless than before, “do that again and I’m not waiting for breakfast. I’ll climb this railing right now.”

You only leaned in to press a soft kiss right on top of his lips, however it wasn’t really a kiss when your thumb prevented the touch to happen entirely. Jake was fucked, god he truly was fucked. It was evident that you were not the shy kind, however he also did not expect such display of boldness. He also swore he fell in love a little and it didn’t take him twelve minutes by any means. 

On the other hand, your control was hanging by a thread and you couldn’t really blame yourself when the man in front of you had such nice, kissable lips. It is hard to even find men with such features so it really can’t be helped. Control, however, is the key. 

“Relax, Sim,” you whispered, almost reminding yourself to calm down as well, “you’re not climbing anything tonight.”

He let out a soft laugh, resorting to placing a peck on the pad of your thumb and holding your hand there, eyes fixated on you, taking in how you bit your bottom lip, “can’t blame a man for trying. Contrary to popular belief, I truly am trying to control myself.”

“Good, keep it up,” you murmured, managing to pull back with your fingers tracing his jaw in the process. Damn, he really is good looking now that you’re actually focusing on him. 

His eyes followed the movement, “you’re making it difficult, y’know?” He called out your name again before you could pull back entirely, “i’ll behave, okay? Just have breakfast sitting next to me tomorrow, please?”

He watched your face scrunching into a thinking one, “hm, are you gonna pay for the ice cream later then?”

“Deal,” he spoke in a heartbeat, a full blown smile gracing his face, “so worth it.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how quick he was to agree, “fine, don’t make me regret it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, hope you get dreams of me though,” he said, “cause I know i’ll see you in mine.”

You shook your head as his laugh followed you inside right as you shut the door, leaving him outside. 

The breakfast was going to be interesting. 

When Jake asked for you to sit next to him, he did not expect Sunghoon to be sitting on your other side. 

Of course everyone had gathered for the breakfast together, it was included in the trip package, so skipping it was baseless. Okay, maybe him sitting there wouldn’t have been as bad had Sunghoon just managed to shut up and not divert your attention. But no, he was cracking jokes (which weren’t funny) and you were laughing. Might as well have laughed at Jake’s misery. To add on to it, Jungwon and Karina were glaring his way from across the table. A possible reason would have been him cornering Jungwon last night and tickling him till he confessed that you, in fact, are single. 

Either way, he had to get your attention back somehow, and Jake did promise to behave but promises are meant to be broken, right? 

Breakfast was basically over, plates were being cleared, chairs scraping, everyone already stretching and chatting about the private boat tour that started in twenty minutes. Perfect timing, Jake decided. While the group was half-standing and distracted, his hand snuck under the table and landed high on your bare thigh, fingers giving a confident little squeeze, and you almost choked on your last sip of cranberry juice. 

Jake didn’t even glance at you, pretending to be deeply invested in whatever Jay was saying about the snorkeling schedule and how he hoped the boat would be a good budget one. But that smug, tiny smirk tugging at his lips? Dead fucking giveaway.

Sunghoon, still mid-sentence on your other side, paused, “you good?”

“Yep,” you bit the inside of your cheek, “just realized that breakfast is done and some people have zero sense of timing.”

Jake didn’t mind the jibe as his thumb started tracing lazy circles, “what? Can’t I say good morning properly now?” He leaned closer so only you could hear, “took me a while to get your attention.”

“Yeah, long enough for everyone to stand up,” you pointed out towards Beomgyu who was recording everything (again) and wait—was he zooming in on Jake’s hand?

He was whispering for sure and you caught some words including, “—day two, Jake has finally initiated physicality under the table like a horny teenager—” It was then when Ningning smacked the back of his head and grabbed his phone to delete the recording. 

Jake, the absolute menace, didn’t even flinch. He just gave your thigh one last affectionate squeeze before finally pulling his hand away, all innocent smiles, “what? I’m being romantic. Breakfast is over, technically. No rules broken.”

You shoved his shoulder, glancing at how veiny his hands were, clenching around nothing. Great, now your body had started reacting to him, “you’re so dead later.”

“Promise?” He whispered, eyes sparkling.

“Oh god,” you mumbled, getting up and linking arms with your best friends as you made your way towards your room to change and grab a bag full of essentials for the day. Maybe there was something in that juicy concoction because your skin was still tingling where Jake had touched (groped actually) you. 

In midst of your thoughts being full of Jake, you managed to change into a swimsuit and cover-up, and stuffed your bag with sunscreen, towels, a waterproof phone pouch, and snacks. The concept of time felt weird because one second you were in your room, and the next second Hyuck and Jungwon were dragging you, and you were on a boat. Oh wow, they really did have a great budget given how decent the price was for the trip package. 

The private yacht was honestly prettier than the pictures—sleek white hull, wide shaded deck with plush loungers, a small bar already stocked with fresh fruit platters and chilled drinks, and water so turquoise it looked edited, almost. As much as you were skeptical about the group merging, you sure were enjoying watching Karina barking sunscreen orders like a drill sergeant, Ningning and Yunjin claiming the best tanning spots upfront, Beomgyu already setting up his vlog rig, and Hyuck hyping everyone up with a speaker blasting summer hits (he was playing Justin Bieber). 

And then Jake came into view as if he’d been waiting to spot you (he was), offering his hand with a deeply exaggerated bow, “milady, allow me to assist you to the bar. Your safety is my utmost concern.”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or comment upon his theatrics, so you simply took his hand as he walked you for like, ten seconds. He didn’t let go just yet, eyes shamelessly taking your outfit in and only a lewd whistle was left for the scene to be considered as a harassment case. 

“Eyes up here,” you said with a raised brow, truly basking in his attention because, come on, who wouldn’t want this especially on a trip?  

“Can’t help it,” he said, voice dropping into that flirty rasp as he finally released your hand, though his gaze stayed glued to you a second longer.

With a shake of your head, you sat down on the bar stool which was attached firmly to the floor, Jake followed like a magnet as Jungwon looked at him, not impressed still, before going back to sharing his chipotle with Jay. He was about to claim the seat next to yours to finally talk to you without much disturbance. 

Before he could, you patted the stool on your other side and called out sweetly, “Hoon! Come sit with me?”

Sunghoon, who had been quietly leaning against the railing a few feet away applying sunscreen to his ridiculously toned arms, looked up. A slow, amused smirk spread across his face the second he realized what you were doing. Now, Jake was his friend but he wasn’t gonna miss an opportunity to tease him, and so he sauntered over and dropped into the seat you’d offered, long legs stretching out comfortably. 

“You can’t be serious,” Jake almost whined, mouth hanging open. 

You only stifled your laugh, “what are you planning on drinking?”

He leaned an elbow on the bar, gaze flicking over you appreciatively, “was thinking of some vodka shots, wanna take them with me?”

“Im literally standing right here,” Jake announced his presence, voice pitching higher with disbelief. Jake was shirtless too, he had abs too, and pretty good arms he’d say, which had been appreciated plenty by other girls for being veiny, so why weren’t you looking at him? 

Sunghoon didn’t glance his way, flagging the bartender, “three vodka shots please, One for each of us. Unless Jake’s too busy pouting to join.”

Jake made a strangled noise, he was very close to throwing Sunghoon off the boat. Imagine being cockblocked by your own best friend, deliberately at that. The shots were served in no time, and Jake just took the other seat next to you, planning on other ways to woo you. He had been rejected by people before, yes, but to this extent? Especially after that kiss (wasn’t a kiss) last night? 

Sunghoon smoothly slid one of the chilled shot glasses your way the second they arrived. His fingers brushed yours on purpose when he handed it over, oh he had nice hands too, “bottoms up, pretty.”

Jake was highly considering pushing Hoon into the water, even more so when he clinked his glass against yours, completely ignoring Jake, then threw his shot back with that annoyingly cool, effortless tilt of his head, groaning like an uncle for some reason. You followed suit, tasting the slight sourness of the liquid, which was pleasantly satisfying on your tongue and throat, “not bad.”

Before Jake could comment upon it, Karina came to your rescue, appearing out of nowhere with Ningning and Yunjin flanking her like bodyguards, “we are stealing her. She came on this vacation with me.”

Ningning didn’t even wait for permission—she grabbed your arm and started pulling you off the stool with surprising strength, “let’s go.”

Yunjin looped her other arm through yours, grinning wide, “sorry, boys. She’s ours for the next forty minutes. Go play with your little ducklings or something.”

You did look back for a second and the sight was genuinely funny with both guys on the floor, Jake had successfully pulled Hoon down into what appeared to be a very weak fist fight, all giggles and laughter. Silly silly boys. Jake looked cute, okay? 

The girls didn’t even give you a chance to enjoy the show. Karina yanked you forward harder, laughing. “Nope, eyes front, babe. No more watching those idiots roll around like toddlers.”

“It’s actually funny though, we’ve been watching you guys and it feels like everyone has this unspoken agreement to make this trip insufferable for Jake, but he should not be around you this much,” Yunjin added with a chuckle. 

You couldn’t lie, you could already feel a soft spot building in you for the man, “it’s so easy to mess with him.”

It was easy to sit down with them and just chat about their lives. You did learn that Ningning and Yunjin worked in the fashion industry, and how their company paid for this trip, and their flatmates—Hyuck and Beomgyu, simply tagged along. 

“So, do you like him?” Jungwon asked, Jay lurking behind him like a worried dad. 

“It’s not even been two days, c’mon,” you mumbled, eating another grape and wow, it was sweet, “he’s entertaining for sure, and kinda cute when he’s not hovering around like a menace.”

Jay let out a low chuckle, crossing his arms, oh his biceps, “that’s one way to put it. I’ve known Jake since we were kids and I’ve never seen him this worked up over someone. It’s actually kind of funny to watch.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, still rubbing sunscreen on her arm, “funny or concerning?”

“Both actually,” Ningning chimed, “from what i’ve seen, Y/N seems to enjoy him making a fool out of himself.”

Jay shook his head with a chuckle, sitting next to you, “yeah, just go easy on him though. He’s harmless, really.”

Jake had decided it was the right time to make an appearance, “I can hear every single word by the way.”

“So you did hear the part where we said you shouldn’t be around her?” Yunjin grinned. 

Jake only looked at you, “nah, I only focused on the praises, and I’m very glad to learn that someone finds me cute.”

“You’re impossible,” you added but there was no bite to it. 

“Impossible to resist,” he says, and everyone groans in unison, but Jake doesn’t mind when he gets to see you smile, or laugh, or just see you in general really. 

Either way, you all managed to converse in a civil manner, talking about the new Toy story movie coming up and how Jake resembled Woody. Also, Jay was really fun to talk to, he seemed to have knowledge about everything, almost like a walking encyclopaedia, dropping random facts about the reef they were about to snorkel and the history of the islands. The conversation flowed easy, the sun warm on your skin, the boat rocking gently underneath you.

Time passed quickly like that, and you saw the cove coming into view, and Chan came into view, how did he even get on here? He greeted everyone with the same enthusiasm, grabbing masks and fins to go snorkeling. Everyone was quick to discard their cover ups, and jump into the water which was slightly cold, and you jumped in with the girls, who were quick to explore the surroundings. 

It was as if you were floating on liquid glass, taking a deep breath before ducking your head under the water, which led you to a different world altogether. Soft corals in every shade of purple, pink, and orange swayed gently with the current. Schools of tiny neon fish darted past in perfect formation, flashing silver and yellow. Bigger ones—parrotfish, angelfish, ones you didn’t even have names for, cruised around beautifully. You felt calm, water was always a calming presence for you. Between your usual work and getting no time for yourself, you’d almost forgotten how it feels to just breathe. 

Ironically, you felt like you could breathe under water, savouring every breath, every moment of it. And to no one’s surprise, Jake wanted to savour his with you. He appeared by your side, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, especially when you caught him looking at you from behind the masked goggles, eyes crinkling at the corners. He gave a small nod, then pointed down and to the right with one hand.

A little octopus was tucked into a crack in the coral, skin shifting colors as it tried to disappear. You tapped his arm to get his attention and pointed at a pair of electric-blue fish chasing each other around a brain coral. Jake’s grin was obvious even with the mouthpiece in—he nodded hard, then did this smooth little roll underwater, showing off without trying too hard. You couldn’t help watching him more than the fish for a second, because he seemed like a really good swimmer, almost like he lived in water. 

Soon enough, you kicked towards the surface to breathe again, yanking the mask off for a bit with Jake before you both joined the group yet again to explore further, and it was lovely, you didn’t wish to leave. 

However, your legs were starting to ache from all the kicking and your fingers were properly pruney by the time Chris started yelling from the boat that lunch was ready. You surfaced one last time, pulling your mask off and taking a deep breath of the warm air.

Jake came up right beside you, hair slicked back, water running down his face. He looked at you for a second, “best part of the trip so far,” he said quietly, and he was aware that there had been others around, but for him, it felt like he was exploring another world solely with you. 

You nodded, still a little breathless at the honesty in his tone, “yeah, same.”

“Ready to go back?” He asked with a crooked smile, as Hyuck swam past him woohooing. 

You nodded, “hm, kinda tired now.”

Jake laughed under his breath and fell in beside you as you both started kicking toward the boat. Karina and Ningning were floating a little ways off, arguing over who found the prettiest fish. Sunghoon was just chilling on his back like a human raft. The whole cove felt alive with noise and laughter.

And when Jake felt your eyes on him, he smirked, “I see now you’re looking my way—”

He should have kept his mouth shut, because it led to a very unfortunate situation where Jake got stung by a jellyfish. 

“Ow—fuck!” Jake yelped, yanking his mask off so fast it nearly flew into the water, “something just stung me! Shit, it burns!”

You turned toward him instantly, “wait, what?”

