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punkshort · 7 months

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i know who you are | 2. the journal

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Your memories still remain out of reach, so you ask Joel to tell you a bit about yourself, and with the help of a journal you kept, you begin to learn more about the person you became in the past ten years, leaving you with more questions than answers.

Chapter Warnings: language, eating, alcohol use, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia

WC: 6.3K

Series Masterlist

"Did'ya get any sleep?"

You glanced up at Joel as you walked side by side towards the dining hall.

"No," you admitted, looking straight ahead again.

After Joel left you in his - your - bedroom, instructing you to rest on his way out, you found you could do anything but. Your mind was spinning with all of the information you had just learned, and you weren't sure which topic consumed you more: the end of the world or the supposed love of your life.

The longer his words set in, the more you were finding it difficult to look at him. It was such a strange feeling, having this large, burly, gruff man proclaim his love for you, to say he would stop at nothing to make you feel the same way, to insist you were meant for each other. It seemed so out of character, though you hardly felt like you knew him. But even now as you walked down the street, you noticed how some of the people in town glanced at him. Moving quickly out of his way.

It wasn't just you who found him intimidating.

You were distracted as you walked, curiously peering into storefronts and repurposed buildings when a group of children playing a game of tag nearly ran into you. At the last moment, Joel tugged your arm, pulling you into his side just in time. The children seemed to realize their mistake because their laughter quickly stopped and the smiles fell from their faces as they looked up at him.

"We're sorry, Mr. Miller," a young boy no more than eight years old said.

Miller. You never even bothered to ask his last name.

Joel just grunted and they scurried away, no doubt eager to escape his glare. You chanced a look at him, studying his stern expression when you realized he was still holding you against him. He was warm. Warmer than you expected. And solid. You cleared your throat and stepped away from his grasp, muttering your thanks and glancing around the busy street to avoid the disappointed look in his eye when it became clear you weren't comfortable with him touching you.

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans and continued to walk in silence down the main road. A few people shot you curious looks or did double takes as they walked by, and you had to assume if Ellie heard the news about your accident, then others had, as well.

The Tipsy Bison came into view at the corner of the street, made obvious by the large crowds of people gathered outside.

"Does everyone have to eat here or are you allowed to have food in your homes?" you asked him, and he looked down at you, surprised by the question.

"We got food. It's not like a prison or somethin'," he said with a chuckle. "Most folks like to come here to socialize, but sometimes we cook dinner at home," he stopped short when he realized he never asked you what you preferred. "Did'ya wanna stay home instead?"

"No, this is fine," you told him over your shoulder.

"You sure? Maybe it's too much right now," he replied, jogging a bit to keep up.

"I'm sure. You won't leave me, right?" you asked, looking at him nervously.

"'Course not," he said, trying to hide his grin. He liked that you wanted him around, even if it was only because you didn't know anybody else. It was a start.

When Joel swung the door open, holding it wide so you could enter first, it might have been your imagination but you thought the loud chatter simultaneously died down for a split second. Then Joel stepped in beside you and the volume rose once again.

You wanted to look around and take in the rustic atmosphere but you could feel the eyes on you as Joel led you through the crowd, the scrutiny making you feel extremely out of place, so you kept your gaze pinned straight ahead. Following dutifully behind, you watched as people automatically moved out of his way, like he was Moses parting the Red Sea, until he reached a table in a somewhat quiet corner of the dining hall. He pulled out a chair and stood behind it, his hand still resting on the back, and it took you a second to realize he was waiting for you to sit so he could push it in. You quietly thanked him then finally looked around the room.

The dining room had tables scattered around, and as far as you could see, they all appeared to be taken. People were standing in groups, drinking and laughing and eating and you wondered how in the world your table wasn't taken. You were about to turn and ask when an older man approached your table.

"Hey guys," he said, pulling out a pad of paper from his pocket. "What'll it be?"

You went wide eyed for a moment, looking around trying to figure out what your choices were when, much to your relief, Joel spoke for you both.

"Still got any of that stew left?"

"Sure do. Few guys got lucky earlier today, too. Got two deer, so we'll be havin' more soon," he replied, jotting something down on his paper. "Two whiskies?"

Joel was about to nod when you spoke up for the first time.

"Just water for me, thanks," you said, and the man nodded his head.

"Thanks, Seth," Joel said as he walked away.

You glanced at Joel quickly, awkwardly catching his eye. It felt too much like a date. Dropping your gaze to the table, you tried to think of something to say.

"Probably a good idea, skippin' alcohol," he said. "Didn't even think about it, what with your head and all."

"Yeah," you said, your hand coming up to gently touch the stitches. "Besides, I don't like whiskey, anyway," you added. Joel laughed softly as he watched you shift nervously in your chair.

"What?" you asked with a frown.

"Nothin'," he replied, still staring at you in disbelief. "Just ever since you got here you've been tossin' back whiskey better than most of the men. You must've gotten a taste for it at some point."

"There's no way," you said, scrunching your nose when Seth put down Joel's glass in front of him. He stared down at it wistfully, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, lost in thought.

"Whiskey's how we first met," he said softly, still staring at the glass. You tilted your head towards him, waiting for him to continue. "When you first arrived, you were like a caged animal. You came here lookin' to blow off steam," he said with a distant smile. "It was a slow night. Just you and me and a handful of others. You were tossin' that shit back like it was nothin'."

You watched him as he reminisced. His eyes shone brightly and a small smile played on his lips, it almost felt like you were intruding on something special.

"When me and Ellie first arrived, no one really went outta their way to talk to me. I preferred it that way. Was used to bein' on my own," he continued, looking up at you now. "But that night, you sat down next to me at the bar like you had been waitin' for me or somethin'. You asked me if I was drinkin' for fun or drinkin' to forget. Those were the very first words you said to me."

You were completely silent as he spoke. The way he told it, it felt like you could see the scene playing out right before you, the way he remembered every detail left you in awe.

"What did you say?" you asked a little breathlessly.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he looked down at the table.

"Drinkin' to forget."

You waited for him to elaborate, but when it became apparent he wasn't going to, you asked him another question.

"Then what happened?"

He raised his eyebrows and hummed, a slow smile stretching across his face before he answered.

"You told me you could help me have fun and help me forget," he said, and you could feel the heat instantly flush your cheeks.

"Oh, my god," you murmured, covering your mouth, utterly mortified. "Please tell me you're joking."

He shook his head, still smiling at the memory. You glanced around the room, trying to look anywhere but at him.

"So then, did we...?" you trailed off, gaze still fixed on a spot on the wall.

"Oh, yeah. 'Course we did. I'm no saint," he chuckled.

"Jesus Christ," you said, burying your face in your hands. "That doesn't sound like me at all."

"It's not. Well, not anymore. You had an edge to you when you first arrived. Most do. Survivin' out there does that to you," he said, taking his first sip of whiskey.

You sat in silence for another minute, contemplating asking him what he knew about your life before you met him, but ultimately deciding against it. Maybe another time.

"Where's the bathroom?" you asked him, and he pointed down a small hallway near the bar. You thanked him, his eyes trailing after you as you made your way through the crowds, only dropping his gaze once you were no longer in view. It was a strange thing, recounting stories for you like that. At first, the memories made him smile, but once he saw the lost look on your face he felt the sadness creep back up, settling deep in his chest, and he wondered if he would ever get you back.

You knew you were in the bathroom too long. You knew he would likely be worried, but you just couldn't stop staring at your reflection in the mirror after you washed your hands. Who was this person staring back at you? She looked older and weathered and tired. Your fingertip gently prodded at the bags under your eyes and then a small scar on your chin. What happened to you out there to make you the person Joel was describing? What did you have to do to survive? And did you really want to know the answer?

The door swung open, startling you as three girls around your age entered the bathroom. Their giggles stopped when they saw you and you watched them exchange glances in the mirror before a pretty girl with long, blonde hair greeted you by name. Turning around, you gave her a smile, hoping they would go about their business so you could slip out of there, but of course the pretty girl wanted to talk.

"We heard you had an accident, are you okay?" she asked, and she sounded sincere, but something about her smile made you think twice.

"Yeah, got a few stitches but it should be fine," you said, your eyes flicking to the other two girls, giving them each a smile. They looked at each other and smirked before heading towards the bathroom stalls, leaving you with just the blonde.

"So, is it true? Did you really lose your memory?" she asked, her voice low as if it were a secret, and finally you were able to pick up the vibe. You had been to high school before the outbreak. You had encounters with these types of girls before. Friendly to your face, vicious behind your back.

"Uh, yeah," you admitted, and she gasped as if she felt bad, but you saw the way her eyes lit up.

"So you don't remember, like, anything?"

"Well, I remember before everything went to hell," you told her, "but I don't remember this place, no."

"Oh, wow," she said, and you heard the toilets flush before the other two girls exited the stalls, grinning conspiratorially at the blonde. "So you don't know anybody here?"

You shook your head, feeling uncomfortable with the line of questioning at this point. What was she really getting at?

"That must mean you don't remember Joel, right?" one of the girls at the sink piped up. You looked at her briefly over your shoulder and shook your head, turning back to the blonde but not before you caught the look in her eye.

"Oh, that's too bad," she said, giving you a pout. "Does that mean you aren't together anymore, or-"

Suddenly, the door swung open and Ellie stormed in. Her hard gaze drifted around to the three girls and she gave them a look of disgust.

"Scram, vultures," she told them, and the blonde made a face at her before flipping her hair over her shoulder and heading to one of the stalls. Ellie called your name and you scurried over, allowing her to lead you back out into the dining room but not before she gave the other two girls a few choice words.

"Don't talk to them, they're nasty," she told you as you weaved your way through the crowd. Joel's eyes instantly found you once you were in view and you saw him straighten up in his chair.

"You okay?" he asked, and you could see the genuine concern in his face as you sat down. You were about to answer when Ellie plopped down on the other side of him and spoke first.

"Angie and her little sidekicks cornered her in there," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Already sniffing around for scraps."

"What do you mean?" you asked her, but just then Seth arrived with your meals and you never got an answer.

"Stew again?" Ellie asked, scrunching up her nose.

