#johnny fluff

You slip your arms out of your new red sweater and leave it hanging loosely around your neck. Through your tears, you do your best to take your boots off and let out another noise of frustration when your zipper gets caught in your tights. Completely overwhelmed by your emotions, you don’t even hear the heavy footsteps that scuffle their way to the front of your apartment.

You realize you’re not alone when you feel your roommate’s comforting hand on your shoulder. Johnny’s soft voice calls your name. His hand cups your chin gently, angling your face to look up at him. 

“What are you doing here, angel?” Johnny crouches down to your level, his thumb rubbing against your stained cheeks. His knuckle comes up to catch a tear. 

“I thought you had your family party,” you sniffle. You take in his appearance—he’s certainly dressed for a holiday party, his upper half covered by a white turtleneck that hugs his broad chest and dark slacks that have been freshly ironed.

“I lost track of time while getting ready. I was just about to head out when you came in,” Johnny says while plopping down onto the floor. 

You pull away from him, “I don’t want to make you late.”

He shakes his head, his neatly styled hair moving along with him. “They won’t miss me that much.” 

“Of course they will, you’re the life of the party, John,” you chuckle, “you host all the games.”

“Yeah, because my cousins can’t get it together,” Johnny rolls his eyes jokingly, “we can’t leave it up to Mark.”

“No, we really can’t,” you whisper. 

The conversation fades to black, and he just sits with you. Never mind that his nicely pressed slacks are wrinkling from his current position. His eyes search for anything that will tell him what put you in this condition. You avoid his gaze at all costs because once the floodgates open, there’s no holding back. You’ve burdened your roommate a lot this past year with rants, ranging from work-related things to your sad excuse of a love life—you don’t want to bother him with this, especially on Christmas Eve.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on, you know that, right?” Johnny gets into a more comfortable position, his palms pressing against the cold hardwood floor. He lifts his brow, which does a little thing to your heart. You curse it for reacting this way, always skipping for Johnny when you did your best to push those feelings aside. 

As sweet as he is, and no matter how well he treats you, he is just your roommate and best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Maybe this is where your problem in your love life stems from. You hold such high expectations for men, simply because you live with the best of the best. When they don’t meet your expectations because they are not—and will never be Johnny Suh—you are left disappointed in others and in yourself. 

You sigh, knowing that Johnny will stay true to his word. “It’s over.”

Johnny’s brows crinkle in the middle, and he cocks his head to the side. “I thought things between you two were going well, though?”

You can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, “He didn’t remember anything I told him.” The more you think about it, the more distressed you become. “He–he really didn’t remember anything!” Your laugh turns into a pathetic cry.

Though the abrupt switch of emotions catches Johnny off guard, he doesn’t outwardly show it. He allows you to take your time to voice out your frustrations, never rushing you despite having somewhere to be. His brown eyes are filled with concern, but he doesn’t touch you; he just leaves you be.

“We decided to spend Christmas Eve together because we both have respective family things tomorrow, right? And since we’re still new, it didn’t feel right to attend a family party together. So he asked for a list of potential things to do, and I gave some to him.” You pause to laugh again, “I gave him a lot of ideas, actually. There was so much to choose from—ice skating, Christmas market, the Charles Dickens Faire, seeing the lights at the town square, all the cliche Christmas-y things you could imagine.”

You look up and shoot Johnny a defeated smile, “He did none of them.”

The frown Johnny wears deepens the more you talk. Having been your roommate and friend for three years now, he knows how much you enjoy the little things that the holidays bring. You love the atmosphere of outside Christmas markets–how lively and joyous everything feels despite the crowded chaos happening all around you. The sound of skates scraping against freshly smoothed ice. The smell of pine that overfloods your senses when you walk through a Christmas Tree farm. 

“He took me to a fancy restaurant downtown,” you start to explain. At first, it doesn’t sound too bad. “I felt unprepared, underdressed, and embarrassed. And of course, then we ran into his boss at the bar while waiting, so he basically ignored me the whole time they were setting up our table.”

“Then,” another laugh escapes you, “he takes the initiative and orders for me.”

A beat of silence passes. Johnny hangs onto your every word. “He ordered something I was allergic to. Something I’ve reiterated more than once since we started seeing each other.”

Knowing how severe your allergic reactions are, having helped you recover from one, Johnny understands the severity of that statement.  You watch as Johnny lets out a rough huff and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. His arms cross over his broad chest, long fingers digging deeply into tight sleeves. It crumples under his strong grip, but he pays no attention. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, the skin turning redder by the second. 

You’re sure that Johnny’s getting flashbacks to your last reaction—how he had to frantically dig through your bag to find your epipen before stabbing you in the thigh. His gaze hardens, and he lifts his chin, gesturing for you to continue. 

“That was the final straw,” you start.

“As it should be,” your roommate spits out with venom.

“I walked out shortly after, called a rideshare, waited ten minutes outside the restaurant while crying in front of the valet, and came straight home,” you look him in the eyes and defeatedly shrug, “and now I’m here.”

“Angel,” Johnny calls you with the softest tone. He takes your hand and rubs his thumb against your knuckles. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you because of the party,” you argue. Your red eyes follow the soft strokes of this thumb, soaking in how soothing it feels despite the pain in your heart. 

In one swift motion, you find yourself in Johnny’s warm embrace. His arms pull you forward, and you fall into his chest. He keeps you there in his arms as he rests his chin on your shoulder. When you melt into his hold, circling your arms around his neck, he whispers, “You’re never a bother.” It’s so faint that you almost miss it. 

You hold him a little tighter. “You’re just saying things to make me feel better.”

Johnny pulls away but holds your gaze. “You’re never a bother to me. Got it?” 

He says it with such resolution that you can’t help but believe it. You nod wordlessly, and he squeezes your waist in response. “Good.”

Your friend places a gentle kiss on your forehead, which comforts you but also makes your heart skip a beat, before standing up to his full height. He gives you a hand and slowly leads you down your short hallway. “Let’s go get you freshened up.”

“I’m not going anywhere, John.”

“And I’m not leaving you alone when you’re like this.”

You plant your sock-clad feet on the ground. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pushes past your resistance by lifting you with ease and carries you bridal-style to your room. “You’re going to the party with me.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say in a fit of petty annoyance, slapping his large chest. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Johnny retaliates, “I know you hate being alone during the holidays.”

You look up at him with wonder. You never explicitly mentioned that fact; you just filled your time wisely with fun activities with friends. You didn’t think he would pick up on it. It didn’t matter if it was a simple game night or a whole night out, hopping from one Christmas-themed bar to another. Often, when you invite him to a holiday movie marathon, he’d join you without a second thought. 

“Plus, we don’t want to waste this pretty outfit of yours. You were so excited to wear it today.” Johnny gently sets you down in front of your bedroom door. “Is thirty minutes enough for you to get ready?”

You put up one last fight. “But you’re already late…”

“It’s alright, your presence will make up for it. My family loves you.” He sends a fond smile your way. A little shove to your shoulder gets you moving and doesn’t give you time to argue. “I’ll be waiting for you in the living room, angel.”

With no other choice, you do what your friend says. Looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, you quickly assess the damage done to your face. With your makeup being unsalvageable, you wash it and start anew with a fresh canvas. Rushing through your usual routine, you dab foundation and concealer onto your skin. You wing your eyeliner, follow it up with a couple of mascara swipes, and then add blush to your cheeks. You finish off your look with your most flattering lipstick. 

Taking one last glance, it’s not the best look you’ve pulled off, but given the time crunch, it will do. With one spritz of setting spray and another of your signature perfume, you make your way out of your room. Johnny is exactly where he said he’d be, now with a cable knit sweater sitting on the couch with his phone in hand. As soon as he hears your footsteps, he looks up from his screen, and he flashes you the most gorgeous smile. “There’s my pretty girl.”

Johnny compliments you regularly, which you always refute, but tonight, you take it in stride. Being the honest person he is, the man has a hard time lying. You smile brightly at his words, your mood already brightening when he leads you through a little twirl.  

Beside him rest two overcoats, his black one and the khaki one you saved for special occasions. The knee-high boots you wore earlier rest by his feet. He slips his coat on with ease, looking like a dream as he does so. As you sit down to slip on your boots, he waits patiently at your side with your coat draped against his forearm. 

“I got your coat out of the closet, thought it would look good with your outfit,” he mentions as you grab it from his arm. “This is the one you always wear with your nice fits, right?”

You freeze for a moment, taking in what he says. Seeing you rendered speechless at his question, he helps you into your coat. “I’m going to get the car started. Can you grab the container on the counter before you lock up?”

You nod as he grabs his keys out of the bowl, “What did you make?”

“Pull apart garlic bread! It’s nothing special, but it’ll do,” he calls out while opening the door.

You curse. “It’s going to be gone the moment we set it down,” you whine, “I love your garlic bread.”

“That’s why I have a whole container set aside for you. I made extra for you to eat after your date, but I guess we’ll just eat it when we get back from the party,” Johnny laughs, looking over his shoulder. “Don’t forget to lock the door!”

Johnny quickly runs out the door of your apartment and down the flight of stairs. You can hear his grumbles about the cold slowly fading the further he gets. Aware that he is now more than an hour late to his family party, you should get moving. You stand in your empty apartment, shell-shocked at how much he did for you in the short time you’ve been home.

Of course, you’re a bit in love with Johnny Suh. If he treated anyone else with the amount of care, you’re sure they’d be too. 

When Johnny pulls up to his parents’ place, you’re still wondering whether or not you should be there. It’s not his birthday party or a random summer barbecue. It’s a time one spends time with your loved ones. Snow starts to fall as you step out of his car, and your friend rushes you inside with his hand resting on the small of your back.

His mother, not at all shocked to see you there like you thought she’d be, pulls you into a welcoming hug. The embrace is unexpected; you barely have time to move the bread away from getting squished. Johnny chuckles lightly as this all goes down and grabs the bread you’re so worried about. “Mom, please let her breathe.”

“Sorry, sorry,” his mom answers as she fusses over you. She lovingly brushes snow out of your hair as she lets you go. Her eyes wander from the top of your head to the bottom, taking in your outfit. “Gosh, always so pretty.” 

“Thank you, Auntie,” you flush, immediately taking off your coat. Johnny grabs that too, placing it on the overfilled coat hanger by the door. “Sorry, I didn’t come with presents this year.”

Mrs. Suh links arms with you as she leads you further into the house, her kindness overflowing with every passing second. With her never-ending hospitality on full display, it’s clear who Johnny takes after. “Oh, don’t worry about that at all. You know, I was so sad when John said you weren’t coming at first, but then he called to say you changed your mind. I’m so happy to see you, dear!”

“Happy to be here,” you reply shyly. She ushers you into the kitchen, pushing past the large crowd of family friends and relatives, where all the food is laid out in a buffet style on the counter. 

Johnny beat you to the kitchen, his coat off, and his smile wide as he catches up with his favorite cousin. Mark multitasks, engaging in a conversation while holding a shaker in his hand. The younger may not be the best cook, but he is a decent bartender at family parties. He’s an even better one without the kids and elderly around; however, now’s not the time to go too crazy.

Mark’s face lights up as you walk into the room. “Hey, there’s my favorite plus one! I was wondering if you were going to make an appearance.”

“What’s up, Marky?” you giggle. 

Instead of a hug, he hands you a glass he just finished preparing. “A drink for the lady.”

You take a sip and are surprised to taste your favorite cocktail. The familiar flavor slides down your throat, the warmness of the alcohol combating the cold weather outside. “How’d you know?”

Mark steals a glance at Johnny, who silently shakes his head. You don’t notice the short interaction, too busy enjoying the way the alcohol warms you up from the blaring cold. Mark brushes it off and chuckles, “Lucky guess.”

“Well, I’m going to need you to make me like three more of these throughout the night,” you joke.

Mark immediately retaliates with his wit, “I happily accept tips. I take cash or any sort of money transfer.”

“Shut up,” you lightly shove the boy. 

He reacts dramatically, clutching his arm and calling his cousin for help. “Yo, dude, your girl is hitting me.”

Heat rises in your neck and to your cheeks when you realize what Mark called you. The name isn’t completely out of pocket—after all, it’s not the first time someone from Johnny’s family assumed you were his. You are his, but not in that way—his best friend, his roommate. And although you’ve dated around, being Johnny’s completely and adding another notch to your belt wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

It’ll actually be the greatest thing, but knowing that he only takes care of you because you’re a friend,  you’re not brave enough to take that step. 

Johnny finds his place right beside you, one arm handing you a stacked plate of food while the other circles around your waist. “So? You probably deserved that.”

Mark huffs, “Rude.”

You take the plate Johnny offers you. “What’s this?”

Your roommate describes all the dishes he set aside for you. He points to a pile of stir-fried chicken. “This had some veggies you don’t like in it, and I did my best to scrape them off.” Johnny nonchalantly says as he takes a casual bite of his own food, “If there’s still some left, just leave it there, I’ll eat it later.”

“Oh,” you say, again surprised at how well he knows you, “thank you.”

He scrunches his nose, “It’s nothing.”

Johnny says it’s nothing, but to you, it’s everything.

Once the chaos of game time calmed down, the crowd breaks into tinier congregations. The younger adults, including you and Johnny, claim the living room. His female cousins squish themselves onto the long L-shaped couch, dragging you along with them. You don’t mind it at all; you get along with his cousins quite well. 

The only thing bothering you was the length of your skirt. So used to sitting with at least one leg crossed or folded while on the couch, you can’t find a comfortable way to sit. You envy the girls who chose to wear pants to the party; they’re able to sit however they want without a care in the world. Grabbing your coat from the entryway is an option, but the house is too packed—you don’t want to fight your way through the throng of people. 

Sighing, you sit with your legs pressed together and grab Johnny’s small crossbody. You place it at the end of your short skirt and keep it in place with your hands. It’s not the most ideal cover, but you’ll make do with what you have. Now feeling a bit more comfortable, you jump back into the conversation. Fully attuned to Joy’s travel adventures, you don’t notice Johnny slipping further into the house.

