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2i1han · 1 month ago

Text

— request time

𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎

pairing : tourguide!leehan x fem!reader ⭑ wc 5.9k

genre : oneshot fluff , romance

synopsis: you've liked leehan since seventh grade, but over time, you drifted apart. now, you reunite while working at the same aquarium. and, as you spend more time together, you realize your connection never truly faded.

(thank you to the anon who requested this! it was really fun and cute to write, though the word count ended up longer than i expected. also, this is the peak fish leehan ff i've ever written. it's also giving a slowly then all at once alternate universe, except leehan isn't a brooding loser here LMAO.)

ever since seventh grade, you've never quite gotten over your first crush—the quiet biology nerd who always sat alone by the pond, watching the fish swim as if it were his own personal netflix. his chocolate eyes would follow their every movement, his fingers occasionally adjusting the hem of his uniform reflexively, completely immersed in a world of shiney scales and rippling water. you used to steal glances from afar, wondering what thoughts swam through his head as he watched them. even now, years later, as a college student, that same fluttery feeling overtakes you whenever you think of kim leehan.

growing up in a small town meant living in a loop—same streets, same people, same predictable routines. it wasn't separation from him that you feared—it was how close you always were. ever since that first conversation in middle school, when leehan had filled the silence with enthusiastic talk about fish anatomy and marine ecosystems, you'd been left staring, struggling to keep up. his voice had been calm but full of life, his hands gesturing in small movements as he explained something about gill respiration. meanwhile, all you could do was nod along, mouth slightly open, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

after that, you never dared to strike up another deep conversation with him. not because you didn't like his nerdy ramblings, if anything, you found them endearing, but because you were afraid. afraid you wouldn't be able to keep up, that your lack of knowledge would make him lose interest in talking to you.

so, instead of giving up, you did something ridiculous. you spent years secretly studying marine biology, at first just to understand him better, but somewhere along the way, it stopped being about leehan and started becoming something you genuinely loved. the books stacked on your bedside table, the late nights spent watching documentaries about ocean ecosystems, the hours scrolling through marine biology forums—it all became second nature.

but none of that mattered now because you had bigger problems.

"we'll just call you if we decide to hire you," the restaurant owner said, offering you a polite but clearly dismissive smile.

you forced a tight-lipped smile in return, bowing slightly before stepping out of the small diner. the second the door swung shut behind you, you let out a groan, rubbing your temples in frustration.

this was your fifth stop today. the heat of the afternoon sun pressed down on you, sweat sticking to the nape of your neck as you trudged down the sidewalk, your steps were heavy. your stomach rumbled from hunger, but you ignored it, too exhausted to even think about food.

as you walked, slouching under the weight of your disappointment, a voice called out.

"still nothing?"

liz, your ever-reliable best friend, caught up to you effortlessly, her sneakers scuffing against the pavement as she matched your pace. she held a cold drink in her hands, condensation dripping onto her fingers.

"yeah, this sucks so bad," you muttered, rolling your eyes, blowing a strand of hair out of your face.

then, casually, as if she wasn't about to change the course of your entire life, liz dropped the biggest, most life-altering suggestion of your existence.

"maybe you can apply for a job at the aquarium where leehan works."

you stopped in your tracks so abruptly that liz took two more steps before realizing.

your gasped, eyes widening as if she'd just handed you a winning lottery ticket. "wait, what?"

liz turned to face you, unfazed. "leehan. he's been working at the new aquarium since last month, you didn't know?"

no, you didn't. how could you not have known? your heart pounded against your ribs, giddy surging through you like a wave. this was perfect. like a missing puzzle piece snapping into place. you had spent years pouring yourself into marine biology, and now, not only did you have a chance at working with what you loved—you had a chance at being close to leehan again.

"i- i haven't heard from him in so long," you admitted, gripping liz's arm, as if to steady yourself in reality.

"well, now you do," she said with a grin. "and now you have a shot."

a slow smile spread across your face. "thank you, liz. i'm going first thing tomorrow!"

and, true to your word, you did exactly that.

at the first hint of sunrise, you bolted out of bed, running errands for your grandmother at record speed, wiping down countertops before she could even ask, running to the market, sweeping the floor with urgency that dust swirled in the air like a mini storm. you weren't about to let anything get in your way today.

then came the most important part—choosing the perfect outfit. you had spent an embarrassing amount of time standing in front of the mirror, eventually settling on your all-time-favorite blue denim jumper, paired with a white off-shoulder long-sleeve top. your well-worn bambi sneakers completed the look, the same ones you had owned since you were fifteen. not that it mattered much. you never grew taller anyway, still barely reaching leehan's shoulder.

by the time you arrived at the aquarium, the town was lit up in soft morning light. the air smelled crisp, tinged with the faint scent of saltwater from the nearby shore.

you took a deep breath, adjusting the strap of your bag and tightening your ponytail before pushing your square glasses up the bridge of your nose.

the building's glass entrance reflected your slightly disheveled reflection, the nervous excitement evident in your posture.

you followed the receptionist down a hallway lined with vibrant posters of marine life, framed images of colorful reefs, deep-sea creatures, and conservation efforts decorated the walls, making you feel both excited and slightly nervous.

the hiring manager, a middle-aged man with kind eyes and graying hair, sat behind a sturdy desk in a modest office. behind him, a large observation window revealed a floor-to-ceiling tank.

"so," he began, flipping through your résumé, "you're interested in the tour guide position?"

"yes," you replied, straightening in your seat. "i've been studying marine biology for years as a personal passion. i love sharing information about marine life, and i think guiding people through the aquarium would be a perfect way to combine that."

he nodded thoughtfully. "we need people who are both knowledgeable and engaging. guests, especially kids—should feel excited when they learn about the ocean. are you comfortable speaking in front of groups?"

you hesitated for half a second before nodding. "i think so! i get a little nervous, but when it’s about something i love, i can talk for hours."

that made the manager chuckle. he leaned back in his chair, giving you an assessing look before finally nodding. "alright. we'll start you on a trial period. you'll shadow one of our senior guides this week, and if all goes well, we'll make it official."

it took a moment for his words to sink in. your hands tightened around the strap of your bag as excitement flooded your chest.

"really?" you asked, eyes wide.

"really," he confirmed with an easy smile. "welcome aboard."

you thanked him repeatedly, barely containing your enthusiasm as you shook his hand. after running through a few more details, he dismissed you, and you stepped back into the main aquarium hall.

you wandered through the exhibits, the aquarium was even more breathtaking than you had realized—massive glass tanks stretched across the walls, casting a dreamy blue glow. families huddled around displays, children pointing excitedly at the creatures swimming inside. a pair of stingrays drifted lazily near the glass.

you paused near a large touch tank, watching a group of kids giggle as they carefully dipped their fingers into the water to touch a passing starfish.

and then— "you look a little lost."

the voice was familiar, enough to send a sudden jolt through your chest.

you turned quickly, and there was leehan who stood a few steps away, his dark blue staff polo neatly tucked in, his id badge clipped to his collar. a clipboard rested in his hands, though his attention was fully on you. his brown hair was slightly tousled, probably from running his fingers through it too many times—a habit he never seemed to grow out of.

"leehan," you blurted, staring at him as if he were a mirage.

he blinked, then let out a small chuckle. "didn't expect to see you here."

you shook your head with a breathy laugh. "yeah, i—uh, i just got hired."

leehan's eyebrows lifted slightly. "here?"

"yep," you said, still a little dazed. "as a tour guide."

he tilted his head, processing that. "you? giving aquarium tours?"

you pursed your lips. "wow, okay, thanks for the vote of confidence."

leehan grinned, amused. "no, i mean, i just didn't know you were into marine life."

you hesitated before rubbing the back of your neck. "i wasn't… at first. but then i got really into it over the years."

"huh." he studied you for a beat, then chuckled softly. "i always thought i talked too much about fish back in school. didn't think anyone actually listened."

your cheeks warmed. "well… i guess someone did."

leehan smiled, a genuine one this time, his posture relaxing. "then i guess you'll be stuck seeing a lot of me. we're probably gonna work together pretty often."

your heart fluttered. "yeah," you said, grinning. "i guess so."

leehan tilted his head toward the tanks. "want me to show you around? might as well start getting familiar with the place."

you nodded, unable to hide your excitement. "i'd love that."

the rest of the day passed in a motion of laughter, glimmering water, and the sound of leehan's voice weaving through the air. he led you through every corner of the place, pointing at different species of fish with consistent enthusiasm. even though you had spent years studying marine life, he still managed to surprise you with little details and fun facts that you had never come across before.

"see that one?" leehan gestured toward a tank where a tiny, almost translucent fish wiggled between coral. "that's a glass catfish. their bodies are so clear you can see their organs."

you leaned closer, watching in awe. "that's insane… how have i never read about this before?"

leehan chuckled, the corner of his lips quirking up. "guess i still have a few tricks up my sleeve."

and honestly, that just made you admire him more. he was smart, kind, and effortlessly passionate about what he loved—something that had never changed since middle school.

at some point, while strolling past the jellyfish exhibit, leehan casually mentioned, "oh, by the way, i'll be your co-worker since... we're the only tour guides around."

your steps faltered. "wait—seriously?"

he turned to you with an amused expression. "yeah, didn't i say that?"

no, he absolutely did not. but if your heart could physically do somersaults, it would have done a whole routine.

you barely managed to keep your excitement in check, nodding in what you hoped was a casual manner. "that's… cool. we'll be working together a lot, then."

leehan hummed in agreement, hands tucked into his pockets. "guess so."

the thought of seeing him almost every day, working side by side, was enough to make your entire week.

after the long tour, when your feet were starting to ache and the aquarium lights dimmed slightly for the evening, leehan suddenly suggested, "hey, want a snack? there's a hotdog stall outside."

you didn't even hesitate. "absolutely."

so there you were, sitting side by side on a wooden bench facing the seaside, the distant sound of waves filled the street. the scent of grilled food mixed with the salty ocean breeze as the sky painted itself in hues of orange and pink.

leehan took a bite of his corndog before glancing at you with a small smile. "it's actually nice to see you again, y/n."

you turned to him, heart fluttering slightly.

"you're the only one who approached me in seventh grade," he continued, voice softer now, almost thoughtful. "you actually listened to my weird fish agendas. never called me an oddball for it."

your fingers tightened slightly around the napkin in your hand as warmth bloomed in your chest. god, if your heart could physically leap out of your chest, it would have already.

you ducked your head slightly, cheeks heating up. "me too," you admitted with a wide smile. "and, well… i think fishes are nice."

leehan let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head in amusement.

"yeah," he said, nudging your shoulder lightly. "they really are."

after that day, you had to part ways with leehan earlier than you wanted, as he had to return to his post. if this had been any other situation, you would have sulked in your room, reminiscing about every interaction, but tomorrow held the assurance of the start of your job. luckily, it arrived sooner than expected.

the first days of your internship went smoother and far beyond your expectations, if you're going to be honest. the first few minutes of your shifts were always easy—walking around the exhibits, chatting casually with leehan before the guests started approaching. at first, you felt a little awkward, your words occasionally stumbling as you tried to recall all the information you'd studied.

"that's an anemone," you told a curious child, crouching beside the tank. "it may look like a plant, but it's actually a marine animal!"

the kid gasped, eyes widening as he pressed his face closer to the glass. "like in finding nemo?"

"exactly!" you chuckled, watching as he turned excitedly to his mom to repeat the new fact.

moments like these made your job fulfilling. it also helped that leehan was always nearby whenever you hesitated on identifying a particular species.

"that's a flashlight fish," he murmured one time when he noticed you squinting at a glowing fish behind the glass. "it uses bioluminescent bacteria to light up and communicate with others in the dark."

you blinked up at him, impressed. "that's so cool… i mean, i knew that, of course," you joked, nudging his arm lightly.

he only smirked in response.

the way he effortlessly spoke about the sea creatures, made you admire him even more. your heart had been set on marine biology because of him, and now here you were, sharing this space, learning from him, existing in his world.

and he didn’t seem to mind your presence at all.

for the next few weeks, a routine settled between you two. you love your job, the people were kind, and every day ended the same— walking to the convenience store across the pedestrian lane, where leehan would insist on buying you your favorite kimbap and milk.

"you don't have to pay for me every time," you huffed, nudging his arm as he handed you the food.

"just let me," he grinned, brushing off your protest like it was nothing. "i promise tomorrow you're on your own."

but, of course, tomorrow always came with him pulling out his wallet again.

leehan was easy to be around, much easier than you had expected. he was warm, soft-spoken yet surprisingly funny, always throwing in quiet remarks that made you laugh when you least expected it.

"you know, if you stare at the seahorses any longer, they might start staring back," he teased one afternoon as he caught you zoning out in front of one of the tanks.

you turned to him, flustered. "i wasn't!"

"you totally were," he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

the only problem? his face—his distractingly, unfairly handsome face. you would try to focus on what he was saying, nodding along as he spoke about coral bleaching or deep-sea fish, but half the time, your brain just screamed, wow, he's really pretty. blah blah blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff

and the worst part? it wasn't just his looks anymore. the more you got to know him, the deeper you found yourself sinking. he wasn't just the quiet, nerdy boy you had admired from afar—he was kind, attentive, and effortlessly charming in his own way.

but did he see you the same way?

that thought haunted you late at night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying every interaction. maybe you were overthinking. maybe he was just being friendly. after all, you were the only one who had ever shown genuine interest in his passion. maybe he was just grateful for that.

you sighed, frustration bubbling up. why can't my crush like me back? but then, you reminded yourself that this was already more than you could have asked for.

you had become his friend. his co-worker. you got to spend time with him in a way you had only dreamed of back then. and for now, that was enough.

the day off had finally arrived, and by all means, you were supposed to be curled up in your room, wrapped in the comfort of your onesie with a book in hand. instead, here you were, standing by the shore near the aquarium, the salty breeze tousling the loose strands of your hair. the morning sunlight bathed the scene before you—the gentle waves rolling onto the sand, the distant chatter of families and tourists, and the seagulls gliding lazily above.

you wore a light blue gingham dress, the soft fabric swaying slightly in the wind, and over your shoulders, a white knitted cardigan kept the chill at bay. your hair was tied up into a neat bun, though a few strands had slipped free, framing your face. you leaned against the metal railing that separated the shore from the cement platform where various food stalls and the aquarium stood in the middle of it all.

it still felt surreal that leehan had asked you to hang out today. the moment you saw his message hours ago, you had flung your phone onto your bed, pacing the room in a frenzy before bouncing off the walls in excitement. you could've gone with your usual default look—your trusty blue jumper, striped shirt, sneakers, and a messy ponytail, but something about today felt different, special. so, instead, you took the extra time to put yourself together, wanting to look at least somewhat presentable next to him.

would it be silly to think that dressing up for a casual hangout with your crush was totally justifiable? probably. but would it stop you? absolutely not.

you were so lost in your thoughts, replaying the past few hours in your head, that you barely noticed when someone stepped beside you, leaning against the railing quietly.

"enjoying the seagulls?"

your heart nearly leaped out of your chest. snapping out of your daze, you turned your head, and immediately wished you hadn't.

leehan stood beside you, dressed in a black shirt, with beige cardigan that complimented his fair skin, paired with jeans. his usual oversized hoodie and sweatpants were nowhere in sight. instead, his, brown hair was neatly tucked behind his ear, with a few loose strands falling perfectly around his face. and to top it all off, he wasn't wearing his glasses today, revealing his soft, expressive eyes that you suddenly found impossible to look away from.

you felt yourself freeze, blinking once, twice, just to make sure this wasn't some sort of hallucination. dressed up leehan was a rare sight. a painfully attractive one, at that.

he raised a brow at your delayed reaction, a small smile tugging at his lips. "you okay?"

crap, say something. anything.

"uh- yeah," you blurted out, feeling your face heat up. you quickly turned back toward the ocean, willing yourself to focus on the waves instead of the ridiculously handsome boy standing beside you. "weather's pretty clear today."

leehan smirked, "yeah, it is."

the silence that followed wasn't awkward, but rather comfortable—just the two of you standing there, the wind carrying the distant sound of chatters and crashing waves. you stole a quick glance at him, only to find that he was already looking at you.

"let's walk?" leehan straightened up, pushing himself off the railing and turning to face you.

you nodded, smiling. "alright, let's go."

as the two of you strolled side by side, you instinctively took your place on his left. but before you could settle into your place, leehan gently tapped a hand on your shoulder, guiding you to switch places.

"bikes and people running past—might hit you," he explained, flashing a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

you pursed your lips, trying to contain the grin trying to spread across your face. "oh- yeah, right," you stammered.

as you walked, you could feel his gaze on you. you caught glimpses of it from your peripheral vision, but you didn't dare look. if you did, he would see the shade of tomato blooming on your cheeks.

then, in that soft, teasing tone of his, he spoke. "you look different today, hm."

your brows furrowed as you turned to him. "different? me?" you pointed at yourself, playing dumb.

leehan nodded, keeping his gaze forward. "mhm, pretty different." he paused, eyes drifting off as if suddenly fascinated by the stalls lining the street smirk, "like, pretty."

then, he broke into a giggle. you let out an embarrassed laugh, nudging his arm. "why are you laughing? you probably didn't even mean that."

leehan's giggles faded into a small smile, one that felt sincere. "i mean it," he said, glancing at you again. "you look nice."

your smile faltered for a split second—not out of disappointment, but because internally, you were already soaring a thousand miles above the ground, but on the outside, you tried to play it cool.

"thank you...?" you scratched your cheek, voice coming out higher than you intended. "i mean—you look great today too." you chuckled, quickly averting your eyes, "no glasses suit you."

leehan hummed, touching his temple. "really? i'm wearing contacts right now."

you tilted your head slightly. "mhm, well..." you hesitated before finally turning to look at him directly. his eyes met yours, and for a moment, you simply observed. but apparently, your gaze held more power than you thought, because leehan visibly tensed, his ears turning bright red.

you smiled. "you look nice without glasses, but with glasses... you're leehan."

he blinked, processing your words before narrowing his eyes. "i'm what?" he asked.

you shifted on your feet, feeling like you'd just set yourself up for embarrassment. "you're you when you wear glasses... and, well, we're also matching."

the second the words left your mouth, you wanted to disappear. 'matching?? am i deadass?'

leehan didn't say anything at first. just a slow nod. then, after a moment of silence, he suddenly pointed at a food stall. "let's eat there. my treat."

you opened your mouth to object, but before you could get a word out, he swiftly shushed you. "shh, no buts."

with that, he turned on his heel and stepled toward the stall, leaving you standing there, still recovering from the rollercoaster of emotions he'd just put you through.

but then, just as he walked ahead, he casually threw over his shoulder, "also... i'd wear those glasses every day from now on."

he didn't even look back, but you could hear the grin in his voice. you bit your lip, shaking your head with a smile as you caught up to him.

the entire day from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. was a wrap. usually, spending this long outside with liz would leave you drained. you could already picture yourself slumped on a bench, legs aching, hair a mess, and sighing dramatically about the cruelty of existence. but with leehan? it was different. not a single muscle in your foot felt strained, your throat wasn't dry from talking too much, and even your hair, somehow—remained perfectly in place. if anything, every hour with him felt like a breath of fresh air, rejuvenating instead of exhausting.

and then there were the stolen glances. the ones that made your stomach flip and your heart flutter. every time you caught him looking, his ears would turn a bright, almost comical shade of red, and he'd break into giggles like he had just been caught doing something illegal. which, honestly? in the court of your heart, that was a crime. because what was he doing looking at you like that? did he like you? did you have something on your face? or god forbid, did you look ugly?

now, the two of you stood in front of one of the large aquarium tanks, deciding to walk around before it closes. the dim blue light reflecting off your faces as you both gazed at the marine life gliding through the water. schools of silver fish shimmered as they rippled around, and a stingray floated lazily. you and leehan stood close, but still in your own little bubbles, existing side by side.

out of nowhere, leehan let out a soft chuckle, brushing the back of his hand over his mouth as if trying to stifle it.

you turned to him with a puzzled smile. "what?"

he shook his head, hands slipping behind his back, eyes flickering between you and the tank. "i just remembered something," he said, grinning. "back in seventh grade, i was staring at a koi pond, and it's still one of my best memories."

your eyebrows furrowed. "what, just… looking at a pond?"

"not just any pond," he said. "the one where you suddenly sat beside me."

your face scrunched up in confusion as he continued.

"you were wearing a jumper and a blue shirt. your hair was in these…" he gestured vaguely to his own head. "uneven pigtails."

you gasped in mock offense. "they were not uneven!"

"oh, i still remember, they definitely were," he teased before chuckling. "i thought you were, like, some nerd who also like fishes like me, so i just started blabbering about different koi breeds."

leehan paused, biting back another laugh. "but then i turned to you, and you were just..." he suddenly mimicked your exact expression from back then—mouth slightly agape, wide-eyed, and staring so intently at him that it could've burned a hole through his forehead.

you gasped. "i did not look like that!"

"oh, you so did," he said, doubling over laughing as you lightly shoved his shoulder.

"fine, i admit i had no clue what you were talking about back then," you admitted, crossing your arms. "but it's also the exact moment i got interested in fishes, so there."

the second the words left your mouth, your mind froze. you had just exposed yourself.

his laughter faded into a softer smile. "wait… really?"

you nodded, shifting on your feet. "yeah- i mean... at first, i was just trying to understand what you were saying so i wouldn't look dumb, but then… i actually got into it."

leehan's lips parted slightly, as if something was dawning on him. then, with a boyish grin, he hummed, "huh… that's cute."

your face warmed. "shut up."

"i just—" he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "i honestly thought you were super into it that day. i didn't realize you were just trying to keep up."

"well," you fumbled, twisting the fabric of your skirt between your fingers. "i wanted to be your friend so i thought learning about something you love would help… and besides, marine life is actually interesting."

leehan hummed, nodding slowly as he kept his gaze on the tank. then, without looking at you, he muttered, "i actually thought you were really adorable back then."

your heart skipped a beat, but before you could say anything, he continued. "but then you… kind of disappeared. well, not literally," he clarified, squinting as if trying to find the right words. "more like, i noticed you stopped talking to me as much. i thought maybe i weirded you out that day, and honestly?" he let out a self-deprecating laugh. "i got a little sad about it."

you felt a pang of guilt and embarrassment drop in your chest. "it wasn't that," you admitted softly. "i was just… scared you'd think i was uninteresting because i didn't know anything about your hobby." you rocked on the sole of your feet, staring at the glowing reflections on the floor. "that's why i started learning about marine biology. but the more i learned, the more i actually loved it."

leehan turned to face you fully now, a lopsided grin forming. "so you're telling me… you did all that just so you could be friends with me?"

the teasing in his voice made your stomach flip, but before you could deflect, he let out a dramatic sigh, clutching his chest. "that's so heartbreaking. here i was, thinking you actually liked me back then—ow."

you would've laughed, but instead, you internally cursed your luck. he used to like me when i thought i was the most boring person he had ever met?!

forcing out an awkward giggle, you tried to conceal the disappointment in your chest. "oh- really?" you bit your lip, shifting your eyes elsewhere. "well, yeah… what a shame, really."

leehan studied you for a moment, his teasing expression softening into something more sincere. he exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. "honestly, it was the most embarrassing crush ever. i even tried to stop liking fish because i thought it made me weird."

your head snapped toward him. "and here i was spending my entire life liking fish because i thought it'd make you like me," you said with a small, incredulous smile.

he let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "i already liked you, fish or no fish." he sighed. "but… knowing that you found a passion because of me?" his voice was quieter now. "that actually makes me really happy."

your lips parted slightly as you finally looked at him—really looked at him. his eyes sparkled under the dim teal glow of the aquarium, his was relaxed, the light reflected off his face in a way that made your heart feel like it was trying to escape your chest.

and then, his voice dropped even softer. "actually—no." he hesitated, swallowing before continuing. "i like you. i was genuinely happy when i saw you here a week ago. and when you told me you were going to work here, i swear, i was kicking my feet home."

you swear you were soaring up high. your hands clenched at your sides as you tried to process his words. it was like a dream, a dream so surreal that you subtly pinched your leg just to make sure it was actually happening.