"It's good," Joel told her before taking a bite. You looked down at the bowl and you were inclined to agree with Ellie, but you swallowed the food down anyway, just grateful for something to eat after such a long day.

"Aren't you going to eat?" you asked her, noticing she hadn't ordered anything and instead was busy sketching in a journal.

"Nah, I'm going to Dina's later, I'll eat there," she explained without looking up.

"Who's Dina?"

"Oh, my girlfriend," Ellie explained, glancing up at you briefly. "Sorry. I still can't get used to this. It's so weird you don't remember."

"Don't be out too late. You got school tomorrow," Joel reminded her. Even though he wasn't Ellie's father, he seemed to have quite the knack for being a dad.

"Yes, sir," she said sarcastically, giving him a weak, two-fingered salute before hunching back over her journal. You heard some familiar giggles coming from somewhere behind you, and when you turned to look, you locked eyes with the blonde girl from the bathroom - Angie - who was holding some drink in her hand, her two friends flanking her sides as she strolled past your table. Her eyes drifted briefly to Joel before she passed by, then turned her attention to her friends, disappearing into the crowd.

"Who is that?" you asked, realizing you never really got much of an explanation. Joel and Ellie responded at the same time.

"Nobody."

"Joel's ex."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as Joel glared at Ellie.

"What? She woulda found out eventually," Ellie protested.

"She ain't even an ex," he said, turning to you now. "Just a mistake I made one time before you even got here," he insisted. The tone in his voice made it sound like he was trying to reassure you there was nothing to worry about, but of course, the information didn't phase you.

"Okay," you replied with a shrug. He examined your blank stare for a moment, searching for a glimmer of recognition. The disappointment in his expression every time something like this happened was becoming too much to bear, so you dragged your eyes off him to glance around the crowded room once again. You found Tommy leaning against the bar and you stood up.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I need to ask Tommy something," you said. "I'll be right back."

His eyes followed you as you pushed your way towards the bar, his heart feeling like it was going to break. He wasn't exactly looking for you to have an overly jealous reaction to hearing about another woman from his past, but your casual indifference hurt more than he expected. When you first found out about Angie, you insisted you weren't jealous but the way you sneered at her going forward, combined with giving him the best sex of his life later that night told him a different story.

"You think she'll ever get her memory back?" Ellie asked, still focusing on her drawing. Joel sighed and dragged his hands down his face.

"I don't know, kid."

"What'd you need to talk to Tommy for?" Joel asked once you both arrived back to his - your - home. You had wandered into the kitchen, Joel hot on your trail.

"Oh, I just had a question about something I saw when we were out there today," you explained, and he raised an eyebrow for you to continue. "There were dead bodies when I came to. They looked all decayed and... subhuman. Now that you told me about the infection, I wanted to ask."

Joel watched you open and close cupboards until you found the glasses, then picked one out to fill with water.

"So you ran into some runners," he said, and you nodded. "Did he happen to mention how you hit your head?"

Your hand froze, your glass halfway to your lips as you considered his question.

"Actually, no, he didn't," you said, setting down the glass and looking up at him.

"Yeah, he didn't really tell me, either," he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "When he told me you hit your head and you were havin' trouble remeberin' things, I just came runnin'."

Guilt washed over you yet again as you thought about Joel being told the news and how panicked he must have been. He practically ripped all the exam room doors off their hinges to find you, only to be met with a stranger when he finally did.

"Well, I can ask him tomorrow," you finally said, putting your glass in the sink to avoid looking at him.

"Yeah," he replied, trailing off a bit. He was still lost in thought, trying to remember Tommy's exact words when you walked past him towards the stairs.

"You're tired?"

"Well, it's been a long day," you told him, pausing on a stair to look back down at him.

"Right, 'course," he said, shaking his head and following you up. When you got to the doorway of his bedroom you paused, looking up at him. It seemed like he was struggling to say something, his mind working hard to find the words, but instead he just gazed down at you, brown eyes all wide and soft.

"Don't suppose anythin's comin' back to you yet?" he finally asked, and you hated seeing that look. That same hopeful look you kept seeing right before you opened your mouth and crushed him. This was hard for him, you knew that, but the way he kept looking at you was making things so much worse. The pressure you felt to become this person he was expecting you to be was overwhelming. You opted to drop your gaze to the floor and slowly shake your head.

"That's okay," he said, and you dragged your eyes back up to him. "Maybe tomorrow."

You gave him a small smile. "Yeah, maybe."

He sighed and glanced at the door to the spare room.

"You need anythin', I'm right next door," he said, hitching his thumb to the side and giving you a lopsided grin, but you could still see it in his eyes. The disappointment. The sadness. The yearning. And it was making you feel sick.

Just as he turned to head towards the spare room, you spoke. "Joel?"

And he eagerly swiveled back around.

"I'm gonna try really hard to remember," you said earnestly, looking deep into his eyes.

"I know," he replied with a sad smile. He gave you one more look before heading into the spare room and softly closing the door behind him.

Joel slept like shit.

No surprise there, really. He hadn't slept without you in years. He had hoped the whiskey would have helped, but he was wrong. His mind was racing as he tossed and turned, and by morning he had foolishly convinced himself that you would be back to normal after a good night's rest. He got up early and made coffee for the two of you, like he always did, then tended to the fire in the living room. The nights and early mornings were frigid, but the days were warm. The first sign that fall was approaching fast. He was just putting the poker back when he heard the bedroom door creak open upstairs and his heart jumped into his throat excitedly, but when you descended the stairs and locked eyes with him, he knew nothing had changed. He didn't even bother to ask. You didn't look at him the same way you used to. You used to smile and gravitate towards him, your hands always seeking out his, your eyes playful and loving, but now you looked at him like he was a complete stranger. Devoid of all affection, the only thing that remained was a forced politeness.

You said good morning and headed into the kitchen and Joel wondered how long it would take for you to come around. Less than a day ago, you looked at him in fear, but now you seemed at least comfortable in his presence. That had to count for something.

He must have looked like shit because when he joined you in the kitchen, you eyed him up and down curiously.

"Have you been up for a while?"

He shook his head and picked up his mug, taking a sip and hoping the caffeine would bring him back to life.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"Not great," you admitted, pouring your own cup of coffee. "It really hurts. I think whatever meds the doctor gave me yesterday wore off."

Without even thinking, Joel quickly closed the distance between you to examine your injury. You startled a bit when he came up behind you and lifted your hair, but for his benefit, you tamped down your reaction. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he gripped the nape of your neck to angle your head downwards in order to get a better look. You closed your eyes and held your breath as you focused on his fingertips pressing tenderly into your skin. You heard him murmur to himself, the sound coming from deep within his chest, and you realized just how close he really was. Aside from pulling you out of the way so the kids playing tag wouldn't knock you down, it was the first time he had really touched you, and he was so much softer than you expected.

"Don't think it's infected but let's go see the doc, just to be sure," he said, his hand still on your neck, his other hand pushing your hair away.

"Okay," you said quietly, finally allowing yourself to take in a shaky breath as you waited for him to release you.

As if he realized what he was doing, he let your hair fall back into place and let go of your neck, his fingertips lightly trailing down your spine before falling to his side, making you shiver and step away.

"Sorry," he said. "Should've asked to look first."

"It's fine," you told him, absentmindedly rubbing the spot on your neck his fingers just touched.

As you walked side by side to the infirmary, his stony expression slid back into place. Gone was the softness you witnessed in his home. His hardened gaze drifted around the street, then to the watch towers, taking everything in. Studying. Calculating. And that was when you realized there were two Joel Millers: the one who the rest of the town viewed as gruff and callous, and the one you saw in the kitchen that morning, soft and gentle.

You wondered how many people got to see the latter version.

Nick examined you again in the same room as before, but this time, Joel was there watching his every move like a hawk. You could practically see the tension radiating off Nick's shoulders as he moved around the room. He examined your cut carefully, Joel's eyes never once leaving his hands, confirming that it was not infected before parceling out ten little white tablets of extra strength Tylenol into a small baggie and advising you to use them sparingly as inventory was low.

"That's it?" Joel asked incredulously.

"You know how it is, Joel," Nick said, but you heard his voice waver when Joel stood up from his chair. "Meds are hard to come by, we gotta be smart-"

"She hit her goddamn head so fuckin' hard she's lucky she remembers her own name and you're givin' her Tylenol?" he seethed, and you could see his neck growing flush with anger again.

"Joel, calm down, it's fine," you said, sliding off the table. Turning to Nick, you were about to voice your thanks when Joel cut you off.

"It ain't fine. What's it gotta take to get somethin' that actually works?" he huffed, taking a step forward and making Nick shift his weight nervously. "She gotta be missin' an arm? Maybe if she hit her head hard enough to forget what fuckin' planet she's on?"

"Joel, that's enough!" you snapped with a frown, and much to Nick's relief, Joel instantly backed off. He turned and paced around the small room, his hand rubbing over his mouth as he tried to calm down.

"What about my memory? Is it a bad sign I haven't remembered anything yet?" you asked Nick, and Joel paused somewhere behind you to listen to his answer.

"Well, the brain is a tricky thing," he began, his eyes darting over your shoulder briefly. "It could be weeks, could be months. Without any imaging, I wouldn't be able to tell you much more than that." You nodded and swallowed nervously before asking your next question.

"Or never, right?"

Nick took a deep breath and looked at Joel over your shoulder again before responding.

"It's possible."

You heard Joel's boots squeak against the linoleum floor and without even looking, you knew he was anxiously pacing around again.

"Alright, thank you. We'll get out of your hair now," you said, turning to corral Joel towards the door.

"Regardless, I'd like to see you again in a few days so I can take a look at those stitches," Nick said, and you agreed while pushing a muttering Joel back out into the hallway.

"I'll get you better meds," he said as you both walked out of the infirmary. "I got patrol tomorrow mornin', but I can go out after. There's a small cluster of houses we never did a full sweep on. Maybe-"

"The Tylenol is fine, don't go through the trouble. You could get hurt," you said, shoving the baggie of pills into your pocket.