“It’s right here—on my leg!” He was already paddling harder toward the boat, half swimming, half flailing, even though he was a strong swimmer and could’ve easily made it on his own, but to Jake it almost felt like a shark had taken a bite out of him. 

Karina started cracking up so hard she swallowed water, “Jake, it’s a baby jellyfish! Chill the fuck out!”

Ningning and Yunjin were losing it too, “oh he’s got the worst luck ever.”

Jay, who had been floating a little further out, kicked over fast with this long-suffering sigh you were starting to recognize as his default Jake-mode, “alright, move over,” he said, grabbing Jake’s other arm while you kept hold of the first, “stop flailing like you’re in the Titanic, man. You’re making it worse.”

“I’m not flailing, I’m dying!” Jake whined, but he let the two of you tow him anyway, legs still kicking dramatically like he was trying to outrun the sting, “it feels like it’s spreading, oh god.”

“It’s not spreading,” Jay deadpanned, voice calm but clearly fighting a laugh, “you’ve had worse paper cuts. Y/N, you got him on that side?”

“Yeah, I got him,” you said, trying not to crack up as Jake leaned into you with a pout, jutting his bottom lip out. 

Between the three of you, you basically wrestled Jake up the ladder like a very dramatic, very wet sack of potatoes. He collapsed onto the warm deck the second his feet hit wood, sprawling out with a theatrical moan, water pooling everywhere.

“It’s the worst pain of my life,” he groaned, clutching his calf. “I can feel it going up my leg. Someone call my mom. And maybe kiss it better just in case—”

“Absolutely not happening,” Jay said, already grabbing the first-aid kit the crew had left out. He knelt down and dabbed some vinegar on the tiny mark with the patience of someone who’d done this a hundred times, “It’s barely even red, you’ll survive.”

You dropped down beside Jake, still dripping, and poked the speck gently, “it’s literally the size of a dot. You’re such a baby.”

“Still hurts,” he muttered, but his eyes went all soft when he looked up at you, shifting enough to rest on your lap

Chan shrieked from somewhere, “no, no, no—I can’t have a guest dying—”

“He’s literally okay—”

“—what do we do, someone needs to pee on it.”

Wait, what? Jake froze and everyone stopped to stare at the man who was pacing around thinking that Jake was dying (he was okay). The silence lasted for a second before everyone started laughing, and Jake leaned in further to hide his embarrassment. 

Beomgyu, who had been filming the whole time, lowered his phone just enough to grin at you. “Y/N should do it. She’s the one he’s been chasing all day. Makes sense, right?”

Jungwon, who had just climbed up the ladder, deadpanned without missing a beat, “why? So she can mark him up as hers?”

You burst out laughing so hard you had to cover your mouth. Jake’s head was still in your lap, and he let out a loud, dramatic groan, covering his face with both hands.

“I hate every single one of you,” he said, voice muffled, “it fucking hurts, okay? And you’re all just—suggesting piss therapy.”

Jay shook his head, capping the vinegar bottles, “we’re not peeing on anyone. It’s already looking better. You’ll be fine in ten minutes, you big idiot.”

Jake peeked through his fingers at you, eyes all big and pitiful even though the corner of his mouth was twitching, “you hear that? I’m wounded and they’re bullying me. You’re my only ally here.”

You brushed some wet hair off his forehead, realizing that you didn’t mind his dramatic ass as much. It was rather funny because Jake was indeed still a stranger, you didn’t know much about him other than the fact that he was loud, shameless, and somehow really fucking good at making you laugh even when he was being an absolute idiot.

“You’re the one who jinxed yourself by bragging two seconds earlier. Karma’s fast, huh?”

He let out a soft laugh, “can’t complain much when it led to this,” he smirked, clearly enjoying the warmth your thighs offered, and he squished his face further into it, content with the setting. 

Only for Jungwon to drag him away from you. 

Doesn’t it feel like you’re astral projecting when walking on the warm sand while the breeze flows through with a tinge of coldness? Because that’s exactly what you were feeling at the given moment. 

Jungwon was walking beside you, shrieking and hissing like a cat each time the cold water touched his feet. Everyone was spread out indulging in their own activities after the lunch—which had been peaceful for a change. You even learned that Hyuck is an amazing singer and Jay is an amazing guitarist as they did an impromptu performance, and Jake hummed alongside them. 

When Jungwon jumped again, you laughed and pulled him further away from the water, “it’s cold as fuck,” he whined, hopping sideways now. 

“You’re the one who wanted to check the water temperature,” you pointed out with a chuckle, still holding onto his arm so he wouldn’t bolt back toward the dry sand like a startled cat.

Jungwon dramatically flung himself against your side, “I changed my mind, i hate the ocean, i hate everything wet and cold. Why did I think this was a good idea?”

You shook your head, glancing back to notice how Jake was walking a little behind the boys, almost side by side with Karina, brows a little furrowed as if engaged in a deep conversation of some sort. He kept on nodding, serious for once, though his fluffy hair made it seem adorable regardless. You looked forward again before he could catch you staring his way. 

A few minutes passed like that as Jungwon made you click his pictures so he could post and boast about this vacation, and the beautiful sunset view, of course. Jungwon’s expression changed as if he already got the phantom feeling that he would be mistreated again, which wasn’t wrong actually because Yunjin and Ningning jumped out of nowhere and dragged him away despite his weak protests. 

“We need him for a second,” Karina giggled and grabbed his phone from your hand before rushing away. 

“What now—” 

To say you were confused would be an understatement, especially with the winks they sent your way. Oh, so this was related to Jake. The man had immaculate timing, because he fell in step with you right that second, turning you around so you’d stop looking at Jungwon. You were about to ask him what’s going on, but he was quick to hold up two ice cream cones with a smile. 

“I believe I owe you an ice cream,” he shrugged casually. 

It was your favourite flavour. And to your absolute delight, it was just what you’d been craving—something about having a cold treat in chilly weather, y’know?

“How’d you know?” You asked, genuinely surprised, reaching out to take it.

Jake’s fingers brushed yours as he passed it over, the cold from the cone mixing with the warmth of his skin for a second. It was such a small thing, but enough for you to notice how soft his fingers were. 

“Took a wild guess,” he said, shrugging like it was nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he knew he’d been caught.

You narrowed your eyes at him, and then realized. Well, the timing of Karina winking and the girls dragging Jungwon away was arguably the dead giveaway, “you asked Karina, didn’t you?”

Jake’s grin turned guilty, he didn’t even try to lie, “maybe.”

“You asked my best friend?”

“Had to make sure I got it right,” he said, bumping your shoulder lightly as you started walking again, a small smile stretching at the cute gesture. 

The sand was cooler now under your feet, the breeze carrying that nice evening chill against your sun-warmed skin. Another thing you learned about Jake, that he kept his promises despite this one being a small promise. Another ten points for that, and five points for the flavour, which seemed heavenly on your tongue, making Jake stare at you, mind definitely elsewhere. Don’t get him wrong, he was more than happy to be the recipient of your smile, but he was only a man, eyes dropping to your mouth, the way your tongue licked a streak off your lower lip. 

You raised an eyebrow, “what?”

He only leaned, thumb brushing against the corner of your lip where the cream had smeared. Good lord, your breath hitched and a shiver pathetically traveled down your spine. You blamed it on the cold. 

“You had some right here,” he murmured, voice lower than before. His thumb lingered for half a second longer than necessary, the pad of it warm against your skin, before he slowly pulled it away.

You swallowed, “you could’ve just told me.”

“Could’ve,” he agreed, eyes finally lifting to meet yours, there was a lazy smirk on his face, “but then I wouldn’t have had an excuse to touch you.”

You clicked your tongue, trying to play it cool even though your pulse had kicked up, “smooth, Sim.”

You took another deliberate lick of the ice cream, letting your tongue linger just a little longer than necessary, and watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

“Evil,” he muttered, almost to himself, “you’re actually evil.”

You smirked, licking your lips slowly, “you started it by staring like you wanted to eat me instead of the ice cream.”

Jake let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his messy hair, only if you knew, “can you blame me? You’ve been torturing me all day—first with the swimsuit, then saving my life from that jellyfish, now this—” he gestured vaguely at your mouth, “I’m only human, Y/N.”

“Keep talking like that and I’m throwing the rest of this cone at you.”

He grinned, but his eyes were still dark, still fixed on your mouth like he couldn’t help it. The two of you kept walking until the wooden railing along the path came into view. Without saying anything, you hopped up and sat on it, legs dangling toward the sand. Jake followed right after, dropping down beside you so close that his thigh pressed warm against yours. Others had retreated back to the resort, and somehow they thought it was a good idea to push the narrative of you and Jake actually being a thing by the end of the trip. 

Were you complaining? You aren’t too sure. To be fair, you didn’t wish to ponder about the future, so living in the moment was the only option, and it wasn’t all that bad, because though he was clumsy, his smile and advances (creative ones) made it better, another story to add to your journal.

So, eventually you decided to humour him and gather some random information, “favourite colour?”

Jake was caught off guard, tongue shoved deep in the cone as he stared up, “uh—blue?”

“Favorite late-night snack?”

“Ramyeon. Why are we—”

“Biggest turn-off in a person?”

Jake let out a surprised laugh, “you’re really doing this right now?”

You just raised an eyebrow, waiting, licking another stripe of ice cream while keeping eye contact.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking equal parts amused and flustered, “Uh—people who don’t like dogs. I don’t know, this feels like a trap.”

“So if i say i’m a cat person, you’ll stop chasing me around?” You challenged and you swore he looked like a puppy now. 

“Probably not,” he admitted, “i’d suffer in silence knowing you won’t like my pet.”

It was so apt for Jake to be a dog dad, and you were sure you’d like his pet. You only laughed at his pouty expression while Jake took in your beauty, enjoying his time with you way more than he expected. Of course, Jake was used to being around women, but then he never chased them like this, not because he had ego, god no, but because he never found himself wanting to get to know them, not like he wants to learn about you. 

You kept going, “favourite movie snack?”

“Popcorn with way too much butter,” he confessed, and before you could speak up again, he continued just so he could take the lead, “you ever let someone go down on you so slow it feels like they’re trying to memorize every inch?”

Oh my god. Out of everything that could’ve come out of his mouth, you did not expect that, granted the conversation was still light hearted and you weren’t sure how to deal with the duality of this man. He could only stare at your parted lips as if he wanted to find the answer himself. Jake knows he’s mostly clumsy and the kind people don’t take seriously, but he wasn’t lying when he said he’s good in bed, which also includes the dirty talk, so the point still stands. 

He leaned closer, “cause i’ve been thinking about it since the balcony last night. Wondering how you’d sound, how you’d taste, how long you’d let me stay there before your legs start shaking.”

Those filthy fucking words. You’d only read them in fanfics or books as such, wondering if you’d be the recipient of it someday, not knowing it’d be on a beach, during the sunset on your trip with a stranger who was more than open and willing to provide you with such pleasure. 

Jake only continued, knowing well of the effect he had on you now, “tell me, hm? Are you the type to grab my hair and pull me closer, or the type to try and stay quiet until you can’t anymore?”

How he kept on saying it so naturally was a mystery to you, but you did know that if you’d stay here for a second longer, you’d probably pounce on him, or worse, beg him to show you. Which is why you jumped up, surprising Jake who watched you. 

“Race you back to the resort!” You shouted, already bolting down the path, cheeks burning and laughter bubbling out of you from pure flustered panic.

Oh Jake was delighted, a big smile gracing his face as he got the exact reaction he wanted out of you, “fuck—get back here!” He screamed, already sprinting after you, sand flying under his feet. 

He was fast, faster than you’d expected, which was a dumb assumption given how athletic he appeared to be. You heard him closing in, his laugh getting louder, closer, until suddenly his arm wrapped around your waist from behind. You let out a surprised squeal as he lifted you clean off the ground like you weighed nothing, spinning you around as his bright laugh rang right in your ear.

“Got you,” he said, still chuckling as he set you back down, but he didn’t let go right away. His arms stayed looped around you, chest pressed to your back, both of you breathing hard from the run.

He swore you fit perfectly in his arms, and you bit your bottom lip, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. He finally loosened his hold, stepping back just enough to look at you, eyes bright and full of that same mischievous warmth. 

“Next time,” he added, tapping your nose lightly, “I’m not letting go so easy.”

“Who says there’s a next time?” You asked, a little breathless. 

Jake only leaned in, thumb gently pressing against your lower lip the same way you’d done to him last night. His eyes stayed locked on yours, “I do.”

He was tempted to do this without the interruption of his thumb, to actually feel the warmth of your lips, to taste the lingering taste of ice cream on you, but he contained his need, opting to press his plush lips upon yours but not fully touching, simply a hint of brush against yours. Regardless, you both closed your eyes for that split second, letting it linger for a while while your heart raced with this newfound warmth. 

A few seconds later, he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, thumb still lingering on your lip.

“Next time,” he whispered, emphasis on the absolute confirmation of it, “I won’t stop at almost.”

He stepped back with that bright, cocky grin, eyes sparkling like he knew exactly what he’d just done to you.

“Race is over, baby,” he smirked lazily, “and I win.”

You were no stranger to Jungwon’s childish antics and his over protectiveness when it came to his friends. It was clear in the way he practically acted like a bodyguard, or well, a blanket as he wrapped himself around you, escorting you towards the jeep just to make sure Jake doesn’t hover around you again. 

Poor Jungwon had been tortured too much, between Jake’s relentless flirting and the way the golden retriever had spent the entire previous day finding new and creative ways to get under your skin (and hands on your waist), Jungwon had apparently decided enough was enough. He clung to your side like a koala with separation anxiety, dramatically shielding you from any potential Jake-shaped threats as you walked.

“He’s not going to kidnap me,” you sighed, trying to drink your coffee, but Jungwon made it impossible for you to move.

He sneered, “he literally did that yesterday.”