Halfway through Joy’s story, Johnny comes back and wordlessly drapes a plush blanket onto your lap. You feel the fluffy texture before you can even process what it is. Your hands grip the fabric, and you take a closer look at what became your saving grace—worn-out Pikachus and Pokeballs cover the entirety of the blanket. Judging by the print, you know exactly who this belongs to. 

You glance up at the owner, who towers above you. “This is a relic.” 

“Shut up,” he groans as he plops onto the armrest next to you. 

With something covering your lower half, you’re now able to shift to a better position. You fold one leg and lean back into the cushions. Your best friend’s arm naturally drapes across your back, and it becomes the perfect headrest for you.

“God, that’s so weird, man,” Mark says out of nowhere while sipping on another drink.

Your ears perk up. “What is?”

“He’s so sweet to you,” Mark points out, gesturing to the blanket Johnny grabbed just for you. “Never seen him like this before.”

You try to brush it off. “I’m sure he’s been like this with girls he’s brought home before, yeah?” You pinch Johnny’s side, trying to get him to agree, but his lips are sealed. He refuses to make eye contact with you.

“I mean, yeah, sure, but not to this extent? At least, I don’t think s—” Mark’s words are cut off by Wendy’s hiss.

“Leave them alone, Markus,” she scolds him. She sends a smile your way. “I think the way he takes care of you is really cute.”

Johnny’s not the type to get embarrassed often, and yet, he does his best to change the topic. “Hey, Wen. You went on a trip to Europe, right? You didn’t post much about it. Where’d you go?”

Seeing right through him, Wendy playfully glares at her younger cousin. You laugh at this exchange as Wendy goes along with the flow of the conversation. “I just went around London and Paris. One week per city.”

As soon as Wendy talks about her trip, your eyes brighten with curiosity. Like Johnny’s cousin, who's known for having at least one international trip a year, you’ve made your way around the world as well. You’ve traveled so much this year, your friends joke that you’ve been on more flights than dates. It came to a stop once you started dating the guy, but with how it all worked out, the teasing will probably pick back up again. Knowing they don’t mean any harm, you take their teasing in stride. Plus, traveling the world is a privilege, and you’re honored to have experienced a vast amount of cultures.

“How’d you like it?” you ask, leaning forward to catch Wendy’s every word. “I’m actually going on a London, Paris, Amsterdam trip in the summer, so I want to know everything!”

Wendy immediately whips out her phone to walk you through her itinerary. You scroll through her pictures and take notes on your own phone. As she answers all of your questions, you miss Johnny eyeing you fondly. He does it absentmindedly, not even aware of it. He also doesn’t notice how his bulky arm slides from the back of the couch and naturally circles your waist. His fingers draw little shapes onto your blanket-covered lap. 

Joy, who never misses a thing, catches it pretty quickly. She elbows Mark and draws attention to how Johnny holds you close. 

Being the little devil he is, Mark pulls his phone out to sneak a picture. Before he taps the screen, Joy and Mark watch how you instinctively sink into Johnny’s side. The hand that’s not holding your phone slides over to play with Johnny’s fingers. Mark snaps the picture right then. He finds himself grinning at the photo, but doesn’t send it to his favorite cousin, opting to save it for a rainy day. It’ll come in handy one day; however, tonight is not the night. 

“You went to Europe, too, right? I saw your Instagram posts! Was it Italy and Austria?” Wendy asks once she’s done recapping her trip. 

You nod enthusiastically. 

“You went during March, right?” Wendy continues, trying to remember when you posted. “I swear you posted something then.”

You actually went to Europe during the past summer—March was another international trip—but the detail is so minute that you see no need to correct her. You nod again, “Yeah, that trip was fun! I really enjoyed it.”

Johnny interrupts the conversation with a furrowed brow, “Wait, you went to the Caribbean during March. Your Europe trip was in June.”

“Oh, right, right,” you say. “Silly me.”

Johnny continues to boast about your travels proudly, “Yeah, she started in Venice, made her way to two cities in Austria, and then it was Munich, yeah?”

You turn towards him, amazed at his memory. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. Spent like two days over there.” You shift your gaze to Wendy. “I crossed swimming through the Eisbach River off my bucket list.”

“How’d you like that?” your fellow travel enthusiast asks. It was her turn to hang onto your every word. “I was thinking Germany for next year.”

“Oh, it was so amazing! The weather was just right, and I jumped off this low bridge—it was super cool! I’d definitely go back just to do that again.”

Wendy smiles, “Adding it to my list then. Where else did you go?”

You clap your hands, reminiscing about the best part of your trip. “I headed over to Switzerland and visited two cities there: Lucerne and Engelburg. Lucerne was nice, but Mt. Titlis in Engelberg–”

“Yo, did she say Tit-lis? Tits?” Mark whispers loudly, eyes widening. Joy slaps his side. 

“–and went on this crazy suspension bridge that was like 10,000 feet in the air!”

The small group of cousins gasp at the height reveal. “Weren’t you scared?” Joy asks, taking your phone as you pull up the picture of you at the top of the mountain.

“Oh my god, I hate heights, but I was already there, so I forced myself to go on it,” you shrug while taking a sip of your drink, “I mean, I’m probably never going back there again. It would’ve been a shame if I didn’t go, right?”

Johnny breaks his hand away from yours to ruffle your hair affectionately. “I’m proud of you, angel.”

You scrunch your nose at him as a quiet thanks. “That’s pretty much it. I guess you can say I ended my trip with a bang.”

The hand playing with your hair pauses. Johnny turns to you, “Wait, I thought you visited one more country during this trip.”

“What?” you ask, slowly racking your brain for any detail you missed. 

Your friend snaps his fingers. “Yeah, didn’t you guys do a quick stop at the smallest country in the world or something like that? You mentioned something about paying to get your passport stamped there?”

His sentence jogs your memory. That portion was so short, so insignificant compared to the rest of your trip, you forgot all about it. Yet here Johnny—who never went on the trip–sits, recalling moments that you mentioned to him in passing. Again, you’re beyond amazed by his memory. “Yeah, our tour bus stopped by Leichenstein for thirty minutes.”

When the group shoots you confused looks, you explain even further, “It’s the sixth smallest country in the world, and the whole place is around 16 miles long. We just stopped long enough to get a souvenir stamp in our passports and to buy tiny souvenirs. I didn’t even take a picture there.”

“Right, that!” Johnny points a finger at you. 

You purse your lips at him. “How’d you remember all that?”

Your roommate, suddenly aware of all the eyes on him, brushes it off like it’s no big deal. “I just remember a lot of things about you.”

Being the mood maker, Johnny usually feeds off the attention he receives. This time, you realize, he strays away from it. He draws his cousins away from the little moment you’re having, busying himself with finding his bag. He stands up, his warmth and woodsy scent going along with him, as he searches the area.“It’s been a minute since we had the whole group together. We need a new picture. Angel, do you know where my bag is?”

You pull his bag from under your blanket. “It’s right here.”

“Can you get my camera? It should be somewhere in there,” he calls over his shoulder, “I’m gonna find someone to take the picture.”

“I’m right here, though. I can do it,” you shoot back.

“And I want you in the picture, too,” Johnny says firmly before he steps out.

“Fine,” you groan, tugging the zipper of his bag open. The small bag doesn’t have much in it, but it’s still a task to dig through in the dim lighting. You take his things out one by one—his wallet, his car keys that are attached to a keychain you bought him while in Austria, a chapstick, and an external battery. The next thing you find is something you don’t expect to see mixed with his belongings; it’s an epipen, one that’s identical to the one you carry in your bag. You stare at it in confusion as Johnny makes his way back into the room with his father in tow.

“Did you find it?” Johnny asks.

In a panic, you reach back into his bag to finally pull out his digital camera. “Here it is!” You hand it over to Johnny, who quickly gives his dad a rundown of how it works. 

Your roommate motions for everybody to squeeze into the frame. Joy and Wendy scoot closer to you while Mark situates himself in front of the sofa. Once Johnny’s satisfied with the setup, he holds the camera exactly where he wants it and gestures to his dad to take over. He quickly slides his back to his place on the armrest, draping his arm over your shoulders. You lean into him almost immediately, grinning for the camera once Mr. Suh starts his countdown. 

Johnny’s dad takes a total of four pictures, taking his sweet time to press the shutter in between each shot. Tired of holding your smiles, you all hope that at least one picture turns out well. Johnny snaps a few more candids shortly after, as well as one final shot of you all clinking your drinks together. 

After putting his camera away, Johnny checks the time on his smart watch. He’s shocked to read that it’s 11:15 pm. It doesn’t matter that much to him since his family chooses to celebrate on Christmas Eve, but he knows that you have a long day ahead. Despite it being late, he knows that you’ll still push to stay a bit longer to hang out with his cousins, only for you to regret it later. So, he makes the executive decision for you.

He rests a hand on your shoulder, and you reach up to grab it. “Hey, so we gotta get going. It’s getting pretty late.”

You pout at him.

“Don’t give me that look, you have an early day with your family tomorrow,” he scolds you.

Your lip twitches in annoyance. “But I’m having fun.”

“If we stay, you’ll be cranky in the morning,” he says, slowly pulling the blanket off your lap. Shifting his attention to his cousins, he asks, “You guys understand, right?”

Being the oldest, Wendy answers for the group. “You guys are good.” 

She gets up to give you a long hug, pulling you in close. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? We love having you around.”

“Of course, I’ll be here as long as Johnny invites me,” you reply, reciprocating the hug.

Just before she lets you go, she whispers something incredibly sweet in your ear. “Thanks for making him happy.”

You withdraw from the hug, head cocked to the side at Wendy’s implication. “But I’m not doing anything, we’re not like that.”

“I know,” she shoots you a wink before directing you towards the other two cousins. Mark gives you a bear hug, practically lifting you, and pestering you to come to their family's New Year’s party. Joy helps you escape from his tight grasp, pulling you into a softer hug and making you promise to hang out with her sometime during the upcoming year. 

It takes you approximately fifteen minutes to get to the door as you say your goodbyes. Johnny’s sweet mother shoves a bag of leftovers into your hands, which Johnny graciously takes. She walks you to the doorway, nagging Johnny with a couple of last-minute things, and you giggle when he mocks her with his back turned. He reassures her that there’s no need to walk you all the way to his car, since it’s parked down the street, and she leaves you with one long embrace.

The front door closes behind you, leaving you and Johnny alone for the first time in hours. Your best friend finishes shrugging his coat on and begins his descent down the porch steps. You softly call out his name, making him stop in place. When he realizes you’re not following behind him, Johnny runs back up with a concerned look on his face.

“What’s wrong, angel? Did you not have fun?” he asks, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Why are you assuming something’s wrong?” you shoot back.

“You have that look on your face,” he points out.

“What look?”

His warm palms reach up to cup your face in his hands. Johnny’s thumbs first stroke the apples of your cheeks, then stretch to smooth out your wrinkled brows. “The one where you think too hard.”

The laugh you let out is an embarrassed one. “That obvious, huh?”

“Maybe not to others, but it’s obvious to me,” Johnny chuckles. One of his hands tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear; the action is so minuscule, and yet, it’s enough to feel a little giddy inside. 

“You know me too well,” you whisper.

“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing,” he answers back quickly. There’s no true bite behind his words, but there is an underlying desperation. Johnny searches your eyes, never looking away, even when you falter. 

“It’s not! It’s just…” You try your best to find your words. There are a lot of feelings stirring within you—appreciated because you feel seen, nervous to have someone see right through your every word, relieved that someone knows you so well, comforted that you have someone to rely on, and yet, sad that this diamond in the rough is not yours to have. 

“Why do you have an epipen in your bag? You don’t have any allergies.” You ask the question even though you already know the answer. You just need verbal confirmation from the man himself. 

“Just in case something happens to you,” Johnny replies as if it’s no big deal to him, as if it’s second nature to take care of you. “I always carry the extra one you have in the kitchen with me every time we go out.”

It’s the exact answer you’re expecting, and it still renders you speechless. “You–why?”

Your friend takes a moment to gather his thoughts. He exhales, pulling away from you to run his fingers through his styled hair. He opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself before a sound can come out. Taking another deep breath, Johnny smiles a tight smile. “This isn’t how I wanted to do this.”

You step towards him, surprised at how stressed your roommate looks. “Do what?”

“Tell you just how much I care about you,” he says defeatedly. The smile he wears forms into a gentler one that makes your heart flutter. Johnny looks you directly in the eyes when he says, “Because I care about you so much, angel.”

“You do?” you ask quietly, playing with the ends of your sleeves.

“Of course, I do,” he laughs, pulling you into an embrace. Your face squishes into his chest, breathing in the woodsy cologne you bought him on his last birthday. Your heart aches to leap out of your chest and finds its way to its rightful owner—the very man in front of you. “Would I memorize every little thing about you if I didn’t?”

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you gaze up at him with a hopeful look. “Sounds like you’re obsessed with me.”

Johnny’s large hand comes up to cup the back of your head. His bright brown eyes shine with complete and utter adoration as he confesses the underlying reason for his utmost care,  “Or maybe I’m just in love with you.”

You want to laugh—out of frustration for not figuring it out sooner, out of relief that your roommate feels the same way. Johnny Suh is the embodiment of the idea that to be loved is to be seen. Since you’ve known him, he’s figured you out completely and set an impossibly high standard. He ruined dating for you because he’s been what you’ve been looking for all along. You want to laugh out of complete, utter joy because you love him, too.

Johnny’s sweet confession has you grinning from ear to ear. “Guess what?”

He pinches your cheek. “I tell you I’m practically in love with you, and you want to play a guessing game?”

“Just guess!” you giggle, bringing your other arm around his shoulders. You play with the ends of Johnny’s short hair, sending shivers down his spine. 

“Chicken butt,” he plays along, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“I was actually going to say,” you pause for a moment and bring his face a little closer to yours. Resting a hand on his broad chest to keep yourself steady, you stand on your tiptoes, just enough to reach his lips. You stop a breath away from his lips to whisper, “I love you, too.”

