The hotel's practice range hummed with tension, its cold, sterile air thick with the acrid tang of gunpowder. Bullets cracked sharply, echoing off the walls and cutting through the rhythmic pounding of Y/n's heart.

The room was a collage of chaos, lined with stationary targets riddled with fresh holes and the grim-faced operators who had made them. Woo-seok strode ahead, his voice cutting through the cacophony like a whip.

"These guys—ex-Marines, all of them!" he hollered, his words almost drowned by the steady crack of gunfire. His movements were sharp, his presence commanding, as he gestured toward a group of men in combat stances, their eyes focused and unrelenting.

Y/n walked a few paces behind, her fingers brushing the seam of her coat pocket to ground herself. The sounds around her weren't unfamiliar—she'd heard gunfire before—but they still stirred something deep and raw.

Jun-ho noticed. He always noticed.

Every few steps, his dark eyes flicked back toward her, lingering just long enough to assure himself she was all right before returning to their path.

"And over here," Woo-seok continued, waving toward another group, their uniforms stark and their demeanor cold, "these guys are ex-UDT. Top-tier. The best there is."

Y/n's gaze wandered to the faces of the men he referred to, her stomach tightening. There was a grim efficiency in the way they moved, their hands gripping their weapons like extensions of their bodies.

Jun-ho's shoulder brushed hers lightly as he fell into step beside her. He didn't speak, but the weight of his presence was enough—a steady anchor against the storm of memories that threatened to surface.

"And last, but not least, ex-Special Forces." Woo-seok's tone held an edge of pride, as if their skills somehow validated his own presence among them. His eyes gleamed with a self-satisfied glint as he turned to the group.

Then came the jab, sharp and deliberate. "Now, our friend here—just an ex-traffic cop." He threw a pointed look at Jun-ho, his lips curling into a smirk.

Jun-ho didn't flinch, his expression unreadable as he let the insult slide past him like water over stone. Y/n felt a surge of irritation on his behalf, but he caught her eye with a subtle shake of his head, a silent plea to let it go.

Woo-seok's annoyance deepened at Jun-ho's calm indifference. "You saw for yourself," he pressed, turning to Gi-hun for validation. "These guys are the cream of the crop. They get their money, and they'll do anything."

The sudden cessation of gunfire made the silence in the room almost deafening. Woo-seok seized the moment to gesture toward a tall, broad-shouldered figure who stepped forward from the shadows.

"Here's our team leader," Woo-seok said with an air of triumph.

The man—Kim, as he introduced himself—was striking. His presence exuded a quiet authority, his chiseled features marred by faint scars that only added to the weight of his experience. His movements were deliberate, calculated, as if every step had been rehearsed and perfected over years in the field.

"We need to do things carefully tomorrow," Gi-hun spoke at last, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. "If, at any point, they catch on to our plan, things could start to fall apart."

"Don't worry!" Woo-seok interrupted with forced enthusiasm. "It'll be just the two of us going into the club. We'll have these guys—ta-da—right outside."

Jun-ho's eyes narrowed. "You really think they're gonna let you in?" he asked, his tone skeptical as his gaze lingered on Gi-hun.

"I already have my outfit ready and everything," Gi-hun replied, his attempt at humor falling flat. "I clean up nice, okay?"

Jun-ho's jaw tightened. "I want to go into the club with you," he said, his voice low and serious. He avoided Y/n's gaze, knowing she wouldn't approve.

Y/n didn't need words; her glare was sharp enough to cut steel. Gi-hun caught it and shook his head firmly.

"No. They saw your face on the island. It's too risky."

Jun-ho nodded, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his reluctance.

"Do not engage for any reason whatsoever until you receive the signal from me," Gi-hun instructed, his voice brokering no argument.

"Copy, sir!" Woo-seok saluted with a flourish, his grin broad and theatrical.

"If things go south," Gi-hun began, his voice softening, "and something happens to me tomorrow—"

"Why would anything happen to you?" Woo-seok interrupted, his tone dismissive.

"We've already got that tracker on you," Y/n reassured, her voice steady as she met Gi-hun's eyes.

Jun-ho nodded in agreement.

Woo-seok smirked. "No matter where those guys take you, you know we'll be right there. Hot on their heels. So don't be scared. Don't worry."

But as Y/n glanced at Jun-ho and then at Gi-hun, the weight of unspoken fears hung heavy in the air.