“It was just to give me ice cream, c’mon,” you sighed, and immediately grinned as he loosened his hold so you could take another sip. 

“At the cost of me being dragged away! God forbid i want to spend time with you and Karina on our holiday,” he whined, staring back to glare at Jake—who almost tripped. 

It was a rather bright morning with everyone chattering excitedly about the waterfall, amongst other activities that Chan had planned for you all. Everyone was in various stages of hike-ready—loose clothes, backpacks slung over shoulders, sunglasses on, the easy lazy energy of people who had nowhere to be except exactly here.

“Male loneliness epidemic can’t be that bad—”

“I can hear you, y’know,” Jake called out cheerfully as he jogged to catch up, “can you not plot my demise this early in the morning? That’s cold, Jungwon, I thought we were friends.”

That earned him a glare, “you’re the enemy.”

“Y’know they say it’s better to keep your enemies close, also—hey, princess! You look beautiful,” Jake started and you bit your inside of the cheek to prevent a laugh from escaping.

Thankfully, you’d reached the jeeps that waited for the group in the driveway with coolers and extra water bottles stacked in the back. Chris was doing his usual enthusiastic headcount as if it was a school trip while everyone started piling in without much order.

You climbed into the middle row of the second jeep first, sliding toward the window. Sunghoon immediately dropped into the seat right beside you, stretching his long legs out “morning, this seat’s mine now.”

Before Jake could even make a move to claim the spot on your other side, Karina slid in smoothly from the other door and settled on your left, flashing you a wicked little grin as she adjusted her sunglasses. Now, Jake did try to follow, but Jungwon was faster. He grabbed the back of Jake’s t-shirt with both hands and started dragging him backward toward the first jeep like an angry mother cat.

“Nope. Absolutely not,” Jungwon declared loudly, “you’re riding with me, menace. I’m not letting you sit next to her for twenty whole minutes of thigh-touching and whispering. Boundaries, Jake. We’re enforcing boundaries today.”

Jake let himself be dragged, laughing the entire way, but he twisted around dramatically to look at you, “i’ll be there soon, don’t miss me too much,” he screamed as the door slammed shut behind him.

It was a bumpy ride, full of investigation from Karina, meanwhile Sunghoon tried to click a few selfies but—he almost appeared to be a grandpa (?) with how he handled his phone. 

“Let’s click one together to torture Jake,” he mumbled, holding the phone way too far from his face like he was trying to read a menu in the dark, “come here, he’s gonna lose his shit when he sees this.”

The photo came out perfect but Sunghoon wasn’t even done there, “yeah I should post this, it’ll ruin his whole day.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be your friend?” Karina asked with a laugh.

“This is how friendship works,” Sunghoon shrugged, taking his shades off to show how serious he was, and truly, it was kind of funny. 

By the time the jeeps pulled up at the trailhead, the air was already warm and heavy with the smell of wet leaves and flowers. Everyone spilled out stretching and complaining about the ride. Jake was waiting near the path like he’d been counting down the seconds, and the second he spotted you he was already walking over—until Sunghoon casually showed him the phone screen.

Jake stopped mid-step. His eyes narrowed at the photo, then flicked to Sunghoon, then back to you. It was evident he was trying not to pout, yet he couldn’t resist smiling when he saw a gentle, teasing smile on your own face. Yeah, he wasn’t going to let Jungwon or Sunghoon steal you away anymore. 

“Wow, okay,” Jake said, letting out a dramatic breath as he walked over, “I get kidnapped by Jungwon for one ride and you guys are already taking couple selfies?”

Sunghoon slipped his phone back into his pocket with a lazy shrug, “what can I say? We make a cute trio.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” Jake muttered, but the corner of his mouth was twitching. He reached for your hand without hesitation, lacing your fingers together, “you having fun torturing me or what?”

You squeezed his hand once, looking elsewhere on purpose, “a little bit.”

Jungwon was about to intervene (again) but thankfully, Jay grasped his attention (Jake thanked the lords) to talk about the latest F1 race, the two of them started walking ahead, deep in conversation, which gave you and Jake a moment of peace.

Then again, there wasn’t any peaceful time with Beomgyu around, who zoomed in specifically to click pictures of your intertwined fingers, and giggles from the girls who truly believed that you and Jake would be together by the end of the trip. Whatever happened to summer flings, oh and by the way, this wasn’t even a fling so far. 

The hike began in earnest after that. The trail wound lazily through dense, sun-dappled jungle, the air thick with the scent of damp earth, blooming orchids, and distant salt from the sea. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in shifting golden coins, painting dappled patterns across the dirt path. Jake never once let go of your hand. If anything, his grip grew more secure as the trail narrowed, his thumb occasionally brushing slow, absent circles against your skin.

Regardless of how that little action made your heart flutter, you ended up in a conversation with Hyuck, and Jake didn’t mind the fact that you weren’t paying attention to him, only because you weren’t pulling away from his touch either. The trail eventually opened into a small clearing where a fast, silver-veined river cut across the path. The only way forward was a precarious line of moss-slicked stepping stones, water rushing white and cold around them.

Chris clapped his hands with his usual boundless energy, “okay let’s do buddy system! Cross safely everyone!”

You practically witnessed Jake’s eyes sparkling, his bottom lip bitten as he crouched down. Ignorance must truly be a bliss because this man wanted to carry you to the other side, on a path that was full of moss and slick. 

“You cannot be serious, Jake, that’s fucking dangerous!” You exasperated. 

Right then, as if to prove you wrong, Jay passed by you both with Jungwon on his back—and he appeared way to jolly, moving way too much for Jay’s liking but he managed, somehow. 

“See?” Jake grinned up at you, eyes bright with mischief. “Even Jay’s doing it. Just trust me, okay?”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but Jake was already rising smoothly, hands locking beneath your thighs before you could properly protest. The cold spray misted your skin as he stepped onto the first stone with deliberate care. His back was warm against your chest, steady despite the treacherous surface beneath his feet. Halfway across, he turned his head just enough for his cheek to brush yours.

“Enjoying the ride?” He asked, trying to mask his own enjoyment. 

You muttered something under your breath about reckless golden retrievers, but you didn’t tell him to put you down. Instead, your arms tightened slightly around his shoulders, and Jake’s answering chuckle vibrated through both of you. When you finally reached the other end, he was gentle to put you down, however not letting go of your waist.

“What?” You raised your brow, amused yet again while also reeling with aftershocks of his strength. 

“Pretty,” he mumbled with his lazy smile. 

Your smile widened, a finger reaching out to boop his nose, which surprised him, even more so when your lips brushed his ear, “you’re prettier.”

Jake tries to maintain his composure but it seems as if you don’t make it an option for him, as if his blush can’t be helped with that gentle smile of his. It’s such a lovely colour on his face, causing your own smile to turn gentler, well, before Karina coughs loudly and drags you away, again, much to Jake’s dismay. 

He doesn’t intrude again, not when you settle into another deep conversation with the girls and smile wider. Jake assumes that he’s simply gone mental with how endearing his stare is towards you, not having felt this level of devotion (that’s what he names it) for anyone before. 

As he continued to dote on your beauty, Jay and Sunghoon came up from behind to grab him and drag him a bit far to have some man to man talk, whatever that meant honestly? 

“Bitch, are you in love?” Jay asked bluntly the second they were out of earshot, arms crossed while Sunghoon leaned against a tree with that signature knowing smirk.

Jake sputtered, cheeks flaring even redder, “what? No—I mean, maybe? Shut up, it’s too early to say so.” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing back toward where you were laughing with the girls.

“Whatever happened to we’ll fuck like there’s no tomorrow on this trip?” Sunghoon questioned next, now walking forward as the waterfall came into view. 

“Last time I checked, you guys haven’t been getting laid either, and i’m a changed man” Jake deadpanned. 

The boys stopped, staring at each other with a sigh, and the only way to divert attention was to tease Jake yet again, “yeah, you’re basically cooked. Can’t believe you’re in love on a vacation when you’ve never even had a girlfriend before.”

“He’s never been with a girl before?” 

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop by any means, but their voices carried just enough on the breeze as you walked a few steps ahead with the girls. You bit your lip to stifle a laugh, pretending to be very focused on adjusting your swimsuit strap under your top. Jake’s flustered sputtering was adorable.

Before the teasing could escalate further, Jake’s eyes locked onto yours across the small distance. A mischievous glint replaced the embarrassment in a heartbeat. He broke away from his friends mid-sentence and jogged over to you, grabbing your hand with zero warning.

“C’mon,” he grinned, clearly to distract you from his non-existent exes, “enough talking. Let’s make this memorable.”

You barely had time to yelp as he tugged you toward the edge of the rocks overlooking the deep pool beneath the main cascade. The waterfall roared beautifully ahead, mist sparkling in the sunlight, “Jake—wait, what are you—”

“Trust me!” He laughed, squeezing your hand tighter. Without another second of hesitation, he jumped, pulling you with him.

Like you’d said before, there was never a boring moment with Jake because now, you both were jumping off the low cliff together and into the turquoise water with your arms wrapped around each other and a big splash. The shock of the cold made you gasp as you surfaced, laughing breathlessly. Jake popped up right beside you, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes sparkling with pure delight as he shook the water out like a happy dog.

Chris was horrified to say the least, “what the fuck are you two doing?” His voice boomed from above, poor man looked as if he was one second away from fainting, “this is not the designated jumping zone! Oh god, my guests are in danger. My blood pressure—”

Sadly, no one was interested in safety. In fact, they were riled up seeing the scene and were more interested in following suit. Hyuck and Beomgyu immediately followed, cannonballing in and creating even bigger splashes. Ningning and Yunjin were giggling as they jumped more carefully, while Karina dragged a shrieking Jungwon along. Even Jay and Sunghoon jumped in, shaking their heads at Jake’s antics but clearly entertained.

Jake, when he swam closer with that wicked, playful glint in his eyes, “cold?” He teased, voice low as his gaze shamelessly dropped to where your wet clothes clung to your body, “or is that just me making you shiver?”

You splashed him right in the face, “keep staring like that and I’ll drown you myself, Sim.”

He wiped the water off with a dramatic gasp, then grinned like an idiot, shaking his hair out again and sending droplets flying toward you, “worth dying for. Have I mentioned how fucking good you look all wet?” His tone was pure mischief, but the way his eyes lingered a second too long sent a spark of heat through you despite the cold water.

Before you could retort, Hyuck yelled, “Chicken fight! Losers buy dinner!”

Jake’s eyes lit up, “you’re riding me,” he declared, not even bothering to word it well, already ducking underwater so you could climb onto his shoulders. His hands gripped your thighs firmly as he stood, way steadier than he had any right to be. The position put your core right against the back of his neck, and you could feel every shift of his muscles.

“Hands lower, pervert,” you warned, tugging his hair lightly, making him groan, or was it a moan?

The chicken fight turned into glorious warfare. Jake moved with surprising agility, laughing as he dodged Beomgyu and Hyuck’s clumsy attempts to unseat you. You clung to his head, thighs squeezing around his shoulders for balance, he looked rather pleased with that, both of you shouting and splashing like children who had discovered freedom for the first time. Water flew everywhere, rainbows shattering in the spray, until Hyuck finally toppled backward with a dramatic yell and the game dissolved into breathless laughter.

Eventually, Chris started rounding everyone up, his cheerful energy now laced with mild panic as he took in the state of his group—dripping and entirely too pleased with themselves.

“Oh no—oh no, no, no,” Chris muttered, eyes wide as he surveyed the scene, “you’re all soaked. The jeeps, the seats are gonna be a mess I swear.”

The trek back was a soggy, hilarious affair. Everyone’s clothes clung uncomfortably, shoes squelched with every step, and the jungle path felt twice as long when you were leaving a trail of water behind like a pack of mischievous river spirits. Jungwon kept complaining about his ruined socks, while Karina, Ningning and Yunjin were already planning how to salvage their hair.

Jay, being the gentleman he is, came up to you, “let me carry your bag,” he offered, hand already extending to grab it from you. 

Before you could even respond, Jake huffed—an actual, audible huff, and snatched the bag from where it had been slung over your shoulder, “I got it,” he said quickly, already speeding up a few steps ahead like he was on a mission, “no need, Jay. I’m stronger anyway.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, “possessive much?”

“Protective, big difference,” he spoke, not bothering to turn around, clearly interested in speed walking all of a sudden. 

You could only stare, because Jake was odd. He was odd in this endearing way that made you wanna squish his cheeks and tease him to no end. No, no. You need to contain yourself instead, and so you did (you tried, at least). Lunch became an impromptu picnic on a sun-warmed outcrop overlooking the sea—slightly damp sandwiches, sweet mango slices passed hand to hand, and you wondered just how much storage Beomgyu’s phone had to be clicking these many pictures. 

It was a good day, a great day even, almost cinematically inspirational for the ones who were a sucker for positive vibes and slow motion captures of laughs and smiles, because that’s how everyone felt—you more than others with that one smile constantly being in front of you. What a pretty fucking man. 

By the time you reached the resort, the sun had done its work. Everyone was finally dry, hair wild from the wind, bodies heavy with that good kind of exhaustion that comes from a day well spent. The group split off toward their rooms with tired goodbyes and loose plans for dinner.

You had barely stepped out of your bathroom after a well deserved warm shower when a soft thud was heard coming from the balcony. You tightened the towel around your chest and padded over, still dripping a little. Jake was already there, one hand braced on the railing, looking ridiculously at ease in a loose black tank and shorts, hair messy from the wind. The second he spotted you, his face lit up. 

He reached for the handle of the sliding glass door and gave it a gentle tug. Locked, you didn’t move to open it, in fact, you watched him try with amusement. 

“C’mon, let me in for a sec,” he said, grinning as he pressed his forehead lightly against the glass, “I’m not even dripping water anymore.”