You pull away to see Johnny’s handsome face light up. He’s as bright as the North Star, the guiding light that always leads you home. You may have been lost in the past, moving from person to person to find the love that you were seeking. After many following different trials, you’re finally able to walk the path that leads you straight to the person who made you feel at home. 

Unable to hide his joy, Johnny looks up. He lets out a loud laugh before gesturing for you to follow his gaze. Directly above you hangs a mistletoe. 

“Are you going to kiss me now?” you tease.

“Only if you promise to be mine,” Johnny replies with an indefinite amount of fondness leaking through his words.

“Cross my heart,” you mutter before tugging him down to your level. His plush lips meet yours most sweetly. The hand in your hair holds you in place, while his free arm coils around your waist. You tilt your head, following Johnny’s lead as he breaks one kiss and immediately dives in for another. There’s no rush behind his kisses—they’re slow, deliberate, and the best way to convey how his heart beats for you. 

You love the way Johnny kisses you between a giggle and a smile, refusing to let you out of his grasp. 

You love how he ends the kiss, placing one last peck on your forehead before rocking you back and forth in a warm embrace.

You love how the lipstick you wore is now smudged against his pretty skin, branding him as yours. You also love the way he bats your hand away from his face, preventing you from wiping away your proof of kisses. 

Most importantly, you love the way Johnny loves you. He loves you loudly, shouting it out to anyone who’ll hear him. He loves you softly, remembering all the little things that no one else does. Because of this, you promise to love him endlessly. 

You’re absolutely in love with Johnny Suh and all his little things. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE. hey! i know this isn't the cruise!au i've been going on and on about (still a work in progress, i swear) but i saw a tiktok that basically inspired this whole thing. a big thank you to @aquarius-johnny and @taelme for bouncing ideas back and forth with me! forever grateful to my johnny girlies. it may not be my best work (wrote it in two days) but i hope this brings you joy this holiday season! please tell me what you think with a comment, a reblog, or an ask! i miss hearing from you all! check out my other holiday fics: all my loving (johnny) | where are you, christmas? (jaehyun) | the midnight kiss (jaehyun) | when the ball drops, my heart stops (mark) | my xmas wish come true (mark) | risk it all (haechan, rated m) | a day of firsts (jaehyun)

“Do you think if I cry and get on my knees she’ll have mercy on me?” Lily whispered, peeking over her desk, only to quickly duck back down when your eyes accidentally met hers.

Haechan clasped his hands together in a mock prayer. “Best case scenario? We get out of here with our heads still attached.”

“Who messed up, though?” Karina asked, scanning her colleagues. “I thought this was reviewed.”

“Do we really need to find a culprit?” Haechan shrugged. “We’re all human. Sometimes we make mist—”

“It was Jungwoo, wasn’t it?” Karina cut in.

“Bingo!” Lily and Donghyuck said in unison.

“Guys!” Jungwoo gasped, scandalized. “I thought we were in this together!”

Karina sighed, rubbing her temple, clearly annoyed. “How could you let something like that slip, Jungwoo?”

“Don’t pin the whole thing on me,” he protested, frowning at the injustice. “We all took a final look at it, and you know we didn’t have time to do it carefully.”

The others exchanged halfhearted shrugs. He wasn’t wrong.

The campaign was for a prestigious international company, and you, their terrifyingly demanding boss, had made it very clear: it had to be flawless, and it had to be fast. The deadline was short, but the team had underestimated the workload, pushing it back until they were left with barely any time. In the end, they rushed through it and somehow managed to submit right on time… except for the handful of errors no one had caught.

And those very mistakes were what brought them to this dreadful moment.

“Fuck…” Lily muttered, exasperated. “We’re screwed.”

They all let out a heavy sigh in unison, finally accepting their grim reality.

“What’s with this funeral atmosphere?”

The familiar voice made every head snap toward the office entrance. In an instant, their eyes lit up as if they had just seen an angel descend.

“Boss!” they chorused, their voices brimming with hope, as though their savior had just walked in and promised them a bright, safe future.

Johnny’s brows shot up at the sudden puppy eyes his team threw at him. For a second, he swore they were all about to cry. And he already knew exactly what those eyes were begging for.

A soft laugh slipped from his lips as he set his things down on his desk.

“Hmm… those guilty faces are telling me you pissed off the big boss again, right?” His gaze flicked toward your office, catching the way you paced back and forth, and how your eyes narrowed the second they spotted him.

“Please, please, save us!” Jungwoo blurted out, desperation dripping from his voice. The rest of the team nodded furiously, backing him up like their lives depended on it.

“I just got here and I already have to clean your mess again?” Johnny said, though there was no real scolding in his tone.

“We promise we’ll owe you our lives,” Haechan added quickly. “Just this once, Johnny, please!”

Johnny couldn’t help but chuckle again, his gaze flicking back toward your office. You were wrapping up your call, and the second your eyes found him, he knew it, he’d arrived right on time. His smile spread a little wider.

“Guess I don’t have much of a choice if my friends are in trouble,” he said, patting Jungwoo’s shoulder. The poor guy looked up at him like he was some kind of deity.

Just as expected, you opened the door at that exact moment. Your expression was as unreadable as stone, your gaze sweeping across the room, looking at each of the faces there before landing squarely on Johnny. His smile faded ever so slightly.

“Mr. Suh.” Your voice was calm, but carried that dangerous undertone that had everyone on edge. “My office. Now.” Without another word, you turned your back.

“Yes, ma’am,” Johnny replied with a nod. He leaned closer to whisper as he passed the team, “Wish me luck.”

“Your sacrifice won’t be forgotten,” Lily said dramatically, watching him march into the lion’s den.

Johnny stood politely in front of you, hands clasped neatly behind his back as he matched your serious expression. The door remained open, which meant the team could catch faint snippets of whatever was said. Their eyes were glued to the window, watching every second like it was the finale of a drama.

“I take it you’re already aware of the blunder committed by the team under your supervision, am I correct?” you began, your tone sharp yet measured.

“You’re correct,” he admitted with a small nod, lowering his head slightly. “And I’d like to offer my apology for it.”

“Oh, an apology?” you let out a short, incredulous scoff. “How does an amateurish mistake of this magnitude slip past you, Mr. Suh? Amateur mistakes I wouldn’t expect from interns, let alone my marketing team.”

The words cut like knives, and outside the door the team winced as if you were stabbing directly into their pride. They looked like kicked puppies.

“Do you have any idea how much credibility we risk losing because of such negligence?” you pressed on, arms folded tight, chin lifted like a blade.

Johnny listened intently, his posture steady, unmoved. His calm presence made his co-workers admire him, as usual. They had no idea how he always managed to stay composed in front of you, legs unshaken. Even more surprising, he always somehow managed to calm the storm. Every time he was summoned into your office in situations like this, it was as if he were a professional at handling you. But this time, they weren’t sure if his precious, mysterious skills would be enough.

“The responsibility is all mine,” Johnny said firmly. “If there’s any blame to be taken, it’s mine to carry.”

Your eyes narrowed as you studied him silently for a moment. Then, you circled the rustic wooden table and settled into your chair, resting your arms on the surface, your posture straight and commanding like a merciless queen ready to punish her vassal.

“Close the door,” you ordered, and he complied without hesitation, though not before winking at his colleagues, who gave him sorrowful looks. “And the blinds.”

After following your instructions, he stood on the other side of the table. The room was silent, heavy with anticipation, as your eyes locked. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, your tough facade began to crumble. Your shoulders sagged, the rigidity in your posture softening, and the severe lines of your expression melted into a hesitant, gentle pout.

Johnny’s lips curved into a smile as he watched the change in you, a soft chuckle escaping. That would never get old. He walked around the table to stand beside you, leaning on it casually, his hand reaching up to gently caress your hair, which made you immediately melt.

“You definitely scared them this time, baby,” he commented lightly. “Did we mess up this badly?”

“What do you think? My boss has been talking my ears off since that campaign came out,” you replied, sounding more exhausted than ever.

The whole week had been the worst you’d ever had. Endless meetings, ridiculous deadlines, piles of reports to fill and correct, and now the current problem you were responsible for. You just needed a moment to sit back and breathe.

“Can you hold still a bit longer?” His hand slid down to your chin, lifting your head gently so you’d be facing him. “I promise I’ll take care of all of that.”

His words brought a wave of relief that you hadn’t realized you were holding back. You trusted him, knew he could handle this, but hearing it aloud made your chest loosen just a little. You lifted your hand, brushing your fingers against his, and intertwined them. The warmth of his hand sent a quiet comfort through you, and you rested your cheek against it, savoring the closeness.

“I know they’re capable, so… how did it happen?” you murmured, your voice soft as you pressed the back of his hand gently against your cheek.

“They just slipped up,” he said quietly, careful not to add stress to your shoulders. “I should’ve been more attentive. But I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

You closed your eyes for a moment, then sighed. “We’re lucky the client is an old friend, and nothing worse happened. But I’ll still need to hold them accountable,” you admitted softly.

“I’m just glad you’re willing to give them another chance,” he whispered, pressing his lips gently against the back of your hand. “Did you see their faces? They were about to cry. After today, they’ll never even think about messing up again.”

“You know I can’t be soft on them…” you murmured with a small pout, leaning back slightly in your chair. You didn’t like being seen as that impetuous boss, but letting them relax too much often led to situations like this, so you had to find the balance somehow. “God, I’m so tired.”

Johnny was one of the very few who had ever seen this side of you. No one in the office would ever imagine it: Johnny Suh, the calm and charming fixer, dating the Ice Queen herself. To anyone else, it seemed impossible. Yet here he was, quietly grounding you, letting you let down your walls just enough to breathe.

“I like it when you act all bossy like that,” he teased, finally drawing a soft chuckle from you. “You even scared me earlier.”

“It looked like you were having fun with that act,” you rolled your eyes. “And here I am, tearing my hair out trying to find a way to get you into my office to comfort me without looking suspicious…”

He laughed, tugging gently at your hand, and you rose from your seat, letting him pull you close. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you snugly. You didn’t hesitate to bury your face in his neck, nuzzling slightly and inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.

“So you scared the whole team just because you wanted some cuddles?” he asked, resting his cheek against your head.

“You make me sound like a jerk when you say it like that,” your voice came out muffled. You pulled back slightly to look at him. “I was calling them out for real too, okay?”

Your little justification only made him smile wider, he loved teasing you. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, eyes roaming your features as he took a closer look. Your beautiful face, tired yet still radiant, made his gaze soften even more.

He cupped your face in his hands and leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, washing away your pout. His thumbs traced gentle circles along your cheeks. “So… am I making you feel better?” he murmured, planting tender kisses under your eyes and your forehead.

“Very,” you whispered, pressing another soft kiss to his lips in return.

His hand found its way into your hair, tangling gently in the strands as he deepened the kiss, his lips and tongue pushing yours apart with a sweet urgency. You leaned further into him, melting against his touch. His other hand slid down your back, tracing your body until it cupped your ass.

“Johnny…” you warned.

“What?” he murmured against your lips, a teasing smirk in his tone.

“Don’t even start…”

“Start what?” he whispered, cutting you off with another kiss, his hand squeezing you. You pulled back just slightly, a little breathless.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” you accused, though the corner of your mouth betrayed a small, mischievous smile.

“And what am I doing, hm?” he nipped at your lower lip, letting his other hand join the first, cupping both cheeks and pressing you closer against him.

“We’re not going to do that again,” you stated, an he only leaned his head down to your neck, pressing soft pecks along your skin, making you shiver and tilt your head to give him more space.

“Why not? We had so much fun,” he sank his teeth into the soft flesh, making you gasp at the mix of sting and pleasure. His hands slid under your shirt, caressing your belly with feather-light touches.

“And we were almost caught, my love.”

“Lesson learned, right? Now we know we should lock the door,” he whispered, his lips tracing back up to yours, “and be a little quieter. We won’t get it wrong again.”

“Oh my God, you have no shame,” you laughed, hitting his arm. “As tempting as you sound, I won’t fall for it *twice*.”

He pouted jokingly, but the expression soon softened into a smile when he saw how much more relaxed you looked. “You’re no fun.”

You chuckled and pulled away, still smiling. “I think you’ve been here long enough. Time to go back to work.”

He hummed in mock disappointment. “Aw, baby, already?”

“Mhm. And it’s your turn to scold the team, I won’t be the only bad guy here.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, giving you one last kiss. “Should we continue later, then?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a playful smirk. “I might need more than just some cuddles until then.”

↝ taglist: @asteroidsung, @spacejip , @peterm4rker , @sinisxtea, @bluedbliss.

Y/N’s lips curled into a smirk as she pulled herself up onto a nearby rock, sitting with one leg drawn up, her wet skin shimmering like pearls under the moon. “Most captains are screaming for their gods by now.”

“I’m not most captains.”

The man standing at the bow was tall, shirt open to reveal a broad chest inked in black, hair tousled and eyes burning like whiskey in lantern-light. He was laughing.

And not under her spell.

Her eyes narrowed. “You should be on your knees.”

“I prefer you on yours.”

The words rolled off his tongue like smoke, and Y/N’s smirk returned, sharper this time.

“So, you’ve heard of me,” she said, voice like velvet.

“Aye.” He leaned lazily against the railing, unbothered by the danger. “You sing men to their deaths. Tear apart hulls with a flick of your wrist. Sink entire fleets for fun.”

“And yet here you are.”

“I figured it was time we saw each other. Pirate to predator.”

The way he said it—pirate—wasn’t boastful. It was fact. Like the ocean acknowledged him. And maybe it did.

“Johnny Suh you've made quite the name for yourself” she said aloud, almost laughing. “The infamous one. The ghost of the Caribbean.”

He gave a mock bow. “At your service.”

She tilted her head. “Come to kill me?”

“No.” He descended the side rigging with graceful ease, hopping down onto the smaller rock outcrop near hers, now face to face. “I came to make you an offer.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Go on.”

“I’ve got the Royal Navy on my tail,” he said, licking his bottom lip as he glanced her over—shameless. “They’ve sent their best after me. Skilled, persistent. Honestly, it’s becoming a pain in my ass.”