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. leehan seemed to take that as hesitation because he quickly backtracked. "no,you don't have to say anything. i'm sorry if that—"

"no," you cut him off, your voice barely above a whisper. "leehan, i like you."

he froze.

"i lied about the whole 'friend' thing," you admitted, your head dropping to the floor. "i just… didn't think you'd like me."

you suddenly felt the presence of leehan's palms hovering near your cheeks, his fingertips hesitating just inches away. "can i?"

you gave a small nod. that was all he needed. his palms, warm and slightly trembling, finally cupped your cheeks, his touch was careful as if he were holding something fragile.

"i can't really say you shouldn't think like that," he assured, his voice dipping lower as he leaned in, his torso bowing slightly to match your height. "because i thought the same too—i thought you wouldn't like me."

your chest pounded at his confession, but before you could speak, he continued, his voice tuned with something raw, and vulnerable.

"but now that i'm close to you again, it feels like a door has reopened. and you don't even know how long i admired you, and waited for this."

your eyes finally flickered up to meet his. a small, barely there, laugh escaped your lips, "me too. it's almost funny."

leehan exhaled, his shoulders loosening slightly, and his other hand came up to cup the other side of your face, thumbs brushing over your smooth cheeks in slow, tender strokes. neither of you spoke. the world had shrunk down to just the two of you—the distant, rhythmic bubbling of water, the gentle gliding of fish behind the glass walls of the aquarium, the silence muffling between breaths.

his starry eyes were locked onto yours. you felt the moment shift, your pulse thrumming louder in your ears as he inched closer. your eyes fluttered shut, and that was his cue.

then—his lips met yours. soft, featherlight, barely a touch, yet enough to send warmth spreading through your entire body. his lips moved with gentle care, patient and unhurried. his thumbs caressed your skin, tracing slow, soothing circles against your cheeks.

your hands, instinctively, reached for him, fingers curling around his torso, pinching around the fabric of his cardigan. he tilted his head slightly, pressing another tender and soft kiss. but you didn't need to tiptoe, didn't need to reach because he was already there, leaning down to meet you effortlessly.

just as slowly as he had pressed a kiss to your lips seconds ago, he pulled away with the same careful hesitation. lingering for a moment. his eyes remained closed. then, slowly, they fluttered open—widened pupils reflecting the soft twinkles of light around you.

both of you let out a breathy chuckle. your hands, which had instinctively wrapped around his torso, loosened their hold, instead trailing down to grasp the hem of his sleeve.

leehan glanced down, noticing the way you clung to his clothing. without a word, he reached for your hands, gently removing them from his shirt—but instead of letting go, he brought them up, his fingers handling yours delicately. his gaze softened as he lifted your hand to his face, pressing a featherlight kiss against your knuckles.

his breath was warm as he whispered, "i've only been dreaming of this... i thought i was waiting for the impossible. and yet, here it is."

his fingers intertwined with yours as he lowered your hand, still holding onto it.

"ditto." you breathed out the word, an indescribable happiness spreading across your face, butterflies stirring restlessly in your stomach.

leehan exhaled a snicker. his fingers brushed a few stray strands from your face, tucking them into place. "would you… want to go out with me?" he asked, his lips curling into a hopeful smile. "a proper date?"

you let out a giggle, tilting your head. "well... isn't this already a proper date?"

leehan let out a grin, shaking his head in amusement. "then," he started, tightening his hold on your hands and swinging them lightly, "would you want to go out with me on a second proper date?"

you let the moment stretch just a little, teasingly squinting at him before breaking into a smile. "yes, yes, leehan. i would." you blinked at him, feeling his hands wrapping warmly around yours.

he laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners, before adding, "and… adopt corydoras too?"

a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you echoed, "and, adopt corydoras too."

#bnd x reader #kim donghyun #boynextdoor #fanfic #leehan #kim leehan x reader #romance #leehan fluff #leehan boynextdoor #leehan bnd #leehan x reader #leehan fanfic #au #bnd ff #bnd #boynextdoor fanfic #bnd fanfic #kim leehan

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loveharlow · 26 days ago

Text

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[12k] After four longs weeks stranded, a miracle comes to you and your friends in the form of a flying fish. But some things are just too good to be true...

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions/graphic depictions of injuries/blood, mentions/graphic depictions of death/violence, kidnapping, Carlos Singh saying "ya know" every other syllable

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

NOW PLAYING‧₊

FROM THE VERY BEGINNING, IT WAS ALWAYS KOOKS AND POGUES. Some people with everything, some…with nothing. That’s the way it's always been. That’s how they wanna keep it.

Some people make the best of it. And some people fight against it. Imagine gold was a part of that. For you and your friends, the treasure was your way out — how you evened the scales. How the pogues win. But at some point, you kind of have to wonder…was the treasure an escape? Or was it a trap?

This was your fourth week on Poguelandia and the sun wasn’t shining as bright as it was when the group of you first arrived. Literally and metaphorically.

The storm that hit last week left you and your group of friends with practically nothing — it killed the shelters you’d built, swept away most of the food inventory and God knows what else. You were back at square one, but there were no dice to roll this time. And even though it wasn’t really even your ideal solution, the group figured it was time to talk about-

“Rescue?” JJ scoffed, eyeing your figure besides him as the two of you constructed spears — replacing the ones that had been swept by the tide. “From what? From…from Paradise?” He said unbelievably, looking at the island around him with a lopsided smile on his face. “I’m not going back. Ever.” He shrugged. “I mean, look around. We got everything we need.”

“Right…” You chuckled, wrapping the twine around the materials in your hands. “Except for food, shelter…a shower.” You proclaimed, a grimace on your dry lips, a product of the lack of fresh water.

“Isn’t this what we wanted?” JJ asked you, blue eyes looking into yours as he sighed. “I mean, this is exactly what we talked about. Surf Trip, remember?”

“Exactly, JJ. Surf Trip. Not a deserted island with nothing for miles.” You tried to reason, your eyebrows raising as you spoke, a mild expression of worry on your face. “Our current food inventory stands at five sardines, four baby crabs, and three and a half coconuts.” You reminded the blonde, wrapping the last of the twine around your spear. “As much as I don’t want to go back to our old lives, we can’t survive out here much longer…”

“Which is precisely why we’re making these handy-dandy spears, lil lady.” He deflected, standing from his spot and outstretching a hand to you, his weapon clutched in the other. “Ready to go provide for the family?”

You simply sighed and nodded, taking the boy's offer for help in standing even though you didn’t need it much at this point — you found yourself actually able to put weight on your leg, something that put a smile on your face.

“Let’s go kill somethin’!” The blonde cheered, leading you hand in hand towards the water.

“Don’t say it like that.” You chuckled. “It sounds so barbaric…”

“That’s the circle of life, baby.” JJ smiled over his shoulder as you two got closer to the shore. “Unless you wanna eat coconuts forever.”

You almost audibly groaned at the thought. “After the past month, I think I’m good on coconuts.”

Your toes were met with the refreshing cool of salt water as you and JJ entered the shallow end of the ocean waves, just enough to catch some small fish. Your hands unlinked as you peered down at the small creatures you could see, holding your spears in the correct fashion.

“You ready?” JJ asked, eyes focused on the fish swimming as he licked them in concentration, holding the spear like a primitive survivalist. “Remember, watch your shadow — they see that? They’re gone.”

“You are aware I took a college course in marine biology, right?” You side-eyed your blonde boyfriend playfully. “Technically, I’m the expert here.”

“Oh, my bad.” He feigned mock surrender. ‘Let’s see whatcha got then, princess.”

The two of you exchanged smiles before averting your attention to the water beneath your feet, spears in hand as you waited for an opportunity to strike something good.

“Hey,” JJ spoke up. “Hey, baby. Baby, it’s a skate.” JJ pointed out, tip of his spear trailing the aquatic animal. “It’s a skate right there, you see him? He’s comin’ over by you.” The blonde urged, allowing you to take the kill.

“Where?” You asked, trying to find out where he was looking as you looked from side to side.

“Right there!” He pressed.

“Right where?!”

“Right-” He gave up on trying to help you find the animal, raising his spear before plunging it down. “Dammit, I missed it...” He cursed himself, trying to find where the fish had swam off to. Suddenly, something brushed the top of your foot, causing you to look down — catching the sight of a decent sized stingray swimming beneath you.

Without a second thought, you plunged the sharp end of your spear into the middle of the swimming creature, raising it up for your boyfriend to see.

“You did it!” He celebrated, throwing his hands out as you held the stingray at a distance. ‘We’re havin’ skate tonight!”

“Oh, shit...” You laughed breathlessly, eyeing your dinner as you held it out away from you.

“C’mon baby, let’s fire this thing up.” JJ urged, walking in the direction of your designated spot on the island. “Good job, mama.” He winked, playfully tapping your ass as he walked by.

“JJ!" You whined. "You’re gonna make me drop it!”

“OKAY, JOHN B, YOUR TURN. TRUTH OR DARE?” Sarah asked her boyfriend as she sat beside him, tearing a piece of charred stingray between her fingers. It had to be mid-day, some time in the afternoon — JJ cooked the stingray you’d caught, effectively feeding your starving group of friends.

“...Truth.” The boy shrugged, tossing a piece of the meat into his mouth.

“Truth?” Sarah reiterated, to which John B nodded. The blonde girl looked to the sky, seemingly trying to gather a thought with a bright smile on her face before looking at JB once more. “If you could do it all again…what would you do differently?”

“Uh...get the gold out before Ward did.” JJ answered with a grimace, despite the question not being aimed at him.

“Maybe hide the cross a little better.” Pope added from his place next to Cleo.

“...Not yell ‘murderer’ at Ward, maybe.” Kie added, cringing at the memory.

“Keep Marley safer.” You threw out from your place under JJ’s arm. “Or not go to Barry’s alone.” You joked wiping grease from the corner of your mouth with the butt of your palm.

“Who is this Marley ya keep talkin’ about?” Cleo asked, tying her hair up and out of her face. “Is it someone’s little sister?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought, tearing off more meat from your stick. “No, it’s my dog. I have a Golden Retriever.”

“...That’s what you been yappin’ about ever since we got here, girl?” Cleo asked, a playful smile on her face. “A dog? Where I'm from, we don't bring the strays home. Nuh-uh.”

“Tread lightly, Cleo.” Pope whispered in her direction, throwing a mischievous smile your way. “She gets a little iffy about her ani-”

“Watch the ‘a’ word, Pope.” You warned the boy, throwing a small pebble his way as he ducked out of its path. “Marley is my baby and she will be addressed as such.”

“Of course. My bad...” Pope fake apologized to which you jokingly flipped him off.

“Anyway, answering the question that was directed at me,” John B broke through the conversation, eyeing the four of you who responded in his place. “I would…steal a couple bottles of rum off the boat we jumped off, maybe?”

“Yeah, why didn’t you do that actually?” JJ asked his friend.

“I don’t know,” John B started, squinting his eyes at the blonde boy. “Maybe ‘cause I was in a fight to the death?”

“I would look both ways before crossing the street.” Cleo interjected with her own answer, eyeing John B. You didn’t know exactly what she meant but clearly John B and Sarah did, the blonde girl laughing hysterically as John B grimaced.

“Yeah, my bad.” He cringed. “My bad...”

“Your turn, chief.” Cleo looked up at John B, prompting him to ask a question.

“All right, Kie,” He turned to the tanned girl next to him. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” She said without a moment’s thought.

“Alright, um…” JB stuttered for a question. “If you could go home to your parent’s house on Figure Eight this instant, would you do it?”

Kiara drew her lips into a thin line, the question posing a hard answer. “...Not a chance.” She smiled, looking around at her friends and the beach.

“Seconded.” Sarah threw out, holding up her coconut that she’d been drinking from.

“Hear, hear!” JJ added, holding up his own coconut and holding up your hand in his free one.

“The shower’s tempting, though.” The girl added, shrugging with a longing frown.

“Ooh, I could use a fat shower right now.” Pope said, a look of longing on his face.

“Y/N.” Kiara called, you picking your head up and looking in her direction. “Truth or dare?”

“I mean,” you threw your hands out. “Do you really need to ask?” You almost always chose the same answer — dare, of course.

Kiara brought her shoulders up, a questioning smile on her face. “Big Jump?” She suggested, everyone looking at the cliff behind you all. “Nobody’s done it yet.” She teased.

“Uh-uh.” Cleo shook her head and wagged her finger. “Not with that leg.”

You audibly groaned. “Can't I do one fun thing?” You pleaded, giving the girl your best puppy-dog eyes. “And look!” You perked up, practically jumping up from your spot and standing straight on both legs, despite the mild soreness in the injured one as you did so. “I am perfectly fine.” You smiled, hopping back and forth from foot to foot, your friends giggling at the movement. “It’s like it never even happened.”

Cleo just shook her head like a disappointed mother before averting her attention to JJ, jutting her chin in his direction.”What do you say, Rude Boy?” She asked, raising a brow in his direction.

“Wow, looking to my boyfriend for answers, now?” You complained, the girl shooting you a quick look before looking back at JJ.

JJ seemed to ponder on the thought before standing up next to you. “I say let her go.” He claimed, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “If we’re gonna be stuck here, might as well let my girl do one fun thing.” He smiled, Cleo rolling her eyes playfully as John B gagged, you and JJ shooting him a look of warning. “But, I have one condition.” JJ added before swiftly sweeping you off your feet and into his arms, holding you bridal style as you gasped. Your arms quickly went around his neck as he held you. “I’m comin’ with you.”

YOU AND JJ WERE PLANTED AT THE TOP OF THE CLIFF, peering down at your friends who peered up at the two of you.

“You won’t!” Cleo and Pope yelled from their place in the sand, and even with the distance, you could see the smug expressions on their faces.

“Oh, we won’t?!” JJ challenged, edging closer to the edge of the cliff.

“Do it!” Sarah yelled, the others cheering. Their whooping and hollering continued as JJ turned to you to speak.

“Ready?” He asked, hyping himself up.

You nodded, quickly looking down at the raging water beneath you. “Full Pogue.” You said, looking back at JJ, a bright smile blooming on his sunkissed features that made your cheeks go warm.

“Full Pogue, baby!” He cheered. “Whoo, let’s go!” Was the last thing he said before the two of you, almost in sync, ran and jumped off the cliff — a rush of adrenaline not even allowing you to scream as you let yourself fall through the air and into the water, the waves engulfing you in an endless of cool blue. For a second, you thought you were in heaven, until your head broke through the surface.

“Hell yeah!” Your friends cheered from the shore, running towards the water to meet you and JJ where the both of you started to swim back to the shore.

“You’re two brave idiots...” Cleo smiled as the five of them pulled the two of you into a tight group hug, quick and fleeting before everyone continued back towards camp.

“I actually thought I was gonna die.” JJ said breathlessly as you walked, shaking the water from his hair.

“You looked like you were gonna die.” Pope responded “I thought you were gonna die.”

You giggled behind the two boys. “Can’t kill a pogue.” You shrugged, wiping the ocean water from your face before wringing it out of your hair.

Pope and JJ exchanged a look before high fiving one another. “Can’t kill a pogue!”

“WHAT IF…TONIGHT IS OUR LAST NIGHT HERE?” You asked, facing JJ. You traced the outline of his face as the bonfire illuminated parts of it. The sun had retired for the night, relinquishing the sky to the moon and stars. It's warmth replaced with a humid chill, carrying small droplets of water from the ocean. After facing a day of attempting to rebuild, cliff jumping, and stomachs full of stingray and coconuts — everyone was out cold. Sarah and John B were cuddled together across from you and JJ, Kie huddled under a coconut tree, and Cleo and Pope were sleeping back to back, closer than the night before. It was like they got closer each time.

JJ’s eyebrows furrowed, the blonde already fighting sleep, not wanting to fall asleep before you. “What d'you mean?”

“Like...what if, by some miracle, we get rescued tomorrow?” You rephrased your initial question.

“...That would be a miracle to you?” JJ asked, almost judgmentally.

“I’m not saying it would be...” You shook your head, fingers threading through his hair as you both laid facing each other in the sand, legs intertwined. “But I guess I’m not saying it wouldn’t be.”

JJ shuffled closer to you, eyes tracing your face. “...Why d'you want to leave so bad?” He asked, voice low and solemn. “I thought this was our dream.” He said sadly.

You sighed, turning on your back to look up at the stars, trying to find constellations as you spoke. “It is, JJ.” You reiterated. “But it also… isn’t.” You shook your head, biting your cheek as you clasped your hands over your stomach while JJ tucked your hair behind your ear, the action causing you to glance at him briefly before looking at the stars once again. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. We were supposed to find the gold and everything was supposed to be okay. And then we could go on our surf trip without looking over our shoulder or worrying about what we’re gonna eat tomorrow.” You explained. “And there’s so much shit back home that isn’t really over — Marley’s still there, my mom’s going to trial…” You continued. “So, it’s not that I want to leave.” You started, turning your head to look at JJ whose eyes hadn’t left your face. “I just know we can’t stay.”

“GUYS, WAKE THE HELL UP!” Cleo’s voice rang throughout the island, waking you and JJ from your slumber, opening your eyes to the rising sun. You and JJ exchanged exhausted, confused glances before the sound of mechanical whirring in the sky diverted your attention to the clouds — the two of you watching in awe as a plane flew over the ocean. The first one you’d seen in a month.

“Oh, shit…” You both muttered under your breath, JJ immediately going to wake up John B, who had a similar reaction before waking up Sarah, who looked around groggily before registering the small plane in the sky, staring at it with an indecipherable look on her face.

You took the opportunity to get up from where you’d slept in the sand, shaking Kiara awake before joining JJ at the shoreline as you watched the aircraft fly over the waters — Pope and Cleo running down the beach to try and flag it down. You just stood in shock.

What were the odds?

You watched as John B, teary eyed and relieved, waved his hands violently. “Hey!” He called. “Hey, we’re over here! Over here! We’re right here!”

Your eyes didn’t miss the way JJ turned away from the water, a deep thought behind his eyes before they drifted to meet yours. Neither of you said anything. You’d never say anything to him about it, but you knew deep down that JJ didn’t want to leave. Where you had Marley and Pope had his family and John B had The Chateau and Kie had her family and Sarah had Wheezie — JJ had nothing left to go back to.

His worst nightmare was coming true — going back to Kildare. John B was yelling for help and Pope and Cleo had gone to light the emergency fire you all had set up for this exact situation. It was over.

Your peripheral caught the sight of a bright, orange glow on the cliff top. Cleo and Pope got the fire light and they were calling for help from their place at the top while John B, Sarah, and Kie waved for help. But your eyes never left JJ. You didn’t want to go home anymore than he did. But you were the realist in this situation. Poguelandia had kept you all alive as long as it could, but it was time to go.

Your eyes left JJ and found the plane once more, watching it disappear into the clouds before re-emerging, flying in your direction.

“He sees us.” Kie said breathlessly. “Guys, he sees us!” Her shock turned into excitement.

“He’s gonna go to the pond.” John B concluded, letting his arms fall back by his sides. “Come on.” He urged, jogging in the direction of the pond before picking up the pace, the four of you following. “Come on!”

WHEN YOU ARRIVED AT THE POND, The pilot had just landed — a blue and white private plane with the words ‘FLYING FISH’ painted in yellow on the side. The group of you exchanged weary glances, but it didn’t deter John B from approaching the aircraft as the pilot lowered the stairs.

“Hey there!” The man flying the plane greeted you all, stepping down from the vehicle. He had long auburn hair, a questionable outfit, sunglasses, and looked to be in his thirties, you presumed. He didn’t seem too cautious of the seven strangers he’d come upon on a deserted island…

“Hello, hello.” John B greeted back, far too chipper to be approaching a man he didn’t know. But you figured you were the ones who flagged him down.

“We’re gettin’ out of here!” Pope cheered, him and Cleo running down from the hill they were on top of, clapping JB on the shoulders. “We’re finally gettin’ out of here.” The dark-skinned boy celebrated breathlessly.

“Well, what do we got here?” The pilot asked, observing you all one by one.

“Ah…” John B stuttered to find words now. “Y’know, just some castaways.” He responded. It was a half-truth. Hopefully, this man had no idea who any of you were. And why you really ended up on this island.

“Ha, well, I’ll cross that off the grocery list.” He joked, but it didn’t land very well with the semi-tough crowd. A moment of silence swept over you all, sharing looks back and forth. “Uh... hang on.” The pilot broke the ice once more. “I got just the thing for y’all. Just one second…”

One glance at Sarah and John B could tell from her stone cold expression that she was not on board. “Hey, no, look at this guy.” He tried to reason with a smile on his face. “...You think he works for your dad?” Sarah didn’t respond to, or even really acknowledge, the boy — eyes laser-focused on the overly-giddy pilot who now held booze and a first-aid kit. “It’s okay.” John B tried to soothe, a light hand on his girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Two things you need on a deserted island,” The man smiled, balancing on the stairs of his plane. “First-Aid and rum.” He concluded, baring all his teeth in his smile. “Incoming!” He warned before tossing the bottle of liquor at Sarah’s feet, the bottle splashing in the shallow pond water, causing the girl to back up as it hit the surface. “And here ya go.” He motioned towards the group, tossing the first-aid kit to you all, which Pope caught. “Figured you need it more than me.” He shrugged, eyes on your leg as he threw a hand out in your direction. “What happened there? Shark?” He chuckled.

“Man.” You retorted bluntly, crossing your arms in defense.

The man nodded silently, sensing you weren’t exactly in the mood for conversation. “So, uh, what’s the story? You guys sank a boat?” He asked lightheartedly.

“Uh, jumped off one.” John B corrected, scratching the back of his head. “...Her dad’s.” He pointed his thumb at Sarah, the group collectively looking at him with a disappointed expression.

“In-laws, man.” The pilot made an ideal conversation. “They’re tough. Well, have no fear. Jimmy’s here.” He joked, hand on his hip like Superman.

“Well, all hail Jimmy.” Cleo smiled, looking at the man with a small smile. “Guys, let’s go.” She urged, being the first one to board the airplane, followed quickly by Pope, then John B, then Kie — you, JJ, and Sarah being the only ones to display some sort of hesitation before following behind the others and boarding.

“Welcome aboard the Flying Fish!” Jimmy cheered, allowing you all to crowd inside the aircraft before closing the door and taking a seat in the cockpit. “I’m Jimmy Portis. I’ll be your captain today. Is this all? Seven of you?”

“Uh, yeah.” John B answered. “That too heavy?” He asked cautiously, noting the space — or lack thereof — inside the plane.

“Nah…” Jimmy reassured. “...Well, maybe, but I think ol’ Fish here’ll probably be okay. We could always throw somebody overboard, right? Ha ha...” He joked. You think.

Jimmy started up the plane, the vehicle jerking dangerously before he managed to get it off the ground. Nothing but the sound of the propellers and you all breathing took up the silence until JJ broke the ice. “So, what were you doin’ all the way out here, Jimmy?” He asked, eyeing Portis suspiciously.

“I got a little guide outfit in Saint Vincent.” Jimmy replied, raising his voice loud enough to be heard over the loud machinery. “I was spottin’ fish.”

“What were you spottin’?” JJ inquired further, all eyes on him.

“Eh, you know, the usual.” Portis shrugged, glancing briefly at you all in the back. “...Wahoo.”

Your brows furrowed at Portis’s words, the quick change in your demeanor not going unnoticed by the blonde next to you as Jimmy put on his aviation headset, limiting his hearing. “What is it?” JJ asked, causing the rest of the group to turn their attention to you, leaning in as you licked your lips, eyes going back and forth between Portis and your friends as you spoke.

“Wahoo don’t run in September.” You spoke, tone low.

“...Are you sure?” JJ asked, raising a brow.

“Marine Biology, remember?” You defended yourself. “Whoever this guy is, he’s not a fisherman.”

“Maybe the run just starts earlier out here?” Pope threw out, but even the genius himself didn’t seem sure of his words.

“In the Caribbean?” JJ doubted, face falling.

“...No.” Sarah finally spoke. “I know what this is.” She shook her head, tone dangerously low — if you didn’t see her lips moving, you wouldn’t recognize her voice. “He’s working for my dad. And he’s probably been looking for us the entire time.”