The practice range began to thin as Gi-hun strode off, a determined air about him as he sought out more members of the team to finalize the next day's plan. The hum of conversation and the occasional crack of gunfire filled the air, but the group's cohesion splintered, each person drifting into their tasks.

Jun-ho and Y/n exchanged a brief glance before moving toward the firing line, unspoken understanding passing between them. The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air as they took their places, the dim lighting casting sharp shadows across their faces.

Y/n adjusted her stance with practiced precision, her sharp eyes narrowing as she raised the firearm to shoulder level. Her fingers curled around the grip with a confidence that matched the set of her jaw. Her first shot rang out, a clean, controlled burst that found its mark dead center on the paper target.

The fierce focus in her gaze was magnetic, her every movement exuding a sense of control that was as beautiful as it was intimidating.

She adjusted her aim slightly, her next shot hitting another bullseye with mechanical precision. Each recoil jolted her, but she absorbed the shock with ease, her stance unwavering and her posture as sharp as the edge of a blade.

Jun-ho, meanwhile, fired with methodical consistency, but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts spiraled, dipping into memories of the island and the weight of their current mission.

His fingers moved automatically, each squeeze of the trigger reflexive, but his eyes were distant, unfocused on the task at hand.

It was only the sound of a low voice that broke his trance.

Kim stood beside Y/n, his figure tall and imposing but not unwelcome.

"You're good," he remarked, his voice carrying a note of genuine admiration as he observed her shooting. "Really good."

Y/n turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable as she acknowledged his presence with a curt nod. She wasn't particularly interested in his praise, her mind too focused on her technique to entertain small talk.

But Kim, undeterred, continued.

"Try holding it like this," he suggested, stepping closer. His hands moved toward her, and for a moment, she hesitated. He adjusted her grip gently, his fingers brushing against hers as he shifted her posture.

It was then that Jun-ho turned, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of Kim standing too close—far too close. The man's hand rested on Y/n's arm, guiding her, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

A quiet storm brewed in Jun-ho's chest, and without a word, he slung his gun over his shoulder and stalked toward them.

Kim barely had time to register Jun-ho's approach before his hand was forcibly removed from Y/n's arm. The two men stood toe-to-toe, their identical heights rendering the confrontation evenly matched.

"I didn't know you two were..." Kim began, his voice faltering as he noticed the dangerous glint in Jun-ho's eyes.

"Together?" Jun-ho finished for him, his voice cold and cutting. "She's my fiancée, actually."

The words were spoken quickly, almost impulsively, but they carried a weight that seemed to hang in the air. Kim raised his hands in a weak gesture of apology, muttering something unintelligible before stepping back.

Jun-ho's jaw tightened as he turned his attention to Y/n.

"We should get going," he said, his tone clipped with barely restrained frustration. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, the possessive gesture leaving no room for argument.

As they walked toward the exit, the tension in Jun-ho's grip betrayed his lingering irritation. Y/n glanced up at him, her expression questioning, but he didn't meet her gaze.

They moved in silence, the hum of the firing range fading as they stepped into the cool night air.

By the time they reached the car, Jun-ho's grip softened, though the storm in his eyes hadn't entirely abated.

The drive to Jun-ho's apartment was thick with unspoken tension. He didn't ask Y/n where she wanted to go, didn't offer her the usual courtesy of a choice. His hands gripped the steering wheel with quiet intensity, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he clenched and unclenched his teeth.

Y/n sat quietly in the passenger seat, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

She wasn't afraid of his simmering anger—she knew him too well for that—but she also knew better than to poke the bear too soon. If she tried to force the conversation now, his temper would flare, and she wouldn't back down either.

They'd end up in an argument that neither of them wanted.

The silence stretched between them, heavy but not unbearable. She leaned her head against the window, letting the city lights blur into streaks of gold and white as they passed.

When they arrived at the apartment, Jun-ho parked the car with precision, the movement abrupt but controlled. He got out without a word, and Y/n followed, her lips twitching into a small, private smile.

Inside, the familiar space of Jun-ho's apartment greeted them. He dropped his keys into the bowl by the door, the metallic clink breaking the quiet, and then bent down to remove his shoes.

Y/n leaned against the wall, her arms folded as she watched him, the smile now fully formed on her face. His annoyance, once intimidating, was starting to seem rather amusing.

Jun-ho straightened, catching her expression, and his glare was immediate.

"What are you smiling at? I don't see anything funny," he snapped, his tone sharp.

Y/n tilted her head, her smile unfazed. "You know, I thought we were supposed to stay a little longer."