"Tylenol ain't gonna do shit. I don't want you bein' in pain if there's somethin' we can do about it."

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, trying to temporarily relieve the ache in your head until you could get home and take one of the pills. You gave Joel a sideways glance, studying him as you walked together. He was brash and rude and aggressive, but you were learning that side of him came out when he was being protective over the ones he loved.

Or when he was trying to hide who he really was.

"So, everyone pitches in around here, right?" you asked, trying to change the subject. "You do patrol. What do I do?"

You paused at a crossroads, trying to remember which way to go, when Joel's hand on your elbow guided you in the right direction.

"You work patrol, too, but you ain't doin' that anymore," he said, letting go of your elbow after holding on for a moment too long.

"Well, obviously. I don't even know how to ride a horse," you said with a snort. "So I guess I need to find a new job, right? Who do I talk to?"

"Why don't you slow down a minute?" Joel said with a chuckle. "Let that pretty little head of yours heal up before you go lookin' for work."

You weren't going to say anything about his comment. Although it took you off guard, you realized he had habits that were going to be hard to ignore and you didn't expect that to happen overnight, but he seemed to realize what he said on his own and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said softly.

"It's okay. I know this is difficult for you," you said, shooting him a sympathetic glance as you climbed his porch steps. He swung open the door and followed you inside, where you made a beeline for a glass of water so you could take one of the pills.

"We got a lotta history, you and me. It's hard to start over," he said as he watched you toss back the Tylenol with a wince. You examined his face closely and pulled out one of the stools to sit down. You leaned forward, forearms resting on the cool countertop before replying.

"Tell me a story."

He raised an eyebrow at you but couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up a bit.

"What kinda story?"

"A story about us. You just said we have a lot of history together. Let's hear some of it," you replied with an encouraging smile.

"You sure? Thought you'd wanna go lay down," he said, but he eagerly pulled up a stool across from you.

"I think I can handle one little story," you told him, then watched as he stared down at his hands on top of the counter, deep in thought. When he thought of one, a slow smile spread across his face and his dark brown eyes flicked up to meet yours and you saw that softer side of him again.

"Alright," he said, settling back a bit. "So I told'ya last night how we met."

You cringed, remembering the story of a much bolder and seductive version of yourself, and nodded.

"Well, after that night we started seein' each other for a few weeks. It was just casual, nothin' serious," he said, looking down at his hands again. "I convinced you to sneak around so no one would catch on, and you grew tired of that. Rightfully so. I was bein' an asshole."

You watched him pull at a loose thread on the cuff of his flannel shirt, his eyes still cast down and you were beginning to realize it was due to shame.

"So anyway. One day you came over to, y'know..." he said, and you felt the heat in your cheeks again. "And you confronted me about it head on. Demanded to know why I wanted to keep you a secret. Thought I was ashamed of you - which I wasn't," he said quickly, his eyes finally meeting yours again. "But I had been through a lot of shit and I just didn't think I could give myself to someone like that again."

"What kind of shit?" you asked quietly, but he just lightly shook his head.

"One story at a time," he told you with a sad smile. You chewed on your lower lip as you waited for him to continue, his focus back on the loose string while he collected his thoughts.

"So I explained I had a hard time lettin' people in, that I wasn't capable of carin' 'bout anyone like that anymore, and you said to me, 'I know who you are, Joel Miller. Don't give me that bullshit, you're just scared.'"

He stared into your eyes, letting what he said land and hoping to see a flicker of the woman who spoke those words, but you just continued to look at him, waiting for him to finish the story like it was about somebody else entirely.

"Well, you were right, obviously. You always are," he continued with a smirk. "It knocked me on my ass. And I didn't know what was more difficult to believe: that you knew me better than I knew myself, or someone like you wanted anythin' to do with me in the first place."

You smiled and dropped your gaze to the counter, suddenly feeling shy.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but so far, these stories don't sound like me at all," you admitted.

He took a deep breath and finally stopped fidgeting with his sleeve.

"A lot's happened in ten years. Stuff that changes people. But I don't care what version of you's here, I love all of you."

You kept your eyes glued to his hands. You wished you could say it back. You knew he wanted to hear it. Maybe one day.

He tapped his finger on the counter, pulling your attention up so you were forced to look him in the eye.

"You fought for me that night, now I'm gonna fight for you, okay?" he said, eyebrows raised as he waited for you to acknowledge him. When you nodded sheepishly, his shoulders relaxed.

"So you're saying I fell in love with you because you were an asshole?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood, and it worked. Joel laughed heartily and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nah, you didn't love me then," he said, still smiling.

"So how did I fall in love with you?" you asked, and his tongue clicked against his teeth.

"You're gonna have to wait to find out," he replied with a wink.

It wasn't his fault, but the rest of the day you could feel Joel looking at you. He was examining you, waiting to see the woman he fell in love with, and the pressure was beginning to be too much, so you made up an excuse to go lay down in his bedroom. He had mentioned he had patrol in the morning. Maybe some time away from him would help you relax.

You stared up at the white ceiling. The distant sound of children laughing outside through the closed window and then the door to the garage swinging open and shut acted as a soundtrack to your overactive thoughts. You almost had to laugh. It felt like your mind was constantly working, churning up information and digesting it only to always come up empty.

Absolutely nothing seemed familiar. Nothing about this place or these people felt like home.

You wished so badly you could remember something. Anything to make you feel like you belonged there. One little shred of hope was all you were looking for.

And then you remembered the journal.

Sitting up in bed, you tucked your legs underneath you and reached over for the black book. You fingers hesitated for a moment on the cover. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but how could that be when it was your own?

Taking a deep breath, you flipped open the journal and began at the beginning.

Right away, you could tell you wrote the entries. There was no doubt in your mind. Aside from your handwriting, your typical disorganization shone through like a beacon on every page. You occasionally remembered to notate in the margin the date, or your best guess at the date, but more often than not you were left with very little context for each small paragraph you read.

You were disappointed to realize the journal seemed to begin after you had met Joel. A big part of you was very eager to learn more about the person you were before finding Jackson, but it seemed as though you would have to depend on others to tell you stories you hopefully had relayed to them in the past.

The first page looked to be a list of items you had jotted down that didn't make much sense, but maybe when you first found the notebook, you hadn't intended to use it as a journal.

Socks, colored pencils, sunflower seeds, cards.

Flipping the page, you skimmed a short paragraph about a cabin you stumbled upon when on patrol. Again, it was more notes than anything of any substance. A description of approximately where it was in relation to Jackson along with a note to 'mention it at the next town hall meeting'.

Finally something interesting on the next page, you read a short paragraph about someone named Maria having a baby girl, and you frowned when you read the line Joel handled it better than I expected.

Continuing on, you read an entry about Christmas: Joel found me the softest sweater, it almost felt brand new. I really don't know how he managed to find it and I described the house I grew up in to Ellie and she drew it perfectly, I can't believe how talented she is.

One paragraph in particular grabbed your attention. It was about two people, and based on the context, it sounded like you were close friends. For the first time since we got here, I had the same day off as Ben and Lisa. We went fishing together and brought a lunch. It felt just like old times. As weird as it sounds, sometimes I miss being out there with them. We made a good team.

Maybe this Ben and Lisa would be able to answer some questions you had about yourself. Based on what you just read, it sounded like they knew you before Jackson.

There was a lot more to read, but the next page stopped you dead in your tracks. Your heart began to beat faster as you stared at the four words. Just one sentence, no explanation. A shiver slowly trickled down your spine as you sat there, unmoving, as your vision narrowed on the page: Joel lied to me.

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ikwya fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

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star-girl69 · 9 months

Text

New Romantics

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

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sypnosis: you and clarisse meet during a capture the flag game, In A Good Way prequel!!

a/n: IM SO GLAD EVERYONE LIKES MY CLARISSE FIC ☹️☹️☹️☹️ i have so many planned but i just wanted to say thank you all sm!!!! this one is so silly….. i hope you all enjoy!!

LMK IF YOU WANNA BE ON MY CLARISSE TAGLIST!!!!!!

New Romantics - Taylor Swift

warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of death and blood, insane clarisse bc she gets a LITTLE too into capture the flag, protective clarisse obvi i will never write a fic without her showing up, clarisse makes me SWOON if you couldn’t tell, not proofread we get turned into pine trees like thalia over here, tell me if i missed anything!!

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Your legs ache. You’ve been at Camp Half Blood all your life, but you just spent the entire school year doing absolutely nothing. It was an adjustment. You’re already being forced into the horrible tradition of capture the flag. You met up with your favorite and best friends Jackie and Tyla at the beginning of summer, and you’ve all been attached to the hip ever since.

The three of you thought you could escape to a random part of the woods and skip out.

It’s not like you were lazy, or couldn’t hold your own in a fight- but you had just taken turns doing each others nails yesterday, and it would be such a shame to see them all smudged and broken.

You were on the red team, so you watched as the incomparable Clarisse La Rue ran around instructing everyone what to do- completely skipping past the three of you. Jackie took it to heart, complaining about how she had lasted two minutes sparring with Clarisse once, and she had no right to label all Aphrodite kids as weak and useless.

You remember the night you finally made it to the crest of camp, blood staining your hands, your satyr protector dead on the ground behind you as some monster you didn’t know the name of chased after you.

The three of you thought maybe a nice walk at the edge of the woods would be nice, when suddenly a squadron of the blue team came running out trying to catch you as prisoners. It wasn’t a rule of the game, but it was generally expected that that the winner had more prisoners, or else the victory just didn’t seem right.

The blue team saw Aphrodite kids as easy targets to pick off.

This felt all too familiar to that stormy light, your pounding heart, looking around as everything crashed around you. One of them even jumped down from the freaking trees, and you screamed at the top of your lungs as all three of you sprinted off into different directions.

There was only one chasing behind you, a Hermes kid you didn’t know the name of, but he was fast on your tail.

Just as you had reached the crest of the hill, you screeched at the top of your lungs as you saw four figures in front of you. A satyr. Two girls. One boy.

“Not another one,” the stayr moaned, before beckoning you towards them. You stayed frozen in place. The monster was big and slow, but you could hear it approach.