She grinned. “You want me to eat them for you?”

He stepped closer, boots steady despite the wet stone. “You sink the ships that follow me, I keep sending them into your waters. You get your fill, I get to keep my record clean.”

Her smile faded into something more dangerous. “And what do you get if I decide to drag you under instead?”

His eyes glinted. “A very wet, very satisfying death.”

Her laugh echoed through the sea like a spell. “You’re either bold or stupid, pirate.”

“Bit of both,” he said, already leaning in.

----------

The moment she stepped onto the deck of The Serpent’s Kiss, the entire crew went still.

Boots thudded and swords tensed in scabbards as every pirate turned toward the woman who dripped seawater onto their immaculate wooden boards, as if the sea had birthed her herself.

Johnny stood at the helm, watching her like a man who’d seen something rare and dangerous—and was eager to play with it.

“Well, well,” he drawled, descending the stairs with leisurely confidence. “She rises from the deep and graces my ship.”

Y/N tilted her head, dripping wet and barefoot, seafoam clinging to her skin. “I was promised a wreck.”

He grinned. “You’re early.”

“You’re cocky.”

He stopped in front of her, close enough that the scent of salt and smoke from his clothes brushed her skin. “You can come aboard,” he murmured, eyes flicking to her mouth, “if you promise to eat me alive.”

A wicked smile curved her lips. “Don’t you mean as long as I don’t eat you alive?”

He winked. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

She didn’t smile back.

But she followed him anyway.

—

His captain’s quarters were far more lavish than she expected. Rich mahogany walls lined with stolen maps and gold-plated weapons, the desk wide and ornate, littered with scrolls, trinkets, and a half-empty bottle of rum. The scent of tobacco, leather, and something inherently masculine clung to every inch of the space.

Johnny kicked the door shut behind them.

“Here,” he said, striding to the desk. “Navy’s been crawling all over the eastern reef. Sent three ships after me just this week. Fast ones.”

Y/N didn’t answer, watching the way his shirt clung to his back as he leaned over the desk and unfurled a large map, edges curled from use.

“How many men?” she asked coolly.

“Too many to keep dodging.” He tapped a marked route. “But if I lead them here—into your waters—”

“I’ll handle the rest,” she finished for him.

He looked over his shoulder at her. “Exactly.”

She didn’t move. Just stood there, dripping saltwater on his fine carpet, eyes pinned to his strong shoulders and the way tension rippled beneath his sun-kissed skin.

He was a pirate. A thief. A killer.

But so was she.

“Something wrong?” he asked, brows lifted.

She stepped forward slowly, eyes half-lidded. “You think this is going to be easy?”

“No,” he said. “But I think it’s going to be fun.”

In the next second, her fingers curled into the open collar of his shirt and yanked him toward her.

His breath caught—and then he was crashing into her, her mouth barely a breath away.

They stared at each other, a second too long, the storm between them crackling in the stillness.

Then they collided.

Mouths crashing, teeth scraping, no grace—just heat. Raw and ravenous. Johnny groaned as her hands tangled in his damp hair, dragging him deeper, his own palms gripping her waist hard enough to bruise.

She pushed him back until his thighs hit the desk. He didn’t hesitate—sweeping an arm across it, the maps, coins, and compass scattering to the floor before lifting her onto the polished wood.

Her legs wrapped around him as his mouth trailed down her neck, hot and wet, his hands skimming over every slick inch of skin. “God, you’re unreal,” he muttered against her throat, his fingers catching on her soaked sea-glass top, tugging it aside.

“You talk too much,” she growled, dragging his shirt off his shoulders, fingers scraping down the inked skin of his chest.

“I’m better with my mouth,” he smirked—before she grabbed his jaw and kissed him again, deeper this time, her tongue demanding everything he had.

And Johnny—confident, arrogant Johnny—gave it.

Because when a siren takes what she wants?

She always gets it.

Their mouths barely parted as Y/N pulled his shirt down his arms, her hands roaming over the firm lines of his chest, dragging her nails over the black ink that curled across his ribs. He growled against her mouth, panting as he tugged her tighter against him.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Johnny murmured, his lips brushing her jaw, throat, collarbone.

She bit back a moan, tilting her head as he sucked a bruise just beneath her ear. “You know what I want.”

“Tell me anyway,” he rasped, gripping her bare hips. “So I don’t get it wrong.”

Her only adornment was a single gold chain slung around her neck, glinting with salt and moonlight. Johnny let his fingers trail along it slowly, deliberately, before giving it a soft tug, making her exhale sharply.

“Royal Navy ships,” she breathed, licking into his mouth. “You keep feeding them to me.”

“And you sink them,” he muttered, undoing the ties on his pants with shaking fingers. “Drag every last one of those bastards under.”

She moaned as he shoved between her legs again, the head of his cock sliding slick against her soaked entrance. “And you don’t lie to me.”

Johnny froze, looking her in the eyes. “I don’t lie to allies.”

Her lips ghosted against his. “We’re not allies. We’re monsters.”

A flash of something feral passed through his gaze—dark and hot and hungry.

“Then let’s be monsters,” he growled, catching her mouth again. His voice was hoarse, ragged. “Fuck, I’ve been waiting for you.”

Her hand tangled in his hair again, dragging him closer. “Then shut up—” her hips rolled against him, wet and aching, “—and get in me.”

That was all it took.

Johnny slammed into her in one brutal thrust, making her gasp and cry out as her body arched beneath him. His hand came up to wrap around her throat—not choking, but holding her flat against the table as he thrust again, harder.

“Fuck,” he hissed, watching her writhe, her chain glinting against her heaving chest. “Tight little siren—so fucking wet for me already—”

Her legs locked around his waist, nails digging into his back as he moved, every stroke deep and punishing. He dipped his head, dragging his tongue over her nipple before biting down, sucking hard. Her moan was music, spine arching, hands fisting in his hair.

“You’re mine now,” he growled, teeth scraping her neck, “say it.”

She bared her throat for him, breathless and wrecked, and he took the invitation—biting down hard enough to bruise. “Say it.”

Her voice was a gasp. “Yours.”

His rhythm faltered for a second, hips snapping faster. “Again.”

“Yours,” she repeated, louder now, voice breaking, head thrown back.

Johnny grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together against the desk as he drove into her over and over, groaning with every thrust. “You’re gonna ruin me,” he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open, still wild, still burning. “Good.”

And he came undone.

—

When it was over, the room was a wreck—maps scattered, ink spilled, blood on his lips and bruises on her thighs. Y/N lay back on the desk, chest heaving, eyes half-lidded as she watched him pull back, breathless and sweat-slick.

Johnny ran a hand through his hair, still staring down at her like he’d just caught something sacred. Or cursed.

“You’re going to get me killed,” he said softly.

She smirked, tugging him by the chain still around her neck until he leaned back over her.

“You’re not that lucky.”

----------

The creak of the door opening drew every eye on deck.

Johnny emerged first, shirtless, hair a mess, a fresh bruise blooming just under his jaw. Y/N followed at his heels, calm as ever, Johnny's oversized top on her and a gold chain she stole from a poor sailor years ago at her throat, dripping seawater across the polished deck like she belonged there.

Which, as far as Johnny was concerned—she did now.

The crew shifted uneasily. Half of them clutched weapons. A few made the sign to ward off evil. One muttered something about “cursed temptresses” under his breath.

It wasn’t until Darius, his first mate, stepped forward with a grim look that anyone spoke up.

“You sure about this, Captain?” he asked, arms folded. “You want to let a siren walk free on this ship?”

“She ain’t walking,” muttered someone else. “She’s floating like death itself.”

Y/N only smiled sweetly, tilting her head like she might start singing—and sink the whole crew if she felt like it.

“She’s one of them,” Darius added, glancing at Johnny. “No offense, Cap, but sirens aren’t exactly known for their loyalty. They’re killers. Cunning. Evil.”

“So are we,” Johnny replied smoothly, resting a hand on the railing. His voice carried effortlessly across the deck. “You think I built this crew by playing fair?”

The men exchanged glances.

“She’s the reason the Royal Navy won’t catch us,” Johnny went on, turning to face them fully. “She’s gonna keep their ships buried at the bottom of the sea, and we’ll sail free, rich, and untouched.”

Someone near the helm muttered, “How can we trust her?”

“You don’t have to,” Johnny said, stepping closer, gaze sharp. “You trust me.”

Silence followed, thick as the ocean air.

“I’ve led you through storms. Through blockades. Through traps. I’ve slit throats in the dark so you lot could sleep on gold. I’m still the best pirate on these seas.” He glanced over his shoulder, where Y/N stood—completely unbothered, eyes glinting like a predator at rest. “And I say she’s part of this crew now.”

Darius gave a short nod. “Then that’s that.”

The others slowly followed suit—lowering weapons, relaxing shoulders, some with murmured oaths of allegiance.

Y/N padded forward slowly, stopping beside Johnny. “I won’t hurt any of you,” she said lightly, “unless you give me a reason.”

They stiffened again, but Johnny grinned.

“Chin up, boys,” he called. “We just bought ourselves a sea monster.”

A beat of silence passed. Then—

A few smirks.

Then laughter.

Tension broke like a wave against the bow.

They still didn’t trust her. Not really.

But they trusted him.

And that was enough.

---------

Later that night, when most of the crew had returned to their duties and the scent of brine and sweat hung heavy in the air, Taeyong found Johnny alone at the stern, a bottle of rum in one hand, the ocean dark and endless ahead of him.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was familiar. Long-earned. They’d bled beside each other more times than they could count.

But tonight, it was heavy.

“She’s dangerous,” Taeyong said quietly, stepping up beside him. No judgment in his voice—just concern.

Johnny didn’t look at him, eyes still on the horizon. “So are we.”

Taeyong took the bottle from his hand, took a swig. “You sleeping with her?”

Johnny smirked faintly. “Would it matter if I was?”

Taeyong didn’t answer. Just passed the bottle back.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Johnny finally said, turning to lean his back against the railing. “That I’ve let her get in my head. That my dick’s making calls my brain should be.”

Taeyong raised a brow but didn’t deny it.

Johnny’s voice dropped, quieter now. “But you know me better than that.”

Taeyong folded his arms, his tone careful. “I do. Which is why I’m saying this now, while it’s just us. You’ve got a crew that’d die for you. They believe in you. I do too. But I’ve seen what sirens do to men—good men. They make you forget who you are.”

Johnny’s jaw flexed.

Taeyong stepped closer. “So I gotta ask: are you still you?”

Johnny met his gaze without hesitation. “I’m me, Tae. I’d never make a deal with something I didn’t believe could keep their end of it. She doesn’t want us. She wants the Navy. And I’m handing them to her.”

Taeyong studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “You think she’ll keep her word?”

“I know she will,” Johnny said. “And when the Navy’s gone? When we’ve sunk their best battalions and burned their flags? We’ll be kings out here. No more hiding. No more chasing shadows. Just open sea and all the gold we can carry.”

Taeyong looked out at the black water for a moment, the stars glittering like promises overhead.

“It’d be nice,” he murmured. “To finally breathe without them on our necks.”

Johnny clinked the bottle against Taeyong’s. “Then let’s make it happen.”

Taeyong took another drink. “Just don’t fall in love with her.”

Johnny chuckled, turning back to the waves. “Too late.”

-------------

The water was quiet—too quiet.

Y/N waited just beneath the surface, suspended in the deep like a predator beneath a calm sky. Her eyes flicked upward, catching the first glimpse of dark sails slicing through the moonlight.

Johnny.

She recognized The Serpent’s Kiss instantly, gliding fast and low across her waters, its black hull practically vibrating with urgency. It wasn’t until she spotted the ships behind it that her pulse quickened.

Two.

Royal Navy.

Bigger than usual. Armed to the teeth. And slow—slower than Johnny, but close enough to strike.

Her smile curved like a blade.

Perfect.

She let herself sink a little deeper into the dark, hair trailing like ink behind her, lips parting as she began to hum—softly at first, so the waves carried the sound like a whisper.

Above the surface, on the Navy ships, voices rose in panic.

“—sirens—!”

“TURN THE SHIP AROUND—!”

“She’s here! SHE’S HERE—!”

But it was already too late.

Y/N’s song swelled into a full melody, rich and sultry and lethal. The skies grew darker, clouds swirling, wind turning violent. The sea responded to her like it was in love with her rage.

Men on deck dropped their weapons.

One by one, they turned toward the sound—eyes wide, glazed, mouths slack. Some wept. Some whispered prayers. Most just… moved.

Moved toward the railings.

Toward the water.

Toward her.

Sailors began flinging themselves into the waves, drawn by the impossible pull of her voice, limbs breaking the surface like desperate offerings. Swords clattered, screams echoed, and still she sang—serene in the middle of the growing storm.

She breached the surface now, rising with the tempest, long hair slick against her back, eyes glowing like fire beneath the clouds. The wind whipped around her, waves crashing like fists against the Navy ships, tossing them violently side to side.

And when she lifted her arms, the sea obeyed.

A massive wave crested behind her—towering, black, angry—and crashed down on the first ship with the fury of the gods.

The second followed within minutes.

Smashed. Splintered. Gone.

Silence settled again, broken only by the crackle of lightning in the distance and the whisper of water reclaiming its dead.

Y/N stood alone now, waist-deep, hair clinging to her glowing skin, a satisfied smile on her face. Power hummed through her veins.

Another successful kill.

She didn’t know she was being watched.

Not from the wreckage. But from land.

Johnny stood on a small, craggy plot of rock just a mile away, hand resting on the hilt of his sword, breath held.

He had docked briefly to throw off the Navy's course, expecting to double back and help distract—but he hadn’t needed to.

He had known she was dangerous.

He just hadn’t realized how dangerous.

He’d seen storms. Battles. Massacres.

But nothing like her.

She was destruction wrapped in silk. A myth come to life. And watching her, drenched in moonlight and bloodlust, victorious in the eye of the storm?

Johnny felt it in his bones.

Not fear.

Not caution.

Desire.

The kind that made a man forget rules, gods, loyalty. The kind that made him want to fall, just to see if she’d catch him or let him drown.