You leaned against the doorframe on your side, arms crossed, “nice try. You can stay right there.”

“Gosh, still so hostile towards me? And here I thought we were getting somewhere,” he mumbled in fake sadness, eyeing you up and down, knowing he was going to start mumbling praises mindlessly, “you look good, fresh out of the shower, pretty, yeah.” 

“Flattery’s not getting the door unlocked, Sim.”

He pouted, “alright, fine. Stay in there then, but meet me downstairs in thirty? The others are probably gonna drag everyone to that overpriced restaurant, and I don’t wanna share you tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow, biting back a smile, “why should I ditch them for you?”

“Because I’m more fun,” he said simply, like it was obvious, “and I wanna walk around with you without Jungwon glaring holes in my head or Beomgyu taking pictures every two seconds. Just—you and me.” He paused, tilting his head, “say yes. I’ll even let you pick the weirdest souvenir.”

You didn’t answer right away, just watched him through the glass. He waited, patient for once, eyes steady on yours, but he wasn’t all that patient when he stepped closer, right up against the door, and pressed his lips to the glass in a soft, lingering kiss—right at your eye level, mumbling please. When he pulled back, he gave you that crooked little smirk, already stepping away toward the railing like he was about to hop back to his own balcony.

Oh Jake Sim, he was too good at this, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he’d been in multiple relationships before. You smiled, biting your lip hard, and before he could turn fully, you leaned in and pressed your own lips to the exact same spot on the other side of the glass. The faint fog of your breath bloomed there for a second.

Jake caught it. His eyes widened, then crinkled with the biggest, dumbest grin you’d seen all day. He touched two fingers to his mouth, pointed at you, and laughed quietly as he swung one leg over the railing.

“Thirty minutes,” he called back, “don’t stand me up, princess.”

Jake was nervous, however he was also good at hiding his nervousness, but can you blame him when you knocked his breath away each time you smiled his way. Just like now. 

You’d changed into a breezy sundress that caught the warm evening breeze, and every time you glanced over at him with that easy, teasing smile, Jake felt his chest tighten in the best possible way. He kept his hands in his pockets, playing it cool, but his heart was doing laps.

Maybe he was overthinking, testing his luck if you must, but he wished to kiss you tonight—consensually of course. He’d been riding the high of your almost kisses from the past few days, those charged little moments that left him replaying them in his head like a loop. But he wasn’t about to push. Not when things felt this good already.

The path to the night market wound along the edge of the resort, lanterns flickering softly overhead. Jake stole another glance at you, the way the dress swayed around your legs, and cleared his throat.

“You sure you’ve not done this before?” You asked, bumping his shoulder as you walked.

He blinked once to break his train of thoughts, “done what?”

“Never had a girlfriend before,” you shrugged, “cause you sure know what you’re doing.”

“Is that to say you’re my girlfriend?” Jake smirked all up in your face.

That earned him a roll of your eyes, “blasphemous accusation. I didn’t even mean it that way, you know it.”

Jake clicked his tongue, “well, I’ve never had a relationship before, I only know how to charm people, just as i’ve been charming you.”

“Who says I’m charmed?” You shot back, challenging him. 

He opened his mouth with some retort ready, but you were quick to tease him further, “whatever happened to your plan of fucking a new girl each night here, hm?”

Now, that caused Jake to almost trip over nothing, “what—”

“Jay told me,” you shrugged with a chuckle, “and c’mon, I’m not judging you, I lowkey wished the same for me—well, before you decided to ruin it.”

“Me?” He stopped dead in the middle of the path, eyes wide. Did you really wantJake as much as he wanted you?

“Yeah,” you said, concealing your laughter to be as serious as you could muster, “I wanted to fuck Hoon.”

Oh absolutely not. Jake didn’t hide his disdain as he furthered away from you, “out of everyone, you wanted my best friend, seriously? That sucks to hear.”

Behind all those smiles and laughter, Jake was a bit insecure, granted he forced himself in your life, forced himself to be there so you’d notice him without much knowledge of what you truly wanted. Did he mix up your signals? Got too much into his head or lucid dreamed it all?

You hurried after him and caught his wrist, “hey, wait.” He slowed but didn’t turn around right away, so you stepped in front of him, and gosh he was actually clenching his jaw and looking elsewhere, almost like throwing a tantrum. Regardless, you wanted to clear things up.

“You’re such a baby.” You went up on your toes and kissed his cheek softly, letting your lips stay there for a second, feeling his body loosening up at your display of affection, yet he didn’t turn around right away, eyes fixed off to the side.

You didn’t let go. Instead, you cupped his cheek gently, turning his face toward you, “c’mon, look at me.” Your thumb brushed his skin, “it was a stupid joke. You know, it lasted not even an hour when you jumped into the pool. I spent the whole day with you, didn’t I? Laughing my ass off, letting you carry me across that river like some dramatic prince, almost kissing you like three different times already. I saved your ass from that jellyfish, not Hoon. Remember that?”

Jake’s jaw unclenched a little. The corner of his mouth twitched, fighting a smile and you took it as a yes. He was internally cooing at how adorably you took it upon yourself to reassure him when he damn well knew it was a joke, so he let you continue. 

“Exactly,” you beamed, “so why the hell would I want anyone else when I’ve got you being all golden retriever and annoying in the best way?” You leaned in closer to his ear, “you’re the one I keep saying yes to, dummy.”

That finally cracked him. A real smile broke through, small at first, then that full crooked one you loved, eyes softening as he looked at you properly, “you’re actually the worst,” he muttered, but there was no bite left in it.

Before he could say anything else, you rose up again and kissed him properly on the cheek one more time, dangerously close to his lips, your mouth brushing the edge of his in a teasing almost. Jake’s breath hitched.

He gave in completely then, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, pulling you flush against his chest like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. His chin rested on top of your head for a moment, “I’m not letting you go tonight,” he murmured against your hair, you could already imagine him pouting, “not to Hoon, not to Jungwon, not to anyone. You’re mine for the rest of this market, yeah? Maybe longer.”

You laughed softly into his shoulder, hugging him back just as tight, “possessive much?”

“Can’t be helped,” he said, squeezing you once more before loosening just enough to look at you, that recipient of that smile back in full force

You grinned and the two of you started walking again, his arm staying firmly around your shoulders like he needed the contact. The jealousy had melted away, replaced by that warm, clingy energy you were starting to get addicted to.

Jake steered you toward the food stalls, still a little extra touchy. You loaded up on fried chicken, chili-lime corn, and of course, ice cream. Eating while walking got messy fast, full of stolen bites and quiet laughter.

At the dart stall he got stupidly focused, “bet I win you that giant turtle.”

He missed most shots. You laughed so hard you had to hold onto him. One lucky throw got him the silly blue octopus keychain instead.

“Dr. Otto,” you named him proudly, “I like this better anyway,” you chimed, making Jake chuckle.

“You like spiderman?” He asked, already greedy to know more about you.

You nodded, popping another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, “yeah, since I was a kid. Something about swinging around the city looks fun as hell.”

Jake’s eyes lit up like you’d just handed him the best gift ever, “no way, me too! I used to watch the old movies on repeat. My brother and I would fight over who got to be Spider-Man when we played.” He bumped your shoulder gently, his hand lingering on your lower back as you walked. “Guess I’m dating a nerd now. Good to know.”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile, “dating? Bold assumption, Sim.”

He only shook his head with an endearing smile, walking alongside you. It wasn’t anything fancy, but you both didn’t need fancy, it was the company that mattered, and right now, you couldn’t have asked for a better one. 

The conversation kept flowing as you wandered deeper into the market. Jake’s hand stayed on your lower back most of the time, warm and steady, thumb occasionally tracing small circles through the thin fabric of your sundress. Every little touch sent a quiet spark through you.

You stopped at a small jewelry stall where delicate shell necklaces and charms caught the lantern light. Jake picked up one with a tiny starfish pendant, holding it up to your collarbone without putting it on. His fingers brushed your skin, light but deliberate, sending goosebumps down your arms.

“Looks pretty on you,” he mumbled mindlessly, causing your lips to twitch up, “it pulled me towards it, just like you’ve been pulling me since the day one.”

Your lips parted at how proud Jake was at that line, not even realizing how cheesy it sounded. At the end of the day, you were more than happy to indulge in his whims and fancies, “you’re really going all in tonight, huh?”

He bit his lip, tongue playing with his piercing as he paid for the necklace without thinking twice, stepping closer. He fastened the necklace for you, nimble fingers careful against the back of your neck. His breath ghosted warm over your skin as he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear for a second, “looks perfect on you.”

You turned to face him fully. The air between you felt thicker, charged. You reached up and adjusted the starfish so it sat right, your fingers brushing his chest. “Thank you,” you whispered, voice softer. For a moment you just stood there, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, the phantom feeling of all those almost-kisses making your pulse race.

In hindsight, moments like these made everything feel effortless. Can’t be helped when he looked at you like that.

Eventually the crowd thinned and you reached the wooden railing where the market met the beach. Waves rolled in dark below, fairy lights twinkling behind you. Jake leaned beside you at first, then pulled you in front of him, arms wrapped around your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder. Fuck—you liked it. You liked the heat he held in his body and heart, you liked how solid and warm he felt pressed against your back, like he was anchoring you to the moment.

His breath tickled your ear as he murmured, “this is nice. Just you and me and the ocean, no one interrupting for once.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken up so soon, jinxing his peace in the process as your phone started ringing, causing him to groan and for you to stifle your laugh. The caller ID displayed a cat emoji, it was Jungwon’s call. 

You answered with a sigh, “hey, Won.”

“Where the hell are you?” Jungwon’s voice came through sharp “we’re all sitting at dinner and Karina said you vanished right after your shower, Jake is missing too. Did Jake kidnap you again? I swear to god, if that idiot is—”

Jake’s arms tightened around you instantly. You could feel his smirk against your shoulder before he even moved. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to the side of your neck in a warm kiss. The cool metal of his lip piercing brushed your skin first, sending a shiver racing down your spine. Your eyes drifting close at the feeling of Jake, and you swore he was out to kill you.

“I’m fine, relax,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “I’m just at the night market. It’s loud out here, sorry—”

Jake didn’t give you a chance to finish. He kissed lower, open-mouthed and slow, sucking gently right below your ear. You wondered why did he have to be so skilled with his mouth, making you breathe harder with barely two kisses. 

“What was that?” Jungwon asked immediately, suspicion thick in his tone, “Y/N, are you okay? Is he with you right now?”

“Nothing—just tripped on the sand,” you managed, but your voice was already breathier. Jake’s nimble fingers spread across your stomach, pulling you tighter against him as he found that sensitive spot again and sucked harder, his piercing dragging teasingly with every movement.

A tiny, involuntary whine slipped out of you.

Jungwon went quiet for half a second,“was that—oh my god. He’s doing something, isn’t he? I fucking knew it. Jake, if you’re listening, I’m going to murder you—”

You tried your best to not react, to not embarrass yourself further, you really did try, but Jake had a point to prove. He moved to the curve where your neck met your shoulder, lavishing it with filthy, open-mouthed kisses. He sucked deep enough to leave marks, one of his hands slipped just under the hem of your dress, fingers tracing the expanse of your hip. A proper, breathy whimper tore from your throat before you could bite it back.

Before Jungwon could scream again, you mumbled breathily, “gotta go, talk later.” Another gasp left your lips as you hung up. 

The second the call ended, the night air felt ten degrees hotter. You spun around in Jake’s arms so fast it made your head spin, “you absolute fucking menace,” you hissed, clearly looking fucked out, and Jake swore he could get used to this. 

His grin was lazy as he licked the piercing slowly, eyes blown black with want, “looked inviting, couldn’t stop myself,” he rasped, “you sound so fucking pretty when you’re trying not to fall apart for me, fuck.”

Before he could say anything else, you shoved him back hard against the railing. Your hands fisted in his shirt as you attacked his neck with the same filthy hunger he’d shown you. Your mouth latched onto the warm, salty skin under his jaw, sucking hard, tongue swirling as you marked him right back. Jake groaned deep in his chest, the sound guttural and raw, one hand flying to grip the back of your head, fingers threading tight in your hair.

You kissed lower, open-mouthed and desperate, sucking bruises along the strong column of his throat. When you reached the junction of his neck and shoulder you bit down, then soothed it with long, wet strokes of your tongue. Jake’s hips jerked forward, pressing his hard cock against your stomach with a low, wrecked moan.

You both should’ve been thankful it was an empty area, not that you cared anymore, but to focus on anything else was a bit tricky at the moment. 

Jake groaned, “you’re gonna kill me, baby.”

You pulled back just enough to hover right in front of his lips. Your mouths were so close that every ragged breath mingled. His pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed dark. The thick outline of his cock throbbed against you through his pants. That phantom feeling of all the almost-kisses burning between you felt so carnally torturous you could barely think straight. Yeah, you were both completely fucked.

You stayed right there, teasing, your mouth so close but never quite closing the gap. Jake made this desperate, broken sound in his throat, leaning in like he was dying for it. You pulled back just enough, smirking against the edge of his lips, your fingers slipping under his shirt to rake your nails lightly down his abs.

“Payback,” you whispered, voice husky and dripping with want.

Jake’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, a low groan rumbling in his chest as your nails dragged over his skin. His hands flexed hard on your waist, hips pressing forward once more so you could feel exactly how affected he was. Then you stepped back, both of you breathing hard, faces flushed, lips swollen.

Jake ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to pull himself together, “Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, eyes never leaving yours, “you’re really gonna kill me.”

It almost felt like an edging session with how many almosts you’d managed to have so far, but it also made things interesting. 

You bit your lip, feeling the heat in your own face, your thighs still pressed tight together, “come on, we should head back before Jungwon actually comes looking with that taser he’s got.”