The boy held out his hand.

“I promise,” he breathed, locking eyes with the smaller girl, maybe a year or two younger than you, before looking up at the older girl. You could tell she was battle hardened, she was ready to win this. “We’ll all make it to camp.”

Both monsters chasing you let out ear-piercing roars, and you quickly slapped your hand into his and sprinted away.

Thalia, you would later learn her name, didn’t survive that night. But you did. Luke did. Annabeth did.

The three of you will forever be bonded by that, even if you’re on different teams in capture the flag. Gods, you wish it was Luke chasing you right now- but it’s not.

You’ve forgotten everything about swords and fighting in exchange for the Russian Revolution and the Periodic Table. You hate school even more in this moment.

He reaches out towards you and you’re distracted by his hand touching your shoulder, heart pounding in your ears, and you trip right over a root and stumble before falling to the ground.

You faintly see the flash of bronze armor pass you, then you suddenly hear a body slam into the ground. You whip around, only to find a girl wearing a red-tipped helmet on top of the boy chasing you.

“Clarisse!” she shouts. “I got him!”

You breathe heavily, watching at the boy yells and tries to buck her off of him, but you faintly remember seeing her constantly around Clarisse. She must be another Ares kid, which means there’s no way she’s letting this Hermes kid gets away.

Clarisse saunters out of the woods on your left, looking between you and the boy on the ground.

You sit up on your hands, watching it all play out, not able to catch your breath.

She smiles, slow, like a cheshire cat.

Gods, why does she have to look like that? Why does she have to smile like that? Why does she have to make you feel this way?

Why doesn’t she just drop the spear and make out with you?

“So, this is the dummy who thinks it’s funny to chase around Aphrodite kids,” she says, slowing walking turns him. The girl holds up his head so he has to look at Clarisse. She places the end of her spear into the dirt. She leans down in front of him. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the Aphrodite cabin is on the red team, right? Right?”

The girl tugs his head up and he winces, but nods.

“And who captains the red team? Cause I think it’s me, isn’t it?”

He’s learned his lesson. He nods quickly, now.

“I’m feeling nice today. Why don’t you apologize to the pretty girl, and maybe I won’t kill you.”

His eyes lock with yours. He says nothing.

“I said apologize, dumbass.”

He glares at Clarisse.

“You’re fucking insane.”

She laughs a bit. “It’s capture the flag, Zander, why are you not getting a little crazy? Chasing after Aphrodite kids is just embarrassing, honestly.”

“Fine,” he spits. “Fucking fine. I’m sorry.”

“Was that so hard?” she coos. She nods, and the girl let’s him go.

Holy Hades if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

He runs straight off into the woods after a moment, when he realizes they’re not gonna chase after him, not now at least.

The other girl turns to you. “You ok?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you dust off your knees. “There’s more of them by the edge, just so you know. Just north of the river.”

The girl smiles. “Gods, yes. Fuckin’ love destroying the Hermes cabin.”

Clarisse turns to you. She tilts her head to the side, watching you breath heavily on the ground. She sticks out your hand. Your grab it quick, scared she might pull away, and her hand is so warm and fits perfectly with yours. She pulls you up and you dust off your knees.

The other girl takes off running, following the boy, yelling for Clarisse to hurry up.

She smiles a bit, and you swear to Zeus her cheeks are a little flushed, you swear she looks at your lips for a second.

She brushes her thumb across her cheek.

“You’ve got some dirt on your face, gorgeous.”

She runs off before you can say anything, electrical spear crackling to life.

Oh, you fucking love capture the flag.

—-

clarisse “you’ve got some dirt on your face, gorgeous” la rue the woman you are

—-

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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monarchofdreams · 10 months

Text

Familial

This is my grandson, Joseph. He has always taken care of me since he was a little boy. I would always appreciate him helping me clean the house, walk to the kitchen, or even buy me groceries. When he was young, he loved to play sports. He'd say he'd grow big and strong just so he could help me. I was always so proud of him when he showed me his medals and trophies. Unfortunately, I was always too old and frail to see his football games. He did well with academics as well. He was athletic, intelligent, and not to mention his looks, but he was also gorgeous. I love him so much, but it bothered me to see him lonely. I mean, he's very popular and has plenty of friends. However, even with his good looks and charm, he doesn't have the confidence to ask a girl out. He would always say that he would never get a girl or they wouldn't want to date him. That's just ridiculous! He is wasting those amazing genetics. If I had thise looks back in my day, I'd have women from all over town begging to get into my pants. Fast forward a few years, I was stuck in a hospital bed waiting to kick the bucket, and Joseph was taking care of me. He's a grown adult with his own life, yet he never left me behind. He was devastated when I passed away. He locked himself in his room for days just to cry. I reached out to comfort him, but suddenly, in that moment, everything went blank.

Slowly, sound starts to return, and I can feel a draft against my skin, across my entire body. As I slowly open my eyes, I realize I am in my grandson's apartment. As I take in my new surroundings, my eyes drift toward my large arms and hands... they aren't mine! They are nicely tanned and without a wrinkle in sight! I have tattoos decorating my now bulging biceps. I am only wearing a pair of Nike briefs, fully exposed, leaving little to the imagination. I quickly ran to the bathroom, and to my disbelief, I was greeted by Joseph's reflection, displaying a shocked expression, but it was not long until that confusion shifted into curiosity and arousal.

I started to gently touch the soft skin of my face and torso, which was now blanketed in thick slabs of muscle mass. My hands glided down my chest, fondling my massive pecs and washboard abs. As I felt myself up, a massive bulge started begging for attention. I bit my lip as my hands began to move down, as if they had a mind of their own. My fingers glide across my pecs, brushing against my firm nipples. My body began to shudder the more I touched them. Damn, they are very sensitive. I felt my raging cock stiffen against my briefs, and a damp spot started to form. Without wasting more time, I quickly reached down the damp briefs, my hand breaking past webs of pre built up from the past few minutes. My fingers wrap around my manhood, but just barely. Holy shit, I am massive. I take my thumb nad massage my tip, feeling more slick juice coating my hands. Without warning, my hips suddenly buck forward, causing a soft masculine moan to escape my lips.

I haven't felt this good in years, and I am hungry for more. I continue to grind my cock against my massive rough hands, my breathing growing heavier with each pump. I can feel pressure building up as I get closer to finishing, but I won't allow this to end so soon. I release my hand from its cum soaked prison, and take a wiff of my spunk. It reaks of the musk of a true man. I feel my cock soften just enough to get my briefs to loosen its grip. I pull down the elastic, letting my 8 inches of pure manhood to spring out and breathe, dripping with white spunk and sweat. I know I'm taking this too far, violating Joseph's body, but I can't control myself. I wrapped my hand once again around my shaft and began pumping my that dick. As I pump, it continues to inflate an extra 2 inches in my hands. My rough hands stroke the ridges of my fuckstick, driving me insane with each pass. "Ooof. Oh fuck, yes..." My moans of pleasure grow louder and louder. Hearing the sexy voice of my grandson spout lude words from my mouth and feeling the base of his vocal chords vibrate within my throat is sending me over the edge. More and more pressure begin to build up as I feel cum rise up my piping hot rod. Nothing else mattered right now. Only thoughts of sex and pleasure filled my mind. My grandson's well-being was no longer a concern. "This is my body, Joseph. You love your grandpa, right? So I'm sure you'll be thrilled if I stay. You like that, don’t you? Ohhh, yes. Unnghh, " I yelp out in my new sexy voice as I reach my limit. "Im coming. Oh yes, baby, I'm coming. Nnnngg..." It was not long until my cock finally erupted, my white juice coating my sweaty body. The smell of musk continued to turn me on, and without hesitation, I brought my cum cover hand to my mouth, licking my fingers clean. The thick juices slid down my throat as I enjoyed the salty taste of my youth. My dick was still rock hard and leaking. I can really go for a second serving.

#male body possession #straight to gay #old to young

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ja3yun · 2 months

Text

I'm a Virgin, Not a Murderer | Finale: If You Jump...

virgin!heeseung x sex worker!reader warnings: smut (mdni), loss of virginity (finally), unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, mentions of anxiety, character death, blood, guns and violence, chase scenes, heartbreaking if you care about ynhee w.c: 18.4k finale synopsis: it's the end of the road for you, using up all your nine lives and ending your journey with confessions, hand holds, and heeseung finally popping his cherry. a/n: hi! it's finally the end of the series. personally, i have loved this fic with my whole chest and i'm glad for the love it has received. i hope this ending is up to your expectations because i spent a lot of time on it, making sure it was fulfilling even with the...ending :) hope you all enjoy! as always, reblogs, comments, likes, feedback are all welcome

chapter 3 | masterlist | END

“Don’t fucking move,” a gravelly voice from behind him menacingly says in a low tone. Heeseung feels what he can only suspect is a gun aimed towards his head, the barrel pressing coolly against his skin. The sensation is chilling yet alarming, sending an icy shiver down his spine. His body reacts to the peril, heat surging through him as adrenaline courses through his veins.

Heeseung's heart pounds erratically in his chest, each beat echoing like a drum in his ears. His breath quickens, the air feeling thick and oppressive, suffused with tension. He risks a glance at you, standing just a few feet away, your eyes wide with terror and confusion. The sight of your fear ignites a fierce protectiveness within him, but he is acutely aware of the danger you both are in.

The gunman's presence is oppressive, his grip on the weapon steady and unforgiving. Heeseung can sense the man's breath on the back of his neck, hot and acrid, mingling with the cold metal of the gun. Every instinct within Heeseung screams at him to act, to somehow disarm the assailant and ensure your safety, but he knows that any sudden movement could provoke a fatal reaction.

Instead, he slowly puts his hands up, surrendering to the threat. “I’m just moving to the side, okay?” he tries to barter with the man like he has any hand in this game. He’s not equipped for being held at gunpoint, knives sure, you come across boys wielding them all over London, but never a gun. His inexperience is hindering him greatly in all aspects of life.