“Alright,” JJ started, staring at the floor of the plane as he gathered his thoughts. “Well, we gotta find out. Start lookin’ for…some sort of clues or somethin'.” He suggested, blue eyes wandering the plane and the abundance of photos and newspaper clippings taped to the walls inside. Suddenly, he paused, sights set on a satchel hanging from the back of Portis’s captain chair.

With a finger signal, he urged John B to distract the pilot, the brunette getting the hint as he leaned forward from where he sat behind Jimmy. “Hey, Jimmy!” He called.

“Yeah, what’s up?” The pilot called back, the remaining five of you watching as JJ maneuvered quietly towards the bag.

“How, uh, how long you had this bird?” John B continued his line of questioning.

“Oh, about ten years now.”

“Oh, cool. Cool...How long you been flyin’?”

“I’ve been flyin’ all my life.” Jimmy told JB, you watching as JJ slipped a hand inside the bag, fishing around for…something. He managed to pull out a book.

“Uh, who’s that lovely lady right there?” John B pointed to a picture on the control panel, trying to keep Portis distracted.

“Oh-ho-ho. That right there? That’s Cynthia.” Jimmy perked up at the mention of the woman.

“Cynthia?” JB pressed further as JJ inspected the book — V.S. Naipul’s The Loss of El Dorado…

It had to be a coincidence…right? Some people just have an interest in gold hunt centered history, you dismissed. The six of you exchanged wordless glances, watching as JJ flipped the cover open, a photo wedged in between the cover and the title page. Tilting it so the rest of you could see — the blonde revealed a picture of the Coastal Venture, aka the ship you all had jumped off of a month ago that put you where you were today.

“Oh my God...” Sarah gasped, snatching the picture from JJ’s fingers. “This is the boat we were on. With Eberhimi and the cross.” She said, showing the rest of the pogues the picture.

“So he was lookin’ for us?” Cleo asked, cheery demeanor diminishing by the second.

“Exactly.” JJ agreed.

“He’s working for my dad.” Sarah concluded, clenching her jaw.

Just then, the plane jerked violently, causing you all to grip at the walls and each other. “Hey, y’all better hold somethin’!” Portis warned. “We got some unexpected turbulence up here!”

“Guys, whatever it is, it’s happening fast…” Kiara spoke, peering out of the window. “Look.” She urged you all, all eyes turning to the window where you and JJ sat.

“That looks like Barbados...” Cleo observed, expression tightening in confusion. “I’ve been there with Terrance.”

“Okay…” JJ breathed, turning back to look at you all. “There’s seven of us, one of him.” He gathered, glancing quickly at Jimmy. “You know my vote. We storm the cockpit.”

“Then who’s gonna fly the plane?” You asked, shooting a blank expression at your impulsive boyfriend.

“I’ve seen Pope play fly simulators.” JJ threw out, Pope’s face twisting at the unwanted Pilot Nomination.

“I crop-dusted for my uncle. Last summer.” The boy corrected. “This is not the same thing.”

“We don’t have time to pretend that’s a real option.” Kie reprimanded.

“Do you have an idea?” JJ argued.

“Something safe.” You offered, backing Kie.

“Why don’t we just wait until the plane lands somewhere safe and then we sneak out?” Pope added his two-cents. “And if somebody comes to mess with us, we mad-dog ‘em.”

“Okay…” JJ seemed to concede. “I like the mad-dogging part.”

“Put that back.” You advised the blonde boy, referring to the book he still had in possession. “Put it back.” You whispered.

JJ signaled John B once more to distract the pilot again as he gathered the book and other items that jumped out of the bag, edging closer to the captain’s seat to return them to their initial place. “Hey, Jimmy. Is that Burning Man right there?” JB spoke.

“Yeah, that’s Burning Man, all right. That’s my first time.” He spoke with glee about his past experiences as JJ flipped open the satchel.

“How many times you been?”

“I started goin’ when I was eighteen.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about it-” John B tried, but for some reason, Portis felt the need to look back in JJ’s direction, catching the blonde with his hand in his bag, cutting off John B’s next words.

“Hey, man!” Portis shouted. “What the hell’re you doin’?!” He raged, reached a swift hand out to grab JJ — effectively knocking the headset off of his own head and sending the Flying Fish swaying side to side. “That’s mine!” Portis yelled, completely abandoning the steering wheel and grabbing at JJ. “Who are you really?!”

“Fly the plane!” Sarah yelled at Jimmy, her words falling on deaf ears as John B and you fought for Portis to release JJ and the others held onto the walls for dear life.

“It’s my book! Give it back!”

“Please fly the plane... Please fly the plane...”

Jimmy seemed to come to his senses when the plane started beeping, releasing JJ and grabbing hold of the steering wheel. The Flying Fish was taking a nosedive straight into the ocean. “Come on... Come on, Fish...” Jimmy spoke to himself.

You all watched fearfully as Jimmy tried to regain control of the aircraft, failing to get it back on track before it hit the surface of the water, causing you all to hit your heads against the roof of the plane. For a second, all you saw was black, a burning pain blooming on your thigh until the plane steadied and you opened your eyes — the entire cabin was filled with water, already up to your chests.

The sounds of sputtering and coughing filled the space as everyone collected themselves. “Is everybody good?” Pope asked. He received no response but everyone seemed to be okay. “We gotta get out here...We gotta get out before it sinks...”

John B scrambled to the back of the plane, kicking out the door — a beam of sunlight blinding you all temporarily. Peering out of the open door, you all could see a fleet of men in uniforms with utility belts and bulletproof vests coming towards the plane, running down the beach. “They... don’t look friendly.” John B muttered, backing away from the door.

“No, they look very unfriendly.” Pope reiterated, voice biting. “But we gotta go. C’mon...” He led you all out of the plane, jumping into the water one by one. “Y/N, come on.” Pope urged, you watching from inside the sinking plane as your friends waded in the water.

Your eyes fleeted back and forth between them and the pilot. What about him? The thought of leaving him here to die made your stomach turn. “Hang on!” You called back, turning in the water to go further into the plane.

“No, no, no, Y/N, come on!” John B called, keeping his head above water.

“Y/N, what are you doing?!” JJ’s voice bellowed, followed by Pope’s urgent tone.

“Come on, get to the pier.” He instructed the others as you swam to the front of the plane, ignoring the soreness in your leg as you did so. Reaching Portis, your hands went under his arms to feel around his torso — his seatbelt was off. Good. Clasping your hands in front of his chest, you used every ounce of strength you had to carry the unconscious pilot out of the broken cockpit window, struggling to keep both him and yourself above water.

You caught the sight of your friends swimming towards the pier as you swam to shore, in the opposite direction. You could put Portis on the shore and swim back to your friends. You could do it.

“Wait,” JJ said, hiding underneath the pier with the others. “Where’s Y/N?”

“...She went the other way.” Sarah said, all eyes on your figure bobbing through the water with Jimmy in hand, swimming to the sand. Two people ran up to help you, taking Portis’s limp frame off your hands.

“Take him...” You breathed, kneeling in the sand and trying to catch your breath as they tended to the pilot. The man of the pair performed CPR on Portis and within seconds the pilot was coughing up salt water — bright blue eyes looking around terrified until they landed on you.

“...Thank you.” He rasped, laying limply in the sand.

Your jaw clenched as you peered down at the man, kneeling in the sand. “You lied to us.” You spat. “Who are you?”

Portis didn’t respond, the sound of motor engines in the distance causing you both to turn your heads, finding two men on ATV’s and in those aforementioned uniforms heading your way. “Oh, God…” Portis groaned at the sight of the officers before turning back to you. “You should get out of here.” He warned frantically.

You cursed, your eyes going between Portis, the guards, and your friends before you up and ran further up the beach and into the mess of grass and trees. You came up on a gate, watching as another car with more guards arrived and making it so there was no way off the beach. Thinking on your feet, you hid behind one of the boats in the grass, hoping they would think you got away.

“Policemen! Search all over the area!” One of the guards commanded his team, accent heavy as the sound of heavy boots filled your ears from all directions. You cursed, knowing if you didn’t move fast, they’d find you. Taking notice of a gap under the boat, you quickly crouched, finding a crawl space underneath the structure. Wiggling underneath, you hoped the boat and the barrels that were holding it up would hide you well enough and not collapse overtop of you.

The sounds of whispers and whistles around you made your heart race, the sound of footsteps still looming from every which way. Your heart jumped to your throat when a shadow passed by the barrels holding up the boat you were hiding underneath — one of the guards inspected the structure and peered in between the gaps in the barrels before his eyes unfortunately seemed to spot you.

“Hey.” He grunted, reaching out for you. Without a thought, you used your good leg to kick him through the barrels, sending the man flying onto his back with a hard grunt. You started scrambling to get from under the boat when he sat up, rubbing his head. “She’s over here!”

Coming out into the light, you tried to make a run for it, but you were caught by the man and another guard before you could go anywhere — the two men restraining you in their strong hold.

“Get off!” You fought against the policemen. “Let go of me!”

“Dammit.” JJ cursed from his place under the pier — the pogues watching as the men took you away. “What’re we gonna do?” JJ asked immediately, eyes focused on the two men loading you into their truck. “We’re goin’ after her, right?”

“...What can we do?” John B threw out solemnly.

“Where are they taking her?” Kiara pondered in deep thought.

Voices up on the bridge the pogues were hiding beneath had JJ looking up even though he couldn’t see anything. “They’re all up there…”

“They’re lookin’ this way.” Cleo pointed out, the guards on the beach averting their attention to the pier one by one. “We gotta go.” She warned, being the first to, begrudgingly, swim away — not without a sad glance in your direction first.

The others were quick to follow as JJ lagged behind. John B was the only one to notice the blonde boy’s lack of movement. “...We gotta go, JJ.” JB urged, a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything. “JJ, come on. We can’t save her if we get caught.” Those words seemed to register more clearly in the Maybank boy’s mind, finally convincing to swim away with the others. He’d come back for you. That was a guarantee.

“We lost the others. We’ll keep searchin’.” A voice came through on the walkie that the guard in the pick-up of the truck that was sitting with you had in hand. You were handcuffed and soaking wet, eyes snapping towards the shadow walking dangerously close to the truck in the corner of your eye — Portis.

A hard expression set on your face as he stood in front of you, clearly in some sort of kahoots with these men considering his proximity to the truck without one of them telling him to back up. “...I saved your life.” You hissed, shivering from the cold.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Jimmy profusely apologized, your face not softening in the slightest. “I’m gonna try to help you, okay? I swear, I didn’t know it was gonna be like this.” He claimed — he didn’t know what was gonna be like what? “Look, if you don’t fight, if you just do what they say, these guys…they probably won’t hurt you.” ...Probably?

You shook your head in disbelief, squinting your eyes at the pilot. “...What did Ward promise you?”

Jimmy’s face contorted into one of pure confusion as the truck started up. “...Who?”

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” Pope questioned angrily to his group of friends — the six of them hiding out of sight. “Why would they wanna kidnap Y/N? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s called bait.” JJ deadpanned, slumped against a wall.

“I am so…sick of this.” Sarah spat, eyes on the ground as she sat next to JB. “...Do you think that there is any way we could trust the cops?”

JJ sputtered before getting up, approaching the girl. “The cops? You’re jokin’, right?” He asked in disbelief of Sarah’s suggestion. “You seriously think your daddy hasn’t called them already?” Sarah lowered her head at JJ’s words and clearly agitated tone of voice, going silent.

“I have a crazy idea.” Pope started. “Why don’t we call my parents?”

John B sighed, eyes going towards the curly-haired boy. “And say what, Pope?”

“And say we’re alive.” He sassed back, exhaustedly. “I haven’t seen my family in I don’t know how long. They’re probably worried sick about me. We can just call ‘em and maybe ask ‘em to wire us money or something.”

“And put them in danger?”

“I got a better idea.” JJ cut into the conversation between his two friends. “...And faster.” He said, holding up a wallet clutched between his two fingers.

“...Whose is that?” Sarah asked, blinking at the blonde.

“You seriously think I’m gonna go through someone’s backpack and not pinch their wallet?” He asked, shooting a look at the group as he opened the wallet and pulled out an ID. “‘Jimmy Portis. 101 Cattle Wash.’ I bet that’s where they got my girl. All right? So, that’s where we’re goin’.” He concluded, passing the wallet off to John B as Pope interjected.

“Yeah, that’s conceivable, but can we at least think this through?”

“You got a better idea, Pope?” JJ challenged, tone flat. He eyed his friend before walking, not seeming to care whether the group was following behind. “C’mon. 101 Cattle Wash!” He called over his shoulder. “That’s where we’re goin’.”

“TAKE HER UPSTAIRS. THE ORINOCO ROOM.” The maid beside you commanded the guard in front of you, the woman looking you up and down before noting the reopened wound on your leg. “And call the medic.”

After a long drive through the middle of nowhere, you’d arrived at a large property — acres of land surrounding a large estate. They’d unhandcuffed you halfway there and now you were standing in the foyer of the property, surrounded by two guards and a maid.

“This way.” The guard instructed, grabbing your forearm rather roughly and pulling you in his direction. “Up.” He directed simply as he walked you up the staircase. Reaching the top of the staircase, the man opened one of the many doors, practically tossing you inside before speaking. “Inside.” You glanced around quickly — it was a nicely decorated bedroom. That was all.

You whipped around quickly in order to catch the man before he most likely slammed the door shut and locked you inside. “...Why am I here?” You inquired, voice low. “Who are you working for?”

The guard fixed you with a hard look before speaking. “Dinner at eight.” He ignored your inquiries. “I’d clean up.” He suggested, something smug and unwilling in his voice as he looked you up and down.

You clenched your jaw and balled your fists as he backed out of the doorframe, turning away from you. “Just tell me what they want.” You tried before he walked away, your path being blocked by an older woman with grey hair, holding a med-kit in her hand. “...Who are you?” You asked, eyes fleeting between the item clutched in her grasp and her eyes.

“I’m Doctor Alvita.” She smiled, one of the only people here to do so. “Don’t worry, I won’t be here long. I just need to take a look at your leg-”

“My leg is fine.” You snapped. “I don’t need or want you people touching me until you tell me where I am.”

The doctor just sighed, setting her kit down on the dresser and opening it with her back to you. “You’re at Vaux Hall. I can’t tell you much more than that.” She said simply, turning around to you with an orange liquid, gauze, scissors, and a needle with thread in her hand.

You swallowed harshly at the sight of her supplies. “Sit. Please.” She motioned for the bed, you silently climbing up onto it as she kneeled in front of you, cutting away your shorts to fully reveal the gash on your thigh.

“...Can’t you at least tell why I’m here?” You spoke after a few moments, ignoring the burning sensation as she doused your leg in an antiseptic.

Silence. The doctor offered no response as she steadied your leg with one hand, bringing the needle to it with the other. You panicked internally as the cool metal tip made contact with your tender skin, the pain only increasing as she pierced your skin. Sucking air in through your teeth, your fingers threaded in the silk sheets of the bed you were sat on.

This went on for what felt like forever, but you never made a sound — just sat in tense silence as you clenched your jaw so hard you feared you would a chip a tooth. You counted the seconds until she neared the end of the gash, pulling the surgical thread through one last time before knotting it off and snipping it as you released the breath you were holding.

“There. Should heal much nicer now.” She smiled smally, standing from her knelt position and turning back to her kit.

Your eyes wandered the room, landing on the pair of scissors she’d absentmindedly left lying beside you on the mattress. You thought on it for a brief moment before snatching up the utensil and swiftly standing from the bed. You walked towards her quickly, startling the woman as you threw her around to face you by the shoulder and held the scissors to her neck.

“What’re you-”

“Tell me where I am.” You demanded, pressing the metal further into her neck, watching her swallow harshly as her hands gripped the desk behind her. Her wide eyes darted around the room before landing back on you.

“...They won’t hurt you-”

“Then why am I here?!” You pressed, stepping impossibly closer. “You don’t work for Ward. So, who do you work for?-”

“Guard!” The doctor screamed, catching you off guard before shoving you back as you hit the bed before steadying yourself. At the sound of a pair of rapid, heavy footsteps, you dropped the scissors to the floor as Doctor Alvita stood shocked, holding a hand to her neck as she took deep breaths.

“What’s goin’ on in here?” The man spoke in a loud, deep voice as he burst through the Orinoco Room door.

“...I’m all done here.” The doctor spoke, shooting you a mean glare as she hastily secured her kit and snatched it from the dresser, picking up the scissors from the floor and standing next to the guard. The man shot you both pointed looks before seemingly dismissing his own suspicions and leading the doctor away as he shut the door in your face and locked it. You cursed under your breath, turning away from the door. There wasn’t much in the room — a bed, a closet, and a window…

Walking over to it, you pulled back the sheer curtains slightly — watching as a trio of guards talked on the patio of the property. One of them had a dog, not that it mattered. Backing away from the glass, you ended up next to the closet. It was open with, what looked like, five of the same pieces of clothing inside — a scarlet colored, spaghetti-strap dress — a note attached to the one in the front.

“PICK YOUR SIZE”

“THIS IS IT.” JJ proclaimed, stopping in front of the worn down wooden sign in front of the dull blue bungalow — ‘101 Cattle Wash’. “Let’s go around back.” He led his group of friends onto the property. Your friends crept around the house, tiptoeing through shrubs and bushes to get to the backyard, crouching down slightly as they walked closer to the house.

“Hey,” John B called quietly, looking at the group and throwing his head in the direction of one of the windows.

“Window?” Pope asked. “Want some help?” To which JB shook his head.

“Nah, I got this.” He assured, firmly gripping the base of the half-open window and pulling himself up. The five of them watched the boy struggle slightly to pull himself up, their attention being diverted when JJ’s voice broke through the air.

“Whoa.” The blonde jumped, spotting a small family of crabs edging towards his feet. “Yo, get off.” He tried when one of the pinching crustaceans climbed onto the toe of his boot, the boy trying his best to shake it off. “Get off! Dude-” He grew frustrated, attempting to pick up the crab and throw it somewhere else when it pinched his finger. “Shhhit!” He exclaimed, flinging the creature across the lawn.

“Shhh!” Kiara tried, whipping her head in his direction.

“What’re you doing?” Pope added in, his tone hushed. “Does the element of surprise mean nothing to you?”

“It turned my thumb purple…” JJ pouted, shooting Pope a childish glare.

“Shh.” Cleo butted in. “Relax. It’s just a crab, man...” She assured, rolling her eyes at the boy’s theatrics.

“Damn little sea spider.” JJ muttered under his breath, following his five friends as they followed after John B — each entering the house through the window one by one. The house’s interior was crowded with beads, tapestry, and poorly-tended plants.

“I’ll take the front.” Cleo whispered, weaving through the mess of decorations and furniture.

“I’ll take the back.” Sarah compromised, finding her way and shooting John B a weary glance.

“Y/N?...” Cleo whispered, peeking her head around every door frame of the front of the house.

“Y/N?” John B called out after her as he peeked into a dark room, a bit louder but still relatively quiet.

JJ and Pope scavenged every part of the house that wasn’t being looked at. Your friends were leaving no stones unturned, even examining the cracks in the walls as if you’d be there. “Kie,” JJ called out, eyeing the brown-haired girl as she peeked into a another room before turning at the sound of her name. “No one in there?”

Kiara shook her head, leaving the room. “No.”

JJ sighed frustratedly, running a hand through his hair as the group recollect in the middle of the home. “Okay, well, if she’s not here, where the fuck is she?” The six of them fell into frustrated silence, thinking of where the hell else you could be possibly be. This wasn’t Kildare. They didn’t know the way this island worked or other possible places you could’ve been taken. This was their only lead…

“Guys?...” Pope spoke, walking over to a painting on the wall that caught his attention. They all furrowed their eyebrows and exchanged confused looks before walking over to the Heyward boy and taking a look at what he’d found.

“What?” JJ asked, clearly lost. “It’s a burning boat.”

“It’s the San Jose.” John B clarified, eyes locked on the piece of art.

“This is the boat from Denmark’s diary.” Pope corrected even further. “The ship that Captain Limbrey stole the cross from.”

“And the Merchant gold.”

“...Great.” JJ added in, looking at his two friends with a bit of annoyance. “Whatever. It’s about the gold, not my girl. This...doesn’t help us.” He refocused his friends before walking off to see if he could find something of actual use as they stared aimlessly at the painting, dismissing his words.

“Well, Portis is a treasure guy.” John B concluded, raising a brow as he spoke.

“...This is too close to our boat.” Pope said, the wheels turning in his mind.

Kiara sighed from the back of the house, letting her arms fall at her sides. “Just let it go.” She groaned. “That’s not why we’re here-”

Her words were broken with a clean whistle from Cleo as she stared out of one of the windows facing the street. “Guys, guys, guys…” She lured the five of them over, Sarah being the first one over her shoulder.

“What?” She asked, peering out of the window. “Shit…It’s Portis.” She cursed, your six friends watching the man pull up into his own driveway and cut the ignition on his truck. “Do we run?”

“No.” JJ and Kiara said in unison, the group turning to them as the sound of Jimmy getting out of his car rang out.

“Just follow me. And do what I say.” JJ demanded, conviction in his voice as he instructed his friends to hide as the sound of Portis’s voice got closer and closer — he was on the phone, arranging repairs for his plane.

He entered his home just as everyone had settled into their places, scattered around the room. Ending the call, Jimmy stopped in the middle of his living room, a crab at his feet as he sighed. “I’ve had it with you guys…” He complained, making moves to bend down and pick up the creature before JJ was jumping up from his hiding place and ramming his shoulder into the man, sending him flying back in Pope’s direction, who was quick to jump up as well, putting Portis in a headlock.

Once it became clear that Pope was struggling to subdue the man himself, John B got involved, charging at Portis who was quick to push him away and into a wall before he managed to get out of Pope’s hold.

Portis was quick to try and flee his home, running through the open front door until he was tripped by three small feet — Kiara, Sarah, and Cleo managing to send the man flying forward.

Jimmy fell to the ground with a grunt, JJ and Cleo being the ones to grab him by his arms and clothing, slamming him against his patio furniture. JJ kept the man planted against the wooden table as Cleo held a knife to his neck.

“You guys really shouldn’t be here right now.” Jimmy spoke through labored breaths, still catching his own.

The two ignored his statement as the remaining for watched them interrogate the pilot. “Where is she, Jimmy?” JJ pressed, edging his face closer to the older man’s.

“Answer the man.” Cleo added, balling her face up in anger.

“You really don’t wanna know…” Portis shook his head, the two pogues holding him down exchanging an angry glance.

“Talk.” Kiara spoke up, taking a step forward and putting a broken bottle under Portis’s chin. “Who took her?”

“Was it Ward?” Sarah spoke up from her place behind the three, standing with her arms crossed and a hard expression on her face.

Your friend's faces fell when Portis broke out into laughter. “Ward?” He chuckled, despite the weapons being pointed in his direction. “Who’s Ward?” He cackled before his laughter died down into frustration. “You guys really don’t understand who you’re messing with.”

“Then we’ll call the cops.” John B threw in, trying to see if he could intimidate any more information out of him.

“Sure, call the cops.” Jimmy shrugged, throwing his head back onto the tabletop. “See how far that gets ya. This guy owns the cops.” He informed, all five of their eyes trained on him as Pope looked around the patio, spotting the bag Jimmy arrived with and discarded as he entered his home. “He’s got eyes all over the island looking for you. All of you.” Jimmy gritted through his teeth and Pope opened the satchel, rummaging through it and pulling out an envelope. “He’s a big man.” Jimmy proclaimed. “The Kingfish.”

“The Kingfish?...” JJ reiterated to himself, eyes locked on to Portis as he tried to process the man’s words.

“Hey.” Pope spoke up, wedging between his friends and holding up the envelope for Jimmy to see. “What’s this?”

“Hey, what the-” Portis started, going from zero to hundred within a second. “Take your hands off my shit!” He warned, almost jumping off of the table before JJ slammed him back down and Cleo pressed the weapon further against his jugular.

“Shut up.” JJ rolled his eyes, growing annoyed.

“Hey, quiet down!” Cleo warned.