“He’s got a taser?” 

“Well, let’s not ask why,” you chuckled, letting Jake interlace your fingers with his. 

The walk appeared peaceful for the onlookers, who were completely oblivious to your inner turmoil. You just prayed it wouldn’t reach to the point you’d drag Jake into your bedroom yourself, like some horny rabbit. Regardless, you both were good at pretending and that led to some normalcy where Jake learned more about you, your job, the little cat you have, the food you like, the drinks. Basically, everything one discusses on their first date. Was this a date? It felt like one. 

Jake was beaming, swinging your hands together with his boyish smile when he realized that you lived one hour away from him, already planning on meeting you once you go back (you didn’t wish to leave this place), but his enthusiasm warmed your heart, enough that you weren’t opposed to the idea of continuing whatever this was after the trip. 

“Your lips are swollen,” you pointed out, wondering how they even got so plump and kissable. 

Jake touched his lips, “if you keep pointing shit like that then I’m not gonna make it back to the resort without dragging you into the trees somewhere.”

The words sent another pulse of heat through you, but you both kept walking like everything was perfectly fine. Like your panties weren’t ruined and his pants weren’t tented.

“You’d like that too much,” you teased, glancing sideways at him. The fairy lights were behind you now, but the flush on his cheeks and the way his jaw kept tightening were impossible to miss.

“Way too much,” he murmured, pulling you closer to him. 

“Jake, we’re supposed to be walking back normally, remember? Pretending we’re not both stupidly turned on right now,” you managed to let out. 

Jake glanced at you, eyes dark, “yeah? How’s that going for you?” His thumb stroked the back of your hand, sending sparks up your arm.

“Terribly,” you admitted with a breathless laugh, “you’re hard, aren’t you?”

He groaned softly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “painfully. And you’ve got my marks all over your neck. Looks fucking good on you, by the way.”

The walk back felt endless in the best and worst way. Every brush of shoulders, every shared glance, every quiet laugh carried heavy tension underneath. Jake kept stealing looks at your lips, at the necklace he’d given you resting against your collarbone, at the way your dress moved against your thighs. You couldn’t stop staring at the fresh hickeys you’d left on his throat, the way his tank top clung to his chest, the obvious bulge he kept adjusting when he thought you weren’t looking.

By the time you reached your rooms, thankfully not running into Jungwon, Jake looked at you expectantly. Your heart was racing, and god knows every cell within you was aware that you’d grown to like Jake more than you intended. 

You stepped closer, rose onto your toes, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, right at the corner of his mouth.

“Good night, Jake,” you whispered against his skin, letting your lips brush there for a second longer than necessary. Your hand rested on his chest, feeling how fast his heart was pounding.

He nodded, swallowing hard. His eyes were dark, lips parted like he wanted to say something important—maybe stay, maybe fuck this, come here, maybe something even more dangerous. But nothing came out as he just stared at you, jaw tight, that desperate hunger written all over his face.

You gave him one last small smile and slipped inside, closing the door behind you. The second you were alone, you leaned against it, trying to catch your breath, body still buzzing.

Barely two minutes passed before you heard the soft thud on your balcony. Then a knock—hesitant at first, then firmer, and it kept on going as you walked over, heart hammering, and slid the glass door open along with the curtains.

Jake stood there, breathing hard, hair messy from the wind, eyes wild. He didn’t wait for an invitation. The second the door was open wide enough, he stepped inside, cupped your face with both hands, and slotted his lips against yours like he’d been starving for it. You didn’t think twice before kissing him back just as fervently, feeling the warmth of him, the cool metal of his piercing, the lingering taste of ice cream on his lips. It felt perfect, igniting a hunger within you. 

His mouth moved against yours with raw need, tongue sliding hot and demanding past your lips as he backed you further into the room. A low groan rumbled in his chest when you kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.

One of his hands slid into your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted while the other gripped your waist, pressing your body flush against his. You could feel how hard he still was, thick and insistent against your stomach as he walked you backward until your back hit the wall.

When you moaned into his mouth he lost it a little more, hips rolling forward, grinding against you with a broken sound that went straight between your legs.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, forehead pressed to yours, both of you panting.

“Couldn’t fucking wait,” he rasped, “not another second.”

“Don’t stop then,” you whispered, pulling him into another kiss, lips parted as he sucked into your mouth hungrily, your hands roaming under his tank top, nails dragging down his back.

“Let me stay the night,” he begged against your skin, “i’ll be good, jus’ wanna kiss you, hold you.”

He leaned in again before you could answer, and you laughed breathlessly into his mouth, and he was savoring every second.

“Jake—”

Another kiss, softer but no less hungry.

“I promise,” he murmured, lips brushing yours with every word, “just you and me in that bed. My arms around you, kissing you right here.” He pressed his mouth to the corner of your lips, “and here,” another kiss, deeper, “all night if you let me.”

You were trembling against him, heat pooling low in your belly, “okay,” you whispered, “stay.”

The relief in his eyes was instant. He kissed you hard, lifting you effortlessly so your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you toward the bed. He laid you down gently, crawling over you without breaking the kiss, his body settling between your thighs.

For the rest of the night, he kept his word—mostly.

You had consumed your fair share of holiday romance movies before, and each time you were left wondering how anyone could fall for someone within such a short span of time. That’s probably the beauty of human connections—the universe just pokes your heart and says, yes, that’s the one. 

Jake was pretty sure he felt that in his bones, though the initial strategy was to seduce you, he somehow managed to make an absolute fool out of himself each time, and yet you stayed with him with that pretty smile of yours, causing him to stay undeterred on his mission. 

Regardless, now that the sunlight had managed to creep in your room, and your eyes had adjusted enough to find Jake’s sleeping figure clinging onto you, you didn’t know what to feel. He was beautiful in the ways the poems are beautiful to readers. It scared you, how he wore his heart on his sleeve, how he didn’t hesitate to provide you with his undivided attention, how he simply wanted and basked in your attention. 

It was the inevitable outcome really, especially because Jake stayed true to his word and didn’t go beyond kissing despite how much he craved it. He kissed you as if he couldn’t breathe without breathing you in, and somewhere along the lines, he managed to drift into dreamland with his lips pressed against yours. You had to maneuver his head to rest against your neck instead, and even through the sleep, he managed to snuggle closer as if you’d been his home all this while. 

Now, looking at him, you can’t help but trace his features with the tip of your finger, starting from his eyebrows, down to his pretty cheekbone, and the perfect slope of his nose. Your actions were soft, well timed so as to not disturb him, yet it was hard when you traced his bottom lip, the piercing that you still feel the ghost of on your lips.

With a deep breath, you moved your hand back only for Jake’s fingers to wrap around your wrist and bring it back. You gasped softly at how fluffy he appeared, smiling faintly as he pressed a lingering kiss on the pad of your thumb, urging you to cup his cheek with a smile and you complied without much hesitation. No words were exchanged, no promises of what was to come, but the actions were enough for your mind to solidify that it was more than a holiday fling.

It was the perfect morning. 

For Jungwon, it was borderline preposterous. While Jake was beaming, chomping on his omelette on the other table with the guys, Jungwon and the girls had managed to arrange yet another interrogation session with you, this time demanding answers for the hickey(s) on your clavicle. The answer was obvious, but it’s the details they wished to gather. 

“You could’ve informed us,” Jungwon huffed, tearing the bread into two and offering you one, “abandoning us on a holiday, wow!”

“I don’t understand how you still treat her like a kid when she’s always around doing one night stands,” Karina deadpans, successfully making Jungwon huff, but that’s the least of her worries. Wiggling her eyebrows, she leans in, “was he good? Is he big? Does he moan?”

You almost choked out a laugh at how serious they were, even Yunjin and Ningning had leaned in now, as if you were giving out classified information. 

“We literally just kissed, and yes his lips are as soft as they look, and no the piercing doesn’t hurt me, and yes he gave me those hickeys, and no we didn’t go beyond that, and yes he moans,” you answered, and they seemed satisfied at how you managed to answer all questions without them even asking half of them. 

Ningning sighed dreamily, “it’s so romantic! It would have been better if you were with a girl, but I guess he’s as pretty as one,” your whole group looked his way and he almost choked and still managed to smile, making you chuckle, “as long as you’re happy. Oh you’re growing up so fast.”

Karina shakes her head at Ningning, “it’s not even been a week since we met,” and then smiles, “but i’m glad we did.”

Yunjin chuckled, “you guys are like my sisters already.”

While this adorable conversation went on, you looked back at Jake, who was struggling as Beomgyu and Hyuck opened up a few buttons of his shirt to tease him about the possessive marks you’d left all over him. This group was truly hilarious. 

After that, you didn’t find much time to be around Jake, much to his dismay, as you and Karina got ready together for the day. The group reconvened at breakfast with Chris dramatically announcing the plan for the final full day.

“Water sports extravaganza, babies! We got Jet skis, banana boats, parasailing, the works. Last day means we go out with a bang!” Everyone cheered, already buzzing with energy despite the slight hangovers from last night’s chaos (they’d gone clubbing).

Jake’s eyes found yours across the table immediately, that bright, hopeful grin breaking through even as Jungwon tried to wedge himself between you two on the walk to the vans, “you’re riding with me on the jet ski, right?” Jake called out, ignoring Jungwon’s glare.

“Obviously,” you shot back, and the way his whole face lit up made your chest feel warm.

The beach was breathtakingly beautiful, full of energetic people who probably had the same plans to enjoy their own holidays. Somehow, you managed to look into Jake’s eyes, they were so expressive, shining bright in a way that you felt pretty under his gaze. Jay had told you that Jake dotes on you, not caring about the timeframe you shared here, he was gone. And maybe, so were you. 

It didn’t take much time for your group to go and rent out everything, while Jake stood on the side doing mental gymnastics before dragging Jay and whispering something in his ear, joining his hands in a pleading action, which caused Jay to sigh. So, when Jay came over to distract Jungwon and take him away, you weren’t shocked, but amused. 

Jake wasted no time, grabbing your hand with undeterred enthusiasm and practically dragging you toward the jet skis. “Finally,” he muttered under his breath, that sweet desperation bleeding into his voice as he helped you onto the back of the bright red machine. His hands lingered on your waist a second longer than necessary, thumbs pressing into your sides like he needed the contact to stay grounded.

“Missed me already?” You teased, “we literally slept together.”

“Not enough,” Jake breathed out, “maybe if you touched my face for longer,” he drags out, making you roll your eyes. But hey, Jake loved that feeling, loved your gentle caress—it was something he’d never felt from anyone before.

He helped you sit on the Jetski, not that you needed help, he simply wanted an excuse to touch you. Then, he swung in behind you, pressing his chest firmly behind you as he reached around to grip the handlebars, arms bracketing you completely, locking you in his own little world. 

“Ready?” He asked, lips brushing your ear.

You nodded, turning around to see Karina and Hyuck smirking, you only winked their way, “yeah, let’s go.”

 The engine roared to life, and the sudden burst of speed had you laughing as the jet ski cut through the sparkling water, wind whipping your hair and salt spray cooling your skin.

For a while he just drove, letting you enjoy the rush, but you could feel the tension in his body, the way his thighs bracketed yours. Eventually he slowed the jet ski in a quieter stretch of water, far enough from the group’s screams that their shouts were just distant echoes.

“Turn around for me,” he murmured against your ear, your breath hitching with how you felt it down your spine. 

You shifted carefully, swinging your legs over so you were facing him, knees on either side of his hips. Jake’s hands settled on your waist, steadying you as the jet ski bobbed gently on the waves. He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded and so close you could count the droplets clinging to his lashes.

“Been wanting to do this since we left the room,” he breathed. His thumbs traced slow circles on your hips, sending warmth pooling low in your stomach, “you have no idea what you do to me. Call it astral projection—like my soul leaves my body every time you smile at me like that.”

You laughed softly, but it came out a little breathless, “you’re so dramatic.”

“Only for you,” he chimes in with a crooked grin, nose brushing yours, “merciful fate, I suppose, that you ended up on this trip with me. Otherwise I’d still be wondering what it feels like to have you this close.”

“Let’s not think about that,” you mumbled, “cause i’m here, with you.”

His hands slid higher, wantonly possessive as they traced up your sides under the edge of your life vest. The kiss that followed was slow and deep, full of desperation and all the tension that had been building since last night. His lip piercing dragged cool against your bottom lip as his tongue slipped into your mouth, one hand cupping the back of your neck to tilt your head exactly how he wanted.

When you moaned softly into the kiss, Jake groaned in response, pulling you closer until your chest was flush against his. The jet ski rocked beneath you with the gentle waves, but neither of you cared. His forehead stayed pressed to yours even when the kiss broke, both of you breathing hard, lips brushing with every exhale.

You’d lost the count of how many times Jake had kissed you already, but it was never enough, never. 

The distant shouts from the group eventually pulled you both back to reality. Jake helped you turn around again, arms wrapping securely around your waist as he drove back toward the main area, his chin resting on your shoulder and lips occasionally brushing your neck just to make you shiver.

When you rejoined the others, the group was already hyped up and moving on to the next activity. Beomgyu and Hyuck were wrestling over who got to drive the banana boat while Chris yelled instructions no one was listening to. You did feel bad for Chris, so you ended up listening and he spoke with his hand on his heart, touched. 

“Banana boat time!” Karina called, waving you over, whispering urgently about the movie-esque stunt you and Jake pulled. Jungwon immediately appeared at your side like a loyal shadow, grabbing your arm. “You’re sitting with me,” he declared, shooting Jake a pointed look, “safety reasons.”

Jake’s jaw tightened for half a second, but he forced a grin, “sure, man. Safety first.” The petulant resolve in his eyes said otherwise.