With a grunt from the man behind him, Heeseung takes a small step to the left, his eyes never leaving yours. He’s trying to communicate with you to run, to get as far away from this sudden danger as possible, yet you don’t move, shaking your head due to your own fear-ridden mind.

You’re transfixed with a wave of fear, the man finally coming into your peripheral as Heeseung moves away from you. The last thing you want right now is to be away from the boy you’ve grown so attached to, so seeing him silently beg you to leave him doesn’t register, the thought of ditching him never crossing your mind.

The man pokes his gun harshly against Heeseung’s head once more. “Turn around. Slowly.” The demand is met as Heeseung takes small, slow steps to face the aggressor. What he expects to see is a policeman, finally catching up to you both, ruining the chase-turned-honeymoon and capturing you like rabbits in a trap.

Despite the open air of the abandoned theme park, you can’t help but feel claustrophobic, the wind suddenly turning into ropes as it ties around your throat, rendering you breathless and without words as you come face to face with the man.

Before you is none other than the Brixton killer, the man who brutally murdered an innocent shopkeeper and policeman. The scene was horrific, stabbing the worker 28 times all over his chest and abdomen, and somehow stealing the arriving police officer’s gun and shooting him in the eye. He was sentenced to prison for life without chance of parole, yet after an elaborate escape plan, here he stands in front of you.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” he asks, a grimace twisting his face as though you were ransacking his home of treasure.

Heeseung swallows hard, looking him dead in the eye. “Just…enjoying the sights,” he tries to joke, and you curse him with all the names under the sun for not reading the situation in front of him.

“Don’t get smart with me, who sent you?” the man waves the threatening pistol between Heeseung’s eyes, causing the boy to clamp shut. Sometimes he has a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and unfortunately, this is one of those times.

He doesn’t think he has ever been this nervous or anxiety-induced in his entire life, he misses when his biggest problem was an intact V-card and handing in his dissertation.

“N-no one sent us, Sir, we swear! We just stumbled upon this place and I wanted to take a look, that’s all,” your voice is attempting to stay level but some cracks are seeping through as you fight your composure.

“Tell me the truth or I blow your boyfriend’s brains out,” he threatens, the gun pressed firmly against Heeseung’s forehead. The man is not playing around; his eyes radiate cold determination, underscoring the seriousness of his ultimatum.

You shake your head violently, eyes wide enough for the chilling wind to swoop in and create tears in your ducts. “No! No, no, no. I swear, I promise I’m telling the truth.” Full-blown panic fuels your words, your hands trembling as you hold them out in a desperate, prayer-like gesture.

It hits you that Heeseung’s life is in danger because of you. You detoured your plans all because you wanted to visit this rundown park, landing you both in the middle of a one-sided standoff. The responsibility for whatever happens now weighs heavily on your shoulders. This is just like the hotel all over again; you brought trouble to Heeseung’s door because you didn’t think. You are the reason Heeseung is running away.

You have to fix this, you have to save him.

“Please, we accidentally killed a man and now we’re on the run. I made the call to get off the bus to Troon, and that’s how we ended up here, because I wanted to see the park. Please, don’t kill him. Please, I will do anything you ask, just please don’t kill him.”

You lose track of how many times you say please, begging the man to hear your truthful side of the story. The instilled panic causes you to ramble, spewing any words that might convince the man to lower his gun and ensure Heeseung’s safety, even for a few minutes. You're so close to dropping to your knees and praying to the angels above to answer your cries.

Heeseung’s face is a mixture of shock and anguish as he listens to you. His eyes dart between you and the gunman, his mind racing to find a way out. The Brixton killer’s expression hardens, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. The grip on the gun remains steady, but there’s a momentary hesitation. He doesn’t lower the weapon, but the intensity in his eyes dims slightly.

The silence stretches, taut and suffocating. Heeseung’s hand twitches as if he wants to reach out to you, to pull you into safety. But he remains still, every muscle tensed, knowing that any rash action could end in disaster.

“You want me to believe that you and Ken over here killed someone?” He flicks his gun at you for only a moment, not believing you to be a threat. Why should he? You’re two 22-year-olds who got scared of a haunted house and almost had sex in a love tunnel while on the run from police; you’re hardly Bonnie and Clyde.

Heeseung nods slowly. “It’s true, It was an accident but now the police are after us-”

"The police? You brought the fucking police here?" The murderer tenses up again, any lapse in focus gone as he stands straight, staring at both of you with enmity and dread. “I’ve been hiding here for a week. I am not letting you little fuckers get me caught.”

His anger is palpable, his face growing redder by the second. You wish Heeseung would shut the fuck up for a moment. You cherish the boy so much and usually value anything he has to say, but he’s turning into a liability in the face of death.

You bring the man’s attention back to you, hoping to calm him again. “No, no one followed us. They have no idea where we are. We’ve been roaming the borders to keep ourselves on the down low.” Your explanation is feeble and lacks real substance, offering little reassurance of your anonymity with the police.

He assesses you, eyes narrowing as he scrutinises your features. With emotions swirling in your brain, you probably look deranged, eyes wild with threatening tears and jaw clenched tightly. Stepping closer, he moves the gun from Heeseung’s head – much to your relief – and taps his chin with it, as if trying to place where he’s seen you before. The expression of reminiscence on his face is unnerving. You’d think he could have been one of your customers, but that’s impossible. So, you meet his gaze with wary curiosity.

He sucks his teeth before nodding, as if reaching a conclusion. “You’re the motel murderer,” he smirks, his eyes losing some of their anger, replaced by something unsettling. Whatever is going through his mind, you’re thankful because he lowers his guard slightly. His grip on the gun loosens and he pouts in amusement. Both you and Heeseung let out shaky breaths, relieved as the man flicks the safety back on the pistol. Yet, you’re not out of the woods.

“You know,” he begins, tilting his head mockingly, “the news is calling you the Black Widow.” His comment stuns you, freezing the breath in your lungs. Heeseung glances at you with wide eyes, a mix of confusion and curiosity. You blink, trying to process the killer’s words. Black Widow. Why are they calling you that?

Sensing your bewilderment, the murderer continues. “They don’t believe angel face over here is still alive,” he mutters casually, pointing to Heeseung, whose expression mirrors your horror. “Papers are saying you must have forced him to kill for you and then you ate him right up.”

“That’s not true!” Heeseung exclaims, shaking his head vehemently.

“Well, clearly,” the man rolls his eyes in annoyance, looking Heeseung over. “You’ve got people defending you, saying you’re just an innocent lamb that got gobbled up by the big bad wolf.”

Goosebumps form on your skin as he drags out the second unappreciated nickname for you. You knew this would happen. A virgin with a clean track record gets involved with a sex worker and suddenly he’s part of a crime. The inevitability of being blamed for everything sinks your heart into your stomach, the acid churning with anxiety.

You couldn’t imagine hurting Heeseung now. The accusations that you coerced him into murder and then devoured him are preposterous. You’re just a girl trying to make some money and survive, not a conniving murderer.

But what you both don’t know is that back home, Heeseung’s family is defending his name, speaking praises and clearing his name quickly. Meanwhile, you have no one. Neither your brother nor your father has spoken up for you despite everything you’ve done for them. Sure, your brother is estranged and your dad would rather call you a whore to the neighbours than speak to you, but you’d hoped they knew you well enough to believe you wouldn’t murder a man and kidnap another.

The man snarls in amusement, looking back at you. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if her plan was just that. Bring you here and kill you off on one of these rides.” He directs his gaze at Heeseung, but his sly grin is for you, indicating he’s playing a game you don’t know the rules for.

Tearing your eyes away from the man, your pupils widen with urgency and desperation. “Heeseung, I wouldn’t...”

“I know,” he replies instantly, not giving you a second to explain. He knows you better than anyone now. In the two weeks you’ve been tied to each other like handcuffs, learning everything there is to know about one another, Heeseung knows you wouldn’t hurt anyone unless you had to, let alone kill him for fun, which is what this man is suggesting.

The connection you two share is pure and real, and Heeseung will be damned if he ever thought otherwise.

Heeseung’s reassurance gives you a fleeting moment of comfort, but it is quickly shattered as the killer moves in closer. The distance between you evaporates, his presence suffocating. Heeseung’s eyes widen with fear as the man raises the gun, pressing it under your chin. The cold metal sends shivers down your spine, and you instinctively freeze, every nerve in your body on high alert.

“You know,” he drawls, his voice low and menacing, “there's a reward out for you. I wonder how much I could get off my sentence for bringing you in.” His breath is hot against your face, the smell of tobacco and stale beer nauseatingly close.

The proximity is unsettling, his eyes boring into yours with a predatory gleam. You can feel the tension in his grip, the gun pressing harder into your skin. Heeseung's face is a mixture of horror and helplessness, his hands twitching as if he wants to do something, anything, to get you out of this situation

“You must think you're something special,” the man continues, his voice dripping with contempt. “Running around, causing chaos, thinking you’re untouchable. But you're not. You're just a scared little girl who got in way over her head.”

Heeseung clenches his fists, the knuckles turning white. There's a fire igniting within him, a fierce determination to protect you no matter the cost. His mind races, evaluating the situation with the precision of someone fighting for survival. He watches the man closely, noting every detail: the way he sneers, the way his eyes flicker with malicious glee, and crucially, the fact that he hasn’t disengaged the safety on his gun.

The thought strikes Heeseung like a bolt of lightning. The man, in his arrogance, hasn’t realised the gun isn’t ready to fire. This oversight could be their only chance. Heeseung's eyes dart to you, his heart aching at the sight of you trembling, the gun pressing into your chin. He knows he has to act fast and decisively to get the brute away from you.

Gathering every ounce of courage, Heeseung shifts his weight subtly, preparing himself. His mind hones in on the plan, focusing on the back of the man’s leg. If he can just create enough of a distraction, enough of an opening, you might have a chance to escape. The killer’s attention is entirely on you, his grip on the gun tightening as he revels in his perceived power.

n one swift motion, Heeseung lunges forward and stomps down hard on the back of the man’s leg. The brute lets out a guttural shout of pain and surprise, his grip on the gun faltering. The force of Heeseung's attack sends the man stumbling backward. The sudden movement breaks his focus, and his eyes widen in shock.