He swallowed hard, eyes never leaving her.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, almost reverent.

And somehow, deep in his gut, he already knew—

He was in too deep.

---------------

A week later, Johnny arrived again.

This time, he wasn’t running.

The small Navy ship that trailed The Serpent’s Kiss was barely worth worrying over—smaller crew, poor speed, laughably underarmed. It limped behind them like a sacrificial lamb.

Johnny stood at the helm, smirking like a man with the whole ocean in his hands. “Poor bastards don’t even know they’re about to drown,” he muttered.

As always, Y/N was waiting below the surface.

It didn’t take long.

She sang.

The sailors screamed.

And then—silence.

The ship cracked and groaned before splitting in two, the sea swallowing it whole with one long breath. When it was over, Y/N broke the surface with a flip of her hair, swimming toward the ship with little urgency.

Johnny grinned as she neared, leaning casually over the railing. “You’re welcome.”

She rolled her eyes, hauling herself up the side with ease. The crew wisely gave her space now, stepping back like she was made of blades.

Johnny held a hand out as she climbed aboard.

“You really think you’re clever, don’t you?” she said, brushing past him.

“I think I’m efficient.” He followed, steps lazy. “One Navy ship. One siren. Zero problems.”

She stopped walking, slowly turning to look at him with a dry, unimpressed stare. “I can’t believe you fell for that.”

The grin faded slightly. “Fell for what?”

She didn’t answer. Just kept walking toward his quarters.

Johnny frowned and followed, closing the door behind them with a thud once they were alone.

“What do you mean fell for it?” he asked.

Y/N crossed her arms, damp skin glistening in the lanternlight. “Did you notice anything strange when you were being chased?”

“Like what?”

“Like how at first… multiple ships were following you?”

Johnny’s brows pinched. “Yeah… but only one could keep up.”

Y/N huffed and ran a hand through her wet hair. “Exactly. They peeled off. Intentionally.”

He blinked. “So?”

“So,” she snapped, stepping closer, “they knew two of their ships sank in that same stretch of sea before. So they sent onethis time—a test. They wanted to see if it would happen again. And guess what?”

“It did,” Johnny muttered, realization dawning.

“They’re not going to follow you there anymore,” she finished. “They’re not that stupid.”

He cursed under his breath, jaw clenching. “You could’ve spared the ship, then.”

Her grin slowly curled—sharp and wicked.

Johnny narrowed his eyes. “If you knew it was a setup—why didn’t you let them go?”

She stepped close, voice dropping into something dark and seductive. “Because I was hungry.”

And before he could speak, she grabbed his collar and yanked him down, fangs flashing as she sank her teeth into his bottom lip. Hard.

Johnny hissed, gripping her hips as she bit until blood welled up between their mouths. Her tongue flicked out—slow, deliberate—and licked the red from his skin.

His breath hitched.

“Jesus,” he muttered, dazed.

She leaned in, licking again, softer this time, almost like a kiss. “Next time,” she whispered, lips brushing his, “try using your brain, Captain.”

He stared at her, lip bleeding, heart pounding, his cock already hard beneath his belt.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You are going to ruin me.”

Y/N only smirked, tilting her head as she wiped his blood from her mouth with two fingers. “Then stop getting in my way and let me.”

Johnny didn’t even wait.

The second her tongue dragged across his bleeding lip again, he snapped.

With a growl, he shoved her back against the door—hard enough to rattle the wood on its hinges. His hands were all over her, grabbing her thighs, her ass, her waist—lifting her like she weighed nothing as he pressed his hips between her legs.

“You want to play games,” he panted, “you better be ready to lose.”

Y/N laughed darkly, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I never lose.”

He kissed her then—messy, rough, brutal—like he was trying to wipe that smirk off her face with his mouth alone. Her thighs tightened around his waist as he grinded against her, hard and aching, rutting into her soaked cunt until she moaned into his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he groaned, reaching between them to guide himself to her entrance. “Is this for me?”

“No,” she gasped, nails digging into his back, “it’s for whoever else I bit this week—yes, it’s for you, you bastard.”

He laughed—breathless, cracked—and thrust into her in one smooth, brutal motion.

Y/N’s head hit the door with a soft thud, eyes fluttering shut as he buried himself inside her over and over, each thrust harder, deeper, more desperate. He was fucking her like he wanted to own her—hands gripping her thighs so tight she knew he’d leave bruises.

“God, you feel like sin,” he rasped against her throat, biting her shoulder, his sweat dripping down onto her skin.

“You are sin,” she moaned, mouth dragging over his jaw. “That’s why I let you in.”

He groaned low in his chest, slamming into her one last time before coming hard inside her, holding her up as she clenched around him, panting in his ear.

They stood there like that for a long moment—pressed against the door, breath tangled, bodies slick and shaking.

Finally, Johnny let her slide slowly down his body, both of them still catching their breath.

“Stay,” he muttered, still flushed. “At least until I find a new set of waters to lead them into. Somewhere the Navy won’t suspect.”

Y/N raised a brow, wiping sweat from his chest with the back of her hand. “I’ll need the finest food.”

“Obviously.”

“And I’m staying in your quarters,” she added casually, turning to walk toward the bed with a sway in her hips. “You can sleep with the crew. They’ll love it.”

Johnny barked a breathless laugh, leaning back against the door like it was the only thing holding him up. “You are out of your mind.”

She looked over her shoulder. “Deal?”

He shook his head, laughing again. “Deal.”

Y/N grinned, settling herself on his bed like a queen—naked, glowing, wild.

Johnny crossed the room slowly, dropping to his knees beside her. He leaned in, pressing his mouth to hers in a long, slow, open-mouthed kiss—no teasing now, just heat and softness and a promise he didn’t quite understand yet.

She kissed him back with that same sharp smile against his lips.

And Johnny knew—he was hers now.

Whether she wanted to keep him or kill him?

Only time would tell.

------------

The sea was calm that evening.

The Serpent’s Kiss glided gently across the water, the kind of rare, quiet moment that made the ocean seem peaceful instead of bloodthirsty.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the upper deck rail, eyes fixed on the fading orange horizon. Her hair was wind-swept, her skin glowing in the dying light. For once, she wasn’t singing or plotting.

She was simply watching.

Taeyong approached, cautious but not afraid. He had a mug in each hand—one of hot rum, one of something stronger. He held out the former to her.

“Didn’t think sirens got cold,” he said.

Y/N smirked, taking it. “We don’t. But I like the taste.”

He nodded, settling on the crate beside her. For a long moment, they sat in silence, watching the horizon stretch and ripple.

Finally, Y/N spoke. “How’d you meet him?”

Taeyong glanced at her. “Johnny?”

She nodded.

He exhaled through his nose, a small smile curling on his lips. “I was with a different crew once. Years ago. Bad captain. Worse crew. They’d raid coastal towns, steal everything that moved. Women, too. One day we hit a port where Johnny happened to be docked—just refueling. He saw the smoke. Saw what my crew was doing. And instead of leaving like any smart pirate would’ve, he turned back.”

Y/N studied him quietly, the cup resting against her bottom lip.

“He boarded our ship alone,” Taeyong went on. “Killed the captain in front of everyone. Told the rest of the crew they could join him or rot. I joined him.”

There was something reverent in his voice now.

“Ever since then, I’ve been with him. He gave me a real crew. A real life. Never once asked for anything back. I figure the universe owes him a favor for what he did that day.”

Y/N tilted her head, running a finger around the rim of her cup. “You’re loyal to him.”

“To the end.”

She smiled faintly. “That’s rare.”

Taeyong gave her a look. “So is his trust.”

She blinked, then smiled again—sharp this time, all teeth and trouble. “Getting protective, first mate?”

“I’m being honest,” he said. “He doesn’t let people in easy. Not even his crew. Not really. But you? He trusts you. Like instantly.”

Y/N took a long, slow sip of her drink. “And that worries you.”

Taeyong didn’t deny it. “Just making sure there’s no… influence. No siren magic in his head.”

That made her laugh—low and throaty and genuinely amused.

“Oh, darling,” she purred, hopping off the rail to land in front of him, eyes gleaming, “if I was using magic, he’d be dead or married.”

Taeyong blinked.

Y/N leaned in, close enough to smell the salt in his drink. “I don’t need spells. He’s just wrapped around my finger like everyone else.”

Taeyong studied her, uncertain whether to laugh or be afraid.

She smiled wider. “Relax. I like him. If I didn’t, this ship would’ve been at the bottom of the sea weeks ago.”

She turned and walked away, hips swaying, hair whipping in the wind.

Taeyong watched her go, unsettled but intrigued.

Because the most dangerous thing about her wasn’t the song.

It was that he believed her.

----------

For once, she stayed out of his way.

Y/N leaned against the railing of The Serpent’s Kiss, her arms folded as she watched the deck move like clockwork—pirates rushing to stations, sails shifting, canons covered and hidden to mimic a trade ship.

And at the center of it all: Johnny.

The infamous pirate captain stood with legs braced and arms crossed, sharp eyes locked on the royal fleet in the distance. His usual cocky grin was gone, replaced by something sharper. Focused. Ruthless.

He barked orders with ease—quiet, controlled, and strategic.

Y/N tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips.

So this was what he looked like when he wasn’t busy kissing her breathless or teasing her with lazy, suggestive grins. He was magnetic in battle, commanding every man on deck like he’d written the sea’s rules himself.

No charm. No distractions. Just brilliance.

And damn it, it made her want him even more.

Minutes later, the royal fleet turned off course—exactly as Johnny predicted.

Y/N watched in stunned silence as the ships disappeared toward the eastern reef where the false distress beacons had been lit earlier that morning. A trap. A perfectly executed decoy.

The crew erupted into loud cheers. Pirates slapped each other’s backs, laughing and howling with relief. They were free to roam again—at least for now.

Johnny turned from the helm and made his way to her.

“Didn’t even need your fangs for that one,” he said, eyes dancing.

Y/N gave him a slow, impressed smile. “No, you didn’t.”

He arched a brow. “What? No snarky comment about how you’re the one who usually saves us?”

She stepped closer, slipping two fingers into the hem of his belt. “I’m impressed,” she said softly. “You’re even smarter when you’re not thinking about fucking me.”

Johnny grinned, shameless. “Dangerous compliment, sweetheart. I’m already full of it.”

She smirked, then stepped back as he tugged her hand and raised it to his lips.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re docking on the mainland tonight. Tavern’s got the best rum this side of the map. It’s time to celebrate.”

Y/N blinked. “Mainland?”

Johnny nodded. “You’ve never stepped foot on land, have you?”

She stared at him, eyes widening just a little. “Not in… not since I was changed. Since I became this.”

“Well,” he said, voice softer now, “we’ll keep near the water. Just long enough for a drink. You’ve earned it.”

A flush bloomed under her skin that had nothing to do with the sun.

She looked at her bare feet, then back at the distant coastline drawing closer.

Land.

The thought of it made her heart race.

“I’ll need boots,” she muttered, trying to sound nonchalant.

Johnny laughed. “You can have mine. I’ll carry you back.”

-----------

Y/N pulled the oversized coat tighter around her body, the fabric thick and worn and smelling like sea salt and leather and him.

She walked beside Johnny, bare feet brushing against cobblestone as the bustle of the port town swirled around them—street vendors calling, ships docking, gulls screeching overhead. Every sound made her flinch slightly. She was used to the gentle echo of ocean waves, not this… chaos.

Johnny didn’t let go of her hand once.

He didn’t need to guide her. She could protect herself just fine. But something about her—draped in his shirt and coat, wide-eyed and in giant boots (his)—made him grip her hand tighter as if the crowd might swallow her whole if he didn’t.

“You alright?” he asked softly, leaning close as they passed a butcher yelling about fresh meat.

“I’ve never heard so much shouting,” she murmured. “How do humans live like this?”

He chuckled. “Loudly.”

She gave him a narrow look, but her lips twitched in amusement.

Johnny tugged her down a quieter street lined with colorful fabrics and silk hangings, stopping in front of a stall overflowing with clothes.

“Pick something,” he said, nodding to the dresses and corsets, skirts and boots. “Anything you want. No one here knows what you are. They’ll just think I’ve got a pretty new bride.”

She raised a brow. “Is that the lie we’re going with?”

“Unless you’d rather I call you my mistress?”

Y/N snorted. “Keep talking and I’ll gut you in your sleep.”

“Romantic,” he grinned.

She scanned the fabrics with cautious fingers, brushing over lace and velvet until she found a deep green corset and skirt that shimmered in the sunlight, reminding her of deep kelp and precious stones sunk to the sea floor.

She stepped behind a curtain and returned moments later, barefoot still, but regal—bare shoulders glowing under the afternoon sun, hips swaying like the tide itself.

Johnny stared. “You want to ruin men? That’s the outfit to do it.”

She smirked. “You already look ruined, captain.”

He muttered a curse under his breath and reached for her again, but she batted his hand away, amused. “Where to next?”

Johnny took her to a narrow jewelry shop lined with iron lanterns and guarded by a grumpy-looking old woman. The moment Y/N stepped inside, her eyes widened. Diamonds. Rubies. Sapphires. Emeralds. All stolen from some kingdom, some dead noble, displayed here like treasures for her to devour.

Her gaze locked on a gold bracelet in the corner—thick and twisting like sea vines, encrusted with emeralds that shimmered like her waters. Perfect to match her golden necklace she always wore, stolen from a sailor who got too close to her when she was young.

She stepped forward, lips parted, hand hovering just above it.

Johnny watched her from the doorway, arms crossed, expression soft.

“You want it?” he asked.

She hesitated. “No. I… I just like looking.”

“You deserve things,” he said quietly. “Not just to take them. To have them.”

Her throat bobbed. She said nothing.

They left empty-handed, but his hand slid back into hers the second they stepped into the crowd again. He couldn’t stop himself.

She looked smaller here. Smaller and far too mesmerizing.

They turned a corner and a tug at her skirt made Y/N freeze.

She looked down.