The banana boat was pure chaos. You ended up sandwiched between Jungwon and Jake somehow—Jungwon on your left looking determined to protect you, Jake on your right with his thigh pressed firmly against yours. The second the boat started speeding, everyone was screaming and laughing, gripping the handles for dear life.

Every sharp turn sent the whole group sliding. Jake used every opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, steadying you while his fingers slipped under the hem of your life vest, tracing warm circles on your skin. Jungwon kept trying to wedge himself closer, muttering, “don’t you dare let go of the handle, Y/N.”

You were laughing so hard your stomach hurt, water spraying everywhere as the boat whipped around. Jake leaned in during one particularly wild turn, lips brushing your ear, “this would be a lot more fun if it was just us,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear.

When the boat finally flipped (as banana boats always do), Jake made sure to pull you up first, hands lingering on your waist in the water, bodies pressed close for a second longer than necessary while Jungwon sputtered nearby, wiping water from his face and Yunjin dragging him away. 

The rest of the afternoon blurred into more water sports. Parasailing had you and Jake soaring high above the ocean together, wind in your hair, his hand tightly holding yours as he whispered how he didn’t want the trip to end. Chicken fights in the shallows had you on his shoulders again, thighs clamped around his neck while he gripped you steady, smug every time you helped take down another team. Flyboarding attempts turned into comedic disasters—Beomgyu failed spectacularly, providing endless entertainment for everyone.

Through it all, Jake stayed close, finding excuses to touch you, to pull you aside for quick kisses when the group was distracted, his glances making heat pool low in your stomach. By the time you were going back, Jungwon was clinging onto your left arm, Jake mirroring him on the right. Beomgyu capturing every bit of it with the biggest smile he could muster. 

The group trudged back to the resort, everyone was exhausted, sunburned, salty, and glowing with that particular brand of vacation happiness that bordered on melancholy. You barely had time to rinse the sea from your skin and slip into an acceptable dinner dress before a knock sounded at your door. Jake stood there, looking unfairly devastating in a crisp white button-up with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, hair still slightly damp and tousled, a small bouquet of wildflowers in hand.

You tried not to show your excitement but failed miserably. He had been clear that he wished to dine with you, alone. So by default, you ended up telling Karina to make sure Jungwon doesn’t follow, and sadly, Sunghoon had caught Jake as he was getting ready. The chances of them appearing there were high now, yet you didn’t know what Jake had planned. 

“You look—” Jake took a deep breath as you leaned against the doorframe, urging him to continue, “—you, uh, fuck—so pretty. You look beautiful.”

The words tumbled out of him like he’d been holding them in all day, raw and unguarded. His eyes traced over you slowly, from the way the dress hugged your figure to the faint marks he’d left on your collarbone, lingering there with a flicker of possessive heat. He stepped closer, offering the wildflowers with slightly shaky hands.

“You’re gonna kill me tonight,” he added, “I’ve been thinking about this since the jet ski. Just us.”

You took the bouquet, the sweet scent of the flowers making you smile up at him, “you don’t look too bad yourself, Sim. Ready to finally have me alone?”

He looked rather hungry as he spoke, “more than ready.”

He extended his hand, and when you placed yours on top of his, he lifted it up to kiss your knuckles. You swore if he kept on doing this, you’d have to kidnap him and take him home with you. The walk was quiet, also because Jake appeared to be nervous, glancing your way every few seconds to sense any sort of discomfort. 

The path wound down toward a secluded curve of the beach, lanterns flickering like fireflies caught in the palms. The distant hum of the resort faded behind you, replaced by the rhythmic hush of waves and the soft rustle of leaves. Jake’s thumb kept stroking the back of your hand in slow, absent circles, his grip warm and steady despite the slight tremor of nerves.

When the spot came into view, your breath caught. A small table had been set intimately in the sand, draped in soft linen and illuminated by strings of fairy lights woven through the palm fronds overhead. They cast a warm, golden glow that danced across the waves like scattered stars. Your favorite dishes from the trip waited along with a chilled bottle of wine. Soft music played faintly from a hidden speaker, something gentle and romantic that blended seamlessly with the ocean’s murmur.

“Oh my god,” you whispered in awe. Jake had managed to arrange this in the midst of the busy day you had, and you were truly rendered speechless. 

When Jake realized that you, in fact, liked it, he proceeded to pull your chair out for you, helping you get comfortable before he proceeded to sit right across from you. Well, he wished to sit right next to you, but then he wouldn’t be able to look at your face, which would be a problem, so he chose to be right in front—which appeared to be another problem simply because now he couldn’t hold your hand comfortably or kiss you. 

Jake couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so clingy, so handsy. Of course, his friends can attest that he likes to hug, likes to cuddle, but in a romantic aspect, Jake had never gotten a chance to do so. So he stared, almost as if he was gravitating towards you, and how you styled the necklace he’d gotten for you. He had to bite down his smile seeing the accessory adorn your neck. 

It was only then he realized that he should probably get up and serve you wine, your eyes following his moves. It felt like the old movies that did not have audio, the storyline being purely based on acting and how much their actions can convey. Now, it was your turn to stare at how serious Jake was, passing you your drink, pushing your plate towards you and filling it up with small portions of dishes, also keeping a bottle of water on the side, and coconut water just in case you didn’t wish to consume alcohol. 

That’s how Jake was fundamentally at his core—affectionate and kind, the guy who had somehow managed to become the subject of your affections in such a short span of time. When he finally saw how you sat with sparkly eyes, your face resting on your palm, he almost felt shy. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, finally sitting down again, while also asking you to proceed to eat first. 

You stare at him for a moment longer, “you’re just beautiful,” you whispered, and he froze, not expecting any compliments, especially being called beautiful. 

“Where’s this coming from?” He chuckled, but the faint pink on his ears completely betrayed his nonchalance.

You shrugged, “just saying.” It was true though, and before he could start stuttering, you managed to stab a piece of pasta and extend your hand as he helplessly stared at it with his pulse spiking, because how did such a small gesture make him so nervous. 

He did proceed to eat it, pointedly looking into your eyes, the intimacy of the moment wrapping you both in a warm bubble. Only then he started to act like his own self with a point to prove. You had fed him, so he made it his personal mission to do the same tenfold. 

“You’re just feeding me,” you chuckled, and he nodded with painful seriousness. 

“Of course, that’s what I’m here for,” he replied earnestly, making you fall for him a little more, “besides, that’s the whole point of dinner.”

“You have to eat as well, baby,” you mumbled with a smile, watching the exact second he realized that you’d used an endearment for him.

So, Jake did what he had to since he couldn’t bear the distance anymore—he dragged his chair towards you and plopped down right next to you with a huff, gulping as he stared at you, “you’ve got something—”

He didn’t bother pointing it out, simply leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth, swiping his tongue with a gentle caress to clean the sauce. Your eyes drifted close at the sensation, because each kiss with Jake felt like a new feeling altogether, “Jake,” you breathed out, grabbing his arm.

“Yeah,” he whispered against your lips, not pulling back in sweet desperation of breathing the same air as you. 

However, a very obvious flash caught your eyes, and Jake didn’t have to know who was behind it, so he groaned, dropping his head on your shoulder as you turned your head to look at the source of your disruption. 

It was a sight truly—Beomgyu half-crouched behind a palm tree, phone raised like a spy on a mission. One by one the rest emerged from their terrible hiding spots—Jungwon looking guilty, Karina and Ningning giggling behind another tree, Hyuck with a triumphant grin, Sunghoon leaning casually against a rock, almost acting as one, and Jay trying to drag everyone inside but to no avail.

Much to Jake’s dismay, you laughed and they took it as an invitation, suddenly sprinting towards your table, minus Jay who was walking with a headache forming. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jake groaned yet again, wrapping his arms around your waist possessively, pulling you closer as the group swarmed in with zero shame, dragging extra chairs and stealing plates (where did they even get that from?), “I hate every single one of you right now.”

And just like that, Jake’s perfect dinner date with you turned into a group karaoke session. 

It took five minutes and several pinky promises that appeared to be more serious than the unbreakable vow before Jake succeeded to monetize your time by offering these idiots his card and permission to use it at the bar.

He’d also tamed Jungwon with a private conversation that apparently went well enough for Jungwon to walk over to you stiffly and give his blessings (what was that about?). Overall, you were thoroughly entertained watching Jake go around and try to make sure the night worked out well while you chatted with girls. 

“He’s—actually so lovely,” you’d mumbled with warmth, and they pulled you in a hug. 

Karina got emotional, “i’m so happy for you, you deserve the best,” she’d murmured softly, Yunjin and Ningning nodding alongside. But then they proceeded to treat you like a kid and talk about protection, and so you’d grabbed Jake’s hand and pulled him away from the group, which by the way, continued to scream your way in crazy enthusiasm about how to spend the night together. 

“Run,” Jake mumbled, grabbing your hand and pulling you away. You only chuckled and followed him along with butterflies in your stomach, as if you’d turned into your teen self and were experiencing your first hand holding session with your crush. 

“This feels more like a chase than a date,” you breathed out, finally stopping. 

Jake only gave a tired smiled, “I swear, these idiots won’t let us live in peace,” he muttered, pulling you closer with a serious look, “I just wanna spend time with you.”

“Now you can,” you whispered, letting him rest his head on your shoulder yet again. 

“At this rate we won’t go beyond kissing,” he groaned and you almost laughed at how wounded he sounded, “I haven’t even touched your erogenous zones yet—”

You pulled away, horrified, “you did not just say that—”

“Why not? I didn’t wanna sound crude—”

“So what’s next? You call your dick a phallus?” You teased, amusement swirling in your eyes and it was Jake’s turn to be appalled. 

“What—no!” Jake burst out, eyes wide with mock horror as he clutched his chest like you’d just insulted his firstborn,“I have standards. It’s called a cock, thank you very much. Or Jake Jr. on special occasions.”

You snorted so hard you nearly choked on your own laughter, doubling over on the narrow trail. The rest of the group had finally disappeared, leaving the two of you alone (finally) in your hallway. 

“Jake Jr.,” you repeated with your brow raised and a slow nod, “please tell me you don’t actually call it that in bed. I’ll drown myself in the next river.”

He stepped closer, that signature cocky grin returning full force, “only if you’re very, very good and ask nicely. Otherwise it’s just the reason you’re gonna walk funny tomorrow.”

“Like you have been? You look cute all blue balled,” you poked his chest, still grinning.

Jake clutched the spot like you’d wounded him mortally, “wow, i’m being insulted instead of being rewarded?”

Lord help you, you’d grown to actually love his dramatics, and how he had no trouble taking jokes upon himself, furthering them even with nothing but wide smiles—really fucking pretty smiles, “you’re such a saint,” you whispered, pulling him back and closer.

“A very horny, very patient saint who just wants to spend time with you without an audience. Is that too much to ask?”

You fished your keycard out, waving it teasingly in front of his face, “then stop monologuing and get inside before someone sees us.”

He practically vibrated with giddy energy as the lock clicked open. The second you were both through the door he kicked it shut, spun you around, and pressed you gently against it with a bright, infectious laugh, “finally. No Jungwon, no Sunghoon, no Gyu vlogging our every move. Just you and me.”

You looped your arms around his neck, matching his smile, “poor Jake Jr. must be thrilled.”

Jake’s cheeks flushed with that happy, horny glow as he nuzzled into your neck, peppering it with quick, silly kisses that made you squirm and giggle, then he mumbled your name with such warmth, you couldn’t help but look into his eyes lovingly. 

“I really like you,” he confessed, looking ready to attack you. 

You can’t get enough, you really can’t, “show it then, Jakey.”

With your head falling back against the door, Jake wastes no time in sucking a mark on your neck. He wants to mark every bit of you, claim every inch of you. His mouth is hot and eager, sucking hard enough to pull a breathy laugh from your throat that dissolves into a moan when he grinds his hips forward, letting you feel exactly how thrilled his now half-hard cock is. 

“Fuck—finally,” he laughs against your skin, the sound giddy and wrecked at the same time, like he still can’t believe he gets to have you like this. His hands roam everywhere, sliding under your dress to squeeze your ass, pulling you tighter against him as he rolls his hips in slow, teasing circles, “been dying to do this without someone fucking interrupting us.”

You tug his hair, yanking his mouth back up to yours, and the kiss that follows is long and messy—open-mouthed and desperate, tongues sliding wetly, teeth clacking when you both grin too wide mid-kiss. There’s nothing elegant about it, simply pure, giddy hunger. You consume each other, licking into each other’s mouths like you’re trying to taste every laugh, every teasing word from the entire trip. Jake groans happily when you suck on his tongue, that little piercing cool against your own.

He tastes like sugar and salt from the beach, and he kisses like he’s been holding back for days—which he has. You still can’t get enough. Your hands push his shirt up and off, nails dragging down his back as he shoves your dress higher, palms greedy on your thighs. Every touch makes you both laugh breathlessly, little giggles breaking through the moans because he keeps making these delighted, happy noises every time his fingers find a new inch of skin. He is happy and not shy to show it. 

“You want me?” Jake murmurs hotly, trying to coax you into confessing something that’d sooth his nerves. 

He looks undone, a man at your command, lips parted and swollen and so very inviting. You feel drunk, licking into his mouth, “need. I need you.”

The reaction was instantaneous because how can Jake not obey you? He wants to see you cry out of pleasure, to reduce you into a puddle just for him. Nevertheless, his hands travel right up, tracing up your thigh, hand splayed enough to avoid the spot where you needed him the most, only travelling all the way up your backbone, tracing it with his knuckles as you leaned into him further, letting him wander freely. 

He unclasps your bra with a flick of his fingers, the fabric loosening under your dress, and lets out a low, shaky exhale when his palms slide beneath it to cup your bare breasts.