“What is it?” JJ asked, eyes on Pope as the boy opened the parcel and pulled out a hefty amount of Carribean money as Jimmy just laughed to himself. “What’s that, Jimmy?” JJ turned back to the man in question, his anger plastered across his features clear as day. “Is that the payoff? Is that the payoff for my girlfriend, Jimmy?” He pressed, yanking the man up further by the neckline of his shirt. “Is it?!” He jerked him around.

“Hey,” Pope started again, noticing something in the corner of the envelope. “What’s Vaux Hall?” He asked the pilot, waving the piece of paper in his face. Jimmy just locked eyes with the Heyward boy, shaking his head slightly.

“You really don’t wanna go there, man.” He said, voice wavering. “That’s the lion’s den.”

John B nodded his head, a stone hard look on his face as they finally somewhat cracked the older man. “That’s it. That’s where Y/N is.” He concluded for himself. “Come on.” He directed his friends, entering the house with Pope as Portis yelled behind them.

“You really don’t wanna go there!” He warned as JJ and Cleo continued to restrain him while Kiara and Sarah watched.

“Do we look afraid to you?” Cleo asked, pointing the tip of her knife under his chin.

Portis gulped, swallowing his fears before responding, a thin layer of sweat emerging on his forehead. “...You should be.”

Cleo looked at JJ, who fixed her with a deadpan expression, before smacking her teeth just as Pope and John B emerged from inside the house, hands full of attire. “Let’s go. C’mon.” The Routledge boy urged, running down the steps of the patio. “Portis, we’re taking some clothes. Deal with it.” He shot over his shoulder as the pilot was finally released, all six of your friends fleeing his property.

Jimmy sat up on his elbows, calling after them as he watched their figures run away. “Big mistake!” He shouted, catching his breath and collecting himself. “You’re just gonna make it worse for her!”

“POPE, ARE YOU SURE WE HAVE THE RIGHT ADDRESS?”

“...I know you aren’t talkin’ to me about having the right address.” Pope sassed, eyeing the blonde who had his head thrown back in exhaustion, walking at the front of the group.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking.” JJ affirmed, turning around to face the boy. They were walking in the middle of nowhere — no houses, no businesses, nothing around for what seemed like miles. Just tall grass and bushes and trees to shield them from the blistering sun and suffocating heat.

“Look, the place says Vaux Hall. It’s on the map.” Pope reassured, looking at the map bolted to the Bus Stop sign they walked up on.

“Yeah but we don’t know if that’s where we are.” JJ countered, flicking the sign with his hand in frustration.

“Okay, well we're in the the general vicinity, so.” The boys argued, oblivious to the sound of a heavy duty truck pulling up beside them. The first vehicle they’d seen in hours.

“Why don’t we just ask someone?” Cleo suggested, growing tired of the bickering and turning to the man driving the tractor that was pulling up near them. “Hey!” She waved, the man slowing down the vehicle and fixing her with a look, offering no words. “Pardon I.” She excused herself. “Y’know where we can find Vaux Hall?” She asked, peering up at him.

“...You kiddin’ me, right?” The dark-skinned man asked, turning in his seat and looking at the expanse of land. “Everything you can see, all around you, is Vaux Hall.”

“Oh.” JJ spoke, looking around at the nothing that surrounded him. “Everywhere.”

“Okay, so who lives up there?” Kiara inquired, shielding her face from the sun with her hands while using one to point upwards, towards the hill.

“Up there?” The old man asked himself, looking in the direction she pointed. “Carlos Singh. Just on the other side of that wall.” He clarified, watching as your friends eyed the stone wall. “But…take it from me.” The man started once more, gaining their attention. “He’s no one you wanna get to know.” He warned before taking the brakes off of his tractor and driving off, watching through his sideview mirrors as your friends went in the direction of the wall anyway. In search of you.

IT’D BEEN AT LEAST AN HOUR SINCE YOU’D BEEN LEFT IN THE ROOM ALONE. You’d done as instructed, changing into the dress provided to you as you adjusted the newfound tenderness in your leg. Somehow, it felt better and worse all at once.

You were standing by the window, peering out at the vast expanse of land and the lack of places to run to when the door abruptly opened, causing you to turn your head away from the glass pane.

In the doorway stood a brown-skinned woman adorned in a maid’s uniform, her hands clasped in front of her as she looked to you with a small smile. “He’s ready.” She spoke simply.

You didn’t offer a verbal response or ask any questions, tired of not receiving satisfactory answers or none at all. So you simply nodded, watching as the woman turned around and walked away, leaving the door open as an invitation to follow her.

The sound of birds chirping traveled through the many open windows as she led you down the stairs, lighting illuminating through the stained glass windows that were littered throughout the estate.

The woman led you to an open door, the sound of liquid pouring coming from inside as she stood by the doorframe, motioning for you to enter with her arms. You took slow steps, passing through the door to find a man with his back turned pouring liquor into a glass. He was dressed in a suit, hair buzzed.

“...Excuse me?” You announced yourself, looking cautiously around the room. At the sound of your voice, the male set the liquor bottle down and turned around to see who’d entered the room.

You felt yourself freeze when you made direct eye contact with the devil himself.

“...Hi, sunshine.” Rafe smirked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

You couldn’t stop yourself from biting your lip in anger, your fists balling at your sides as you stormed towards the Cameron boy. “I knew you and Ward were behind this shit.” You snarled, hair and dress whipping around you as you gained on him.

Rafe’s face twisted as you came to a stop in front of him, a mere foot between you two at this point. “What are you talkin' about?” He asked, offended. “You tryin' to weasel in on my deal right now? Is that what’s goin’ on?” He pressed, leaning down in your face.

“What fucking deal?” You spat back, words spewing quickly from your lips as Rafe’s eyes flickered between your own an the now stitched up laceration on your leg that the cocktail dress failed to conceal. “I’ve been stranded on an island for a month, I don’t give a shit about whatever deal your talking about-”

“What happened to your leg?” He cut you off, taking you by surprise as you stopped talking.

“...Take a guess.” You sassed, cocking your head to the side. “Don’t worry. I’ve been in worse pain.” You shot, looking the boy up and down.

“I wondered if your little reunion would cause sparks, y’know.” A third voice interjected, the both of you turning your heads in the direction it came from to find a man with his back turned staring out of a window in the conjoined room. He chuckled to himself as he turned around to look at the pair of you.

“Who are you?” Rafe asked, annoyance in his tone as the man took slow, calculated steps in the direction of you and him, rubbing the full-beard that adorned his face.

“...Me?” The man reiterated, pointing to himself. “My name is Carlos Singh.” He smiled, fixing his blue and black plaid blazer before adjusting his gold watch. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr.Cameron.” He spoke, shoving one of his hands in his pocket and use the other to point at you. “And Ms.Carter, I do apologize for the rough tactics in bringing you here. But please, come.” He urged you both, pointing to the furniture behind him. “Sit down.”

You and Rafe exchanged a quick glance before narrowing your eyes at Singh.

“Come.” He said more firmly, his body half turned away from you now. “I don’t bite.” He smiled. Another moments pause and you locked eyes with Rafe who was seemingly waiting to see what you would do. You clenched your jaw before looking away from him and walking into the conjoined living area, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

“Rough tactics...” Rafe finally spoke, his thoughts lingering on Singh’s words as he entered the room and took a seat himself on the other end of the same couch. “What about me?”

“Yes, Mr. Cameron, false pretenses.” Carlos replied, pouring himself a drink. “But the ends justify the means, I’m afraid.” He assured, swiping up his glass as he turned to find a seat himself as he eyed the two of you, sat noticeably far apart. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Why are we here?” You swiftly responded, sat leaned back on the sofa with you arms crossed defensively, fixing Singh with a deadpan expression.

“Well, Ms. Carter, Mr. Cameron — we share certain interests, y’know. Objectives…” Carlos began, leaning forward in his seated position, swirling his glass around in his hand.

“Is this not about the cross?” Rafe sighed, manspreading in his seat as he threw an annoyed hand out.

“It is.” The man assured, a bright smirk on his face. “Tangentially, it is about the cross, but it’s also about somethin’ much, much bigger than the cross.” He explained, standing from his seat and walking to a painting on the wall as your eyes trailed him. “By orders of magnitude, the completion of a grand quest. You see…” Carlos started, turning slowly to face you both once again. “The story goes that four-hundred and fifty years ago, a Spanish soldier came out of the Orinoco Basin wit’ a few gold beads. And they asked the Spanish soldier where the beads came from, the Spanish soldier replied he got them from a peaceful Indigenous tribe who lived in a city of gold.” He recalled the story enthusiastically. “El Dorado.” Singh emphasized, a hazy look in his eyes.

“And for the next four-hundred and fifty years, people tried to find that gold, y’know.” He spoke with passion, pacing the room as he did. You and Rafe never took your eyes off the man. “They tried. Conquistadors, knights, captains of ships, tribes, entire nations. All fightin’ each other in a race for the end of the rainbow.” He informed. “Thousands of lives, laid on the pyre of gold fever. And it falls to me, y’know.” Singh pointed to himself repeatedly, emphasizing his point. “It falls to me to complete the task. To bring full circle a quest that has gone on for almost five-hundred years…Perhaps the greatest quest in the history of the western hemisphere, y’know.” He continued his borderline villainous monologue as you shifted in your seat, growing aggravated. “And you two,” He started again. “You two are goin’ to play a part in that.”

You side-eyed Rafe slowly at Carlos’s words, watching as he drew his lips into a thin line, growing increasingly annoyed. Your gaze refocused on Singh as he started speaking once again.

“Ms. Carter,” He dipped his head in your direction, eyes boring into yours. “Are you interest in history?” He asked slyly, taking a seat in an armchair across from you and setting his glass down on the end table next to it.

“I prefer to leave the past in the past.” You said, tone flat as you eyed the older man, straightening in your seat. “More a future person, y’know?” You mocked slightly as Rafe groaned, eyes on him now.

“Yeah, I didn’t listen to a word you said, okay?” He spoke, pinching the skin between his eyebrows. “How much you gonna keep philosophizing?” He questioned, jaw tense as he stared Singh down.

The wealthy man simply chuckled, fixing Rafe with a flat look, the smirk he’d had all afternoon quickly disappearing. “You are direct…aren’t you, Mr. Cameron?” Rafe offered no verbal reply, the two men sitting in suffocating silence as they sized each other up with their eyes, both leaned forward in their seats as your eyes darted between them.

“...What do you want from me?” You broke their pissing contest, wanting the answer to the question you’d been asking since you were hauled in the back of a truck on the beach.

Carlos spoke, eyes still on Rafe as he did. “I’ve come to believe that you and your friends,” He started, slowly fixing his gaze on you. “Are in possession of somethin’ that can help me get what I want.”

“Which is?” You asked, cocking a loathsome eyebrow as you sat up straighter.

“...An old manuscript.” Singh told you, staring down at his hands for a moment. “A diary, actually.”

At his words, your mind went to the only diary Singh could be looking for that was connected to the gold. The diary. Denmark’s diary.

“...I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Rafe spoke up, shrugging one shoulder. Singh’s smirk was returning as his eyes traveled from a genuinely clueless Rafe to you.

You leaned back once more, shrugging as you maintained eye contact with him. “I don’t know anything about a diary.” You said simply, crossing one leg over the other. Singh dipped his head at your words, seemingly laughing to himself before his expression hardened.

“But how else could you have learned that the cross was on The Royal Merchant?” He threw out, eyes locking with yours.

It was silent for a few beats before you sighed, adjusting yourself. “Look, I can’t help you.”

Singh just let out a single, low laugh. “I was hopin’ you wouldn’t say that, y’know.” He squinted his eyes at you, drawing his lips into a line. “...’Cause unfortunately, I don’t believe you.” He spat, his casual demeanor quickly turning into something more sinister. “You and your friend here couldn’t have found the cross without it.” Carlos snarled.

“He’s not my friend.” You snarled back, eyeing Rafe for the smallest of seconds before fixing your glare on Singh.

“Well, we can’t all be friends.”

“Look,” Rafe cut in with a harsh sigh, clapping his hands and standing from his seat. “This is ridiculous, okay? I’m out.” He affirmed, walking away as he spoke. “I don’t know anything about a damn diary, okay? So…” Just as Rafe turned to leave, a guard side-stepped in front of him — a large gun in his hand as he blocked Rafe’s path.

“...Do I look like a fool to you, Mr. Cameron?” Singh asked, slowly picking up his glass and sipping from it as he stared at Rafe’s back as Rafe stared at the guard — shoulders moving up and down as he laughed to himself. Singh stood from his seat, approaching the Cameron boy. “Do I look like a fool to you?” He repeated, raising his voice.

Rafe simply walked away from the guard, shrugging his shoulders in response to Singh’s question.

“...You have the cross.” Carlos told him, voice nearing a villainous whisper as he slowly pointed behind him in your direction as his eyes remained focused on Rafe. “She and she friends had the cross at one point. So, one of you,” He pointed back and forth between you and Rafe. “Has the diary.” At Singh’s words, Rafe’s eyes darted to you, stuck on your figure on the couch as Singh continued. “And if you really don’t know, then I suggest you convince your friend to tell me.”

You looked away from Rafe’s burning gaze at Carlos’s words, but you could still feel his burning blue eyes on the side of your face.

“Once I have the diary,” Singh turned around to you, the bright smile back on his face. “You’ll be free to leave.”

“ENJOY THE GROUNDS DURIN’ YOUR STAY.” Carlos welcomed you and Rafe, leading you both back up the room you were locked in prior to meeting. “I must warn you though,” The man looked at the both of you, standing in the doorway. “I’m not a man of infinite patience.” He warned, taking his hands out of his pockets and holding up one finger. “You have one day.” He said, voice dropping dangerously low. “...Go to the window for a little demonstration.” He smirked, throwing his head in the direction of the largest window in the room and backing out of the door, closing it behind himself.

“Hey, hey!” Rafe called, walking towards the door as you stayed planted. “You just done talkin’?!” He shouted through the wooden entryway, rattling the handle.

“It’s locked.” You said, walking over to the window Singh had pointed to and pulling the curtains back. The sound of vehicle approaching travelled through the glass as Rafe’s footsteps got closer to you. But your attention was stolen when two people exited the driver and passenger seats of the truck, pulling a man from the back, his plea's so loud, they were clearly heard through the window.

“Get off me, man! I didn’t do nothin’!”

“Who the hell is that guy?” Rafe’s voice appeared dangerously close to your ear, sending a chill down your spine that you brushed off as the man came into view, two guards dragging him by each arm.

“I know him.” You said, tone flat. “It’s Jimmy Portis.” You said, shaking your head as you came to a sad realization. “He was trying to help me…” You muttered to yourself, Rafe’s eyes on you for too long before returning to the window to watch whatever this was play out.

The two guards dragged Jimmy out of your field of vision just as Singh came into frame. He stopped in his tracks, turning around to look at the two of you from his place outside. In slow movements, he reached for the waistband of his pants, pulling out a gun with a sadistic smirk on his face.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” Rafe mumbled to himself, watching Singh’s eyes leave you two and he turned around and continued to walk away and in the direction Portis had been taken. Your eyes widened as you came to grasp the reality of what was happening.

Moments passed and just as you were taking in another labored breath, the sound of a single gunshot rang out.

You didn’t know this Singh guy. But it was clear that if Ward was a sinner, this man was the devil.

“...This diary.” Rafe breathed, turning to you and putting a hand on your shoulder that you promptly shrugged off.

“Don’t.” You warned, eyebrows set into a hard line. “Ever.”

Rafe just licked his lips and sighed. “Okay, no bullshit. Okay?” He spoke frantically, wide eyes searching you. “Do you have it?” He asked, but you didn’t look at him, eyes still staring longingly out of the window. “Y/N.” He gritted, gaining your attention as you slowly drifted your eyes to him.

You stared at him for a few moments, watching the boy send himself into a frenzy. You don’t know what he thought your answer would be.

With a shake of your head, you answered him.

“...No.”

next chapter >

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow.

note: i'm managing the taglist so if i can't tag or haven't been able to, i'm sorry i'm just going to remove you :( its a long list and trying to just takes too much time xx

#SoundCloud #jj maybank x reader #svn #jj maybank fluff #jj mayback x reader #obx jj x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #obx jj #jjpope #jj maybank #obx jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x fem!reader

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estellan0vella · 25 days ago

Text

The Romantic Trials and Tribulations of Han Peter Jisung: H.JS Han Jisung x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 19.3K

CW: Panic Attacks and Anxiety, Sexual Harassment and Assault Attempt, Violence and Physical Assault, Jisung falls fast and hard, Discussion of mental health issues, Language barrier difficulties (reader is Brazilian-Korean), Jisung is a yapper, strangers to lovers, CurlySung with a little manbun General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The living room is a mess of blankets, snack wrappers, and bodies sprawled across the couch and floor. You’re wedged between Chan-hee and Kevin as the bluish glow of Twilight plays on the TV. You barely even care about the movie, half-listening as Edward broods over Bella while the real entertainment unfolds in front of you.

Juyeon and Jacob are wrestling like their lives depend on it, grunting and cursing as they roll across the floor, limbs flailing. The cause of their battle? A single, lonely piece of kimbap sitting on the coffee table, the last remnant of the meal you cooked earlier.

“You two are fucking ridiculous,” Chan-hee says, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “It’s one piece of kimbap.”

“It’s the last piece,” Juyeon grunts, trying to pin Jacob’s arm behind his back. “And Y/N made it. That makes it sacred."

Kevin throws his head back with a dramatic sigh. “Just fucking split it.”

“No,” Juyeon and Jacob yell at the same time, their voices muffled as they continue to struggle.

Kevin rolls his eyes and throws a popcorn kernel at them. It bounces off Jacob’s head. “You guys are fucking exhausting.”

Jacob finally manages to wriggle free, lunging for the kimbap, but Juyeon is quicker. He snatches it up, shoving it into his mouth before Jacob can stop him.

Jacob lets out a horrified gasp, flopping onto the floor like he’s just been stabbed. “You’re dead to me,” he mutters, face buried in the carpet.

Juyeon chews triumphantly. “Worth it.”

Kevin claps his hands together. “Okay, children, now that that fucking disaster is over, tomorrow, movie marathon?”

You shift uncomfortably, tucking your hands into the sleeves of your jumper. “I... um... I can’t,” you mumble, your Portuguese accent thick as you struggle to piece the sentence together. “I, uh, plans with Minho.”

Chan-hee’s head snaps toward you so fast you think he might get whiplash. “Excuse me?!”

Kevin gasps, clutching his chest like you just personally betrayed him and you sink further into the couch. “He, um, needs help, with, uh study. Marine life.”

Chan-hee stares at you, utterly scandalized. “We’re not even classed as your best friends, are we?”

Your eyes widen in panic. “You are! You are! Just different. I know Minho longer. Like, um, since I born longer.”

Jacob, Juyeon, and Kevin all let out dramatic gasps, clutching at each other like the revelation is too much to bear. Juyeon strokes Jacob’s hair like he’s comforting a grieving widow. “We’ll get through this,” he murmurs.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “You all are dramatic.”

Kevin leans in, grinning. “Remember how he threatened us when you moved in?”

Everyone falls silent for a moment. Then, as if on cue, they all shudder.

“Oh, fuck,” Juyeon mutters.

“I still have nightmares,” Jacob adds.

Chan-hee rubs his arms like he’s suddenly cold. “He didn’t even have to yell. Just stared at us with that fucking psychotic look, like he was planning where to hide our bodies.”

Kevin nods solemnly. “Yeah. That was terrifying.” He turns back to you. “So what are the plans for you and Mr. Murder Stare?”

You hesitate, already regretting saying anything. “Um, going to frat house. Meeting his, uh, friends.”

The room falls dead silent before Kevin and Chan-hee both let out twin gasps of pure horror.

Jacob scrambles to his feet. “We need the sage.”

“Now,” Chan-hee agrees, already digging through the mess of the coffee table.

Juyeon stands, nodding gravely. “I’ll get the lighter.”

You blink in confusion. “Uh, what?”

Kevin grabs your shoulders, shaking you slightly. “Y/N, you’re stepping into Alpha Phi territory. That place is cursed.”

“They’re demons,” Chan-hee adds. “We have to cleanse you before you go in.”

Jacob returns with a bundle of sage, holding it like it’s a weapon. Juyeon flicks the lighter open, flame dancing.

You sigh. There’s no arguing with them when they get like this. “Okay. Do... whatever.”

Kevin grins. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Chan-hee waves his hands dramatically. “Everyone, gather around! We must protect our dear Y/N from the hellfire she is about to walk into.”

Juyeon lights the sage, the scent of burning herbs filling the air. Jacob starts humming some kind of ominous chant, waving his hands in circles.

Chan-hee presses a hand to your forehead. “Be gone, evil spirits of Alpha Phi! May the ghost of marine biology protect you!”

Kevin stifles a laugh as he moves behind you, making a cross over your back with the sage. “We anoint you with the power of sanity, so you do not lose yourself among the testosterone-ridden fiends.”

Juyeon walks in circles around you, waving the sage like a priest performing an exorcism. Jacob throws popcorn in the air like it’s holy water.

You sit there, letting them do whatever the fuck this is, fingers playing with the hem of your jumper. Your face is warm, a mix of embarrassment and amusement bubbling up as they take it all way too seriously.

Kevin finally steps back, nodding in satisfaction. “Alright. She’s protected.”

Jacob pats your head. “If you feel possessed, let us know.”

You shake your head, exhaling slowly. Your anxiety is still there, humming beneath your skin, but they always make things feel a little lighter. Even if they’re fucking insane.

Chan-hee flops back onto the couch. “Now, let’s finish this fucking movie. And someone make more kimbap before Jacob kills Juyeon.”

Minho stands in the middle of the Alpha Phi frat house living room, a spatula in his hand, smacking it against his palm with slow, deliberate force. The rhythmic sound echoes through the space, a sharp snap against his skin, a warning. He doesn’t say anything at first, just lets the repeated slap of silicone against flesh set the tone.

Hyunjin, sprawled half-asleep on the couch with his buzzed head resting against a pillow, blinks sluggishly. “What the fuck is going on?”

Minho lets the spatula land one more time, tilting his head slightly. “All of you have a chance to live past tomorrow as long as you listen to what I say right now.”

Seungmin leans forward from his spot in the armchair, adjusting his glasses. “The fuck does that mean?”

Minho finally stops hitting his palm and plants the spatula against his hip. “My best friend is coming over tomorrow afternoon.”

Chan looks up and sighs, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. “Min, you have people over all the time. We literally hear you fucking them. So what if you’re fucking your best friend?”

Minho freezes. A visible shudder runs through him before he lets out the most guttural, agonized gag. His entire body convulses, and he violently dry heaves, doubling over, hands on his knees. The sound is disgusting like he’s about to vomit all over the carpet.

“Dude, what the fuck-”

Felix, who has been sitting quietly on the couch with Jisung nestled between his legs, presses his lips together, watching with faint amusement as Minho continues to gag like he’s choking on pure horror.

Jisung, still fidgeting with his cube while Felix braids tiny sections of his hair and shoves random clips into it, looks up. “That was a really strong reaction. We should unpack that.”

Minho abruptly straightens, eyes burning with rage. He strides over to Chan and smacks him across the shoulder with the spatula. Hard.

“Ow, what the fuck?!”

Minho smacks him again. “This is not like that, you absolute fuckhead!” Another smack. “She’s my best friend. Only a friend.” Smack. “And everyone here knows I prefer cock anyway!” Smack, smack, smack.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Minho!”

Minho finally relents, shaking the spatula at the rest of them. “She’s coming over because I have a marine life portion of my veterinary science course, and she studies marine biology and she has crippling anxiety.”

Seungmin gestures lazily to Jisung. “He also has crippling anxiety.”

Jisung, still on the floor, barely looks up, too focused on clicking his cube back and forth as Felix continues to mess with his hair, now twisting the strands into uneven sections and securing them with tiny hair ties.

Jisung hums. “Yeah, but mine makes me hyper as fuck. I can’t sit still. I can’t stop talking. My brain is like a YouTube autoplay button that someone forgot to turn off.”

Minho exhales sharply, running a hand through his honey-blonde hair. “Exactly. You and her have very different presentations of anxiety. You’re a chihuahua on crack cocaine.”

Jisung grins. “Aww, thanks.”