A little girl stood at her side, no more than five, cheeks flushed and hair in messy braids. Her eyes were wide, full of innocent wonder.

“Can I touch your hair?” the girl whispered. “It’s so shiny.”

Y/N blinked, tense. Siren's are known to have gorgeous long silky hair that float beautifully in the seas, not that anyone on land could tell what she was unless she let her fangs drop.

Her instincts screamed to back away, to vanish into the sea where no one could touch her. But the child’s aura was so… quiet. So pure. No shadows. No darkness. No hint of deceit.

“She’s harmless,” Johnny murmured beside her, gentle for once. “Just curious.”

Y/N slowly crouched, letting the girl touch a strand of her hair. Tiny fingers twirled the silk between them. After a moment, the girl giggled and ran off, her parents calling for her in the distance.

Y/N stood, dazed.

“There was… nothing bad in her,” she said softly. “No filth. No greed. Nothing I’m used to sensing.”

Johnny nodded. “She hasn’t been taught the ugly parts yet. Still sees the world with soft eyes.”

Y/N turned to him, brows pulled tight. “Were you like that? Ever?”

He looked away for a moment, jaw tight.

“No,” he said. “I never had the luxury.”

She stared at him, something soft blooming behind her ribs.

“Come on,” Johnny said, flicking her chin and forcing a crooked smile. “Let’s find the crew before they burn the tavern down.”

The tavern was rowdy with laughter and overflowing mugs, pirate songs echoing off the wooden walls. The crew was already several drinks deep, shouting stories and clinking glasses, the scent of roasted meat and spiced rum thick in the air.

Y/N sat beside Johnny, close enough to feel the heat of his thigh against hers. Her fingers toyed lazily with the mug in front of her, though she didn’t drink. The noises were strange, but the energy of the place made her feel—alive.

Then she walked in.

A flash of curls. A familiar, confident stride. And a voice like smoke.

“Johnny?”

Y/N’s head turned before she could stop herself.

The woman beamed, rushing over and throwing her arms around him like they hadn’t just lived separate lives for years. “Gods, it’s been ages—how long’s it been? Seven years?”

Johnny smiled—polite, nothing more—and stood to hug her briefly. “About that.”

Y/N’s claws itched.

The woman kept talking—leaning into Johnny’s space, laughing too loudly at things he barely said, her fingers brushing his arm like it was habit.

Y/N turned to Taeyong.

“Who is that?” she asked through clenched teeth.

Taeyong blinked, lips quirking like he’d expected this. “An old flame. From when Johnny was barely eighteen. It’s ancient history, don’t worry.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away. Her throat felt dry. Something sharp twisted in her gut.

Johnny smiled at her.

She didn’t wait.

She rose from the table with the grace of a queen and strode up to him, jaw tight, eyes flashing.

“Take me back to the ship,” she said, calm but cold. “I’m not feeling well.”

Johnny raised a brow, seeing right through her. “Taeyong can take you.”

She stepped closer, smiling sweetly—and dropped her fangs.

“I said you take me,” she hissed, voice low and lethal. “Unless you want to watch your precious ship sink while you flirt with corpses.”

The woman flinched, backing away with wide eyes, mumbling something about needing air before rushing out of the tavern.

Johnny chuckled, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re absolutely unhinged.”

“Still here though,” Y/N replied smugly.

He stood, letting her lead the way.

—

Y/N shoved him back the moment they stepped into his quarters, slamming the door shut behind them. The wood rattled with the force. Johnny opened his mouth, but she was already on him, pushing him down onto the bed.

“You’re really—” he started, grinning up at her.

“Shut up,” she snapped, yanking his shirt open, buttons scattering. “Don’t speak.”

She climbed on top of him, straddling his lap like she was born to sit there, her nails digging into his shoulders for balance. Her weight pressed him down, and for once Johnny didn’t fight it—didn’t smirk or joke—just let her do exactly what she wanted.

And gods, she wanted.

She reached between them, wrapped her hand around his cock, hard and waiting for her, dragging the head slowly through her slick folds before sinking down all at once.

Johnny groaned — deep and guttural — throwing his head back into the mattress as she seated herself fully on him.

“Fuck—”

She didn’t give him a second to breathe. Her hips began to roll, fast and rough, skin slapping against skin in sharp, angry rhythm. She grabbed his wrists and pinned them down above his head, nails biting into his skin, her chest bouncing with every hard thrust.

“Jealous little siren,” he rasped, but she leaned down and bit his lower lip hard enough to make him hiss — then sucked it into her mouth, licking at the blood she drew.

“Mine,” she whispered against his mouth. “Say it.”

He grunted, trying to thrust up into her, but she kept control, grinding down so perfectly it made his back arch. “Yours—shit—yours, alright—”

Her pace got even rougher, slamming down over and over until the bed rocked under them, until he was panting beneath her, eyes glazed, mouth falling open as he struggled to keep up. She moaned into his mouth, biting his tongue this time and sucking it deep into hers, tasting him, owning him.

He’d never been taken like this before. Never seen her so wild, so raw, so completely in command.

And gods, he loved it.

She rode him until he was nearly trembling under her, whispering his name like a prayer and a curse, until his hands broke free just to clutch her hips and hold on as he came, deep inside her, his voice hoarse in her ear.

But she didn’t stop.

She kept moving — slower now, grinding in tight, teasing circles, keeping him hard, keeping him buried inside her. She licked the sweat from his throat, the blood from his chest, and smiled with her fangs out like a predator who’d fed and still wasn’t full.

“Still think I overreacted?” she murmured.

Johnny, dazed and breathless, licked his lips and grinned faintly. “Starting to think I should flirt with my exes more often.”

She growled — and thrust down hard enough to make him curse again.

They collapsed together moments later, tangled in sweat and heat and sea salt, her body draped over his, chest rising and falling like she’d just come from battle.

Because she had.

And she’d won.

-------------

The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow across the deck of the ship. Below, Y/N was sprawled across Johnny’s bed like a goddess in the aftermath of chaos—hair tousled, skin glistening with leftover sweat, his marks scattered all over her body like a pirate’s claim.

Johnny dressed quietly, still sore in the best way, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. His chest and neck were painted with angry red scratches and deep bite marks. His collarbone was smudged purple and his jaw had a bruise from where she’d sucked too hard.

He smirked at the memory.

“Fuckin’ hell,” one of the crew muttered when Johnny joined them on deck, eyes catching the marks. “Looks like you survived a kraken attack.”

Johnny just laughed. “Worse,” he muttered. “She bites harder.”

They rowed to the mainland with a short list of supplies to gather before they changed course. Johnny made his way through the crowded streets, pulling his hood up only halfway. He didn’t exactly blend in, tall and broad and cocky as ever, sauntering through the market with a pirate’s swagger.

That’s when he saw her.

His old flame they bumped into last night walking toward him with a basket of fresh bread in hand, her eyes widening the second she spotted him.

“Johnny?” she said, breath catching.

He turned, giving her that lazy grin she used to fall for, but her eyes dropped to his exposed chest, where his shirt gaped open just enough to reveal the aftermath of last night’s war. Scratches. Hickeys. Teeth marks.

She looked like she’d been slapped.

“Gods,” she said, lips parting. “Are you alright? What the hell happened to you?”

Johnny rubbed the side of his neck, looking down as if noticing it all for the first time. Then he smiled again—slow and smug. “I've never been better., don't worry about me”

Elira's mouth closed. She looked down at her basket, suddenly unsure of herself. “You’ve…moved on.”

“Wasn’t planning to. But she didn’t give me much of a choice,” he said, fondness sneaking into his voice without him meaning to. “Tore through me like I belonged to her.”

She flinched, even if she tried to hide it. “Just be careful, Johnny. I heard from a Navy trader — the royal family’s been pouring more gold into their fleets lately. They want pirates off their waters. For good.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Thanks for the tip.”

She gave him a small, sad smile and turned to go. “Goodbye, Johnny.”

He watched her walk away without a flicker of regret.

By the time he returned to the ship, the morning sun was higher in the sky and the sea breeze had picked up. He slipped back into his quarters and found Y/N still curled in his bed, the sheets tangled around her bare legs.

He leaned over, brushing his knuckles gently down her cheek.

“Rise and shine, siren,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her jaw, her cheek and lips. “We’ve got work to do.”

She stirred, eyelids fluttering open, pupils still dark with sleep, throwing her arms around his neck. “What kind of work?”

Johnny grinned, nipping at her lower lip. “The kind that might get us killed.”

She smirked lazily. “My favourite kind.” Pulling him down for another kiss.

----------

The day had started smooth—too smooth.

Johnny stood at the helm, wind slicing through his coat, eyes fixed on the horizon as they glided toward new waters Y/N had scouted. She’d left just before dawn, vanishing into the sea like a shadow to clear the way ahead.

He hadn’t seen any flags for hours, just endless blue stretching in every direction. That should’ve comforted him. But his gut twisted.

“We’re being followed,” Taeyong murmured beside him, brows furrowed. “Starboard side. Six ships. Royal Navy colors.”

Johnny’s jaw clenched.

“I thought Y/N took care of—”

“She did. They weren’t there before.” He cursed under his breath. “They’re hiding their movement. Smarter. Quieter.”

They watched as the fleet crept closer. Johnny gave the signal.

Y/N emerged minutes later, her glowing eyes visible even from a distance, the sea parting beneath her as she began her song.

The melody that spilled from her lips was slow, dangerous—like honey laced with venom. One by one, the navy ships began to falter. Cannons stopped firing. Orders stopped being shouted. Sailors dropped their weapons, leaning overboard, dazed, enchanted.

And then, just as Johnny relaxed his shoulders, something clicked.

Taeyong turned too late. A much smaller vessel had approached from the opposite direction—low, fast, and hidden against the sun.

Ropes lashed onto the side of Johnny’s ship. Three figures climbed aboard, masked and armed, pistols cocked and aimed directly at Johnny and Taeyong.

“Drop your weapons,” one of them ordered, voice calm but deadly. “Captain Suh and First Mate Lee, by order of the Crown, you’re under arrest.”

Taeyong reached for his sword, but Johnny raised a hand, stopping him.

The lead soldier stepped forward, pressing the barrel of his pistol to Johnny’s chest. “Cooperate, or your crew will pay the price. You think we didn’t know about the siren? She’s occupied. We came prepared.”

Johnny’s fingers curled into fists. He could fight. But they’d shoot first. And he wouldn’t risk his crew—he couldn’t.

He was just about to speak—to give in—when the air changed.

Soft at first. Almost inaudible.

Then louder. Clear. Like silk wrapping around the spine.

That voice.

The soldiers froze, faces twisting. “No,” one whispered. “She’s supposed to be distracted—”

But it was too late.

Their arms lowered, eyes glossed over, mouths falling open in awe. One by one, they staggered toward the edge of the ship like they were being summoned.

And they were.

Johnny turned, rushing to the side. He leaned over, his heart thudding in relief.

There she was.

Y/N.

Only her eyes visible above the water, silver and glowing under the sun. Her song still humming low in her throat. A quiet weapon.

She stared straight at him, the hint of mischief dancing behind her gaze. She didn’t need to smile—he saw it anyway.

Johnny exhaled, his lips twitching.

The last soldier hit the water with a splash.

And Y/N finally blinked.

Johnny grinned down at her. “Show-off.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t stop singing until the current had dragged every soldier far from the ship’s reach.

When the last ripple vanished, Johnny stood tall, turning to his stunned crew. “Well, boys,” he called, clapping Taeyong on the back, “looks like she’s still got our backs.”

Taeyong grumbled, still catching his breath. “She nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Johnny smirked, eyes flicking back to the waves. “Yeah. And I think she enjoyed it.”

--------

The crew worked quietly, adrenaline still wearing off after the surprise attack. The sun hung low in the sky now, casting gold streaks across the waves as the ship sliced through calm waters. Johnny stood near the helm, one hand resting on the railing, the other clutching a flask he hadn’t touched.

Y/N joined him, her damp hair curling around her face, eyes scanning the horizon. She didn’t speak right away. Neither did he.

Finally, Johnny broke the silence.

“Three more,” he said quietly, eyes narrowed. “Three more ships left in the battalion that’s been chasing me for years. Once they’re gone…” He trailed off, not needing to finish.

They both knew what that meant. Freedom. Safety—for him, for the crew. For her, maybe.

But then his shoulders tensed again.

He looked at her, serious now, voice low. “They know about you, Y/N. The Navy. The Crown. They’re not just hunting pirates anymore—they’re hunting you. You need to be careful.”

She smiled slowly, the expression rich and knowing.

“I’m not the naive little siren I once was Johnny."

He blinked, his gaze sharpening.

Y/N stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that only he could hear. “I’ve drowned admirals. Crushed fleets. I’ve lured hunters into whirlpools they didn’t know existed. Whatever the Navy thinks they know about me, it’s already too late.”

Johnny stared at her—genuinely, for a long beat.

Then something softened behind his eyes, a quiet pride curling into his smirk. “Didn’t say I wasn’t impressed. Just… don’t let them get lucky. Promise me.”

She tilted her head. “And if I don’t?”

“I’ll burn their kingdom to the ground myself.”

That made her laugh.

“Now that,” she murmured, “is something I’d like to see.”

She leaned into his side, his arm slipping around her waist without needing to be asked. Together, they watched the sea stretch out ahead—danger still looming, but for once, in no rush.

They hadn’t been on land for more than fifteen minutes when Johnny’s shoulders started tightening. Every glance from a vendor, every passing look from a stranger made his jaw clench. His hand stayed firmly on Y/N’s lower back as they moved through the market square, grabbing sacks of rice, fruit, dried meats, everything they needed.

Y/N leaned toward a crate of oranges, fingers brushing the vibrant skins when Johnny caught her wrist. “That’s enough,” he muttered. “We’re going back.”

She blinked up at him. “What? We’re barely halfway—”

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.”

She pulled her arm back, voice rising slightly. “They’re not looking at me, Johnny. They’re just looking. I look human. I am human here.”

“Not to them,” Johnny hissed under his breath, tugging her away. “If one person suspects, if even one whisper reaches the wrong ears, they’ll report you. And if they do—”

“I can handle myself,” she snapped, pulling away again.