His eyes narrowed, his irritation simmering closer to the surface. "Oh, come on. You and I both knew what he was doing."

Y/n took a step closer, her posture relaxed but her gaze sharp. "Did it look like I cared?"

Jun-ho scoffed, his frustration spilling over. "Well, by the way, you did nothing to stop it—"

Her brow furrowed as her voice rose, cutting him off. "What are you trying to say?" she demanded, the edges of her tone sharp with frustration. "You think I care how he looked at me or how he touched my arm? Please. You're being ridiculous getting upset over this."

"I'm not upset," Jun-ho shot back, his voice defensive and laced with irritation.

"Oh yeah?" Y/n retorted, her words dripping with sarcasm. "You look it. I didn't know you were the jealous type, Jun."

He opened his mouth to argue but stopped, his face flushing slightly as he realized he had no clever rebuttal.

"Ridiculous?" Jun-ho asked backtracking. "That's what you think this is?" His voice was low, dangerous, and thick with suppressed emotion.

"Yes, ridiculous," Y/n shot back, stepping closer to him, her frustration matching his. "You're acting like I encouraged him. Like I did something wrong. I didn't even care what he was doing!"

Jun-ho scoffed, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

"You didn't care? Y/n, he had his hands on you. On you. And you let him"

Her eyes flared with defiance as she stepped even closer, now inches away from him.

"Let him?" she bit out, her voice trembling—not with fear, but with frustration. "Do you seriously think I'd ever let anyone, anyone, touch me in a way I didn't want? You're angry over nothing, Jun. Nothing."

"I'm angry because—" His voice cracked, betraying the vulnerability he tried to keep hidden. "Because it drives me insane to think of anyone else looking at you, touching you, like they could have you. Like they could ever take what's mine." His last word came out as a growl, his chest heaving with the weight of his emotions.

Y/n's breath hitched, but she didn't back down.

"You know you're the only one, don't you?" she said, her voice softening but no less firm. "You always have been."

For a moment, it felt like the air itself had stilled, heavy with something unspoken yet undeniable. Jun-ho's dark eyes bore into hers, searching for something—confirmation, reassurance, absolution.

Then, without warning, he closed the gap between them.

His hands came up to cup her face, rough yet reverent, and his lips crashed against hers in a kiss so fierce it left her breathless.

Y/n gasped against him, her hands instinctively gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened into something desperate, fiery, and all-consuming.

Jun-ho's hands slid from her face to her waist, gripping her with an urgency that made her knees weaken.

Without breaking the kiss, he scooped her up effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her through the apartment.

She could feel the tension in his muscles, the way his grip tightened as though he was afraid to let her go.

The kiss deepened, fiery and unrelenting, their breaths mingling as the world outside the apartment faded to nothing. He carried her to the bedroom, their lips never parting.

The edge of the bed met the back of her knees, and he lowered her onto it with a gentleness that belied the fire in his touch.

His hands roamed her sides, exploring every curve as if trying to memorize her, while his lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, then down the sensitive line of her neck.

Y/n's head tilted back as her fingers tangled in his hair.

The heat between them was intoxicating, every movement charged with both urgency and tenderness.

"Y/n," Jun-ho murmured against her skin, his voice rough and filled with emotion. The way he said her name sent shivers down her spine, his breath warm against her collarbone.

She cupped his face, pulling him back up so their eyes met. "I'm yours, Jun," she whispered, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her. "Always."

Something in him seemed to crack at her words. He kissed her again, this time slower but no less intense, his lips conveying everything he couldn't put into words.

Their hands explored each other with a mix of reverence and need, their movements synchronizing as if they were two parts of the same whole.

Time blurred as they lost themselves in each other, the world beyond the bedroom fading into insignificance. The heat between them softened, giving way to something deeper, more profound—a connection that transcended words.

Later, as they lay tangled together in the quiet aftermath, Y/n rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She traced lazy circles over his skin, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"I used to think moments like this only happened in books or movies," she said, her voice a gentle murmur in the stillness.

Jun-ho pressed a kiss to her hair, his hand trailing soothingly along her back.

"Then I'll make it my life's mission to prove you wrong," he whispered, his words a vow as he held her closer.

Jun-ho tilted his head to look at her, brushing a strand of hair from her face with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

The moonlight filtering through the window illuminated her features, and he couldn't help but smile softly.

"I can't even believe I fell for you," he said, his voice breaking the comfortable silence with a touch of awe.