“Fuck,” he breathes, thumb brushing over your nipple until it tightens under his touch. He pushes the dress higher, bunching it around your ribs so he can mouth at your chest through the loosened bra, tongue hot and insistent, sucking one nipple into his mouth while his hand works the other. The cool metal of his piercing drags over sensitive skin with every slow swirl of his tongue, making your back arch sharply.

“Your body is burning,” you gasped, carding your fingers into his hair. 

Jake hummed against you, the sheer possessiveness of his hold grounding you, “fucking feel feverish, all because of you,” he mumbled, nipping at your sensitive nipples.

Your eyes stayed locked on his face, one of his hands wrapping around your thigh to hold you in place—it was then you realized you’d been squirming, arching and urging him to take more of you, offering yourself on a silver platter if you must, “already? What will you do when you fuck me, hm?” 

Jake smirks, pinching your nipple in a manner that had you moaning openly, a sound so heavenly in the midst of an act so sinful. He watches the way your body reacts, eyes dark and fixed on your face like he’s memorizing every flicker of pleasure. “When I fuck you?” he repeats, voice low and rough, thumb still rolling the sensitive peak slowly. “I’m gonna take my time with you first, spread you open and use my mouth until you’re dripping down my chin and begging for more.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing, your control slipping. Jake only pushed your thighs apart to accommodate for the intrusion that was to happen. 

“Then,” he continues, the words vibrating against you, “I’ll slide in so fucking deep you feel me for days. Slow at first, so you can feel every inch, then harder when you start falling apart around me.” He nips at your nipple, then soothes it with his tongue. “I want to watch your face the whole time. Want to hear exactly how you sound when you fall apart on my cock.”

His hand on your thigh tightens for a moment, then begins to roam—sliding slowly upward, fingers tracing the soft skin of your inner thigh, brushing teasingly close before moving higher. He cups you over your panties, feeling how soaked the fabric is, and lets out a low groan against your breast as his palm presses firmly, rubbing slow circles right where you need it.

You’re breathing fast, fingers twisted in his hair, hips shifting restlessly. Jake lifts his head just enough to look at you, lips wet and swollen, eyes burning.

“Sounds good to you, hm baby?” He murmurs, voice hoarse, thumb still circling your nipple, “or do you want me to be more specific?”

You knew it, you knew Jake was good at talking, especially in the bedroom. The words so utterly filthy, almost as if you were dreaming of this, but no. Jake was real, and smitten with you, absolutely ready to please your whole being and soul, because that would bring him just as much pleasure if not more, “k—keep going, fuck—”

Jake stood up straight, lips brushing yours, “the sky looks pretty, doesn’t it?” He offers, confusing you to no ends at how the conversation shifted to that.

“What?” You let out a broken sigh, his grip on your pussy tightening in a squeeze.

“We shouldn’t miss it, baby,” he chuckles, pulling you into him, and suddenly, you were being lifted up and carried toward the open balcony doors. The cool night breeze hit your heated skin as he stepped outside with you wrapped around him, your legs locked at his waist, dress bunched high around your hips.

He pressed your back against the cool metal railing, the ocean stretching out dark and endless below, the sky above scattered with stars. One arm stayed wrapped under your ass, holding you up effortlessly, while his other hand stayed between your thighs. Eventually, you sat down on the thick and sturdy railing. It was only then Jake stepped back to admire you. 

“Fuck, look at that view,” he murmured, unbuttoning his shirt as you appreciated the view right back. 

To Jake, he saw a painting. The dark blanket of sky twinkling with stars all around, moon brightening up the sky. From Jake’s angle, it was right behind your head, making it appear like a halo, “you’re so damn stunning,” Jake found himself breathing hard, your disheveled state doing it for him, sitting there with legs spread, dress bunched up, bra halfway down revealing your tits he’d left bites all over. 

Perfect. You were perfect, carved out perfectly to fit into Jake’s arms, his hands, his fucking heart. You shivered at how dark his gaze was, or maybe the chilly winds, you didn’t know anymore. He bit his lip so hard he tasted metal. 

He stepped back in, hands sliding up your thighs, spreading them wider on the railing. The cool breeze made you shiver as his warm palms contrasted against your skin. Without another word he leaned in and consumed your mouth, tongue sliding against yours like he was trying to taste every moan you’d ever made for him, you only licked the blood off of him. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties. In one sharp tug he tore the lace apart, the sound of fabric ripping cutting through the night air. You gasped against his mouth, breaking the kiss.

“Jake—someone could see us,” you whispered, voice shaky with both panic and arousal, glancing toward the other balconies. You were sure there had been other couples who did this, but for you, being semi public and so bare was a first. 

He only chuckled, like the possibility amused him more than it worried him, “let them,” he murmured, nipping at your bottom lip, “let them watch how fucking pretty you look when I touch you.”

He pulled you down from the railing, spun you around in one smooth motion, and pressed your front against the cool metal. His open shirt fell against your bare back, the warm skin of his chest and stomach flush to you, heat bleeding through the thin fabric of your bunched-up dress. One arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight, while his other hand slid between your legs from behind.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he groaned into your ear, two fingers gliding through your folds before pushing inside you in one smooth thrust. He curled them immediately, finding that spot that made your knees weak, “look at the view, baby. Look at the ocean while I fuck you with my fingers.”

You moaned, head falling back against his shoulder as he started pumping slowly, your hand grabbing his arm to hold on to something, fingers digging in so deep, your nails left crescent marks all over. 

The cool railing pressed into your hips, his open shirt warm against your back, the contrast making every sensation sharper.

“That’s it,” he whispered hotly against your ear, fingers thrusting faster, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles, “I want you to remember exactly where you were when I made you cum for the first time, yeah?”

You whimpered, hips rocking back against his hand, the wet sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you mixing with the distant waves, “Jake— fuck, it’s too much, someone’s gonna hear—”

“Good,” he groaned, biting down gently on your earlobe as he curled his fingers harder, “let them, they’d thank me for it, such pretty moans for me, fucking hell. You’re clenching around me so fucking good, baby. You like this? Being fucked open right here where anyone could look up and see you falling apart for me?”

“Yes—god, yes,” you gasped, one hand gripping the railing, the other reaching back to clutch his thigh. “Don’t stop.”

Jake groaned, pressing his hard cock against your ass, grinding slowly as his fingers kept thrusting, “I can feel how close you are,” he rasped into your ear, voice filthy, “cmon, baby. Let go all over my hand while you stare at the ocean. I want to feel you soak my fingers.”

His words, the steady thrust of his fingers, the way his open shirt kept brushing your bare back—it all pushed you over the edge. You came with a broken moan, thighs shaking, cunt pulsing around his fingers as pleasure crashed through you in heavy waves.

Jake didn’t stop, fucking you through it with slow, deep strokes, murmuring praise against your neck until you were trembling and breathless against the railing, “so fucking good for me,” he whispered, kissing the side of your throat as you came down, thighs still twitching around his hand. He slowly eased his fingers out, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean with a low, satisfied groan. Then he turned you around, cupped your face, and kissed you deep—letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he walked you backward into the room.

The moment you crossed the threshold, the urgency took over. You stumbled together, lips locked, hands roaming. Your hip knocked into a side table, sending a glass and a small lamp crashing to the floor. Neither of you cared. Jake kicked the debris aside with a laugh against your mouth, pushing you further until the back of your knees hit the bed.

You fell onto the mattress together, still kissing, tongues sliding hot and messy. Jake sat up just long enough to shove the rest of your dress up and off, tossing it somewhere behind him, “you’re so needy,” you chuckled. 

Your bra followed next, “yeah, fuck i’ve been waiting.”

His fingers were quick and eager as he finally stripped you completely bare as if he was possessed, “then wait a little more.”

You didn’t let him stay in control for long. The second he leaned back down, you pushed at his shoulders, flipping him onto his back beneath you. Jake let out a surprised but delighted sound as you straddled his hips, your bare cunt pressing against the hard bulge in his pants.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hands instantly gripping your waist.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you leaned down and dragged your mouth across his chest, kissing and licking every inch of warm skin. When you reached one of his nipples, you sucked it into your mouth, tongue swirling before you bit down gently. Jake hissed, hips bucking up against you.

You moved to the other side, sucking harder, leaving a dark mark right above his heart. Then lower—you dragged your teeth and tongue across his abs, sucking possessive bruises into the defined lines there, marking him the way he’d marked you.

“Shit, baby,” he rasped, one hand sliding into your hair, “you’re gonna leave marks all over me.”

“Good,” you whispered against his skin, sucking another bruise just below his ribs, “I want everyone to see them tomorrow.”

You sat up slightly and slid your hand down his torso, palming the thick, hard outline of his cock through his pants. Jake groaned deeply, head falling back against the pillows as you rubbed him slowly, feeling him throb under your touch.

“Fuck—your hand feels so good,” he breathed, hips rolling up into your palm, “been so hard for you all day. You have no idea.”

You squeezed him through the fabric, stroking him firmly as you leaned down to kiss him again, “I think I have some idea,” you murmured against his lips, squeezing him a tad tighter, “you’ve been pressing this against me every chance you got.”

He was flushed the prettiest shade of pink. No touch, no kiss had made him feel this fucked out before, and you were just getting started, sitting up on him with a fucking goddess bestowed upon him to bless his body. He groaned, eyes shifting to the night stand, a bottle of red wine kept there, “baby, I’m thirsty,” he bit his bottom lip, “won’t you help me?”

You followed his line of sight to see what he was hinting at, wondering if he wanted to drink wine before furthering the act, only for him to stare at your mouth, followed by your cunt, licking his lips to insinuate the meaning behind his words. 

“You’re such a freak, Sim Jaeyun,” you breathed, half laughing, turned on beyond belief, “just how many people have you done this with?”

Jake only chuckles, grabbing your thighs and switching positions in a second, towering over you now, “you’d be the first, if you let me, my love.”

You narrowed your eyes, but he didn’t let you ponder much as he chased your lips again. It was admirable how Jake couldn’t, for the life of him, stay away, as if addicted to the feeling of your lips, or maybe just you. He’s a simple man, he knows what he wants and goes for it.

“Tell me you don’t want it and i won’t do it,” Jake offered like the gentleman he is, his eyes however, not so gentle. 

You shifted onto your back against the rumpled sheets, heart hammering a wild staccato as you drew your knees up and parted your thighs in deliberate invitation. He knelt between your spread legs like a man at the altar. His hands, large and veined, smoothed reverently up the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh until your muscles quivered beneath his touch. His dark eyes tracked every movement, lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them as he watched you reach for the bottle of deep crimson wine.

“God, you’re really going to do it,” he breathed, voice rough with awe, “look at you—so fucking good for me.”

You held his gaze as you tilted the bottle, letting the first slow, chilled stream pour into the warm valley between your breasts. The wine traced a decadent path down your sternum, pooling in the delicate dip of your navel before splitting into teasing rivulets. A shiver tore through you at the stark contrast, making your breath catch in a soft, needy gasp.

Jake’s hands gripped your thighs tighter, thumbs pressing deep into the flesh as he leaned in closer, mouth hovering just above your dripping core. He waited, eyes locked on the glistening trail with predatory focus, every muscle in his shoulders coiled with anticipation, watching the ruby wine cascade directly over your cunt. The first cool drop kissed your swollen folds, sliding languidly between them.

The second it reached there, his mouth was there. A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat as he slurped the wine straight from your pussy, tongue dragging broad and slow through your slick heat, chasing every crimson droplet mixed with your arousal. The obscene sound of him drinking you down sent a violent jolt of pleasure up your spine.

“Fuck—Jaeyun,” you moaned, back arching sharply off the bed. Your fingers tangled harshly in his hair, hips rolling instinctively against his face as he devoured you. His tongue plunged inside you, curling, stroking, then flicked up to circle your clit with precision that made your thighs tremble uncontrollably.

You poured again, slower this time, watching the wine flood over your pussy and drip down to your ass. Jake groaned in pure bliss, the vibration traveling straight to your core as he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, two thick fingers sliding deep into your clenching heat without warning.

“Shit—yes, just like that,” you gasped, voice breaking, “god, you look so fucking pretty drinking from me.”

He pulled back just enough to speak, lips shiny and stained dark red, eyes glassy with lust, “pour more, I want to drown in you, I need to.”

Your hand shook slightly with arousal as you obeyed, tipping the bottle once more. The chilled stream hit your clit directly this time, making you cry out sharply. Jake was ready—mouth open, tongue extended, catching every drop before sealing his lips around your throbbing bundle of nerves again. His fingers curled relentlessly against that perfect spot inside you, stroking with devastating rhythm while he drank you down like fine wine.

“The housekeeping will be horrified tomorrow,” you managed between broken moans. 

Jake chuckled darkly against your cunt, “I’ll apologize to them in person,” he rasped, voice wrecked and dripping with filthy promise as he thrust his fingers deeper, faster, “maybe I’ll even let them watch how beautifully you fall apart for me. But right now?” He sucked your clit hard, then released it with a wet pop, “focus on me, princess. Let me ruin this pretty pussy with my tongue until you forget every name but mine.”

And he was successful truly, because you couldn’t remember any other name. His name was the only one on your lips, breathed out in a chant as if it were a mantra. 

He poured the next stream himself this time, controlling the flow so it dripped slowly over your clit while his mouth followed instantly, slurping and licking with renewed hunger. The sight was too hot, the feeling too intense for your body to not react. Your orgasm hit like a tidal fucking wave—back bowing, thighs clamping around his head as you came with a sharp, breathless cry, pulsing hard around his fingers while he drank every last drop of wine and release like a man starved.

Even as you trembled through the aftershocks, Jake kept licking softly, savoring you, eyes never leaving your face. Your body was still humming, every nerve singing as he gentled his mouth against your oversensitive folds, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your dripping slit like he couldn’t bear to part from you. A soft, broken whimper escaped your lips when his tongue flicked one last teasing stripe over your clit before he finally lifted his head.