Minho ignores him. “She can’t talk to new people. I have to do that for her. If I don’t, she just shuts down.”

Felix frowns. “Are you sure bringing her here is a good idea?”

Minho presses the spatula against his palm again. “No, which is why I am giving you all this talk now and why all of you shall have the fear of Minho put in you.”

Jisung glances up, blinking. “Isn’t the saying fear of God?”

Minho points a finger upwards. “God, if you believe, is up there.” He slowly lowers the finger and points directly at Jisung. “I am right here. Much, much closer.”

Seungmin smirks. “Yeah, because Satan came to earth and took on the name Lee Minho.”

Minho shrugs. “Maybe. Now, listen the fuck up. She doesn’t like loud noises or sudden loud noises. They make her panic, so being quiet is fucking necessary.” He stops and turns to glare at Chan, Changbin, and Hyunjin. “So all three of you stay the fuck out of the kitchen. No fire alarms.”

Chan scowls. “Hey-”

“No.” Minho raises the spatula again. “I swear to god, if that fire alarm goes off, I will fucking end you.”

Changbin groans. “That was one time.”

“One time my ass. You nearly burned the whole fucking kitchen down.”

Hyunjin throws his hands up. “Okay, yeah, that was bad, but-”

“Do you want to die?”

“No.”

“Then stay the fuck out of the kitchen.”

Felix squeezes Jisung’s pec absentmindedly as he glances up at Minho. “So basically, we just have to be on our best behaviour?”

Minho tilts his head, considering. “No. You all need to know the consequences of fucking up.”

Seungmin sighs. “Here we go.”

Minho cracks his neck. Then, slowly, he levels his gaze at Chan first. “If you say anything that makes her uncomfortable, I will personally drag you by your stupid curly head of hair and drown you in the fucking toilet.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “That seems excessive.”

Minho ignores him and moves to Changbin. “If you yell near her, I will rip out your vocal cords with my bare hands and string them up like decorations.”

Changbin snorts. “Creative.”

Next, Hyunjin. “If you scare her in any way, I will take that ugly fucking buzzcut of yours and carve a smiley face into the back of your head with my pocket knife.”

Hyunjin gasps, hand flying to his hair. “Bitch!”

Felix is next. “If you touch her without permission, I will break all ten of your fingers and then feed them to you.”

Felix pouts. “I wouldn’t touch her-”

Minho moves on. “Seungmin.”

Seungmin sighs dramatically. “Let me guess. If I insult her, you’ll shove my head into the oven?”

Minho shrugs. “Actually, I was thinking of locking you in the laundry room and filling it with spiders, but the oven is a solid alternative.”

Lastly, Jeongin. Minho crosses his arms. “If you do anything stupid, I will throw your entire fucking sewing machine out the window.”

Jeongin gasps, clutching his chest. “That’s fucked up.”

“Wait a second.” Chan gestures vaguely at the group. “You didn’t threaten Jisung.”

Minho turns to Jisung, who looks up from his fidget cube with curious eyes. “I will take your consoles,” Minho says. “And then I will gently tuck you into bed, and I will make you take a nap if you scare her with your rambling.”

“That’s fucking favouritism!”

“What the fuck?!”

“Are you kidding me?”

Jisung sputters, eyes wide. “No, wait, that’s not favouritism! I hate naps more than anything!”

Felix ruffles his hair, snickering. “Aww, poor baby.”

Jisung flails. “No, seriously, I fucking hate naps! I’d rather be waterboarded!”

Minho smirks. “Sucks to suck, buddy.”

Jisung groans, collapsing against Felix’s legs. “I fucking hate this house.”

Minho lets the chaos settle for a moment, rolling his shoulders before fixing them all with another pointed look. The spatula, still firm in his grip, smacks against his palm once more. It’s almost a reflex at this point.

“Also, there’s something else you need to know,” he says, his tone measured, but firm enough that it silences the lingering murmurs of complaint about favouritism. “Her Korean is very broken. She spent most of her life in Brazil. Technically, her first language is Korean, but she has spoken Portuguese for so long that she’s basically relearning the language now. She’s got a strong accent, and sometimes it takes her a few seconds to translate. She also uses her hands a lot when she talks, she gestures to try and figure out what she’s trying to say.”

Felix immediately nods. “Oh, yeah. I get that.” His fingers absentmindedly smooth down one of Jisung’s messy little braids. “I did the same thing when I moved here. It’s fucking hard. Your brain works twice as much trying to make sure you don’t sound like an idiot.”

Jisung perks up. “Oh! I was like that when I lived in Malaysia! Learning Malay was fucking hard, dude.” He clicks his fidget cube rapidly, his knee bouncing as the energy spikes in his chest. “Like, okay, so, I was already speaking English and Korean, right? But then I get thrown into this whole new language, and it’s like- fuck- what’s the word? Overload! Yeah, like, my brain was constantly buffering. And then when I finally got used to Malay, I had to start learning Mandarin too because everyone around me spoke it, and let me tell you, the tonal shit? A fucking nightmare.”

Changbin nudges Jeongin. “He’s going off.”

Jeongin smirks. “It’s kinda impressive how his mouth can keep up with his brain.”

Jisung barely pauses to breathe. “Oh, and don’t even get me started on writing! The characters, the sentence structure, the grammar, it’s a whole fucking process. Sometimes I’ll write something and realize I mixed up three languages in one sentence, and I have no idea how the fuck it happened. And then, like, my brain is just constantly flipping between them, and-”

Minho sighs. “Come on, Ji. We’ll get you some decaffeinated tea to wind you down, and I’ll sort out that mess on your head before Felix ruins your hair permanently.”

Jisung bounces to his feet instantly, almost knocking over the coffee table in the process. “Okay!” He scurries after Minho like an excited puppy, his fidget cube still clicking away in his hand.

Once they’re in the kitchen, Minho flips the light to a lower setting, the glow dimming into something softer. Jisung’s energy is still at its peak, but Minho knows the drill.

Jisung plops himself onto the counter, swinging his legs. “You know, I’ve been thinking about trying boxing more seriously. Not just for cardio, but like, an actual thing.” His fingers drum against his thighs. “Like, you know how we go to the gym and spar sometimes? What if I did that, but, like, a couple more times a week?”

Minho grabs the kettle and starts filling it with water. “Try the tea first.” He sets it on the stove, turning to face Jisung with a raised brow. “If you can sit through one sensory video without bouncing off the fucking walls, we’ll talk about increasing your gym time.”

Jisung narrows his eyes. “You drive a hard bargain.” He twists his fidget cube in his palm, considering. “What video?”

Minho leans against the counter. “One of those animated ones.”

Jisung claps his hands. “I love those. My favourite is when they change faces, and I’m like, ‘Aww, smiley peas,’ and then they switch, and I’m like, ‘Awww, smiley banana!’ And when they line up like a rainbow? Fucking art.”

Minho just shakes his head, amused, as he sets a mug on the counter. He brews the tea, setting it in front of Jisung before pulling out his phone to queue up a video. The screen fills with soft, satisfying animations, fruits and vegetables bouncing, colours shifting in rhythm with calm background music.

Jisung picks up his mug, blowing on the tea before taking a cautious sip. His shoulders drop slightly as the warmth spreads through him, the combination of the video and the drink working its magic.

Minho stands behind him, carefully undoing the mess Felix created in his hair. His fingers work gently, untangling knots and loosening the haphazard braids.

“You let him get really carried away this time,” Minho murmurs, combing his fingers through Jisung’s hair.

Jisung hums, watching as the fruit on screen morphs into another shape. “He likes playing with it. And honestly? It feels kinda nice.”

Minho chuckles. “You’re such a fucking cat.”

Jisung shrugs. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The kitchen is quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds being the soft music from the video and the occasional sip from Jisung’s tea. His knee still bounces, but slower now. The energy isn’t gone, but it’s settled, softened around the edges.

Minho finishes untangling the last braid and smooths his hands over Jisung’s hair. “There. Good as new.”

Jisung sighs dramatically. “You’re the best, Min. Seriously. What would I do without you?”

Minho smirks, tossing the fidget cube back to him. “Probably combust.”

Jisung catches it easily, already clicking it again. “Yeah. Probably.”

The summer heat clings to your skin as you step up the worn stone steps leading to the Alpha Phi frat house. The sun hangs high, casting long shadows against the pavement, and your fingers twitch against the chain strap of your black quilted shoulder bag. Your silver anxiety rings spin under your thumb, a nervous habit you can’t seem to break.

You inhale deeply, adjusting your fitted black cropped turtleneck, the fabric snug against your torso while your wide-leg grey trousers billow softly with each movement. The material is light, breathable, but you still feel the weight of your own nerves pressing against your chest.

You reach the front door, hesitating for only a second before pressing the doorbell. Your eyes widen as Love Me Like This by NMIXX rings out at full volume, echoing across the porch and probably into the street.

Before you can fully process the absurdity, the door swings open, and Minho is standing there, smirking. The sight of him eases something tight in your chest.

His eyes flick to your expression, the slight tension in your posture, and his smirk softens into something gentler. "Hey," he says, and before you can overthink it, he pulls you into a hug.

You let yourself relax for just a second, your face pressing briefly against his shoulder. The familiar warmth of him is grounding, and when he pulls back, you manage a small smile.

"How have you been?" he asks, watching as your fingers fidget with the strap of your bag.

You hesitate for a moment, translating in your head before answering. "I got project partner," you say slowly, your Korean clumsy, the sentence structure awkward. "Beom-Seok. He, uh, he is something."

Minho’s eyes narrow instantly. "Need me to fight him?"

Your eyes widen, shaking your head quickly. "No! No!"

Minho just exhales, giving you a look. "You ready?"

You nod.

"You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to, okay?" His voice is quieter now, just for you. "I’ll just tell you their names, and then we’ll head up to my room."

Another nod and Minho steps back, motioning for you to enter. You toe off your white Converse at the doorway, leaving you in your black ankle socks, and step inside. The air is cooler, the scent of something vaguely fried lingering in the space.

Then, suddenly, seven heads appear from the living room doorway, stacked on top of each other like a fucking totem pole of nosy idiots.

Minho groans. "Are you fucking serious?"

The heads remain stacked. A curious, synchronized tilt. You instinctively step slightly behind Minho, peeking out cautiously.

Minho gestures vaguely at the group. "Y/N, meet Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin." He points them out one by one.

You nod, heart pounding, and manage, "Nice to meet you."

The accent is unmistakable, thick and foreign, the syllables slow as you carefully piece them together. The words don’t flow naturally, each one feeling like a small mountain to climb.

You glance at Minho, silently asking if you said it right and he nods approvingly. "You got it. Pronunciation was great."

Felix grins. "Super impressive. It took me way longer when I was learning Korean."

"Oh!" Jisung practically vibrates where he stands. "That’s so cool! You’re, like, bilingual. Or trilingual? Do you speak anything else? Because that’s fucking sick. Oh, right, I should introduce myself properly. Han Jisung, at your service. Investigative journalism major, criminal psych minor. Also part-time nuisance, full-time genius. And, like, I totally get the whole language struggle thing. I lived in Malaysia for a while, right? So I had to learn Malay, and it was so fucking hard, like, the sentence structure? The way verbs change? Fucking insane. And then I came back here, and my Korean was rusty as shit, so I had to relearn a bunch-"

"Jesus Christ, someone stop him," Seungmin mutters.

Chan sighs, reaching out to slap a hand over Jisung’s mouth and Jisung nods in thanks, eyes still buzzing with energy.

Minho sighs, shaking his head. "Let’s go," he murmurs to you, leading you away from the mess and up the stairs.

The sound of the others talking fades as you follow Minho to his room, the walls lined with posters and books, a desk cluttered but organized in a way only he would understand. The scent of fresh laundry lingers, familiar and oddly comforting.

You glance at him, hesitating before saying, "Jisung is cute."

"He’s single, you know. You could get that chronically anxious dick."

Your foot immediately swings out, colliding with his shin and Minho yelps, stumbling back, clutching his leg dramatically. "You little-"

Before he can finish, you snatch a magazine from his desk and swat him over the head.

He wails. "Violence!"

You huff, crossing your arms and Minho groans, rubbing his shin. "Fine. No more comments about Jisung’s dick. Jesus."

You glare for a second longer before tossing the magazine back onto his desk.

Minho exhales, shaking his head. "You and your fucking kicks."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

He notices but doesn’t say anything, just nudges your arm lightly.

"Come on," he says. "Let’s actually study before we end up talking about Jisung’s fucking anxiety again."

You nod, settling onto the floor with him, feeling just a little less on edge.

As soon as Minho and you disappear upstairs, Jisung spins around dramatically, clutching his chest like he’s been physically struck. His eyes are wide, sparkling with something unhinged, and his mouth falls open as if he’s about to recite the most poetic sonnet of his life.

“Love at first sight,” he breathes, staggering slightly as if the sheer weight of his emotions is too much to bear.

Jeongin’s head snaps toward him so fast it looks like he might get whiplash. “Minho’s friend?!”

Jisung nods rapidly, his whole body vibrating like an over-caffeinated bobblehead. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Minho’s friend! The most beautiful creature to ever grace this filthy frat house! The embodiment of grace, of elegance, of shyness so devastating it makes my heart fucking ache! The little peek from behind him? The way she barely spoke but when she did, the accent, Jeongin! The fucking accent!”

Changbin stares at him, horrified. “Do you have a fucking death wish? Do you want to die? Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen if you try to pull anything with Minho’s best friend.”

Chan squints at Jisung like he’s just grown a second head. “Jisung, I know you’re mentally ill, but are you fucking insane?!”

Jisung throws his arms in the air, his fidget cube clattering onto the couch. “I can’t control it! My heart! It’s not mine anymore! It now beats for her! She had a halo, I swear to god! A halo! And a sexy accent! And she studies marine biology! Marine biology, Chan! Do you know how much I know about ocean life?! Too much! An unhealthy amount! I have years of marine documentary knowledge just rotting in my brain, waiting for the perfect moment to be used, and this is it! This is my moment!”

Seungmin pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is the worst thing you’ve ever said.”

Jisung, completely unfazed, keeps going. “Did you see her?! Did you see how fucking delicate she was? Like a little fairy? Like, holy fuck, I swear I saw wings. All quiet and pretty and soft, like a book character that just came to life. Like, I know she’s shy, and I know she has anxiety, but holy shit, that just makes her even more unreal. Like, I have anxiety, but it makes me feel like a coked-up raccoon, she has anxiety, and it makes her look like a fragile porcelain doll that I want to protect with my life! It’s a different kind of anxiety! It’s the kind of anxiety that makes my soul yearn-”

Seungmin groans. “You need to be medicated.”

Changbin shakes his head. “No, he needs a fucking lobotomy.”

Jisung keeps talking like he doesn’t even hear them. “And her outfit? The black turtleneck, the wide-leg trousers? That’s the kind of effortless fashion that’s just unfair. Like, she could’ve worn a trash bag, and she still would’ve looked like an ethereal being that descended from the heavens just to ruin my life! And the way she held her bag? Like, the little fiddling with the strap? That was the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my entire existence, and I watch baby animal compilations at least once a day!”

“Shut him the fuck up,” Hyunjin mutters.

Chan doesn’t even hesitate. He lunges forward, smacking Jisung upside the head.

Jisung yelps, but he barely stops talking. “-and don’t even get me started on her rings, because holy shit, there’s something about silver jewellery that just does something to me, and- ow, what the fuck, Chan-”

Hyunjin joins in, smacking the other side of Jisung’s head. “Shut the fuck up!”

Jisung shrieks, ducking as Changbin swings at him next and Changbin finally gets him, jabbing him in the ribs. “MINHO IS GOING TO FUCKING MURDER YOU.”

Felix, watching the absolute carnage unfold, simply tilts his head. “I think it’s sweet.”

Jisung gasps dramatically, clutching Felix’s wrist like he’s just been given a lifeline. “Thank you, Felix! Someone here actually appreciates romance.” He composes himself, straightening his spine. “I need a plan.”

Felix nods solemnly. “First, you need a sword to defend yourself against Minho.”

Jisung nods back, equally serious. “Right. A sword.”

Changbin gapes at them. “Are you two fucking dumb? A sword?! Against Minho?! He’ll just take it from you and stab you with it!”

Jisung waves a hand. “Details, details.” He places a hand over his heart again. “I am willing to risk it all for love.”

Felix tilts his head. “Honestly? If Minho were to let anyone here date his friend, it’d probably be Jisung.”

Jisung’s eyes widen. Slowly, a grin spreads across his face. “Gentlemen, welcome to the romantic trials and tribulations of Han Peter Jisung.”

The quiet room is a sanctuary. A place where the hum of voices, the constant shuffle of students, the relentless buzz of the outside world all fade into the background. It’s one of the few spaces on campus where only a handful of students have access, those who need silence, those who require a place to breathe.

You exhale slowly, adjusting the volume on your laptop as the Korean narration of the marine biology documentary plays quietly. The Portuguese subtitles flicker at the bottom of the screen, your eyes following each word carefully. It’s the best way you’ve found to strengthen your Korean, forcing your brain to process both languages at once.

Your fingers toy with the anxiety rings on your hands, silver bands spinning as you jot down notes in your notebook. The documentary covers coral ecosystems, the way the reefs function as an underwater city teeming with life. You’re completely engrossed until the door opens.

Jisung stands in the doorway, holding up his access pass like he’s proving he has a reason to be here. His fitted black zip-up jacket hugs his frame, the high neck zipped up just below his chin, and his light-wash, wide-leg denim jeans hang loosely over his black combat boots. There’s something effortlessly cool about him, but the nervous energy buzzing around him makes him feel more approachable.

His expression is open, a small smile tugging at his lips. He doesn’t look like he’s here to disturb the quiet, though his very presence carries an air of movement, of something constantly in motion. He hesitates just slightly, eyes flickering toward the empty seat next to you.

“Can I sit with you?”

You nod and Jisung’s smile widens as he settles into the chair beside you, leaning in just enough to peek at your laptop screen. “Ooh, I love that documentary. They’re talking about coral life, right?”

You nod again, fingers still fidgeting with the rings on your hand.

Jisung glances at the screen again, tilting his head slightly. “Can I watch with you?”

Another nod. He seems completely unbothered by your silence, instead resting his arms on the table as he scans the subtitles. After a second, he furrows his brows. “What language are the subtitles?”

You hesitate for a moment, mentally piecing together the sentence before speaking. “Uh, Portuguese? Is that how you say?”

Jisung hums thoughtfully. “Close. You put too much emphasis on the initial consonant and not enough on the vowel.”

“Oh.” You repeat the word, trying to correct it.

Jisung grins. “Yeah, you got it.”

You smile, just a little.

He doesn’t seem to expect you to talk much, which is a relief. Instead, he starts filling the silence with easy chatter, his voice animated but careful, slow enough that you can follow along.

“I love marine biology documentaries. I mean, I love all documentaries, but marine life is especially cool. Did you know octopuses can change colour not just to blend in, but also based on their mood? Like, they literally express emotions through their skin. That’s insane. And don’t even get me started on mimic octopuses. They can literally impersonate other sea creatures. Like, full-on cosplay. They can pretend to be sea snakes, lionfish, crabs. It’s like if I just shapeshifted into Minho whenever I wanted to scare someone.”

You do know. You know everything he’s saying, but you let him talk. Jisung watches your expression as he continues, testing how much you understand. If you look even slightly lost, he slows down, repeats certain words, and if that doesn’t work, he pulls out his phone, opening a translator app and speaking directly into it.

You blink in surprise when the app suddenly speaks in Portuguese, perfectly clear and easy to understand.

Jisung grins. “I use it a lot. Seoul has a ton of tourists, and I like helping people if they need it.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just nod again.

He keeps going, keeping his voice soft so he doesn’t disrupt the quiet of the room. “Also, jellyfish? Some of them are basically immortal, like, they just revert back to their younger form and start their life cycle over. Which is kinda cool, but also terrifying because imagine if humans could do that? Like, if you hit eighty and just decided to turn back into a baby instead of dying. That’s some horror movie shit.”

Your lips twitch, amusement flickering across your face.

Jisung notices immediately, his grin widening. “Oh, I saw that. I made you smile. That’s a win for me.”

Jisung leans back slightly, staring at the screen as the documentary shifts to a segment about symbiotic relationships in the ocean. “Oh, clownfish and anemones! Classic duo. Everyone thinks of Finding Nemo, but the wild part is that clownfish can actually change sex. If the dominant female in the group dies, the largest male will turn into a female to take her place. Like, full biological transformation. That’s commitment.”

“You know lots.”

Jisung shrugs, fidgeting slightly with the sleeve of his jacket. “I get hyper-fixated on stuff sometimes. Documentaries are my comfort zone.”

You understand that more than he realizes.

Jisung tilts his head. “You’re really quiet.”

Your fingers twist the rings on your hand. “I do not know what to say.”

“That’s okay. I talk enough for both of us.”

You huff a quiet laugh, and Jisung grins like he just won something.

The documentary continues playing, but you find yourself paying more attention to Jisung’s presence beside you. He’s restless, always moving in some way, bouncing his knee, tapping his fingers, adjusting the zipper of his jacket. But it doesn’t feel disruptive. It feels natural.

He doesn’t press you to talk, doesn’t expect you to meet him at his energy level. He just exists beside you, comfortable in his own whirlwind of movement, and for the first time in a while, you don’t feel the pressure to shrink yourself down.

Maybe, just maybe, Jisung isn’t as overwhelming as you first thought.

Jisung practically explodes into Felix’s room, the door swinging open with such force that it bounces off the wall. Felix, who had been comfortably hunched over his gaming setup, lets out a startled noise, nearly dropping his controller.

“The fuck, Jisung?” Felix huffs, yanking off his headset.

“I spent time with Y/N today!”

That gets Felix’s attention. Immediately, he pauses his game and spins in his chair, his full focus now on Jisung. “Oh?”

Jisung nods so violently that his hair flops in his face, his excitement barely contained. “We were in one of the quiet rooms. Just me and her, no interruptions, just vibes. And we watched a documentary. A marine biology documentary. Felix, do you understand how fucking insane that is?!”

Felix smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, yeah. Wild.”

Jisung is undeterred, pacing the small space as he gestures wildly. “She looked so pretty, man. Like, she was just sitting there, watching the documentary, and I swear to god, she has this ethereal kind of presence. Like, you know when the light hits someone just right and they look all angelic and shit? That was her. She was wearing this really nice fitted bodysuit, deep V-neck, and I am a man, Felix, I noticed, and those high-waisted jeans? Fucking criminal. The way they fit her-"

Felix bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “Jesus, you’re gone, dude.”

“I am!” Jisung agrees, throwing his arms up. “And the jewellery, her little silver rings? I think I ascended when she started fidgeting with them. It’s so fucking cute! Like, she was just sitting there, all focused, twirling the chain around her fingers like some kind of shy goddess-”

Felix raises a hand. “Okay, Romeo, calm the fuck down.”

Jisung stops abruptly, inhaling deeply before exhaling all at once. Felix watches him for a moment before grinning. “Well, it seems like your hyper fixation on documentaries finally did something for you.”

Jisung nods rapidly, his whole body vibrating with agreement. “I know, right?! It’s like the universe finally aligned like this was the moment my excessive knowledge of marine biology was meant for! She didn’t even get annoyed when I rambled. She let me talk! And you know how people usually get all ‘Jisung, shut the fuck up’ when I start going off? She didn’t do that! She just listened! Like an angel! Like the patron saint of patience and marine ecosystems!”

Felix snickers, tilting his head. “So what’s the plan, loverboy?”

Jisung's face splits into a mischievous grin. He dramatically claps his hands together, rubbing them like a cartoon villain. “I have a plan,”

Felix raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“I’m going to write a journalism article on investigating the effects of plastic on aquatic life. And then I’m going to ask Y/N to help me.”

Felix stares at him for a second before bursting out laughing. “That’s actually smart.”

Jisung grins, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “I know! She’s literally a marine biology major, Felix. This is perfect! It’s academic, it’s something I genuinely care about, and it means I’ll get to spend more time with her!”

Felix shakes his head, still grinning. “Damn, you’re really in deep, huh?”