You let out a breath, one you’ve been holding in since the gun was pointed at you. However, you don’t get the chance to enjoy the air as Heeseung pulls you into a tight embrace, pressing your head against his chest. His lips brush the top of your head in a tender kiss, a silent prayer of gratitude that your brain is intact and not splattered over the gravel.

The moment of relief is fleeting.

“You little shit!” the man exclaims, abruptly finding his feet and injecting a fresh wave of panic into you and Heeseung. The sheer venom in his voice sends shivers down your spine. You clutch Heeseung tighter, your fingers digging into his shirt as fear courses through you.

Before you can react, Heeseung pushes you behind him, positioning himself as a shield. The brute charges at you both, his face contorted with rage. Everything happens in a blur—there's a sickening thud, and you see the man’s gun raised high before coming down with brutal force. Heeseung tries to block the blow, but the gun's butt slams into his temple with a sickening crack.

“Heeseung!” you scream, the sound tearing from your throat as Heeseung crumples to the ground. The world narrows to the sight of him collapsing, blood trickling down the side of his face. Your heart pounds wildly, a mix of fear, anger, and helplessness overwhelming you.

“It’s Evan,” he replies, wincing as he struggles to hold up his head from the ground. The fact that Heeseung’s main concern is keeping his persona must either mean the gun rendered him dumb or he was already stupid to begin with. You hate to say it’s the latter.

You huff and stomp your feet. “Now is not the time, Hee!” you shout at him, frustration and fear mingling in your voice.

The man’s eyes narrow, his patience wearing thin. “Shut the fuck up!” he yells, waving the gun wildly between the two of you. His face is twisted in rage, eyes glinting with murderous intent.

Just as the tension reaches its peak, a distant sound pierces the air - a siren, faint but unmistakable, growing louder with each passing second. The sudden intrusion sends a shockwave of panic through all of you. The man’s eyes widen in fear and anger, the threat of capture looming over him.

The man’s face contorts with fury and desperation. He knows his time is running out. He points the gun erratically, his movements becoming more frantic. “I’ll get you cunts, I swear on it!” he snarls, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and fear.

He takes a step back, his eyes darting around as he tries to figure out his next move. The sirens grow louder, closer, the promise of prison mingling with the fear of what the man might do next. Your heart races, every second stretching into an eternity as you watch the man’s indecision.

The man takes another step back, his gaze flickering between you, Heeseung, and the approaching sirens. The conflict in his eyes is evident - he wants to finish what he started, but the looming threat of the police forces him to reconsider. With a final spit, he turns and runs, disappearing into the shadows of the park.

Heeseung groans, struggling to sit up, his face pale and bloodied. You kneel beside him, your hands trembling as you touch his face gently. “Heeseung, we need to get out of here,” you plead, your voice breaking. “Please, can you stand?”

Nodding, he holds onto your forearms, seeking comfort in your skin. You quickly wipe away some of the blood trickling into his eyes, the warm liquid smearing across your fingers and rendering your lungs useless as you forget to breathe for a moment. The sirens sound imminent now, a cacophony of urgent wails cutting through the air. Heeseung’s brain feels like it’s thumping against his skull, a sharp, persistent pain stinging behind his eyes from the blow.

“We have to go,” you whisper urgently, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. “Come on, Heeseung, we have to move.”

With a Herculean effort, Heeseung pushes himself to his feet, leaning heavily on you for support. You wrap an arm around his waist, feeling the tension in his muscles as he fights through the pain. Heeseung's steps are shaky, and his centre of gravity sways as he tries to centre himself. His eyes are unfocused, struggling to stay open, but he forces himself to move forward,

You clutch his hand tightly, your grip a lifeline as you guide him away from the scene. The abandoned theme park stretches out like a maze, shadows from the sunset twisting into sinister shapes. The fear gnaws at you, but you push it down, focusing on the need to get Heeseung to safety. Each step feels like an eternity, the weight of the moment pressing down on you both.

Glancing back, you see Heeseung wobble slightly. Your heart clenches with worry. “Are you okay?” you ask, your voice a whisper in the darkness. Heeseung nods weakly, trying to give you a reassuring smile, but the pain etched on his face betrays him.

You lead him through the overgrown paths, the weeds and debris crunching beneath your hurried footsteps. The flashing lights from the police cars cast eerie shadows across the dilapidated structures. You can’t afford to be seen. Not now, not when you’re so close to getting away. If this journey was all to end now, what would it be for?

Every few steps, you glance back, checking on Heeseung. His breaths come in ragged gasps, his face slick with sweat and blood. But he doesn’t complain. He just keeps moving, driven by the same determination that fuels you. You take a sharp turn, ducking behind a rusted old carousel. The horses’ faded eyes seem to watch you, silent witnesses to your desperate escape.

You pause for a moment, catching your breath and listening intently. The cars stop outside the main gate, but the park’s labyrinthine layout works in your favour, muffling the sounds and creating a confusing echo. You look at Heeseung, your heart aching at the sight of his battered face. “We’re almost there,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

Luckily, there is an old gate that leads to the forest just behind Joyland, your one-way ticket out of here. Running up to it, you see it has a rusty lock that has seen better days, making it an easy break. There is no time to waste, so you quickly kick the lock, mustering up every ounce of force you have.

“Y/N, watch yourself,” the injured boy groans behind you, his hand holding onto the wound to compress it. He feels like he wants to vomit, the paleness of his skin and the shaking of his fingers evidencing this. He is trying so hard not to pass out, knowing that you both just have to find somewhere to hide, somewhere safe.

Despite being the one in immense pain, he is looking out for you once again and it only spurs you on further to get the door open. “I almost got it,” you inform him, giving the bent metal one final kick before it snaps in half and the door swings open.

You take Heeseung’s hand and pull him through the gate, the dense forest swallowing you both in an embrace of dim sunlight. The sounds of the sirens are muted now, the thick trees and underbrush acting as a natural sound barrier. You hold Heeseung’s hand tightly, your fingers interlaced, guiding him through the uneven terrain.

Every step is a struggle for him, his breathing ragged and laboured. You glance back frequently, your eyes filled with worry, watching for any sign that he might collapse. His face is a mask of pain, but he pushes on, driven by sheer willpower. The forest is a maze of twisted branches and overgrown paths, but you press forward, determined to find a place to hide; at this point you’ll take anything - a hollowed-out tree, a dip in the ground, even that evil witch’s gingerbread house from Hansel and Gretel.

The sun is beginning its descent, casting long, eerie shadows through the trees. The forest is painted in hues of orange and gold, a beautiful but haunting backdrop to your desperate escape. Your heart pounds in your chest, the adrenaline keeping you moving. Each rustle of leaves, each crack of a twig underfoot sends a jolt of fear through you. You know the police are close, their searchlights sweeping the park behind you. The urgency of your situation drives you on, every muscle in your body aching with the effort.

After what feels like an eternity, you spot a faint object through the trees. Relief floods through you, and you squeeze Heeseung’s hand, urging him forward. “There,” you gasp, pointing towards a cottage house. “We can hide there.”

Heeseung nods weakly, his legs barely supporting him, causing him to let go of your hand and collapse to the ground. The sudden disappearance of his hand in yours sparks alarm bells, and you quickly turn around, eyes wide with panic as you see him on his knees, clutching at his injury. The pain is evident on his face, the vibrations from the blow shaking his entire skull.

“Fuck! Heeseung,” you exclaim, your voice trembling as you bend down to lift his head up, your fingers gently brushing the blood away from his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Heeseung’s eyes flutter open, unfocused and filled with pain. Slowly and unenthusiastically, he shakes his head. “Please, Y/N, go on without me,” he groans, his voice barely above a whisper. Each word seems to cost him immense effort, and you can see the desperation in his eyes but it’s also followed by a gleam of amusement, following the script of so many movies he has watched.

You roll your eyes at his dramatic performance, trying to inject a bit of lightness into the dire situation. “Baby, don’t be so dramatic,” you chide gently, your voice laced with both urgency and affection, the nickname slipping out by accident. “Move those long legs of yours, please.”

Heeseungs eyes widen for a slit second, a large, comical smile on his face. “Baby? I’m your baby?” he asks, the head injury obviously causing him some sort of disillusionment.

Despite the fear gnawing at your insides, you muster a small smile, hoping to give him some strength. “You can be my baby if you move,” the tone of your voice is a warning sense of playfulness but seems to do the job, Heeseung moving his body with more chutzpah.

You crouch down beside him, slipping your arm around his waist to help him up. Heeseung leans heavily against you, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He can feel your warmth, and the concern in your eyes gives him a flicker of strength. Despite his pain and slightly concussed joking, he’s determined not to let you down.

The cottage is void of cars in the driveway, much to your relief, and you take it as a good sign that no one will be home. It’s an educated guess considering you’re in the middle of piss-pot nowhere and they certainly aren’t catching the bus to work; if there are no cars, it equates to no one being home.

You hope.

Reaching the entrance, you quickly glance in the windows, just to double-check the vacancy of the property. With all the lights off and no sight of a guard dog, you can begin your search for a way in. The oppressive silence and stillness of the house suggest it has been unoccupied for some time.

“Heeseung, just wait there,” you say softly before running up the front steps. The steps are lined with an array of flowerpots, leading you to the entrance door. If movies have taught you anything, it’s that people are often foolish enough to leave keys under pots for emergencies. Frankly, you have never understood this practice yourself; it’s so cliché that if they did do it, robbers had every right to exploit their naivety.

You begin searching under the pots of sunflowers and peonies, feeling the rough terracotta and cool soil on your fingertips. Suddenly, you stumble across a singular gold key. In this moment, it might as well be Blackbeard’s treasure. The key gleams in the fading sunlight as you pick it up, waving it in front of Heeseung triumphantly.

However, instead of relief, Heeseung looks concerned through all his pain. “Y/N, we can’t just go in,” he argues, his moral compass inconveniently emerging at the worst possible time. The boy is bleeding with the police hot on his tail, and he’s worried about trespassing on the property of some affluent vacationers.