Jake crawled up your body, his chest brushing against your wine-slicked breasts as he settled between your thighs. One large hand cupped the back of your neck, tilting your face to his while the other traced lazy, possessive patterns over your hip and waist. His lips found yours instantly, wine-drenched. He licked into your mouth with the same devotion he’d shown your cunt, tongues sliding together in a slow, filthy dance that left you dizzy.

“You did so well for me, y’know?” He whispered, “fucking perfect for me, just for me.”

“Just for you,” you confirmed in a breath, staring at the man who’d made you cum so easily, granting you the best orgasm you’d ever had. 

“Gonna ruin you for everyone else,” he promises in a chaste kiss.  

“Jake—” you breathed against his mouth, rolling your hips up to chase his touch, “I need more, I need you.”

A smile curved his lips as he sat back on his heels, eyes locked on yours with molten intensity. Without breaking the gaze, he shoved his pants and boxers down his thighs, kicking them aside impatiently. His cock sprang free—thick, flushed a deep red, the head glistening with precum and veins standing out prominently along the impressive length. It twitched under your hungry stare.

Jake wrapped a hand around the base and leaned forward again, pressing his forehead to yours. He dragged the heavy head of his cock through your soaked folds in one slow, deliberate stroke, coating himself thoroughly in your cum. The slick, obscene glide made you both groan.

“Never got so hard for anyone before, it fucking hurts,” he groaned, his tip nudging your clit with every pass. One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, the other braced beside your head as he rolled his hips in teasing circles, the thick head catching at your entrance before sliding back up.

“Don’t make me wait then, yeah?” You all but begged, trying to sound confident but your voice gave it away. 

“Patience has never been my virtue,” he murmured, leaning down, claiming your mouth in a slow kiss while he dragged the heavy, flushed head of his cock through your soaked folds one final time, coating himself thoroughly in your slick and the remnants of wine.

“Please—fuck,” you groaned as he pushed inside, stretching your entrance with a burning, delicious pressure that made your breath hitch sharply. Jake groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he paused, letting you feel every ridge and vein as he worked the thick head inside with shallow, careful rocks of his hips.

“Shh—easy, baby,” he whispered, rubbing soothing circles on your clavicle, his breath warm against your parted lips.

You exhaled shakily, fingers digging into his shoulders as the thick head stretched you open, “you’re too fucking big.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a slow, deep kiss to your lips, “I’ve got you. Just relax for me.” He rocked forward gently, feeding you another inch. The stretch burned sweetly, your walls yielding reluctantly even as you dripped around him. Jake groaned softly into your mouth, the sound raw and intimate, “fuck—you’re gripping me so tight. So warm inside.”

You moaned quietly against his tongue, legs tightening around his waist, “deeper,” you whispered when he paused, “I want all of you.”

Jake’s breath hitched. He kissed you again, slower this time, as he pushed forward, sinking another thick inch, “you’re taking me so well,” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours, “feel how deep I’m going?”

He did, hips rolling in a measured glide until the last thick inch disappeared inside you. When he bottomed out, pelvis flush against yours, balls pressed tight to your skin, a shared shudder ran through both of you. The fullness was obscene, a heavy pressure that made your cunt flutter wildly around his entire length.

“Jesus,” Jake whispered, voice wrecked, mouth claiming yours in a filthy kiss full of tongue and teeth, “you’re squeezing me, baby.”

You rolled your hips experimentally, drawing a guttural moan from him. “Move,” you demanded softly against his lips, “I need you to fuck me.”

He started with devastating control—long, luxurious drags of his cock that pulled almost completely out before sliding back in to the hilt. Each thrust stirred your insides, the thick head dragging along every sensitive ridge within you. The wet, obscene squelch of your arousal coating his shaft grew louder with every plunge.

“Like this?” He groaned low, one hand sliding down to grip your ass, tilting you open wider for him. “Feel how easily you’re sucking me back in every time I pull out?”

“Yes,” you gasped, meeting his rhythm with rising urgency, nails scoring down his back, “harder, Jaeyun. I want to feel you tomorrow.”

His pace quickened, hips snapping with more force. The bed creaked beneath you as he drove deeper, pounding into that spot that made white-hot sparks explode behind your eyes. Sweat slicked your bodies where they joined, the lingering scent of wine mixing with raw sex in the air.

He brought you to the edge once with relentless precision, faster thrusts, thumb circling your clit until your thighs quaked and your moans turned sharp and desperate. Then he slowed to a torturous grind, keeping his cock buried deep while circling his hips, rubbing firmly against that devastating spot without mercy.

“Not yet,” he breathed against your mouth, stealing another deep kiss, “I want you aching for it. Feel how your cunt is trying to pull me deeper even now?”

You whimpered, hips chasing his, body trembling with need, “please, I’m so close.”

“I know,” he murmured, voice dark with lust as he kissed along your throat, sucking a mark into your skin, “hold it for me. Just a little longer.”

“So fucking mean,” you whined, actually whined and Jake found immense pleasure in that. 

“You have no idea how good you sound when you whine like that,” he murmured, voice low and rough, dragging his teeth lightly over the fresh mark he’d left, “all breathless and so frustrated because I won’t let you have it yet.” He kept that cruel, grinding rhythm, cock buried to the hilt, hips circling in slow, deliberate presses that rubbed relentlessly against the spot that made your vision blur. Every rotation sent sparks racing up your spine, keeping you balanced on that agonizing knife-edge.

Your fingers twisted into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him hiss, “oh my god,” you gasped, hips rolling desperately against him, chasing more friction, “you’re enjoying this way too much—”

Jake chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours. He captured your mouth in a messy kiss before pulling back just enough to speak against your lips, “guilty. The way your body keeps tightening around me, like it’s begging even when your mouth is complaining.” He gave one sharp thrust, then returned to the torturous grind, “tell me exactly how it feels.”

You shuddered, “feels so good, Jakey, want more.”

His eyes darkened with satisfaction, “good girl,” he whispered, rewarding you with a series of deeper, faster strokes that had the bedframe protesting. He pushed you right to the brink again—hips snapping, thumb working your clit with devastating precision until your back arched clean off the mattress and your moans turned into broken, high-pitched gasps.

You let out a genuine sob of frustration, nails raking down his back, “Jake! I fucking swear—”

He kissed the corner of your eye, licking up your tear, “one more time,” he promised, voice strained with his own restraint, “I need to feel you right on the edge like this. So close I can taste how badly you want to cum.”

He built you up again, slower this time, drawing it out until every nerve in your body felt electrified. Your skin was fever-hot, slick with sweat, the remnants of wine sticky between your pressed bodies. When you were shaking uncontrollably, walls fluttering wildly around his thick cock, he finally gave in.

“Turn over,” he said suddenly, voice rough with urgency, “face down. I want that ass in the air while I fuck you properly.”

You barely registered the command before his hands were on you, strong and decisive. He flipped you onto your stomach and yanked your hips up high, pressing your chest and face into the pillows. The position left you utterly vulnerable—back deeply arched, knees spread, cunt exposed and dripping. Jake knelt behind you, spreading your cheeks with both hands so he could watch as he lined up and drove back in with one powerful thrust.

The new angle punched the air from your lungs. He felt even thicker, reaching impossibly deeper, the head of his cock dragging against places that made your toes curl and your fingers fist the sheets.

“Fuck—this is insane,” you moaned into the pillow, pushing back against him.

Jake groaned loudly, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks as he started a brutal rhythm. “This is what I wanted,” he panted, watching mesmerized as his glistening cock disappeared between your cheeks with every thrust. 

He fucked you with long, punishing strokes, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room alongside your muffled moans. One hand slid up your spine to press between your shoulder blades, keeping your chest pinned down while the other reached around to rub your clit in firm, relentless circles.

You were babbling into the pillow, words slurring together, “right there. I’ve never felt anything like this.”

“Neither have I,” he admitted, voice breaking on a groan as he leaned over you, chest to your back, hips snapping relentlessly. 

He kept you suspended on that final edge longer than before, slowing whenever you got too close, grinding deep while whispering filthy observations against your ear. Your thighs were soaked, sheets ruined beneath you, body trembling violently from the prolonged denial.

When he finally let you cum, it hit you like nothing before, pure unadulterated pleasure, just the greatest feeling ever. Your walls convulsed around him in powerful, rhythmic spasms, a raw, shattered moan tearing from your throat as pleasure flooded every cell in your body. Jake fucked you through it without mercy, hips stuttering but never stopping, drawing out every last wave until you were a quivering, gasping mess.

Only then did he pull out.

With a guttural groan he flipped you onto your back again and knelt between your spread legs. His fist flew over his swollen, dripping cock, eyes locked on your flushed, pulsing pussy. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted across your skin—painting your swollen folds, your sensitive clit, and your mound in messy, glistening streaks. He stroked himself through every pulse, milking out every drop until you were thoroughly marked and shining with him.

You lay there utterly spent, chest heaving, body limp and buzzing. Jake collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, pressing slow, tender kisses to your damp forehead and swollen lips as you both fought to catch your breath.

Minutes passed in heavy, satisfied silence, your fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest. Then you felt it—his cock, already twitching and hardening again against your thigh. 

“Jake, what the fuck?” You asked, horrified. 

Jake let out a low, breathless laugh against your neck, nipping the skin gently, “c’mon, Jake Jr. likes you.”

“No, absolutely not. I’m tired,” you huffed, though your body said otherwise as you pushed back against him, “besides, we still have half a day tomorrow.

Jake gasped, losing character as if offended, “half a day? You do realize that i’m not gonna leave you alone for like, forever, right?” He implored more than anything, turning you towards him.

Maybe you wanted to hear that, maybe that’s why you even worded it out so clearly. His eyes were softer now, the intense lust easing into something gentler as he brushed damp strands of hair away from your face. One hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking tenderly along your jaw while the other rested possessively on your hip, thumb tracing small circles on your skin. 

You leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips, “yeah,” you whispered against his mouth, and for once, you really wanted it to work out, “I want that too.”

A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He pulled you closer, wrapping you in his arms, his fingers trailed soothingly down your spine, grounding you as your breathing finally evened out.

But then that familiar hunger crept back into his touch. His hand slid lower, squeezing your ass as he pressed his now fully hard cock against your thigh again.

“So, round two?”

It felt like déjà vu, sitting on the lounger by the pool with Jungwon eating his strawberry dipped in chocolate. This time, however, your eyes kept drifting towards a certain person, and you weren’t shy about it, borderline ogling even, because he displayed all the marks on his body oh so proudly. 

Some seemed as if an animal had scratched him, you being the animal in this situation. 

Standing across the deck, Jake was putting on another performance with his towel slung low around his hips like some bashful maiden guarding virtue (again) while shamelessly flexing every line of his torso. The same ridiculous confidence, the same dramatic flair. Only now it landed differently. 

When he caught you staring, he let out a bemused smile. How the turn tables. He abandoned the group mid-sentence and walked straight toward you, shorts slipping dangerously low on his hips with every step.

“Well, well,” he drawled when he reached your lounger, “you’re finally looking at me.”

You tilted your head, letting your eyes drift deliberately over his marked-up chest, “maybe I like what I see now.”

Jake’s playful mask slipped for a moment, revealing absolute molten adoration in his gaze. He leaned down, one hand bracing on the back of your lounger, the other gently catching your chin.

“Don’t say things like that unless you want a crazy, obsessive boyfriend.”

Ah, the label. Was it early? You couldn’t say much, granted whatever went down on this trip wasn’t exactly a slow burn. So, you didn’t bother answering with words. Instead, you reached up, fingers brushing one of the marks you’d left on his skin.

That was enough.

Jake closed the distance and kissed you all saccharine in its sweetness. It wasn’t the frantic hunger of stolen nights, but something quieter, heavier with promise. His lips moved against yours like he was savoring every second, thumb stroking your jaw with tender reverence.

When he finally pulled back, forehead resting against yours, you only smiled at him. 

“I think i’d like that, Jakey.”

THANK YOU FOR READING

PERM TAGLIST: @jaeminvore @hoondrop @ajayke-reads @lunalovesstories @deobitifull @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @woniebae @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear @jaehoonii @itsgivingitalian @bunhoons @ma-riiii @heeliopheelia @haanigurl @kaykay11sworld @glitterjay @skzooluvr @yongbokified @prkhaven @kristynaaah @filmnings @mwahvvis @mintchocoddeonut @s0shroe @onlyticket-home @meowieshibal @in-somnias-world @tokkisluv @choicila @bambiihee @taesnumber1 @yenienha @angelhyuka @heesmiles @enhypens-hoe @loverofmusic0027 @raikea10 @criceofpain @dollhoonki @wonscrchy @lostgirlysstuff @meimeiyh @gobighee @bitemehoon @svintsandghosts 

perm taglist open! send an ask or comment to be added!

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[nanilis]

Let’s all celebrate Aria’s birthday by reading her birthday au ‼️‼️🎉🎉

[nanilis]

You followed me. So we're friends now? 🥺

Istg I thought I already followed you. And I went into your profile to get recs (bcz you’re always reading the best things on moablr) and saw that I wasn’t? 🫩🫩🫩 im so sorry 😭😭😭

But we’ve been friends for a while!!! We share a special bond trust

[nanilis]

What do we prefer people for a txt smau:

Txt flirting with you (they have a crush on u)

Toxic exes!txt when you break up with them

Txt as your brothers best friend who you have a crush on

Voting ended onJun 18

[nanilis]

just came here to say

NO LABELS PT.2 JULY 10

[nanilis]

Anyone have some txt fake dating aus to recommend? It’s the trope I’m into rn

[nanilis]

A quick reminder to the people of tumblr, yeonjun is mine 👍 he’s my man and the loml. I feel like I don’t show my love for him enough on here.