Jisung groans dramatically, flopping onto Felix’s bed. “Felix, I am drowning. And you know what? I don’t want a fucking lifeboat. I’m just gonna let the ocean of my emotions consume me.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Alright, Shakespeare, go get started on your research before you combust.”

Jisung sits up instantly, determination burning in his eyes. “You’re right. I need to prepare. This has to be perfect.”

Felix watches as Jisung scrambles to his feet, already pulling out his phone, probably to start researching on the way to his room.

As he reaches the doorway, Jisung pauses. Then he turns back, pointing dramatically at Felix. “Operation Love at High Tide is officially in motion.”

Felix groans. “I fucking hate you.”

Jisung just grins and bolts down the hallway, already mumbling excitedly to himself.

The quiet room is a refuge against the relentless heatwave. The campus feels suffocating, the humidity pressing in from all sides, and your body always feels heavier when it’s this hot, like the warmth drags your energy down until your limbs are sluggish, your mind slower to process. It doesn’t help that Beom-Seok has been more unbearable than usual, his usual annoying flirtations escalating into excessive physical contact, hands lingering far too long on your wrist, your shoulder, even the small of your back. The moment you’d managed to shake him, you’d practically sprinted to the quiet room, seeking out the air conditioning and solitude.

The cool air soothes the tension in your body as you sit at the table, your laptop open in front of you, an article on turtles and microplastics affecting their breeding cycles displayed on the screen.

Your green maxi skirt pools around your legs as you shift, the material soft against your skin. The white crochet halter top breathes easily in the heat, and the bandana keeping your hair back prevents it from sticking to your skin.

The door swings open and Jisung steps inside. His white Nirvana graphic tee is slightly oversized, hanging loose over his camouflage cargo pants, and his white chunky sneakers make soft thuds against the floor as he moves toward you. A white bandana keeps his hair out of his face, but a few strands still manage to escape, framing his features.

He places his bag on the chair across from you before sliding one of the cups in his hands toward you. “Hey,” he says, his tone easy, familiar. “Figured you’d need this.”

You blink at the iced latte in front of you, condensation already beading on the plastic. Your fingers brush against the cold surface as you hesitate, glancing up at him.

Jisung grins. “I figured you’d want something iced since, you know, death heat.”

Your lips part, struggling for a second to form the right words. “Oh. Uh, thanks.”

Jisung waves a hand, plopping down across from you and taking a sip of his own iced americano. “Don’t judge the outfit, okay? I’m running out of clean clothes because I’m sweating through everything in this fucking heatwave. I think my laundry basket is actually mocking me at this point.”

You tilt your head slightly, glancing at his shirt and pants. “You.. look fine.”

Jisung grins. “See, this is why I like you and I need your help.”

You glance at him, waiting.

“I chose to do a journalism article on investigating the effects of plastic on aquatic life,” he announces, pulling his notebooks from his backpack. “And I thought, you know who can help me? Y/N.”

Your eyebrows raise slightly as he slides his notes toward you. The pages are chaotic, a mess of hurried writing, crossed-out sentences, and doodles.

Jisung rubs the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, not much. And not factual enough. Which is why I desperately need your help.”

You pull the notebook closer, your eyes scanning the pages. You have to read slowly, taking your time to process the Korean and translate it in your head. But as you go through his notes, something becomes increasingly clear, there’s barely anything about plastics and aquatic life. Instead, it’s filled with scattered thoughts, personal opinions, and elaborate doodles of sea creatures.

You pause, a small smile tugging at your lips as you read one of the notes scrawled in the middle of the page.

Male dolphins should be cancelled. Make a #MeToo movement for female dolphins at a later date.

A quiet laugh escapes before you can stop it. Jisung immediately perks up. “Oh my god, I made you laugh. That means you got to that part, huh?”

You glance at him, still amused. “Male… dolphins?”

Jisung groans, throwing his head back. “They’re rapists, Y/N! It’s awful! I was doing some research, and it turns out they have fucking gangs where they kidnap female dolphins and force them to mate. And it gets worse! They also hump humans! There are actual recorded incidents of people getting harassed by fucking dolphins! Like, imagine going on a nice vacation, swimming in the ocean, and then bam! Sexual assault by a dolphin! I trusted them! We all trusted them!”

You already know all of this. But you let him talk.

“And the thing is, everyone thinks dolphins are these cute, friendly ocean puppies, but no! They’re fucking menaces! And you know what else? They kill for fun! They’ll just murder baby porpoises for no fucking reason! They don’t even eat them, they just do it! Like some serial killer shit! If dolphins had access to land, they’d probably be running underground crime rings or some mafia bullshit.”

You sip your latte, watching him with mild amusement and Jisung slams his notebook shut. “I’m sorry, I just needed to get that off my chest.”

You nod solemnly. “I get.”

Jisung exhales deeply, slumping forward onto the table. “So. Are you gonna help me fix my article so it actually has, you know, real information?”

“Yes. I help.”

Jisung beams. “You’re the best.”

You tap your pen against Jisung’s notebook, eyeing the chaotic scrawl of words and sketches, a mix of actual research and unhinged commentary about marine life. Your fingers twitch slightly as you resist the urge to cross out half of what’s written and start from scratch.

“You need more, um, fact? More, uh, sources. Not just, your, uh,” You wave a hand vaguely at the dolphin rant section.

Jisung snickers but nods, tapping his fingers against his iced americano. “Yeah, okay, fair. I might have gotten a little carried away.”

You tilt your laptop toward him, opening the article you had been reading before he arrived. The page is filled with data, references, and case studies on how microplastics affect the reproductive cycles of sea turtles.

“This...” You hesitate, searching for the word before sighing and resorting to miming. You point at the screen, then gesture with your fingers like you’re flipping through pages of a book.

Jisung immediately brightens. “Oh! Research! Like, actual academic sources?”

You nod quickly. “Yes! That.”

Jisung scoots closer, eyes scanning the article as he sips his drink. “Okay, this is actually sick. Sea turtles getting fucked over by microplastics? Not sick. But the amount of data here? Sick.” He tilts his head, reading. “Wait, so the microplastics don’t just mess with their digestion, they actually affect temperature-dependent sex determination?”

“Yes. Uh, how to say...” You gesture vaguely in the air, thinking. “More heat, more...” You pause, then trace the outline of a turtle shell with your fingers.

Jisung watches, amused but also genuinely interested. “More heat makes more turtles?”

You shake your head quickly. “No, no. More, uh, female?”

“Oh shit, it skews the ratio?”

“Yes!” You smile slightly, relieved he understands. “More heat, more female. Less male.”

Jisung whistles, rubbing his chin. “So they’re basically just making future generations completely unbalanced because of plastic. Yeah, okay, I definitely need to fix this shit.” He flips through his own pages, groaning as he lands on yet another doodle of a very muscular crab holding a knife. “Jesus, past Jisung, what the fuck were you on?”

You can’t help but laugh quietly. Jisung hears it and grins, immediately encouraged. “Alright, let’s really get to work. What other sources should I be using?”

You start scrolling, pulling up more articles, explaining them in slow, broken Korean while he listens attentively, nodding along. He asks questions, some smart, some absolutely ridiculous, but he cares, and that alone makes it easier to keep going.

Then, suddenly, you hear it. Beom-Seok’s voice.

Your fingers immediately tighten around your anxiety rings, your whole body going rigid as your stomach twists itself into knots. You hear him somewhere outside, laughing loudly, his voice carrying through the hall. It’s too much, too familiar, and you really don’t want to deal with him right now.

You turn quickly to Jisung, your voice low, urgent. “I... not here.”

Jisung frowns slightly, looking at you properly for the first time. His energy settles just enough for him to catch the tension in your shoulders, the way your fingers tremble slightly as you twist your rings over and over again.

Jisung doesn’t ask questions, he just nods without hesitation. And then, because he is Jisung, he immediately hypes himself up like he’s about to walk into a literal fight. He bounces up on the balls of his feet, shaking out his arms, taking a quick sip of his americano before setting it down like he’s getting into the zone. Then, without warning, he starts throwing quick jabs in the air, shaking his head like he’s about to step into a boxing ring.

You stare at him, blinking until he catches your expression and grins. “What? Minho says I gotta be ready at all times. I could get jumped. You never know.”

Beom-Seok’s voice is closer now, just outside the room. Jisung straightens up, rolls his shoulders, and swings the door open like a bouncer checking for ID. He leans against the frame, immediately raising an eyebrow.

“Pass?” he asks, voice flat.

Beom-Seok blinks at him. “What?”

Jisung gestures vaguely toward the quiet room. “This is a pass-only room, dude. You got one?”

Beom-Seok frowns. “I’m not trying to come in. I’m looking for Y/N.”

“Well, it’s just me and my mental health issues in here.”

Beom-Seok blinks again. “What?”

“You know, it’s actually crazy how much people underestimate the importance of mental health rooms. Like, did you know that excessive stimulation can literally fry your nervous system? It’s actually fucked up. And people assume that just because I’m loud, I don’t get overwhelmed, but oh-ho, my guy, let me tell you-”

Beom-Seok’s brows knit together. “I just-”

“-sometimes the only thing keeping me from absolutely losing my shit is a fidget cube. A fidget cube. Can you imagine? The fragile balance of my entire existence depends on the smooth rotation of a tiny plastic fucking cube. And you know what else is fucked up? The government. But we don’t have time to get into that-”

Beom-Seok’s jaw tightens. “I just want to know where-”

“-and speaking of time, isn’t it wild how time perception changes depending on emotional states? Like, when you’re having fun, time moves fast as fuck, but when you’re stuck in a boring ass conversation-” he gestures vaguely at Beom-Seok “-it’s like time stops completely. Scientists have theories about it, but honestly, my personal belief is that it’s all a simulation, and we’re just pawns in a very elaborate-”

Beom-Seok stares at him like he’s just grown a second head. “Are you on something?”

“I am simply powered by caffeine and anxiety!”

Beom-Seok clenches his jaw, clearly trying to decide whether or not it’s even worth engaging anymore. “Look, just tell Y/N I’m looking for her.”

Jisung tilts his head. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll get right on that.”

Beom-Seok stares at him for another few seconds, then exhales sharply, shaking his head as he turns to walk away and Jisung grins to himself, watching him leave before slowly shutting the door.

You peek out from behind the table, shoulders still tight, but relief creeping in. “He... gone?”

Jisung nods proudly. “Yup! He stood no chance against my greatest weapon, insufferable energy.”

You exhale, tension draining from your muscles. “Thank you.”

Jisung flops back into his chair, sipping his iced americano like he didn’t just mentally exhaust another human being into leaving. “Anytime. Now, let’s get back to fixing my disaster of an article.”

Two weeks have passed, and the quiet room has become a routine, a ritual. Every day, you and Jisung escape here, seeking the crisp relief of the air conditioning while the outside world suffocates under the relentless heatwave. The afternoons stretch into evenings, iced coffee sweating against plastic cups, the hum of your laptops a constant background noise.

You’ve been meaning to start Jisung’s article. Really. It’s just that every time he sits down, notebook open, laptop glowing, he gets distracted. It always starts small, he’ll see something in the news while opening his browser or remember something halfway through a sip of his coffee, and suddenly, the conversation veers.

Today is no different.

Jisung leans back in his chair, his sleeveless white top clinging to his skin in the summer heat. His broad chest stretches the fabric in a way that should be illegal, and a black bandana keeps his hair back, but a few strands have escaped, curling against his forehead, and he’s tied part of it in a little bun at the back of his head to stop it from touching his neck.

He’s halfway through an enthusiastic retelling of a Princess Diana documentary, gesturing animatedly with his iced americano in one hand.

You sit across from him, quietly sipping your iced latte. The cream-coloured cropped blouse you’re wearing ties just below your breasts, the billowy sleeves falling loosely over your arms. Your blue maxi skirt pools over your crossed legs, the soft fabric cooling against your skin. A matching blue bandana keeps your hair back, two strands framing your face.

Jisung doesn’t need you to speak. He never does. He just talks, and you listen. And you like it.

“The wildest part? The fucking conspiracy theories. Like, okay. I love a good conspiracy. Did aliens build the pyramids? Maybe. But the amount of people who think MI6 had her killed? The theories actually make sense, which is the fucked-up part. The Royal Family hated her, and suddenly she dies in a crash with zero CCTV footage from the tunnel?”

You blink at him, processing his rant. “You think she was, um, killed?”

“I mean. It wouldn’t surprise me.”

You shake your head slightly, sipping your coffee. “You watch many, uh, true crime?”

Jisung snorts. “Too much. Documentaries, podcasts, YouTube deep dives, all of it.” He takes another sip of his coffee. “You ever watch that one on, uh, what’s his face, Ted Bundy?”

You nod slowly. “Yes. Many...” You search for the word, frowning before miming a camera with your hands. “Many, uh, films?”

Jisung grins. “Movies! Yeah, yeah, there’s been a shit ton.” He leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “You like true crime?”

You hesitate. “Sometimes.”

Jisung hums, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup. “Fair. It’s fascinating but also terrifying.”

You nod in agreement, twisting one of your silver rings absentmindedly. There’s a comfortable silence between you, the low hum of the air conditioning filling the space.

Then, finally, you clear your throat. “You... should start, uh, making, um...” You pause, struggling to piece the sentence together before settling on the easiest way to say it. “Mind... maps?”

Jisung tilts his head, thinking. “Mindmaps?”

You nod. “To, um... build... up main parts?” You frown, thinking harder before miming connecting dots in the air. “Like, um... break... break research?”

Jisung watches your hands, his grin growing. “Ohhh, I get it! Like, use a research paper, break it into sections, and then use those small ideas to flow into the full article?”

You exhale in relief, nodding. “Yes! That.”

Jisung beams. “Fuck yeah. That makes so much sense.” He immediately unzips his bag, pulling out highlighters, notebooks, his laptop, and a ridiculous number of coloured pens. “We’re about to make this shit art.”

You shake your head but smile, watching as he spreads out his supplies.

He flips open a blank page in his notebook, tapping a pen against his lip. “Okay, so first, we pick a research paper, right? Which one should we use?”

You pull your laptop closer, scrolling through the saved articles. After a few seconds, you tilt the screen toward him. “This? It, um, good?”

Jisung leans in, scanning the page. “Microplastics and their impact on marine food chains. Yeah, okay, this is perfect.” He cracks his knuckles, grabbing a green highlighter. “Let’s fucking go.”

You both start working, reading through the paper and breaking it down into simple ideas. Jisung is surprisingly focused when he wants to be, humming softly as he underlines key points and draws messy bubbles around main topics.

You glance at his notebook and immediately stifle a laugh. His mindmap is chaos. Some sections are neatly labelled, others have tiny doodles next to them. You spot a tiny, angry-looking jellyfish wearing sunglasses in the corner.

Jisung catches you looking and grins. “What? He’s a cool motherfucker.”

You shake your head, laughing softly.

Jisung taps his pen against the page, thinking. “I don’t want this to be a boring-ass report, though. If people wanted to read a report, they’d just read the research paper.”

You tilt your head. “So... add, um, your, uh,” You pause, struggling before pointing at him. “You.”

Jisung blinks. “Me?”

You nod. “You... is funny.”

Jisung beams. “Fuck yeah, I am. How's this?”

His first attempt at a joke is scrawled across the page in slightly uneven handwriting:

Microplastics: because just fucking up the land wasn’t enough, we had to ruin the ocean too.

He glances up, waiting. You blink at the words, considering them for a moment before tilting your head slightly. “It good,” you say carefully. “But, maybe, shorter?”

Jisung grins, flipping the page to rewrite it. “Alright, alright, let me work my comedic genius.” He mutters to himself as he rewords it, scribbling out different variations before nodding to himself and showing you the final version.

Microplastics: land pollution wasn’t enough, so we said fuck it, let’s poison fish too.

You huff out a quiet laugh, nodding. Jisung’s grin stretches wider. “Yes! Okay, that one stays.”

He gets back to work, tossing out different one-liners for various sections of his article. Some make you roll your eyes. Some are so bad you just stare at him until he groans and crosses them out himself. But the ones that make you actually laugh? Those, he keeps.

For the section on the ocean’s rising temperatures, he jots down: The ocean is getting hotter, and not in a sexy way.

You giggle at that one, covering your mouth, and Jisung fist pumps. “See? This is why I need you. You’re my official bullshit detector.”

Another one, for the way microplastics are now showing up in human bodies: Congratulations, you’re now 30% water and 5% plastic. We’re all just one step away from becoming living Barbie dolls.

You snort, shaking your head, and Jisung beams as he underlines it.

Then he gets to the part about dolphins. His eyes light up mischievously, and before you can even process what’s happening, he scribbles down: Male dolphins: proof that even the ocean has predatory men.

You laugh, really laugh, a full-bodied, breathy noise that catches even you by surprise. Jisung gasps, pressing a dramatic hand to his chest. “I knew it! I fucking knew that one would land.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “It... good.”

Jisung grins, practically bouncing in his seat as he scribbles more notes. His energy fills the room, easy and contagious, and for once, you don’t feel overwhelmed by it.

Then there’s a knock at the door. Your stomach drops. You don’t need to hear the voice to know who it is. Jisung groans before standing up and making his way to the door. He swings it open just enough to poke his head out, squinting dramatically at whoever is standing outside.

“You again?”

Beom-Seok stands there, brows furrowed in frustration. “Where’s Y/N?”

Jisung lets out a long, suffering sigh and leans against the doorframe. “Ahh, here we go again. The saga of men who can’t take a fucking hint continues.”

Beom-Seok frowns. “What?”

Jisung ignores him completely, launching straight into another one of his infamous rants. “You know what I don’t understand? Clingy men. Like, bro, why do some guys act like GPS trackers with fucking attachment issues? Like, what happened? Did your parents not hug you enough as a kid? Do you need therapy? A pet? A hobby? Why are some dudes so allergic to leaving women the fuck alone?”

Beom-Seok sighs, visibly annoyed. “I just need to-”

“Oh, no, I get it,” Jisung continues, nodding like he’s solving a true crime case. “You’re one of those guys who thinks ‘no’ means ‘convince me,’ huh? Like, ‘Oh, she’s just playing hard to get.’ Nah, my guy. You are the game, and it’s called Leave Her the Fuck Alone Simulator 3000.”

Beom-Seok exhales sharply, jaw clenching. “Is she in there or not?”

Jisung grins, tilting his head. “Hmmm, mystery. The suspense. The drama. What will happen next? Will the creepy guy take a fucking hint, or will he continue embarrassing himself? Stay tuned for the next episode of No One Wants You Here.”

Beom-Seok’s patience is clearly thinning. “Look-”

Jisung keeps going, undeterred. “Also, fun fact? If you keep showing up like this, it stops being persistence and starts being a fucking horror movie. ‘Oh, but I just wanna talk to her’, okay, Michael Myers, then why the fuck are you showing up like an unwanted jump scare? Ever heard of a text? A call? A restraining order?”

Beom-Seok glares at him now. “I don’t even know you.”

Jisung gasps, fake-offended. “And yet,” he says, placing a hand over his heart, “I already know so much about you. The fact that you have the personality of a wet napkin? That’s one. The fact that your hair looks like it was cut by a blindfolded five-year-old? That’s two. And three, the fact that you’re still standing here after I’ve made it so fucking clear that you’re not wanted?” He clicks his tongue. “Tragic.”

Beom-Seok looks about two seconds away from punching him. “Just tell Y/N I was looking for her.”

Jisung raises his brows. “Yeah, I could do that. But I won’t.”

Beom-Seok exhales sharply, shaking his head before finally walking away.

Jisung watches him go, then slams the door shut with a triumphant grin. He turns back to you, flexing dramatically. “And that’s how you fend off unwanted male attention, my dear Y/N.”

You exhale, the tension in your body finally easing. “Thank you.”

Jisung waves a hand. “Anytime.” He plops back into his seat, cracking his knuckles. “Now, let’s get back to roasting the ocean’s biggest predators. And no, I don’t mean sharks. I mean dolphins.”

You shake your head, amused, as Jisung dives right back into his notebook, ready to turn his article into something only he could write.

The quiet room is supposed to be safe. The air conditioning hums steadily as you sit at the table, legs crossed beneath your flowing green maxi skirt, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of your brown cropped blouse, the billowy sleeves soft against your skin. The green bandana holds your hair back, keeping the damp strands from sticking to your forehead.

You don’t move when the door opens, assuming it’s Jisung coming in with his usual chaotic energy, maybe a new documentary to ramble about, maybe another iced coffee for you without you even asking.

"You’ve been avoiding me."

Your entire body goes rigid. The voice is not Jisung’s. You slowly turn your head, dread clawing up your throat as you see Beom-Seok standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

Your chair scrapes against the floor as you stand up abruptly, backing away without thinking. Your breath comes quicker now, panic settling under your skin, making your hands shake as you clutch the edge of the table like it’s a lifeline.

Beom-Seok steps inside, closing the door behind him. "It’s not very nice of you,"

He moves toward you, and before you can react, his hand clamps around your wrist, yanking you forward. You stumble, colliding against his chest, the sudden proximity making bile rise in your throat.

"You keep running away. That’s not fair, Y/N. I just want to talk."

His other hand reaches for the tie of your blouse, fingers grazing the fabric. The panic spikes in your chest as you struggle, twisting in his hold.

"Let go,"

His fingers pull at your blouse, yanking, and the thin fabric tears with a sharp rip. Something in you snaps. You shove at him, hands pushing against his chest, his shoulders, anywhere to get him off of you. His grip doesn’t loosen, and when he leans in, trying to press his mouth against yours, your instincts take over.

You slam your forehead into his nose. Beom-Seok shouts, jerking back in shock, and in that split second, you kick him in the shin as hard as you possibly can. He stumbles, cursing, and you don’t waste a second.

You run. Your feet pound against the floor as you sprint down the hallway, gripping your skirt in one hand to keep from tripping, the other clutching your torn blouse to your chest. Your heart is a drum against your ribs, your breaths sharp and panicked, your vision blurring at the edges.

You don’t stop. You don’t look back. Then, suddenly, you crash into something solid.

Arms wrap around you instinctively as you collide with a warm, broad chest, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. Your fingers tighten into the fabric of a ribbed beige top, your body trembling violently as you cling to the person holding you.

Jisung. His hands steady you, one firm around your waist, the other reaching up to cradle the back of your head.

"Woah, hey, hey, hey," he says, his voice instantly softer than you’ve ever heard it. "What’s going on?"

His body tenses. His gaze flickers to the torn fabric of your blouse, to the way you’re holding it together, to the sheer terror in your wide, unfocused eyes.

Jisung exhales slowly, his grip on you tightening. "Y/N," he murmurs, his voice carefully even, like he’s trying not to scare you more.

But you can’t breathe. The world is closing in, the hallway spinning, your own heartbeat too loud in your ears. Your chest locks up, your breaths coming in short, frantic gasps, but no air fills your lungs. You grip Jisung tighter, burying your face against him as your entire body trembles violently.

"You gotta breathe, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice low, reassuring. "You're gonna have a panic attack if you don’t breathe."

You can’t. Your gasps turn desperate, your fingers clutching at him like he’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

Jisung moves carefully, slowly lowering the both of you to the ground until he’s sitting with his back against the wall, keeping you curled up against his chest. His arms stay wrapped around you, one hand stroking your back, the other still resting against the back of your head.

"It’s okay," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. "I got you. I got you."

Your breaths are still erratic, your chest rising and falling too fast, your body shaking.

Jisung gently shushes you, his hand running up and down your back in soothing motions. "I know, I know," he murmurs. "It’s okay. Just breathe with me, okay? Just try."

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on the steady warmth of his body, the way he’s grounding you, holding you together when you feel like you’re going to break apart.

Jisung keeps rocking you slightly, his voice constant, whispering to you, not expecting you to respond, not forcing you to speak. "You’re safe," he murmurs. "I promise. You’re safe now."

Your gasps start to slow, just barely, as you cling to his voice, to the soft, steady sound of it.

"You’re not alone, I got you."

The frat house is an absolute mess. The portable air conditioning unit hums pathetically in the middle of the living room, barely offering any relief against the oppressive heatwave that refuses to let up. The seven shirtless men sprawled around the space are nothing short of miserable.

"This is fucking unbearable," Chan groans, tilting his head back against the couch, eyes closed. Sweat glistens on his skin, his black gym shorts clinging to his thighs. "I feel like I’m melting into the furniture."