Y/n tilted her chin up, her lips curving into a playful smirk despite the exhaustion tugging at her.

"Well, you should unfall for me then," she teased, her voice light.

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he pulled her closer. "Not in my worst nightmare could I ever imagine that."

Her laughter was warm and sleepy, her fingers lacing with his. "You're dangerous, Jun-ho. You make me believe in forever."

"Good," he replied, his voice filled with quiet determination. "Because forever is exactly what I'm offering."

Leaning down, he kissed her forehead, lingering as if to seal the moment with a silent promise. She smiled, her eyes fluttering shut as she nestled into his embrace.

As their breathing evened out and the world slipped away, they drifted into a peaceful sleep, their bodies and hearts intertwined, as inseparable in rest as they were in waking.

_________

The morning light streamed through the curtains, painting the room in soft, golden hues.

Y/n stirred under the covers, the warmth of the previous night still lingering on her skin. She reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing the sheets where Jun-ho had been. The space was empty, cool to the touch.

Yawning, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up, her hair tumbling in soft waves over her shoulders. A faint clatter reached her ears, the sound of something moving in the kitchen.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she slipped out of bed, her bare feet padding against the wooden floor.

Leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, Y/n paused, her heart swelling at the sight before her.

Jun-ho stood at the counter, brows furrowed in concentration as he studied a cookbook intently. A silly apron she had gifted him—bright red with World's Most Handsome Chef emblazoned across the front—was tied snugly around his waist, its absurdity a stark contrast to his serious expression.

She couldn't help but smile to herself, her chest tightening with a mix of affection and disbelief.

How did I get so lucky? she thought, watching him flip through the pages with the diligence of someone solving a complex puzzle.

Jun-ho turned, catching sight of her in the doorway. His face lit up before quickly shifting into a playful pout.

"Hey! You weren't supposed to wake up yet," he said, gesturing toward the counter where eggs and flour sat in organized chaos. "I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed."

Y/n grinned, crossing the room to the coffee machine.

"And what, miss the sight of you in that apron? Not a chance," she teased, earning an exaggerated groan from him.

As she filled the coffee pot, Jun-ho sidled up next to her, his arms sneaking around her waist.

"You're supposed to still be in bed, dreaming about how amazing I am," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Oh, trust me, I do plenty of that," she quipped, pouring coffee into two mugs.

He sighed dramatically, turning back to the counter. "Fine, but since you're here, you have to let me finish making the pancakes."

Y/n's brow arched as she took a sip of her coffee. "Jun, remember the last time you tried making pancakes? We ended up ordering takeout."

"I've improved!" he protested, his voice filled with mock offense. "I even followed a recipe this time."

"Uh-huh," she said, leaning against the counter, her tone dripping with playful skepticism.

As Jun-ho worked on the batter, Y/n stepped in beside him, pretending to help but occasionally sneaking extra ingredients into the mix—a sprinkle of cinnamon here, a dash of vanilla there. Jun-ho caught her once and narrowed his eyes.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

"Improving your masterpiece," she replied innocently.

"Maybe you were right about me needing help," he muttered after flipping a pancake that landed slightly lopsided on the plate.

Y/n smirked, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Told ya."

"Shut up," he shot back, trying to hide his grin as she giggled.

By the time breakfast was ready, the kitchen was a delightful mess of flour, sugar, and laughter.

Jun-ho set about washing the dishes, his sleeves rolled up and hands covered in suds. Y/n watched him from the table, her chin resting in her hand as she marveled at how effortlessly endearing he was.

Quietly, she picked up a dirty bowl from the table and sneaked it next to the sink where Jun-ho was nearly done. She stepped back quickly, biting her lip to stifle her laughter as he noticed the new addition.

His head snapped around, his eyes narrowing in mock outrage. "Y/n!" he exclaimed, pointing a soapy finger at her.

"Oops?" she said, failing miserably to sound apologetic as she dissolved into laughter.

Jun-ho shook his head, muttering something under his breath before grabbing a dish towel and tossing it at her. She caught it midair, her giggles only growing louder.

"You're impossible," he said, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his affection.

"And you love it," she countered, sticking her tongue out at him.

With the dishes finally done, they sat down together, sharing the slightly imperfect but thoroughly heartfelt pancakes.

Between bites and laughter, Y/n couldn't help but feel that mornings like these—filled with silly fights, quiet affection, and the warmth of Jun-ho's presence—were the best kind of luck she could ever ask for.

A/n 

help guys this is the max amount  of spicy i can write ;)