“We have to, Heeseung. You’re in a bad way, and the police will be scouring the woods as we speak. Can you just set aside your good heart for a second?” Your words are both careful and harsh, attempting to convey the severity of the situation. There isn’t time to debate the ethics of breaking and entering.

He concedes, gesturing with his hand for you to open the door, his face contorted in pain. You slide the key into the lock and swing the door open, beckoning Heeseung inside.

The interior is cold despite the summer weather. A thin layer of dust covers everything, a good sign indicating that the house has been unoccupied for some time. The foyer is quintessentially British, with tiled floors in mossy green hues and a staircase to your right, featuring a vintage wooden bannister and carpeted steps. The walls are adorned with magnolia panelling, decorated with oak-framed pictures of flowers and their meanings. An un-vacuumed Turkish rug lies on the floor, its colours dulled over time.

Heeseung makes it up the stairs, leaning on your shoulder as you admire the space. If he wasn’t concussed, he might share in your awe of the place, but right now he just needs to sit down and take some painkillers.

You lead him down the hall into a sitting room. The room is inviting and comforting, resembling your gran’s house before she passed away. Heeseung follows your guidance and sits on the couch’s armrest, taking the much-needed weight off his legs and focusing all his energy on holding his head. The bleeding has stopped somewhat, but the battering of his brain against his cranium is the real danger.

“I’m going to find some painkillers and ice. Please don’t die while I’m gone,” you joke, but your eyes reveal your seriousness.

As you head to find the bathroom, your heart pounds with anxiety. You come across a door under the stairs and open it, revealing a tiny cubicle with a toilet, sink, and a mirrored cabinet. With a flicker of hope, you reach for the cabinet, praying it holds the answer to your problems.

Unfortunately, you catch a glimpse in the mirror which reflects a sight you wish you hadn’t seen: your bangs are askew, your eyes bloodshot from stress and holding back tears, and your lips cracked from dryness. You knew the disguise would change your appearance but somehow the experience is changing you from the inside. You have never been bright and chirpy but you have never looked so dull, as though the life is being vacuumed out of you.

Ignoring your reflection to focus on the real cause of concern, you rummage through the cabinet, your hands trembling. Finally, you find a blister pack of co-codamol amidst the old perfume bottles and bandages. The sight of it brings a wave of relief, knowing that these tiny white pills can begin the mending process.

Clutching the co-codamol tightly, you rush to find the kitchen, your footsteps echoing in the empty house. Each step feels like an eternity, your mind racing with worry for Heeseung and the fear of being caught, after all there is still a chance the police or homeowners could walk through the door any second.

Entering the kitchen, you are struck by its quaint, rustic charm, with wooden cabinets and a checkered floor. The warm, homey feel of the room is almost jarring given your frantic state.

You fling open the freezer, desperate for ice, but there’s none. A pang of frustration hits you, but you quickly grab a bag of frozen peas, feeling their coldness through the plastic. Wrapping the peas in a tea towel, you focus on the task at hand, trying to steady your breathing. The sense of urgency is overwhelming, your mind filled with images of Heeseung's pained expression and the ever-looming threat of the police.

You fill a glass with water from the tap, watching the clear liquid swirl and fill the glass to the brim. The simple act of filling a glass feels almost surreal amidst the chaos, a brief moment of calm as the water trickles in. It’s a small respite, the sound of the water soothing your frazzled nerves even if just for a moment.

Returning to the sitting room, you find Heeseung still clutching his head. Your heart aches to see him in such agony. You hand him the co-codamol and the glass of water, your eyes filled with concern. “Take these,” you say softly. “And here’s something cold for your head.” You gently place the makeshift ice pack on his forehead, watching as he relaxes slightly under the cool pressure.

Like a mother making sure her child eats vegetables, you watch Heeseung swallow the pills with ease, desperate for the relief they will provide. The cold, crisp taste of water glides down Heeseung’s throat as he downs the glass, thankful for the quench in his thirst. In another life, he might be physically able to run a marathon, but in this one, he’d much rather stick to playing video games and leave running to the professionals.

Slowly, you take the ice pack from his head, the tea towel now embellished with his dark red blood. The wound isn’t too deep despite the blood pouring out; you could easily patch it up with some gauze and plasters.

“I’m going to get the first aid kit. I think I saw one in the kitchen,” you explain while handing him back the makeshift ice pack.

As you return to the kitchen, your emotions surge. The stress of the day, the fear of getting caught, and the concern for Heeseung all swirl within you. The quaint charm of the kitchen feels oddly juxtaposed with the turmoil in your heart. You glance up at the open cupboards and see the dark green box with the white cross on the high shelf, allowing you to let out a small sigh of relief.

Reaching for it, you accidentally knock over a ceramic mug, the crash echoing through the empty house. Your heart skips a beat, your nerves on edge. You freeze, listening intently for any signs that the noise might have somehow alerted someone of you and Heeseung’s presence, as if the fact that they would magically appear. After a tense moment of silence, you grab the first aid kit and hurry back to Heeseung.

You find him where you left him, his eyes closed as he tries to manage the pain. Standing in front of him, you open the kit and lay out the supplies on a side table which holds home to a lamp and a forgotten ashtray. The sight of the sterile bandages and antiseptic wipes brings a sense of purpose, a clear task to focus on.

Ripping open the wipe, you reach to bring Heeseung’s hand, which holds the compress, away from his head and take it from him. “This might sting a little,” you warn him as you carefully clean the wound to stop infection. Heeseung winces but never complains, knowing the more he fights it, the longer it is prolonged.

You work quickly but gently, still focusing on not applying too much pressure in case you aggravate it further. Heeseung’s eyes are focused on your face, causing you to become slightly flustered. The idea of someone watching you do something suddenly makes the task ten times harder to achieve. Your heart races, a mix of concentration and self-consciousness, the weight of his gaze adding an unexpected layer of intensity to the moment.

Heeseung smiles softly as he trains himself on you, his hands settling on your waist and pulling you closer to him. It might be the pills or the fuzziness from the head injury, but he suddenly doesn’t feel anxious to initiate the first move; it could also be that his head was between your legs earlier today.

The touch of his large hands on your waist and the feeling of his thumb stroking your hips pauses your movements, the butterflies in your chest being the only thing you can focus on. The room is silent except for the faint ticking of an old clock on the wall, each second stretching into an eternity.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble that sends a cluster of goosebumps over your neck and arms. His gratitude is sincere, but it brings a pang of guilt to your heart.

“Don’t thank me,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “All of this is my fault.” The weight of your words hangs in the air, a heavy cloud of regret and self-reproach.

Heeseung’s grip on your waist tightens slightly as he pulls you even closer, his hands steadying you. He cradles your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear that you hadn’t realised had fallen. “No, it’s not,” he says firmly, shaking his head. His touch is gentle, his eyes filled with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “None of this is your fault.”

The room around you fades away; the only thing that exists is the space between you and Heeseung. You apply a sterile gauze pad, securing it with medical tape. Your fingers brush against his skin, sending a jolt through both of you. Every touch, every movement, feels charged with electricity, the air between you vibrating with unspoken tension.

Although Heeseung’s words should inject some reassurance into your conscience, you can’t help but think about what the media is saying about you. The thought of being labelled the "Brixton Killer" adds a whole new layer to the guilt that sits at the forefront of your mind.

Heeseung can see your mind leaping over all his affirmations like a horse at the national, causing him to pout and grab your chin. “No.”

“No?” you ask quizzically.

“No. Your brain is telling you something that isn’t true. Whatever you think you should feel guilty for, just know that you shouldn’t.”

Sucking in your bottom lip and tensing your jaw, you try your hardest to clean the blood up, hands shaking as you place the gauze on his wound and seal it tightly with medical tape. It’s hard to believe him when you’re looking at an open wound, the butterfly effect of your client attacking you.

“Hey,” he whispers, his voice a perfect harmony of pain and something deeper. Taking the medical supplies from your hand, he discards them to the side before intertwining his fingers with yours. “You’re not to blame for any of this. I have told you this a million times, and I’ll tell you a million more. You and me are in this together.”

His words hang in the air, a solemn promise that cuts through your self-doubt. Before you can respond, Heeseung leans in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss is gentle, a delicate reassurance that punctuates his sentences. It’s a kiss that says more than words ever could, a tender moment that steals away your fears and replaces them with a warmth that spreads through your chest.

When he pulls back, your thoughts are momentarily silenced by the softness of his kiss. “You know, you’re a good kisser,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the gravity of the situation.

Heeseung chuckles, the sound light and comforting. “I had a good teacher,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. He has come a long way from first meeting you and he can’t thank you enough for never ridiculing him, showing him soft bouts of affection and lust that have helped him become stronger and more courageous to do what he wants.

You laugh, the tension easing from your shoulders. “You’re ridiculous.” His attempts to shift the mood from depressing to comfortable working instantly.

“Maybe,” he admits, squeezing your hand gently. “But if I can make you smile, it’s worth it.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, the weight of your guilt and fear lifting slightly. The warmth of his touch, the softness of his kiss, and the sincerity in his eyes all work together to create a cocoon of safety.

Placing a final peck on your lips, Heeseung stands up and towers over you once again. “Do you think it’s safe to stay here? Just for tonight?” he asks with genuine curiosity, already hoping you’ll give him the much-desired answer of ‘yes’.

But the truth is, you don’t know. If you found this place easily, then the police could find it in an instant. There are so many traces of you that you’ve left behind: the bags on the bus, footprints in the mud and leaves, and also Heeseung’s blood at the park. If they really wanted to find you, they could.

Yet, as you look into Heeseung’s sparkling eyes, the ones that are thinking about a warm bed to spend the night in, you don’t have the heart to be honest. So you do what you think is best and fluff the question. “I think, yeah, we can, as long as we stay on alert.”

Agreeing, Heeseung smiles down at you, his joints already celebrating the prospect of a clean bed to lay on. “We’ll keep an ear out, but right now, all I want is to lie down.”

He takes your hand, pulling you gently upstairs, his steps cautious yet eager. The wooden stairs creak softly under your weight, each step resonating in the quiet house. As you reach the top, you find yourselves in a narrow hallway adorned with faded family photos and antique furniture. The atmosphere is homely and lived-in, the kind of place that feels like it has been loved and cared for over many years.