"You are melting into the furniture," Jeongin mutters, sprawled out on the floor in front of the AC like a starfish. "You’re going to leave a sweat imprint."

"Shut the fuck up, it’s so hot," Changbin huffs, lying next to Jeongin, arms crossed over his bare chest. "I swear to god, if I hear the words heatwave one more time, I’m punching something."

Felix, leaning against the arm of the couch, lazily fans himself with an old magazine. "It’s so hot my freckles feel like they’re melting off."

Hyunjin, draped across the other couch with his arm over his eyes, groans dramatically. "If I have to move, I’m going to die."

Seungmin shifts slightly, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows on his knees. "I don’t get how some people actually like summer. It’s stupid hot, everything’s sticky, and I’m constantly questioning whether I’m sweating or just wet from the fucking air."

Minho lets out an exhausted sigh. "If we don’t get rain soon, I’m going to start sacrificing you guys to the gods."

The front door swings open and Jisung walks in, and he’s carrying you on his back, your handbag slung over his shoulder alongside his own backpack. His arms are locked under your thighs, holding you securely, and you’re clinging to him.

Jisung crouches slightly, letting you slide off his back, but you don’t step away. You stay close, lingering just behind him, your blouse still torn, the fabric clutched tightly to your chest. Your shoulders are tense, and your eyes remain downcast, your whole body wound up like a tightly coiled spring.

Minho raises an eyebrow. "Since when did you two know each other?"

Jisung clears his throat, adjusting your bag on his shoulder. "Uh, so, she’s been helping me with an investigative journalism assignment, but I was on my way to meet her, and she came running out of the quiet room. It took me a while to calm her down, but I still don’t know what happened."

You shift slightly, still half-hidden behind Jisung. Your fingers twist the fabric of your blouse, your throat tightening. "He… grab me. And he try to-" You pause, struggling, before tapping your lips. "What’s... word?"

Jisung’s entire body goes rigid.

"And he uh..." You gesture to your blouse, still torn, still exposing your shoulder. Your voice is small, but you keep going. "So I uh..." You tap your forehead lightly, then point to Jisung’s nose. "And then I kick. Hard."

"Who?"

You glance up at Jisung, hesitating, and he furrows his brows, realization dawning. "Oh. Oh fuck." He snaps his fingers. "That guy, right? The one who kept showing up? The one that wouldn’t fucking leave? I knew something was off with him. Knew it. You can always tell when a guy’s got that weird creep energy, you know? Like, why do some dudes think persistence is charming? It’s not! It’s fucking terrifying! If a girl isn’t responding, that doesn’t mean try harder, it means back the fuck off! Like, holy shit, it’s not a fucking game, and-"

"Jisung," Minho cuts in, voice low, controlled. "Who?"

You swallow hard. "My project partner. Beom-Seok."

Minho doesn’t speak. He just stands, movements slow and deliberate, walking toward the door. He grabs his shoes. Then his T-shirt. "Are you going to be okay with Jisung?"

You nod hesitantly, still pressed close to Jisung. "Jisung is nice."

Minho nods, something flickering in his eyes. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips for just a second, he’s glad you’re branching out, that you’re letting someone else in.

Jeongin moves first, rolling his shoulders as he grabs his sneakers. Seungmin follows, cracking his knuckles. Chan and Changbin exchange a glance before moving toward the door without a word.

Felix ties his hair back, jaw tense. "Where is he?"

Chan pulls his t-shirt over his head. "We’ll find him."

Minho turns to you, stepping forward. His hands are warm as they settle gently on your shoulders, then move up to cup your face. He studies you for a moment, taking in every detail, your trembling fingers, the way your eyes are still wet, the tension in your jaw.

Then he pulls you into a hug. His chin rests on top of your head, and one of his hands gently smooths over your hair, grounding you.

"I’m gonna go fight that fucker, okay? We’re all gonna beat him up. He’ll never come near you again."

You nod against his chest, gripping the back of his shirt and Minho squeezes your shoulders once more before pulling back, his gaze lingering on you for just a second longer. Then he turns on his heel and walks out the door and the others follow.

As soon as the door closes, Jisung leads you into the kitchen, the overhead light flickering slightly before settling into a dull glow. He gestures toward the cabinets, already reaching for a couple of glasses. "Tea? Coffee? Booze?"

You hesitate for a second, rolling the options around in your head before mumbling, "Cachaca?"

Jisung pauses, blinking at you. "Cachaca? I think we have some somewhere. Minho drinks it."

You nod quickly, trying to explain. "Yes, I-" You wave your hand through the air in a dramatic swoosh motion, trying to find the right word.

Jisung watches, grinning. "Posted it?"

"Yes! Posted! Woosh! From Brazil!"

Jisung laughs, shaking his head as he moves toward one of the higher cabinets, standing on his tiptoes slightly as he rummages through the bottles. "Damn, so we’ve got imported liquor in this frat house? Fancy as fuck."

You shift slightly, still holding your torn blouse together, the fabric damp against your skin. Jisung glances at you out of the corner of his eye before setting the bottle down and walking over to the chair and grabbing a jacket. Without a word, he drapes it over your shoulders. It’s too big, warm from his body heat, and the fabric instantly makes you feel safer.

Your fingers automatically slip into the pockets out of instinct and they brush against something inside. You pull out two tickets, frowning slightly as you inspect them. COEX Aquarium. Gangnam. Next week.

Jisung freezes mid-pour, eyes flickering between you and the tickets. "Oh. Uh-" He rubs the back of his neck. "Forget about those."

You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

He exhales, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I was gonna ask you to go with me. Like, on a date. But after, you know, that dickhead, I figured you might not want to go on a date right now."

You shake your head immediately, gripping the tickets slightly tighter. "No, no," you insist, struggling to find the right words. "You are... very nice. Not bad like Beom-Seok. "I would like date with you. You are nice. You no care I am bad at Korean. You are good man, Jisung."

Jisung watches you for a long moment, unreadable, before he exhales through his nose. "Don’t feel forced-"

"I no feel forced," you interrupt, shaking your head more firmly this time. "I, uh, would like to go on date with you."

Jisung studies you for a second longer before he breaks into a grin. "Great!" Then he pauses, tilting his head. "So, to summarize what just happened here, you asked me on a date that I paid for?"

You nod, smiling slightly and Jisung snorts. "Okay, well, can’t complain, can I?" He slides a glass of cachaca toward you, ice clinking against the sides before he takes a sip of his own.

The alcohol burns, sharp and familiar as it settles in your chest and Jisung hums contentedly before his eyes light up with an idea.

"Ooh, wait. Let me show you these videos I like watching. It’s animated dancing fruit and vegetables, there’s one where they dance to Pink Venom."

Jisung pulls his phone out, quickly typing before angling the screen toward you. The video starts playing, a hyper-stylized animated sequence of little fruit characters, their bodies bouncing to the beat of BLACKPINK’s Pink Venom. Tiny, grinning strawberries spin in circles. A smug-looking banana moonwalks across the screen. The entire thing is completely ridiculous.

You stare at it for a long moment before letting out a small, breathy laugh.

Jisung grins, leaning closer. "It's art."

You shake your head, but you keep watching, sipping your drink. Jisung rests his chin in his hand, his smile lazy and content as he watches you instead of the screen.

For the first time all night, the weight pressing on your chest feels just a little bit lighter.

Minho is lying on his back on Jisung’s bed, one arm draped over his forehead, the other resting on his stomach, a small ice pack balanced over his bruised knuckles. His tank top sticks slightly to his skin from the humidity, and his legs are stretched out in a pair of loose gym shorts. He’s tired but he’s also satisfied, his body still thrumming with the remnants of adrenaline from earlier.

Minho cracks an eye open just in time to see Jisung slip out of bed and cross the room to his closet. “What the fuck are you doing?” Minho mutters, shifting slightly to sit up.

Jisung doesn’t answer. Instead, he rummages through his closet, pushing aside sneakers, stacks of manga, and a box labelled Jisung’s Hoard (DO NOT TOUCH, CHANGBIN I MEAN IT) before finally pulling out a riot shield.

Minho stares as Jisung holds it up in front of his body, gripping the handle tightly, his head barely peeking over the top.

“I’m going on a date with Y/N next week,” Jisung announces and then, as if expecting immediate violence, he ducks behind the shield.

Minho blinks slowly, then sighs. “You’re such a dumbass.”

“Okay, listen, before you say anything, or hit anything, just think for a second, okay? I didn’t plan for it to happen like this, I was gonna ask her in a cute way, but then she found the tickets in my pocket and technically she asked me first so if anything you should be mad at her, actually, wait, no, don’t be mad at her, I take that back, that would be bad, I mean-"

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jisung.”

"-okay but I swear I'm not a creep, I was gonna take her anyway just as a friend, you know I love aquariums, but then she found them and she wanted to go and she said I’m nice and not a bad man, which was very validating by the way-”

“Jisung.”

“-and I promise I’m gonna be good to her, I’m not gonna fuck around, I mean, I barely date to begin with because most people are annoying and I have trust issues but she’s-”

“Jisung.”

"-different, you know she’s different, you’ve known her forever, I’ve only known her a few weeks and I already know she’s different, she doesn’t make me shut up and she lets me ramble and do you know how rare that is, do you know how many people tell me to just shut the fuck up and-"

Minho exhales loudly. “Jisung.”

Jisung freezes, peeking out from behind the shield.

Minho stares at him for a long moment before shrugging. “Okay.”

Jisung blinks. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Minho shrugs again, shifting slightly as he repositions the ice pack over his knuckles.

Jisung stays behind the riot shield, just in case and Minho watches him for a second before sighing. “Did you buy that just to break the news to me?”

Jisung straightens slightly, still gripping the shield. “No, I bought it because I thought it’d look cool. But it’s multi-purpose.” He pauses, then reaches into his closet again, pulling out a fucking katana.

Still behind the shield, Jisung holds up the sword. “This is what I actually bought to tell you the news.”

Minho stares at the blade, unimpressed and Jisung wiggles it slightly. “It’s fake, but it looks real enough that I hoped you’d piss your pants.”

Minho snorts. “Idiot.”

Jisung carefully sets the katana down but does not lower the shield. He eyes Minho warily. “You’re really not gonna attack me?”

“No.”

Jisung narrows his eyes. “Why?”

Minho rolls his shoulders, exhaling slowly. “If it were Hyunjin or Jeongin, I’d attack. But not you.”

Jisung frowns. “Why?”

“They’re sluts.”

“What the fuck kind of logic is that?”

“They’d hump and dump, and you wouldn’t,” Minho explains simply. “You care about people’s feelings too much”

Jisung stares. “That’s the nicest and most backhanded thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Minho smirks. “You know I’m right.”

Jisung sighs, finally lowering the shield slightly. “Yeah, okay, fair.” He crosses his arms. “Jeongin always says I’m scared of women, and that’s why I don’t hump and dump.”

Minho snickers. “He’s a little shit.”

“Women don’t scare me. Well, some do. But not Y/N.”

Minho hums, watching him carefully. “You like her.”

Jisung huffs. “No shit.”

Minho doesn’t say anything for a second. Then, slowly, deliberately, he reaches for a pillow.

Jisung sees it and his eyes widen. Minho moves fast, throwing the pillow straight at Jisung’s head. Jisung screeches, throwing the shield up again just in time. The pillow bounces off with a dramatic thump, landing on the floor as Jisung stumbles slightly under the weight of the shield.

Minho smirks. “Just had to do something about it.”

Jisung groans, collapsing onto the bed with the shield still in his arms. “I fucking knew you were gonna do something.”

Minho just chuckles, settling back against the pillows as Jisung exhales, staring up at the ceiling, his heart still racing. He knows Minho isn’t mad, but still, he wasn’t about to risk it. Slowly, his fingers trace the edge of the shield, his mind drifting. He really does like you. And for once, he’s not scared of what that means.

Minho stands in front of your closet, arms crossed, eyes scanning your clothes with the kind of focus most people would reserve for a life-or-death situation. You stand beside him, fingers twisting the silver anxiety rings on your hands, your stomach already tight with nerves.

"It’s 10 a.m. You’re meeting Jisung at 1 p.m. That gives us three hours to pick out an outfit and get you ready, more than enough time. And I’ve even factored in an extra hour for me to give you a calming talk so you don’t freak the fuck out."

You let out a slow breath, nodding and Minho hums, his sharp eyes darting over the options in your closet. "It’s still a fucking heatwave, so you need something light."

He pulls out a black mini-dress with contrasting white trim on the straps. The fabric is soft, the cut simple but flattering, barely reaching mid-thigh. He holds it up against you, tilting his head as he assesses.

You glance at the dress, then back at Minho, nodding in approval. Minho tosses the dress onto your bed before moving to your shoe rack. He crouches, tapping his chin before grabbing a pair of white sneakers and a pair of mid-calf socks.

"You’ll be walking around COEX, so these are practical," he explains. "And they go with the dress. Simple, clean."

Next, he steps over to your collection of bags, brows furrowing in concentration before he selects a small white handbag. He holds it out, nodding in satisfaction. "Done. Outfit complete. Go put it on."

You take everything and hurry into your bathroom, closing the door behind you. Your hands shake slightly as you set the clothes down on the counter, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

You change quickly, pulling the dress over your head, smoothing the fabric down over your hips. The material is soft against your skin, breathable and perfect for the oppressive heat outside. You slip on the socks and sneakers, then glance at yourself in the mirror.

The dress is cute, simple but flattering. The white trim adds a soft contrast, and the sneakers keep the whole look casual enough that you don’t feel overdressed.

You step back into your room and Minho turns, eyes scanning you up and down. He nods, satisfied. "It’s perfect. Heatwave suitable, cute, and kind of casual sexy." He gestures toward your vanity. "Now, hair and makeup."

You hesitate, shifting slightly. "I... thought you would no like.... me and Jisung uh date."

Minho exhales, shaking his head. "I’m protective, not possessive," he says simply. "You can date whoever you like. But if Jisung makes you upset, I will have to de-limb him."

You stare at him for a second before letting out a small, breathy laugh and Minho smirks, nudging you toward your seat in front of the mirror. "Oh, and you need to do my makeup. I have a date with Chan later."

"Chan?"

Minho shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips as he stands behind you, eyes narrowing slightly as he surveys your face through the mirror. He tilts his head, assessing, before reaching for your makeup bag. "Alright, let’s get this done quickly. You need something light and natural, nothing too heavy in this disgusting-ass heatwave."

You nod, sitting still as Minho gets to work. His movements are practiced, efficient, the result of years of perfecting his own makeup routine and frequently doing yours. He applies a light layer of foundation, blending it in effortlessly with a sponge, making sure it evens out your complexion without feeling cakey.

"Close your eyes," he mutters, already reaching for a soft brown eyeshadow.

You stay still, your fingers twisting your silver rings as Minho moves on to your brows, quickly filling them in with light strokes. His touch is gentle but firm, his expression focused as he works.

"Okay, look up," he instructs. He holds your chin lightly as he swipes a small coat of mascara on your lashes, careful not to smudge it. "You need to be able to survive the day without looking like a raccoon."

You hum softly in agreement, your hands still gripping the hem of your dress nervously.

Minho sighs as he picks up a lip tint. "Relax, Jesus," he mutters, swiping the colour onto your lips. "Jisung isn’t gonna sacrifice you at the aquarium. Now, hair."

He quickly gathers your hair into his hands, pulling it up into a loose, messy bun at the crown of your head. He leaves a few strands out to frame your face, stepping back to examine his work.

"Perfect," he announces, smoothing his hands over your shoulders. "Alright, my turn. Make me hot."

He flops down into the chair, legs spread lazily, watching as you pick up his makeup bag. You pull out a primer first, dabbing a small amount onto his skin.

Minho smirks. "If you make me too pretty, Chan won’t be able to control himself."

You shake your head, smiling slightly as you begin blending his foundation. His skin is already annoyingly smooth, so it doesn’t take much work.

As you carefully contour his cheekbones, you pause, tilting your head. "You no tell me you like Chan."

Minho exhales through his nose, amused. "I didn’t know until I sucked his dick. I’ll know if I love him once I’ve fucked him."

You shake your head, suppressing a laugh as you pick up the highlighter. "You uh, top?"

Minho stares at you. "Yes, duh."

You furrow your brows, concentrating as you sweep highlighter over the bridge of his nose. "No duh. I think you uh, take? How you say?"

Minho tilts his head. "Sub? Bottom? Take it up the ass?"

You nod. "Yes?"

Minho sighs dramatically. "Oh, my sweet best friend who peed on me when she was one and traumatized four-year-old Minho, no, I do not bottom."

You pause mid-swipe, blinking. "What?"

Minho leans forward slightly, voice dropping into a dramatic whisper. "I was four years old, four, and I thought, hey, let me be helpful, let me change the baby’s diaper. And what did you do? You fucking pissed on me. My soul left my body that day."

You stare at him, trying so hard not to laugh. "I... sorry?"

Minho rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch in amusement. "You should be. You ruined my childhood."

You shake your head as you move on to his under-eye makeup, carefully blending out the concealer. "Your nose is so nice."

Minho smirks. "I know."

You roll your eyes, but your fingers are careful as you set his makeup, making sure everything looks smooth. Finally, you swipe a light layer of lip balm onto his lips before sitting back.

"Done."

Minho stands, inspecting himself in the mirror. He tilts his head, humming in approval. "Damn, I do look hot."

You smile slightly, proud of your work.

Then Minho turns to you, expression softening. "Okay," he says, his voice quieter. "Now, listen to me."

You inhale deeply, already nervous.

Minho gently takes your shoulders, turning you to face him. "You look amazing," he says firmly. "And you are amazing. Jisung’s gonna have the best fucking time today because he gets to be with you."

You chew on your lip, your fingers twitching. "I nervous."

"I know," Minho says. "And that’s fine. But this is Jisung we’re talking about. He already adores you, okay? He’s not expecting anything, he’s just excited to spend time with you. You don’t have to be perfect."

You exhale shakily, nodding and Minho squeezes your shoulders. "You got this," he murmurs. "And if anything happens, you call me. Okay?"

You nod again, a little more sure this time.

Minho smiles. "Now, go make that idiot fall even harder for you."

And somehow, you feel like maybe, you can.

The subway station is already busy when you arrive, the hum of conversations, the echoing chime of announcements, and the distant screech of a train pulling in filling the underground air. The sheer amount of people swarming around makes your stomach tighten, anxiety curling in your chest like a tightly wound spring.

Then you spot Jisung leaning against a pillar, hands in the pockets of his light-wash baggy jeans, oversized black graphic sweatshirt swallowing his frame in an effortlessly casual way and his black beret-style cap sits low over his forehead, round-framed glasses perched on his nose. A long silver chain dangles from his neck, catching the dim subway lighting as he shifts.

The moment he sees you, his entire face lights up. "Y/N!"

You relax slightly, just at the sight of him as he bounces toward you, taking a moment to look you over. "Damn," he says, exaggeratedly adjusting his glasses like he’s inspecting you. "You look cute as fuck."

You smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Thank you."

Jisung grins before offering his arm dramatically. "Shall we, my lady?"

You huff out a small laugh before slipping your hand into the crook of his arm. Together, you make your way onto the subway platform, the train pulling in just as you reach the edge.

Once inside, it’s crowded. You tense slightly, pressing yourself closer to Jisung as bodies push around you. He notices instantly, shifting so that his arm is wrapped securely around your waist. His other hand reaches up, grabbing the overhead handle for balance.

"Hold on to me," he murmurs, his voice light but reassuring.

You don’t hesitate, wrapping your arms around his torso. His sweatshirt is soft against your skin, his scent a mix of fabric softener and something warm and familiar.

Jisung hums. "Sorry about the subway situation. I tried to learn to drive last year, but my instructor suffered a mental breakdown and quit driving forever after my fourth lesson when I ran over a fox and then crashed into a tree."

You blink up at him. "What?"

Jisung nods solemnly. "Tragic, really. Do you wanna hear the full horror story?"

You hesitate, but the subway is already moving, and focusing on him instead of the cramped space seems far better. You nod.

Jisung grins. "Okay, buckle up, lesson one was already a shitshow. So, I get into the driver’s seat, right? I think I’m ready. My instructor is like, 'Okay, we’re just gonna gently ease onto the road,' and I’m like, got it. So, what do I do? I fucking floor it. Almost ran over an old lady in the crosswalk."

"Jisung!"

"My instructor screamed so loud that I thought she was gonna pass out. She made me pull over and just sat there for like five minutes, staring into the void. I had to keep apologizing while she processed the fact that she almost died."

You shake your head, biting back a smile. "Next lesson?"

Jisung smirks. "Lesson two. So, I get back in the car. I think, okay, this time I’ll be normal. But then, turns out, I have a horrible habit of mistaking the gas for the brake. So, we’re in a parking lot, right? Just doing slow practice. My instructor’s feeling confident, she’s like, ‘Okay, let’s try reversing into a spot.’ I try. Instead of gently backing in, I fucking slam the gas. The car flies backwards. Hits a fucking shopping cart. Cart goes flying, hits another car, sets off the alarm. Instructor? Sobbing."

"No."

Jisung nods dramatically. "Oh yes. The store manager comes out, asks if everything’s okay, and my instructor’s just sitting there with her head in her hands, whispering, ‘Why me?’ I thought she was gonna quit right then."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Lesson three?"

Jisung sighs. "Lesson three was almost normal. Except, I kept forgetting the difference between the turn signal and the windshield wipers. So, every time I tried to turn, I just aggressively turned the wipers on instead. It was sunny as fuck outside. My instructor started twitching every time I reached for the controls."

You giggle, gripping onto him a little tighter as the subway car rocks. "Okay, last lesson?"

Jisung exhales dramatically. "Lesson four. The one that ended it all. So. We’re driving down this quiet-ass street, everything seems fine. I’m focused, I’m chill, I’m not hitting the gas like an idiot. And then it happens."

You furrow your brows. "What happens?"

Jisung presses his lips together. "I see something dart out from the trees. I think it’s a cat. But no. It’s a fox."

Your eyes widen. "You hit a fox?"

"I hit the fuck out of that fox."

You gasp, hands tightening slightly on his sweatshirt. "What happened?"

Jisung shakes his head, as if still haunted. "It was so bad. The fox bounced off the windshield. Like, full-on ragdoll mode. There was blood everywhere. And the worst part? Chunks of it got stuck in the grill of the car."

"Jisung!"

"I KNOW!" He throws his head back. "The instructor screams, I panic, I swerve, and guess what? Straight into a fucking tree."

"You crash the car?"

Jisung groans. "Yes. The airbag fucking explodes in my face. I’m sitting there, stunned as shit, and my instructor? She gets out of the car. She walks away. Doesn’t even look at me. Just leaves."

You stare at him. "She quit?"

"Forever!" Jisung throws up his hands. "She sent me a fucking text later, saying she was retiring and that driving was too stressful."

You laugh, covering your mouth. "You bad at driving."

Jisung sighs dramatically, hugging you a little closer. "Yeah. So this is why we’re taking the subway."

You shake your head, still giggling as the train rattles toward Gangnam. Jisung holds onto the overhead handle, keeping you steady against him, his warmth pressing against you in the cramped space.

And somehow, even with the overwhelming noise and the sheer number of people around you, you don’t feel as anxious anymore. Not with Jisung’s arm wrapped securely around you, his voice filling the space between you with ridiculous stories and endless laughter.

The entrance to the COEX Aquarium is bright and bustling, the cool air inside a welcome contrast to the oppressive heat outside. The faint scent of saltwater fills the air, mixed with the clean sterility of glass and metal. People shuffle through the check-in, collecting tickets and brochures, voices overlapping in excited chatter.

Jisung immediately makes a beeline for the check-in counter, grabbing a map from the stand with an eager grin. His round glasses slide slightly down his nose as he reads, and he absentmindedly pushes them up with a knuckle.

“Alright,” he announces, flipping the map dramatically. “So, the tour goes in this order: Rainbow Lounge, then the Story of Korean Fish, Fish in Wonderland, Amazonia World, Marine Touch Lab, Mangrove and Beach, Living Reef Gallery, Ocean Kingdom, Marine Mammal Village, Deep Blue Square, Deep Blue Sea Tunnel, Garden of Jellyfish, Penguin's Playground, and then, boom, gift shop.”