Johnny stopped in his tracks. “This isn’t the sea. This is their home, their rules. You don’t get to sing your way out of this if they put chains on you. I’m an expert in water. Not here. I can’t protect you the same way.”

She froze, lips parting slightly, hurt flickering across her features.

Then came her laugh—empty, hollow. The kind that echoed from something much deeper than irritation.

“Oh, so now you care about how cruel humans can be?” Her voice was low. Bitter. “You think I don’t know how hollow they are? How monstrous?”

She turned sharply, storming off down the dock without another word. Johnny called after her once—but her pace didn’t slow.

By the time he got back to the ship, she had locked herself in his quarters.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his forehead resting against the door. “Open up.”

Silence.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I’m just—” He sighed, his voice cracking just a little. “I’m scared. I know what they’d do to you if they found out. And I’d never forgive myself.”

More silence.

Then: click.

The door creaked open just enough for him to see her curled on the edge of the bed, still in his clothes, arms hugging her knees. She didn’t look at him when he stepped in and quietly closed the door.

He approached slowly, then sat beside her.

“I wasn’t trying to control you,” he said quietly. “I just… can’t stand the thought of something happening to you. Not after everything.”

She finally turned her face toward him, her voice barely above a whisper. “And how do you think I feel about you?”

That did him in.

Johnny leaned in without hesitation, brushing her hair behind her ear, his lips ghosting over hers in the softest way they’d ever touched—no heat, no bite. Just an aching need for closeness.

She melted into him. Hands curling around his shoulders, mouth molding into his like it belonged there. The kiss deepened just enough to be lingering, lips parting, breaths mingling, but neither of them was in a rush.

When they finally broke apart, her forehead rested against his.

Johnny’s hand cupped her cheek. “Just… stay close, okay?”

“I always do,” she whispered.

And for now, that was enough.

----------

The sky was painted in a bruised blue as the sun dipped low, casting golden light across the rippling sea. Most of the crew were below deck or resting before nightfall, the lull before the storm.

Johnny leaned against the rail, watching the horizon with narrowed eyes. He didn’t turn when he heard footsteps behind him—he didn’t need to. He knew that walk.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Taeyong said, stepping beside him. “You always get like this before something big.”

Johnny stayed quiet for a moment, jaw flexing as the wind stirred his hair.

Taeyong folded his arms, glancing at his captain. “You’ve got that look in your eye again. Like the one you had when you saved me all those years ago. Like you’ve already decided what you’re willing to sacrifice.”

Johnny exhaled through his nose, still not meeting his gaze. “It’s just the mission. Three ships left. We finish this, and we’re finally free.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Taeyong’s voice was soft but steady. “You’ve clearly fallen for her. Anyone with eyes can see it. But you know she’s not meant to stay. She belongs to the sea, Johnny. Not to you. Not to any of us.”

That struck something in him.

“She’s more than a siren,” Johnny muttered, finally turning toward him. “She’s smart, fierce, funny. She keeps up with us, sometimes leads better than I do. And she saved us, more than once. She’s not just some creature of the water.”

“I know that,” Taeyong said quietly. “I like her, Johnny. That’s why I’m saying this. The ship is our home. The sea is hers. Sooner or later, the tides pull us in different directions.”

Johnny looked away, voice low. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

Taeyong gave him a long, searching look. “How?”

Johnny didn’t answer right away. His fingers tapped restlessly against the railing, the ocean breeze tousling his hair.

“We just finish the job first,” he finally said. “Three more ships. That’s all. One mission at a time.”

Taeyong nodded, though the weight of everything unspoken hung between them like storm clouds just out of reach.

He clapped Johnny on the back once, then walked away, leaving the captain alone with the sea—and the uncertainty of what would come when the battle was over.

-----------

The flickering lanterns swayed gently with the ship, casting golden shadows across the deck as the crew settled down for the night. The scent of salted air and fire-cooked food still lingered in the breeze.

Johnny was on his way back from the helm when he paused just beyond the galley entrance. He heard voices—familiar ones—and stopped in his tracks.

“…so, do sirens have anything like marriage?” Taeyong asked curiously, his tone casual but thoughtful.

There was a short pause before Y/N responded. “Not exactly,” she said. “We don’t have the same customs, but we can form a lifelong union based on love and trust. It’s rare, but… it happens.”

“Do some have families?”

Y/N gave a quiet laugh. “Some. I have a few I consider sisters. We grew up together, downing ships for fun, stealing things we didn’t need just to see who could charm the most sailors.”

Taeyong chuckled softly. “You make it sound almost… domestic.”

Y/N tilted her head. “It’s not all seduction and storms, you know. Sirens live. We fight, we love, we grieve. We’re not so different from you.”

Taeyong grew quiet for a moment, then said, “I guess I was just wondering… if sirens feel love as deeply as humans do.”

Johnny leaned closer without meaning to, his body tensed.

“I wouldn’t know how a human feels,” Y/N said gently. “But I assume it’s more or less the same. When we care… we care.” There was something raw in her voice, something quiet but certain. “It changes us.”

Neither spoke for a moment.

Then Y/N cleared her throat and straightened up. “Anyway… it’s time to focus on the mission. We’re nearly there.”

Taeyong nodded. “Right. One last stretch.”

Their footsteps moved off in the other direction, leaving Johnny alone in the shadows—jaw clenched, heart beating a little faster than before. He stared out at the night sky, her words echoing in his head.

When we care… we care. It changes us.

------------

THE PAST

Laughter echoed beneath the waves. A group of young sirens darted through coral arches, chasing one another with effortless grace. Fish scattered in their wake, and the seabed glowed with moon-kissed bioluminescence.

One of them—a girl with wide, curious eyes and a silver streak in her hair—surfaced for air, laughing as she flicked water at her friends.

“Bet I can steal a compass before any of you!” she teased, her voice sweet and sharp.

They giggled, cheering her on as she moved closer to a docked ship nearby.

She wasn’t scared. Not yet.

She crept aboard through the shadows, sleek and silent. But the moment her hand brushed the side of a crate—SNAP. A glowing net, woven with iron and enchanted thorns, coiled around her.

Her scream was barely heard underwater.

“No—NO!”

“Get her out!”

Her sisters tried—pulling, biting, slashing at the net. But the surface began to rise around her and she was dragged up, arms caught in the weave, mouth open in horror.

Above the waterline, shouts erupted from sailors.

“Holy hell—it’s a siren!”

“Grab her before she sings!”

Rough hands yanked her over the side, shackles clamping her wrists. A thick cloth was shoved into her mouth, muffling the terrified cries, and someone tied it tight behind her head. She thrashed wildly, eyes wide, until they shoved her into a rusted iron cage. Cold. Cramped.

One sailor stared at her like she was both treasure and monster. “Never thought I’d see one alive.”

The cage door slammed shut. The other sirens young and scared, swimming away to get help and before they could be caught themselves.

PRESENT

Y/N stood alone on the deck, wind lifting strands of her hair as she stared into the endless stretch of sea.

The sunset painted the ocean in blood-red and gold, and her expression remained unreadable, carved from silence.

But deep in her eyes, the memory still burned.

The betrayal. The helplessness. The gag.

She gripped the railing tighter, her jaw hardening.

Never again, she thought.

Never again would she be powerless. Never again would anyone take her voice.

----------

The ship rocked gently beneath them, the moon high and the ocean calm for once. In Johnny’s quarters, a single lantern flickered on the wall, casting long shadows across the wooden floor.

Y/N sat curled at the edge of his bed, one of his white dress shirts hanging loosely off one shoulder, the hem brushing the tops of her bare thighs. She didn’t turn around when the door opened.

“You’re not just here to grab something,” she said quietly, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Johnny paused in the doorway, then closed it behind him.

“Busted,” he said with a soft chuckle, crossing the room. “Guess I missed you.”

She turned slightly to face him, her expression warm but tinged with something heavier. “Tomorrow’s the big one.”

He nodded, watching her closely. “You nervous?”

She shrugged. “Not about the fight.”

He stepped closer, tilting her chin up with two fingers. “Be careful, Y/N.”

“I should say the same to you.”

They held each other’s eyes for a moment—words unsaid hanging between them like thick fog—and then she rose, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck, the shirt slipping further down her shoulder.

Johnny exhaled through his nose, one hand coming to her waist, the other brushing her hair back. “You look better in my shirt than I ever did.”

She smiled. “I know.”

Their lips met in a slow kiss—no teasing this time, no rush. Just a steady warmth blooming in their chests. Johnny walked her backward until her knees hit the bed, then gently lowered her down with him, never breaking the kiss.

His hands explored her body like he was trying to memorize it. Y/N arched into him, letting out a quiet gasp when he kissed down her throat, fingertips brushing over the curve of her waist, along the inside of her thigh.

Their hands linked above her head, fingers laced tight as he slowly pushed into her. Both of them let out soft, breathy moans—this wasn’t about lust or dominance. This was grounding, claiming, keeping.

Their bodies moved in sync, a slow, aching rhythm that made every breath feel like a promise.

He kissed her again and again—her lips, her cheeks, her collarbone—whispering her name like a prayer. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling gently whenever a wave of pleasure hit too deep.

By the time the sun began to rise, casting golden light through the small round window, they were still tangled together—sweaty, breathless, but quiet. Neither wanting to let go yet.

Johnny brushed a thumb over her cheek. “Whatever happens today…”

“I know,” she whispered. “Me too.”

------------

The air was heavy with anticipation. The kind that settles deep in the bones before a storm. Moonlight filtered through the ship’s porthole, painting silver onto the wooden floorboards of Johnny’s cabin.

Y/N sat on his bed, one of Johnny’s crisp white dress shirts hanging loosely off her shoulders, barely buttoned. Her bare legs were folded beneath her, the soft fabric brushing along her thighs, his scent wrapping around her like a second skin.

When Johnny entered the room, she didn’t need to look up. She felt him.

“You’re not just here to grab something,” she said quietly, voice soft, teasing.

Johnny didn’t answer right away. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a second. Just watching her.

“You looked too good for me to pretend I was,” he admitted, voice low, laced with something far more vulnerable than usual.

Y/N turned slowly to face him, her eyes finding his in the dim glow of the lantern on the wall. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“Which is exactly why I’m here now,” he said, crossing the room with that familiar slow stride. “I wanted to see you. Not just as my siren. Not as part of the crew. Just… you.”

She stood, letting the shirt slip off one shoulder, exposing the smooth curve of her skin. Her bare feet padded toward him until she was close enough to feel the heat radiating from his chest.

Her fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt. “Then see me.”

And he did.

He cupped her face and kissed her—soft, deep, reverent. Nothing hurried. No teasing games. Just the kind of kiss that said stay with me and I need you all at once.

His hands slid down her back, palms splaying against the small of her waist before gripping beneath her thighs and lifting her easily. She wrapped her legs around his hips, their mouths still locked together as he carried her to the bed and laid her gently down.

Johnny knelt over her, undoing the buttons of the shirt one by one, kissing each patch of skin as it was revealed. Her breath hitched as he took his time, lips moving slowly over her chest, her sternum, the valley between her breasts.

She threaded her fingers into his hair, tugging gently as his kisses grew deeper, his hands more possessive.

When he finally entered her, it was with a low groan, his forehead pressed to hers, eyes locked on hers. The stretch was slow, satisfying, her breath stuttering at how full he made her feel.

He moved inside her with measured, deliberate thrusts, letting every slide, every grind of their hips speak the things they couldn’t say out loud. Her name fell from his lips in a whisper, again and again, like it grounded him.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his back, her legs still tight around his waist. She met each of his thrusts with her own, every motion bringing them closer, deeper.

Their hands clasped between their bodies, fingers laced together tightly like they never wanted to let go. He kissed her mouth slowly, messily, groaning into her lips every time she clenched around him.

“You feel like home,” he breathed against her mouth.

Y/N whimpered softly, one hand tangled in his hair, the other gripping his hand tighter. “Then stay with me. For as long as we can.”

He kissed her hard at that, thrusting deeper, slower, dragging it out until both of them were trembling.

Their release came quietly—no shouting, no desperation. Just quiet, gasping breaths, his forehead pressed to hers, her nails raking gently down his back as he shuddered above her.

Even after, Johnny didn’t pull away. He stayed inside her, buried deep, his arms wrapping around her waist, pressing kisses along her shoulder, her collarbone, her jaw.

They lay tangled in the sheets as the first light of morning touched the edge of the sea outside. The world was about to shift—but for now, there was only this.

Only them.

-----------------

The final confrontation had begun at dawn.

Johnny stood at the helm, tension carved into every line of his body. The plan was set—lure the remaining three Royal Navy ships into a trap and destroy them, once and for all. Y/N had slipped into the water just before sunrise, her touch still warm on his chest, her whispered “be careful” echoing in his mind.

But almost immediately, something went wrong.

One of the Navy ships turned unexpectedly—not toward Johnny’s vessel, but toward the sea. Then a second did the same, ignoring the chaos of cannon fire and smoke to follow the dark, slinking shadow just beneath the surface.

“They’re going after her,” Taeyong shouted from the quarterdeck. “They’re ignoring us—they know she’s here!”

Johnny’s stomach dropped. “No, no—”

They’d figured it out. The Navy had realized she was the real threat. And worse—they weren’t trying to kill her. They were trying to capture her.

“Full port!” Johnny shouted. “Cut them off! NOW!”

But it was too late. One of the ships dropped weighted nets into the water, massive iron chains clanking as they were dragged below the surface. The second began tossing something foul into the sea—an oily substance Johnny recognized instantly.

Binding pitch.

He gritted his teeth. They wanted to coat her gills, disable her voice. Trap her like an animal.

Johnny’s ship veered hard, trying to draw their attention, but the enemy didn’t take the bait. The third Navy ship remained engaged with Johnny’s crew, keeping them boxed in while the others continued the hunt.

And for a moment—just a moment—there was only silence beneath the chaos.

Then the water split.

Not from cannon fire.

Not from debris.