You nod, gripping the strap of your handbag, feeling the smooth material under your fingers as a grounding technique. "Sounds… good."

Jisung grins, tucking the map into his back pocket before reaching for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours effortlessly. "Let's go," he says, tugging you forward. "I need you to tell me all the facts about the creatures, and then I'll tell you my superior facts."

You blink up at him, slightly startled by the warmth of his palm against yours, but his excitement is contagious, and it helps ease the lingering anxiety in your chest. You nod again, squeezing his hand slightly in agreement.

The first exhibit is the Rainbow Lounge, a room bathed in soft blue lighting with massive curved tanks lining the walls. Inside, schools of vibrantly coloured fish glide through the water, their scales shimmering under the lights, reflecting hues of red, yellow, blue, and green. The effect is mesmerizing as if stepping into an underwater dream.

Jisung whistles, eyes wide as he presses closer to the glass. "Damn. This looks like a gay fish nightclub."

You huff out a small laugh, stepping beside him. Your gaze follows the movements of the fish, recognizing different species instantly. You point at a particularly bright fish with long, flowing fins. "That… is uh, people call it Dory fish."

Jisung nods, grinning. "Ahh, Finding Nemo’s sidekick. Got it."

You gesture to another fish with a striking pink-and-purple gradient. "This is… fairy wrasse," you continue, carefully picking your words. "Males... uh.." You pause, miming a size difference with your hands.

Jisung furrows his brows before gasping. "Oh! Males grow bigger?"

You nod, relieved. "Yes! And change colour. When, they, uh," You gesture vaguely, trying to think of the right word.

Jisung tilts his head, thinking, then smirks. "When they’re horny?"

"No!" You swat at his arm, making him laugh. "When they... grow. Mature."

"Uh-huh, sure," Jisung teases, wiggling his eyebrows. "They hit fish puberty."

You shake your head, but your lips twitch slightly in amusement. You move on, pointing at another group of fish with iridescent scales. "These... are neon tetras. They live in... big groups. Uh, shoals." You glance at Jisung to make sure he understands.

He nods enthusiastically. "Yeah! They gotta stick together so they don’t get eaten."

You point at another fish, gesturing with your fingers in a sharp motion. "This one has teeth. It... bite."

Jisung leans in, squinting. "Wait, what?" His voice drops to a whisper. "Biting fish? In the gay nightclub?"

You nod. "Yes. It bite."

Jisung gasps dramatically. "A fish biter? In this economy?" He shakes his head in mock disappointment. "Truly, there are no safe spaces left."

You press your lips together, holding back a laugh. Jisung’s amusement grows as he watches you struggle. "You want to laugh," he accuses playfully. "I see it."

You shake your head quickly, but the small smile on your face gives you away.

Jisung leans against the glass, watching the fish swim in rhythmic patterns. "Okay, my turn for facts," he says, clearing his throat. "Did you know that clownfish are all born male, but if the dominant female dies, the biggest male turns into a female?"

You nod, already knowing this, but you let him continue.

Jisung grins, clearly proud of himself. "Which means that in Finding Nemo, Marlin should’ve turned into a girl and married Dory. Disney lied to us."

You shake your head, amused, as he moves on to another fact. "Oh! Also, parrotfish sleep in their own mucus bubble to protect themselves from predators. Like, they literally spit out a cocoon of snot and sleep inside it. Which is both disgusting and kind of genius."

You nod again, already aware of this, but you enjoy watching him talk. His enthusiasm is infectious, and the way he gestures with his free hand while keeping the other firmly wrapped around yours makes something warm settle in your chest.

Jisung glances at you. "Wait, you already knew that, didn’t you?"

You hesitate, then nod sheepishly and Jisung groans dramatically, flopping against the railing. "Ugh. My documentary knowledge is nothing compared to yours."

You shake your head quickly. "No! It… good."

He lifts his head, narrowing his eyes playfully. "Good, but not great."

You hesitate before nodding again, lips twitching. "Yes."

Jisung gasps, clutching his chest. "You wound me."

You giggle, and Jisung grins, clearly pleased. "Fine, I’ll just keep going until I say something you don’t know."

The entrance to Ocean Kingdom is dimly lit, designed to mimic the deep sea, where only beams of artificial blue light filter through the massive tanks lining the walls. The air is noticeably cooler here, the faint hum of filtration systems and the rhythmic sound of water bubbling creating a serene atmosphere. The exhibit is all sleek glass, towering tanks filled with sharks gliding effortlessly through the water, their movements smooth and eerily silent.

Jisung stops dead in his tracks, gripping your hand tightly. "Holy shit," he breathes. His round glasses reflect the light from the water, his eyes wide with pure, unfiltered excitement. "Okay, this is so fucking cool. I love sharks."

You nod, stepping closer to the thick glass. A massive sand tiger shark swims past, its long, jagged teeth permanently exposed, giving it an almost menacing grin. The blacktip reef sharks follow close behind, their streamlined bodies sleek and agile as they weave through the artificial coral structures.

You glance at Jisung. "You like sharks?"

Jisung nods so aggressively his beret nearly slips off. "Like? Like?! I fucking adore sharks. They’re so misunderstood. They get all this bad press because of Jaws and dumbasses who think every shark is out here just waiting to eat people."

You smile slightly, pressing your hand against the glass as a hammerhead shark swims by. "Sharks, no like eat people."

Jisung gasps, gripping your arm. "See?! You get it!"

You nod, as you point at the hammerhead, then gesture with your hands to show the width of its oddly shaped head. "This is... hammerhead. Their head... is like..." You pause, miming a wide sweep with your hands.

Jisung watches your hands, nodding in encouragement. "Uh-huh, yeah, like a...?"

You think for a moment before snapping your fingers. "Like radar! It... help them find fish in sand."

Jisung’s jaw drops. "They scan the ocean floor?! That’s fucking insane."

"Yes! They sense, uh..." You pause, struggling for the right word, then tap your fingertips together in quick succession.

Jisung immediately jumps in, eyes lighting up. "Movement?"

You beam, nodding quickly. "Yes! Movement! In sand!"

Jisung watches as another hammerhead glides by. "Damn. That’s fucking metal."

You step closer to another tank, pointing at a whitetip reef shark resting on the bottom. "This shark no need to swim."

Jisung blinks. "Wait, what?"

You nod. "Most sharks need swim to breathe. This one can stop."

Jisung looks at the shark in shock. "So it just vibes? Like, it can just take a fucking nap?"

You smile, nodding. "Yes. Nap shark."

Jisung clutches his chest dramatically. "That’s so fucking unfair. If I stop breathing, I die. But this bitch? Just chilling at the bottom of the ocean? That’s some bullshit."

You giggle, and Jisung grins, clearly pleased with himself.

Then it’s his turn. "Okay, my turn for shark facts," he announces, straightening his posture.

You nod, waiting.

Jisung points at a nurse shark in one of the smaller tanks. "Did you know sharks have been around for over 400 million years? That’s older than dinosaurs. Like, these motherfuckers have been thriving while whole-ass species got wiped out."

You nod, already knowing this, but pretending you don’t so he’ll keep rambling. "Wow..."

Jisung puffs up proudly. "Yeah. And get this, sharks have a sixth sense. Like, actual superpowers. They can detect electric fields in the water, which is how they hunt shit hiding under the sand. Like, everything gives off tiny little electric signals, even beating hearts. Sharks can fucking sense it. They’re like ocean assassins!"

You nod again, listening as he moves on to his next fact.

"Oh! And their skin? It’s not smooth. It’s covered in tiny scales called dermal denticles, which literally means ‘skin teeth.’ If you rub a shark one way, it’s smooth, but the other way? It’s like sandpaper. Imagine having fucking teeth all over your body."

You hum, feigning deep thought. "Weird…"

Jisung nods enthusiastically. "Right? And get this, sharks can go into a frenzy when they smell blood. But it’s not like in the movies where they just attack randomly. They’re just curious. They check shit out first. They’re not mindless killers."

You already know this, but you nod seriously, making him feel like the smartest person in the world. "Smart shark."

Jisung grins, squeezing your hand slightly. "Exactly! They’re smart as fuck."

He pauses, watching as a massive tiger shark swims past. The stripes on its body stand out even under the dim lighting. Jisung leans in slightly. "Wait, isn’t that the one that eats everything?"

You nod. "Tiger shark. It eat… uh…" You pause, struggling for the right word. "It eat… anything. Trash. Uh…" You mime throwing something.

"Oh shit, like actual garbage?"

You nod. "Yes! Tires, license plate… even chair!"

Jisung gapes at you. "A fucking chair?"

You nod again. "Yes. It eat… no care. Just… eat."

Jisung stares at the tiger shark with newfound respect. "Honestly? Same."

You giggle, and Jisung grins at you before suddenly tilting his head in thought. "Oh, I have a question," he says. "So, I lived in Malaysia for a bit, right? And had to learn to speak a bit of Malay. Even when speaking Malay, I always thought in Korean first. So, do you think in Portuguese and then translate?"

Your eyes widen slightly. You nod slowly. "Yes… is very… hard. Head… always busy."

Jisung hums in understanding, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. "Damn, Y/N, your brain must be on fire 24/7."

You huff a small laugh, nodding. "Sometimes… yes."

Jisung watches you for a moment before giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Well, for what it’s worth, you speak Korean really well. Like, way better than I would if I tried to learn Portuguese."

"Thank you."

Jisung grins, nudging your shoulder lightly. "You’re welcome, smart girl."

The Penguin Playground is colder than the rest of the aquarium, the temperature-controlled environment mimicking the frigid conditions of the Antarctic. A light mist hangs in the air, condensation forming on the glass of the massive enclosures where dozens of penguins waddle, dive, and swim with surprising grace. The sound of their squawking fills the room, along with the occasional splash of water as they torpedo through the pool.

Jisung practically vibrates with excitement beside you, his grip on your hand tightening as he tugs you closer to the glass. "Ooh, okay, listen, I watched a whole-ass documentary on penguins last night, so I have so many facts."

You nod, already smiling as he gears up for another intense ramble.

Jisung clears his throat dramatically. "Okay, first of all, people always think penguins are these cute, loyal, fluffy little bastards but no. These motherfuckers are ruthless. Did you know that some penguins fucking cheat on their mates?"

You blink up at him, feigning shock. "Cheat?"

"YES!" Jisung exclaims, eyes wide. "Like, they have ‘mating pairs’ and whatever, but some penguins just go around fucking other penguins on the side. Like, dead-ass homewrecking each other’s little ice nests."

You huff a small laugh, nodding as if this is the most shocking news you’ve ever heard. "Bad penguins."

"Right?" Jisung scoffs, shaking his head. "And it gets worse. You know how they give their mates those cute little pebbles, right? Like, oh, here’s a stone, I love you, let’s build a nest together?"

You nod.

Jisung grips your shoulders. "Some of them fucking STEAL the pebbles."

Your mouth drops open. "No."

"YES!" Jisung exclaims, pointing aggressively at the penguins behind the glass. "Some of these sneaky little bitches literally go around stealing the best pebbles from other nests instead of looking for their own. Just straight-up robbery. And you wanna know why? Because the best pebbles get you the best mates. It’s like fucking gold-digging but in the penguin world."

You shake your head, barely holding in your giggles. "Scammers."

"THEY ARE!" Jisung throws his hands up. "They’re fucking criminals! And you know what else? Some of these thieving motherfuckers actually TRADE the stolen pebbles for sex."

Your eyes widen as you process that. "Trade?"

"TRADE!" Jisung yells, clearly outraged. "Like, ‘Oh, you want this really nice rock? That’ll cost you one fuck.’" He turns to the glass, pointing at the penguins. "Who taught them capitalism?!"

You snort, covering your mouth with your hand as laughter shakes your shoulders.

"And listen, if you thought that was the worst of it, let me tell you about their shit habits, literally. Did you know penguins fart? Like, a lot?"

You tilt your head, feigning curiosity. "Fart?"

"So much fucking farting."

You press your lips together, pretending to be intrigued. "Why?"

Jisung smirks, adjusting his glasses dramatically. "Because of their diet, my dear Y/N. These little tuxedo-wearing menaces eat so much fucking krill and fish that their guts are basically fermentation chambers. They store gas like it’s a fucking science experiment, and then, boom, stinky ass farts."

You shake your head, covering your face with your hands as you giggle.

Jisung leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "And it gets worse."

You peek up at him through your fingers. "Worse?"

"Yes." Jisung nods grimly. "Because penguins, my dear Y/N, shit with force. These little bastards don’t just poop. They launch that shit. Like, projectile diarrhoea. Scientists actually did a study to measure how far a penguin can fire its own crap."

You stare at him, struggling to keep a straight face. "Really?"

"Really!" Jisung nods eagerly. "The average launch distance of a penguin’s explosive diarrhoea is about 1.3 meters. That’s like, over four feet of straight-up shit cannon."

You can’t hold it in anymore, you burst out laughing, doubling over slightly as your shoulders shake. Jisung beams, clearly thrilled that he got you to laugh.

"And," Jisung continues, clearly on a roll now, "if you thought we have it bad with public restrooms, imagine being a fucking penguin scientist. These poor fuckers have to sit around in a frozen hellscape, measuring how far penguin shit flies for the sake of science. Imagine going to college and getting a degree, only to end up with a job where you’re literally dodging high-speed bird turds in the fucking Antarctic."

You gasp for air between giggles, clutching your stomach. "Jisung!"

Jisung grins. "What? It’s true! Imagine coming home after work and someone’s like, ‘Hey, what do you do for a living?’ and you just have to be like, ‘Oh, you know, just penguin poop physics.’"

You wipe at your eyes, shaking your head as you finally manage to compose yourself. "That is so sad."

Jisung nods solemnly. "Rest in peace to all the penguin poop researchers." He sighs dramatically. "They were the real ones."

You giggle again, looking back at the penguins. Some are waddling around, pecking at the ice, others diving smoothly into the water, their little bodies streamlined and graceful despite how ridiculous they look on land.

Jisung nudges your arm. "You still think they’re cute?"

You nod without hesitation. "Yes."

Jisung sighs, shaking his head. "Even knowing they’re cheating, thieving, rock-trading, shit-launching criminals?"

You smile. "Yes."

Jisung grins. "Yeah, me too."

You both stand there for a moment, just watching the penguins in comfortable silence. Then Jisung gently tugs on your hand. "C’mon, let’s go buy unnecessary amounts of shit from the gift shop."

The sun is still brutal when you and Jisung step out of the COEX Aquarium, but the heat doesn’t seem as oppressive after the hours spent in the cool, dimly lit exhibits. The matching turtle plush keychains you both bought at the gift shop swing slightly with each step, yours hanging off the strap of your handbag, and Jisung’s clipped to a belt loop on his oversized jeans.

He’d insisted on matching, grinning like a maniac as he dramatically held up the two keychains side by side, saying, "Look, they’re like us, one is shy and the other talks too much."

Jisung stretches, groaning as he rolls his shoulders. "Okay, so what now?" he asks, tilting his head to squint at you behind his round glasses. His hair is slightly messy from wearing his beret all day, but he hasn’t put it back on, letting the slight breeze cool him off. "The date can’t end here. We could go to a cafe or get bubble tea, I am starving. Like, actually starving. I thought the penguins might’ve tasted nice with some rice back there."

You wrinkle your nose, playfully nudging his side. "Jisung!"

"What?!" Jisung grins, rubbing his stomach dramatically. "It’s their fault for being so plump and round! If we were in a survival situation, you’d consider it too."

You shake your head, holding back a laugh. "No. Bad."

Jisung groans. "Fine, fine, I’ll find food that isn’t a penguin." He turns to you expectantly. "So? What do you wanna eat?"

You hesitate, thinking. "We could... go get... cheesecake? Is that how you say?"

Jisung gasps.

You blink at him in confusion. "What-"

"You are a dream woman," he interrupts, placing both hands on his chest as if he’s just been blessed by the universe. "Cheesecake is my fucking favourite. That’s it. That’s the final straw. You have to be my girlfriend now."

You freeze slightly, your brain stumbling over the last word. "Girlfriend?"

Jisung blinks at you before realization dawns. "Oh. Right. You don’t..." He pauses before trying again. "You know? Girlfriend?"

You still look lost, trying to piece it together, so Jisung immediately jumps into action.

He clutches his chest dramatically, swaying like he’s about to faint. "Oh, my love," he sighs, reaching for you as if in a tragic romance drama. "I cannot live without you!"

You blink, watching him curiously and Jisung moves on to the next demonstration, pressing his hands together in the shape of a heart and wiggling his eyebrows. "You know? Love. Romance. Heart-fluttering moments."

You tilt your head slightly, still not entirely sure what he means.

Jisung groans, then escalates immediately. He mimes sex. Your eyes widen as he thrusts his hips dramatically, makes an obscene hand gesture, and moans loudly, loud enough that people turn to stare.

"JISUNG!" you gasp as you smack his arm.

He just laughs. "Now you get it!"

You cover your face with your hands, still mortified. "Yes! I get! I get!"

Jisung snickers, nudging you playfully. "So? You gonna be my girlfriend or what?"

You peek at him through your fingers. "You like me?"

Jisung scoffs. "Duh." He reaches out, gently pulling your hands away from your face so you’ll look at him. "Of course I like you. You’re amazing. You’re smart as hell, you let me ramble for hours, you listen to my dumbass facts, and you even pretend to be impressed even though you already know everything. That’s some top-tier girlfriend material shit right there."

You stare at him, taking in his sincerity and Jisung watches you expectantly, still holding your hands. "So? What do you think?"

You hesitate, feeling your heart pound a little too hard. Then, slowly, you nod. "I like you too."

Jisung grins, squeezing your hands. "Fucking finally," he sighs dramatically. "Alright, now that we’re officially dating, I’m taking my hot girlfriend to get cheesecake."

You giggle softly, letting him pull you along as the heat of the summer sun bears down on the city. But somehow, despite the heatwave, despite the sweat sticking to your skin, being with Jisung makes everything feel lighter.

The frat house is dimly lit when you and Jisung step inside, the air slightly cooler than the humid streets outside. It’s quiet for once, which is rare for a house full of chaotic men, but you assume most of them are either out or recovering from whatever questionable decisions they made last night.

Jisung, however, is still buzzing with energy. He kicks off his shoes, dragging you inside excitedly. “Okay, okay, you need to see my realm,” he announces, gripping your wrist as he starts leading you toward the stairs. “It’s like fucking Mary Poppins’ bag, but a room. I buy so much random shit that I never use. It’s basically a museum of bad financial decisions.”

You raise a curious eyebrow but let him pull you along, his excitement infectious. The stairs creak under your steps as you both make your way up, and Jisung keeps talking, gesturing wildly. “Honestly, I don’t even know half the shit I own. Sometimes I open a drawer and it’s like, oh, hello, cursed object I forgot about.”

You giggle, shaking your head as he finally stops in front of his door. He turns to you dramatically, gripping the handle. “Prepare yourself,” he warns, wiggling his eyebrows. “This is not just a room. This is an experience.”

With that, he swings open the door.

The first thing you notice is that Jisung was not exaggerating. His room is a chaotic explosion of random shit. Posters cover the walls, some of them normal, bands, movies, anime, while others are questionable choices, like a framed photo of Shrek in a Renaissance-style painting.

There are plushies stacked in one corner, a full arcade joystick setup next to his desk, multiple fidget cubes scattered on his nightstand, and an entire shelf dedicated to random collectables. A rubber chicken, a Funko Pop of Michael Scott from The Office, a tiny golden Buddha, and what looks like an actual taxidermied frog playing a tiny violin.

You step inside cautiously, glancing around. "You buy a lot."

Jisung grins proudly, kicking some clothes out of the way. “I know, right? It’s fucking awesome.”

He immediately starts pointing things out, launching into the backstory of every ridiculous item.

“This,” he says, grabbing a tiny, handheld fan from his desk, “was supposed to save my life during this heatwave, but it barely blows any air, so now it just sits here collecting dust like a useless piece of shit.”

You hum, pretending to be deeply fascinated.

He grabs a remote-controlled car next. “Bought this because I thought it would be funny to terrorize the frat house, but then Changbin fucking stepped on it, so now it just drives in circles forever.”

You nod, clearly taking notes on his terrible purchasing habits. Then he picks up a weirdly realistic-looking pigeon figurine.

You blink at it. "Pigeon?"

Jisung grins, shaking the bird at you. “YES. I bought this because I read somewhere that pigeons are government spies, and I thought it would be hilarious to keep one as a double agent.”

You narrow your eyes at him. "You believe that?"

Jisung shrugs. "I mean, not really, but the possibility is funny as fuck.”

You shake your head, barely holding in your laughter as you continue looking around. Then your eyes land on something big and ominous leaning against the wall. A riot shield.

You point at it. "Why?"

Jisung follows your gaze, then laughs, walking over to grab it. “Ohhh, this thing? Yeah, okay, so it looked really fucking cool when I bought it, but then I just never used it. It sat in my closet for months.”

You tilt your head. "But you use?"

Jisung nods dramatically. "Yes, it finally proved useful when I told Minho we were going on a date. I used it to protect myself from his wrath."

Your eyes widen slightly. "Minho hit you?"

Jisung grins. “No, but I wasn’t about to take my chances.”

Then, without warning, he reaches under his bed and pulls out something even more ridiculous, a realistic-looking katana.

Your mouth drops open slightly. "A sword?!"

Jisung nods, holding it up with a completely serious expression. “This, my dear Y/N, is what I actually bought to protect myself against Minho.”

You blink at him, then glance at the sword again. "It real?"

Jisung snickers. “No, it’s fake but it looks real enough to make Minho hesitate for like, two seconds.”

You shake your head, amused but not surprised. Then Jisung suddenly gasps, eyes lighting up. "OH! You need a stone!"

You tilt your head. "Stone?"

Jisung nods enthusiastically. "Like penguins, right? They give each other stones to say, I like you, let’s build a nest, let’s be criminals together.”

You nod, playing along, and Jisung immediately dives into his desk drawer, rummaging through random junk until he finally pulls out a small pebble. He holds it up proudly before walking back over and placing it gently into your palm.

You stare at it, warmth spreading in your chest. "My stone?"

Jisung nods. "Your stone."

You turn it over in your fingers, rubbing the smooth surface before looking back up at him. "You give me nest?"

Jisung grins. “Hell yeah, I give you a nest. We’re in this together now.”

You giggle, gripping the stone a little tighter.

Jisung watches you for a moment, his smile softening. Then, before you can process it, he steps closer, tilting his head slightly as he studies your face. There’s a pause, a moment of quiet anticipation, before he leans in, his hand gently cupping your cheek as his lips press against yours.

The kiss is warm, deep, and unmistakably Jisung, a little eager, a little messy, but so full of feeling that your chest tightens. His lips move against yours with a slow, deliberate pressure, as if he’s been waiting for this, as if he’s been thinking about this moment for longer than he’d ever admit.

His free hand finds your waist, fingers curling slightly against your dress as he pulls you in, his body flush against yours. You feel the slight tremble in his hands, the way his heart races against your own, and you melt into him, pressing up on your toes to kiss him back with just as much uncertainty and want.

When he finally pulls away, his breath is uneven, his forehead resting lightly against yours. He exhales a soft, breathy laugh, his grip on your waist loosening just slightly.

"Well, I guess the romantic trials and tribulations of Han Peter Jisung paid off."

And you laugh, because, somehow, it feels like the truest thing in the world.

Requested by Anon

Han Jisung Taglist: @puppymsworld

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx @velvetmoonlght @annafee_bou @mlink64 @intoanothermind @furfoxsake22 @daaaph-lol @tirena1 @yu-winchester @cristy-101 @puppymsworld

Proofread by the one, the only, the lovely @hwangjoanna (who has a Squid Game SKZ AU which you should all go and show some love

Dividers by: @enchanthings-a

Curlysung as a result of this poll

Please like, reblog and comment as I researched so much for this story, I researched aquariums in seoul and went on a deep dive on the CEOX aquarium website and all attractions mentioned are attractions that exist at CEOX aquarium and I also did so much research on marine biology, so much

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