From the sea itself.

Figures erupted from the waves, otherworldly and furious—siren sisters. At least four of them, hair flowing like ink in the water, eyes glowing with the rage of the deep. Their song began—not seductive this time, but sharp and disorienting, like the scream of a storm itself.

The men on the Navy ships fell one by one—some clutching their ears, others falling into trances, staggering overboard as if in a dream. The sirens moved swiftly, sinking ships from below, dragging sailors down with them. The sea boiled with movement, and within minutes, both vessels were torn apart and dragged into the depths.

Johnny stood frozen at the helm, watching the chaos dissolve into stillness.

Only the one ship remained—the one he and his crew had fought, now drifting with torn sails and no one left aboard.

“Captain!” Taeyong called out, panting. “Look!”

There she was.

Y/N.

Her shoulders broke the surface first, then the rest of her, slick and gleaming in the early sun. She hovered in the water, breathless but alive, salt crusted along her skin, her eyes already searching for him.

Johnny felt a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding finally escape.

“Thank god…” he whispered, stepping closer to the edge of the ship.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She just gave him a single nod—confirmation that she was whole—and glanced toward her sisters. They were already disappearing back into the sea, their job done.

Y/N looked back at Johnny one last time, her gaze lingering.

And then she dove under.

Gone with the tide.

Johnny stood there, lips parting, his voice low and sincere as he said to the open water, “Thank you.”

He knew she heard it.

He always knew when she did.

“Get the sails up!” he barked, turning to the crew, voice sharper now. “We’re done here.”

And as the battered but victorious ship turned away from the wreckage, Johnny kept his eyes on the horizon—where the sea kissed the sky—and imagined her swimming just beneath it, free, wild, and watching.

------------

The ocean was quiet again.

Y/N floated lazily near a jagged outcrop of stone, watching the water ripple around her. The sun had barely risen, streaks of gold spilling across the endless blue. Her sisters had already disappeared back to the deep after the battle weeks ago, but not before she thanked them properly.

They'd met in a hidden cove, waves lapping at the shore, breath still heavy from the fight.

“You didn’t have to come,” Y/N had said, brushing salt from her hair.

One of them, a tall siren with eyes like storm clouds, had smiled. “We owed you. After what happened all those years ago… when you got trapped and we couldn’t save you…”

“You tried,” Y/N said gently. “That’s what matters.”

Another siren shook her head, voice tight. “You shouldn’t have had to escape alone.”

Y/N had smiled at them then, soft but sure. “I didn't escape alone. And I found my way back. That’s what matters now.”

Now, weeks later, she felt the familiar pull again.

Not the sirens’ call—something quieter. Warmer.

She sensed his presence before she saw the boat.

It was small, nothing like the vessel she knew as Johnny’s—no towering sails or crew bustling across the deck. Just a modest wooden boat, drifting slowly toward her with practiced control.

And there he was.

Johnny.

One hand on the wheel, the other shielding his eyes from the sun as he scanned the waves. The moment he saw her, his shoulders relaxed.

He didn’t call out. He just let the boat drift until it reached her, then sat back, eyes soft, face marked with sun and salt and something far more vulnerable.

“I didn’t want to wait,” he said, voice low. “The crew’s not far behind, the ship’s just around the cove. But I wanted to come first. Myself.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly in the water, brow raised. “Why?”

He smiled a little. “To thank you. For saving me. And my crew. Again.”

She swam closer, reaching the edge of the boat and placing her hands on the worn wood. “You’ve already thanked me.”

Johnny takes out a golden bracelet, the same one they saw in the marketplace weeks ago, shimmering with the emerald stones. He gently puts it on her hand.

“Not properly. Here, this bracelet will match your gold necklace you're always wearing.” He leaned over, brushing her wet hair from her face. 

“Y/N, I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. Back then… when I found you half-dead in that cage. I didn’t even know who—or what—you were. I just knew I had to keep you safe. And now…”

His throat tightened.

“You saved all of us. Even when they were hunting you. You still chose us.”

Y/N’s lips parted, then curved into a small, glowing smile. She raised a hand and cupped his face gently, thumb stroking his cheekbone.

“You saved me first, Johnny,” she said softly. “All those years ago. You saw me as something worth saving… before I even knew it myself.”

-------

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Sneak peak of how they met:

She jerked, eyes flashing. Someone was coming.

A young man appeared, barely more than a boy. No more than seventeen, with dark hair curling behind his ears and trembling fingers holding a dull blade.

She hissed.

Back pressed to the cage, heart pounding, ready to fight, to scream, to—

.. johnny was a tsundere, and a huge one on that note.

he was misunderstood by many when in reality, he was such a sweetheart and more of a gentleman than others would like to offer. he was just soft for you.

you’ve been his girlfriend and were in a relationship since then and entered your fifth month together. so johnny wanted to hang out at the arcade, saying that the trending reels of alphabet dates inspired him to do so.

good for you since you were looking for some excitement after finishing your graduation papers. it even became more interesting when you spotted your high school friends, majority of them being guys and introduced him to them.

your boyfriend was taken back by this, he didn’t know that you were very friendly with guys. of course he’d understand the nostalgic familiarity you felt.

“babe.” he playfully whined, placing his lips on your head, his hand around your waist. but he felt a little kick in his heart when you slowly entertained them.

“just for a bit, babe. it’s been 10 years.” you locked his hand to yours.

the small talk you had led to the punching machine, knowing that things would get rowdy in a bit. johnny felt a little protective and his hold on your hand tightened that it wasn’t unnoticable for you.

“johnny, was it?” jaebeom started, “fancy a game?” referring to the punching machine.

“yeah, sure.” he coldly accepted, making you raise an eyebrow in a skeptical way.

one by one your high school friends had their turn. johnny stood by the basketball ring machine, one hand on it and another on his hip, observing the guys.

if you remembered correctly, he scored a 961 with people from his 127 filming club. this time the highest score was 943, made by jaebeom. piece of cake, he thought.

folding his sleeve up to his shoulder, you couldn’t help but silently laugh at what your boyfriend was trying to prove.. that he was way stronger than any of them combined.

boom. his punch landed on the bag. the numbers crawled up quickly. johnny was sure he’d at least score 965. when the numbers showed a 949, jaebeom and his friends nodded in pride that your boyfriend was not someone they should mess with.

when you bid your farewells after a 10 minute meeting, you turn to johnny. “what was that all about?” you snickered, cupping his face seeing him all pouty.

he sniffed in a laugh and peeked glances around, making sure you two were alone. his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him. “whatever you mean?”

you poked his cheek dimples as he smiled and that’s when you figured him out. “you were jealous, weren’t you?”

he hid his face between your neck and shoulder, “mhm. you saw right through me. was i obvious?”

you carressed his hair, he was being a softie when it’s just the two of you. “johnny, babe, it was waayy too obvious.”

he pulled back, smiling at you endearingly. he ran his thumb along your lips before placing his on it. “of course, gotta show ‘em who the alpha is.”

you laughed too loud for your liking, covering your mouth and playfully hit his chest. “oh that’s what it is. i guess i should bark?”

johnny parroted your laugh before challenging you, “can you? bark for me?”

“make me.” you ruffled his hair, making his grip on you tighten.

1. Practice Makes Perfect (Except Love)

Johnny is late.

Again.

You’re in the practice room, stretching after an already long schedule, and the mirrored wall reflects your resigned expression. Your hoodie hangs off one shoulder, and your legs ache from dancing all day, but your brain is screaming about one thing: Johnny and Maddie.

The newest SM trainee-turned-rookie backup dancer, Maddie is bright, blonde, and every bit Johnny’s type—at least from what you’ve gathered over five years of being best friends with the man.

He bounds in, hair tousled, all tall limbs and infectious charm. “Yo! Sorry I’m late. Maddie wanted to grab coffee after rehearsal.”

You nod like it’s fine. Like your stomach isn’t churning.

“You like her,” you say, keeping your tone light, teasing.

Johnny gives that bashful grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I might.”

Knife. To. Heart.

You smile anyway. “Well, lucky for you, you’ve got a professional visual-slash-dating-coach on your team.”

He laughs. “Yeah? You offering to help me out?”

You shrug. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t show up in cargo shorts.”

He groans. “It was one time.”

You roll your eyes. “One time too many, Suh.”

2. Operation Maddie Begins

The next two weeks are hell, if hell wore Gucci cologne and said your name with a smile.

You coach him on his texts (“Don’t send memes this early, Johnny. You’re not in third grade.”), help him pick date spots (“No axe throwing. Jesus, what’s wrong with you?”), and practice conversation cues.

Somewhere in there, you forget that this isn’t a K-drama. There’s no dramatic plot twist where he realizes it’s been you all along. Just him, beaming while showing you a selfie Maddie took with him. Just you, nodding like your heart isn’t falling out of your chest.

3. Tour, Tension, and Tokyo

The next leg of the world tour takes you all over: Seoul, Singapore, Tokyo. You’re sleep-deprived, overstimulated, and emotionally constipated. Johnny spends hours texting Maddie backstage. You spend hours pretending not to notice.

In Tokyo, you find yourself sitting beside him in the hotel lounge, late at night, heads tilted back against the couch.

“She’s great,” he says dreamily. “But sometimes it’s like... she doesn’t really get me, y’know?”

You hum. “That’s because she’s not your best friend who’s cleaned up after your ramen disasters at 3 a.m.”

He laughs. “Yeah. No one’s you.”

You don’t let yourself think about that too hard.

4. Close Calls and Stupid Feelings

The night before the Manila show, Johnny gets sick. Like, actually sick—feverish, voice gone, nose red. You take care of him. You make soup. You miss dance practice for the first time in a year.

“Why are you doing all this?” he croaks.

You tuck him in. “Because someone’s gotta keep your dumbass alive.”

He grabs your wrist, gently. “You’re the best.”

You smile. You want to cry. “Sleep, dummy.”

5. The Moment Things Shift

You’re both backstage after a show, flushed and buzzing from adrenaline. He’s watching you laugh with Doyoung when Maddie pulls him aside and asks—asks—if he’s still into her, because lately, he’s been... distracted.

He says he doesn’t know.

Later, that night, you find him staring at his phone, confused.

“What’s up?”

“She said I look happier when I’m with you.”

You freeze.

“And maybe she’s right,” he adds softly.

You pretend your heart isn’t doing cartwheels.

6. Distance

Maddie pulls away. Johnny doesn’t chase her.

He hangs out with you more, but something’s off. He stares longer. Lingers near you in rehearsals. Texts you dumb TikToks and then stares at your reaction like it’s the only thing keeping him breathing.

You pretend not to notice.

Until you can’t.

7. “Only You”

The hotel room is dim and quiet, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting a warm halo over the room. Outside, the hum of nighttime Tokyo is muffled by thick windows. Inside, everything is still—except your heart.

Johnny hasn’t said anything in a full minute. He’s just standing there, in his oversized hoodie, hair damp from a quick shower after the concert, fingers flexing at his sides like he’s working up the nerve to jump.

Then he does.

“I ended things with Maddie,” he says, voice low, eyes locked on you.

You’re curled up on the edge of the bed, still in your hoodie and shorts from after the show, makeup wiped away, skin soft with cleanser and sleep trying to settle in. You blink at him, heart skipping.

“What?” you ask quietly.

He walks over, slow, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. Sits down next to you, close but not touching. His profile is lit gold, jaw tense, hands clasped in his lap.

“I think I was trying to distract myself,” he says. “With her. With dating. With anyone who wasn’t you.”

You draw in a shaky breath. “Johnny—”

“I couldn’t admit it to myself. That I was in love with my best friend. It felt... impossible. Too important to risk. But the truth is—” He finally turns to face you, eyes glassy. “I’m already in love with you. I’ve been in love with you.”

Your throat goes tight.

He reaches out, slowly, and brushes your hair behind your ear. His touch is featherlight, reverent.

“You’ve always been there. For the good. The worst. The weird. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I started looking for you in everyone else. And no one came close.”

You blink away tears, chest aching. “You really mean that?”

“I do,” he whispers. “I don’t want anyone else. I just want you.”

You lean in first, because he deserves that. Your lips meet his in a kiss that’s not urgent or needy—just soft. A gentle yes drawn from years of unspoken love.

He kisses you back like he’s afraid to break the moment. Like you’re precious. Like he’s holding something sacred.

When he lifts your hoodie over your head, it’s with reverence. His fingers trail across your skin like he’s memorizing it—like he’s writing sonnets into your collarbones with every brush of his hand.

“You’re beautiful,” he says softly, lips ghosting your jaw.

“Johnny—” You exhale his name, breath catching. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he says, eyes dark with love, not lust. “I just want to be with you. Every way.”

The way he undresses you is slow, careful. Between each kiss, he checks your eyes, your breath, your hands. He lets you undress him too, smiling softly when your fingers tremble.

You end up tangled in white hotel sheets, skin against skin, limbs curved into each other like you’ve always belonged this way.

He whispers your name like it’s prayer. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs. “Tell me if you need me to slow down.”

“I’m okay,” you whisper, voice thick. “I’m just... so full of you.”

He kisses you again, and when he finally, gently slides into you, it feels like a heartbeat locking into rhythm. Like this is what all the years of friendship were building toward.

His thrusts are slow and deep, his hands holding your waist like you might float away. He kisses your forehead, your cheek, your temple. He murmurs I love you again and again, almost in disbelief.

You hold him close, hands in his hair, legs tangled around his waist.

And when you both finally fall over the edge together, it’s quiet, trembling, overwhelming. He presses his forehead to yours, breathing heavily, heart pounding against your chest.

“You’re it for me,” he whispers, voice cracking. “You’re everything.”

You cradle his face, tears in your eyes. “And you’re mine.”

After

You stay like that for a long time—wrapped up in each other, your head on his chest, his hand stroking lazy circles into your back.

There’s no awkwardness. No fear. Just comfort. And love.

“Can I stay like this forever?” he mumbles sleepily.

“You’d better,” you say, half teasing, half completely serious.

He kisses the top of your head, breath warm against your hair. “Then forever it is.”

The End.

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