Heeseung pushes open the first door on the right, revealing a cosy bedroom. The room is small but inviting, with a large bed covered in a patchwork quilt, flanked by mismatched nightstands. The wallpaper, though slightly peeling in places, features delicate floral patterns that add to the room’s calm aesthetic. A well-worn armchair sits in one corner, next to a small bookshelf filled with old, dog-eared paperbacks.

“This will do,” Heeseung says with a contented sigh, letting go of your hand to sit on the edge of the bed. He bounces slightly, testing the mattress, and his face lights up with approval. “Oh, fuck yeah, this will definitely do.” He feels like Goldilocks when she finds the children’s bed, claiming it as her own.

“I’m going to shower,” you tell him, needing a moment to yourself. The events of the day have left you feeling grimy and in desperate need of some semblance of normalcy. Each time you’ve snuck into a motel the shower has been all but appealing with dirty water and rust; this is your chance to take a long, well-earned shower with hopefully some fancy soaps.

You begin rummaging through the drawers of an old dresser in the corner, hoping to find something to wear for the night. To your surprise, among the neatly folded clothes, you find a set of lingerie, delicate and decidedly out of place in such a homely setting. The white silky fabric and intricate lace make it clear that this was a special purchase, perhaps a forgotten remnant of a romantic getaway. You search through the drawers again, but it seems to be the only sleepwear available.

You hold up the lingerie, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected find. Heeseung glances over, curiosity piqued by your hesitation. “What’s that?” he asks, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he sees the garment.

“Apparently, this is all they have for pyjamas,” you reply, your tone laced with amusement.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in actual pyjamas before, it’s like the world just wants you naked all the time.” The comment causes you both to laugh, each chuckle echoing along the patterned walls.

Turning to him, you cross your arms and arch a brow. “I think you are the only man to complain about it,” you snicker, jesting him with a slight punch of feigned hurt.

Your response makes Heeseung’s face drop, his eyelids expanding in horror. “No, no. Trust me, I’ll never complain about it. It’s just funny how it always happens like this.” His voice is earnest, and it’s cute how quickly he defends himself, scared to offend you in any way.

Waving him off, you turn back and shut the drawer, walking over to the ensuite toilet.

The bathroom is small but functional, with a clawfoot tub and a pedestal sink. The tiles are cool underfoot, and you quickly strip out of your dirty clothes, turning on the water and waiting for it to warm up. As you step under the stream, the hot water cascades over you, washing away the grime and stress of the day. You close your eyes, letting the soothing sensation calm your racing thoughts.

Back in the bedroom, Heeseung is changing into some boxers he has managed to find. They are the complete opposite of your sexy two-piece. Instead, his borrowed pyjamas are bright blue, adorned with Homer Simpson’s face and Duff beer cans. He wonders who on earth would ever purchase these never mind wear them.

As he settles into the bed, the world outside seems distant, the immediate crisis giving way to a fragile peace. The relief from the co-codomol and the springy mattress help him alleviate some of his pain.

Heeseung reaches for the remote control on the nightstand and switches on the TV. The soft glow of the screen illuminates the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls. He flips through the channels aimlessly, searching for something to distract you both from the day's events. Just as he’s about to turn it off, a familiar face appears on the screen, stopping him cold.

It’s Jongseong, sitting in what looks like a studio set-up for a news interview. The lower third of the screen reads, "Friend of Fugitive Lee Heeseung, Park Jongseong, Speaks."

Heeseung’s breath catches in his throat, and he feels the tension ripple through his body. His eyes are glued to the screen, his expression a mix of surprise, fear, and a deep, aching sadness.

“Jongseong?” he whispers, barely audible. He misses his best friend so much that even seeing him through the television is enough to have his soul shiver in sadness. It was one thing to think about him, it’s another to see him.

On the screen, Jongseong looks tired and worn, dark circles under his eyes betraying his sleepless nights. Heeseung can’t imagine the stress this whole situation has caused his best friend, everyone in the entire scheme knowing about their lifelong bond. Jongseong must have endured so much scrutiny once the news broke out.

He takes a deep breath before speaking, his voice steady but heavy with emotion. “I’ve known Heeseung for all of my life,” Jongseong begins, his gaze unwavering as he faces the camera. “He’s not a criminal. He’s the most kind-hearted, loyal, and genuine person I’ve ever met. Anyone who truly knows him would say the same.”

Heeseung’s eyes well up with tears, the raw vulnerability in Jongseong’s words piercing through his defences. He swallows hard, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. This must be what the man that held him at gunpoint meant; his friends and family fighting to tell the world that he isn’t a murderer.

Jongseong continues, his voice cracking slightly. “I miss him. Every day that he’s gone, it feels like a part of me is missing too. If he’s out there, if he can hear this, I want him to know that he’s not alone. We’re all here, waiting for him to come home. And we know... we all know that Y/N is the cause of this.” The refusal to believe he is dead evident in his tone.

In that last sentence, Heeseung’s chest feels like a boulder is being pressed onto it, the air escaping his lungs despite just taking a deep breath. He can’t believe your beautiful name just fell from Jongseong’s lips with such disgust. He feels nauseous that it is his family who are tarnishing your name, giving the media their headlines and false accusations.

You have no one sticking up for you so you’re being painted as this venomous spider that prays on men without so much as a second glance. And yet, you couldn’t have a bigger heart if you tried.

The care you have given Heeseung, the cosmic connection between you is enough to solidify his thoughts. Just as it was back at the theme park, he doesn’t believe any bad word about you, and he’ll be damned if he starts now. You aren’t going to kill him, you aren’t going to betray him, and you certainly aren’t a criminal mastermind who plots murder.

“I don’t believe for a second that Heeseung is guilty of anything other than being dragged along in a scheme,” Jongseong says, his voice gaining strength. “Heeseung, if you’re listening, please come back. If you turn her in then all of this can be over. We miss you, and we need you. I need you.��

The news moves on swiftly to the next article but it isn’t so easy for Heeseung. He would never throw you to the wolves to save himself, not a chance in hell is he ever leaving you, not under any circumstances. When he told you that it was you and him together, he meant it with every crevice of his heart.

He hears the shower turn off and it jolts him to attention, suddenly flicks the channel as though he would get caught watching porn, or worse, Hollyoaks. The TV ends up on some gameshow where contestants try and get money by answering truth or false questions.

Trying to act natural, Heeseung pats the area of his heart in an attempt to tame its brisk beats, not alerting you to anything he just saw. Considering you already believe that the entirety of this situation is your fault as if Heeseung also didn’t swing the finishing blow to the man’s head, the last thing he wants you to see is someone bashing your name to millions of viewers.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you are wearing the lingerie you found and the sight of your frame prettily decorated in white causes Heeseung to swallow hard. It’s astonishing to Heeseung how you don’t even register how insanely beautiful you look right now, that look on your face puzzled as you walk towards the bed.

"What is it?" you question, slipping beneath the blankets and snuggling up next to the stupefied boy. “You’ve seen me like this lots of times.”

It’s true, he has, so he shouldn’t be so astonished that you look like Aphrodite’s spawn. Something about being able to appreciate you for every curve and stretch mark in a calm setting is enough to have him gawking like it’s the first time seeing you.

“Yeah, you just look so…angelic in white,” he confesses, now regretting changing into the Simpson boxers; not quite as elegant.

You tuck into his side, lifting one leg over his to get comfortable, your head resting softly on his rising chest. It’s not uncommon for you to lie like this, the nights you’ve spent together often end up with you like this, trying to gain heat from one another's body as the midnight air sets in.

But now you have no excuse, this is purely for the reason to stick close to him, to feel him under you. His presence has turned into your security blanket, the one thing you need to fall asleep and forget about the problems you face.

Inhaling sharply, you watch the TV but never register its contents, your mind preoccupied. “We need a plan, Heeseung,” you murmur, your breath hitting his abs gently as he rubs your arm. “We’re going to be locked up if we’re not careful.”

Heeseung knows this, as much as Jongseong might think that coming home and handing both of you in will somehow get him off the hook, that’s not how the judicial system works. They’re still going to question him and discuss what happened that unfateful day and he would tell them the truth.

He went to an illegal prostitute, killed a man, and fled. Regardless of the fancy jargon or numerous stories about how it was self-defence, he is still guilty of murder. Plain and simple.

There is an unsettling realisation that he isn’t fit for jail. He can barely walk past a group of chavs without his asshole clenching, so in what world is he equipped to walk into prison, share a cell with a convict, and make it out alive?

With a heaving chest, he begins to panic and his hand grips your upper arm a little tighter than normal. As you lift your head from his rising and falling chest, you see his eyes widening in realisation. “I can’t go to jail, Y/N.”

Sitting up, you begin to shake your head and refute his thoughts. “Hey, it’s okay, Hee,” you whisper, hand cradling his face with affection and assurance, “We will find a way out, I promise. After all, we’ve gotten this far.”

Your voice is unable to sound too convinced, not with the sirens haunting echoes still fresh in your mind. You know you got lucky today, escaping the law by the skin of your teeth and there are only so many chances you can have like this before the inevitable shackles of prison make their presence known around your wrists.

Heeseung isn’t listening to you, the shake of his head batting away any comforting words that spill from your mouth. “I can’t go, Y/N. They will smell the loser off me. I’m a virgin for fucks sake, they’ll notice it in a minute!” His voice is raised, eyes darting around as his brain conjures up worst-case scenarios, all of which terrify the man.

Shushing him, you try to draw his focus back to you, eyes searching into his for a chance to snag him. “Listen to me, you are not going to prison-”

“Oh course we fucking will, Y/N! You heard how many sirens were after us, not to mention they’ve probably brought extra men to help get that psycho with a gun. We are fucked.”

His interruption mixed with the change in vocabulary from ‘I’ to ‘we’ makes your own brain pulse in panic. You can sugarcoat it and tell yourself lies all you want but the fact of the matter is that there is a higher chance of getting caught than escaping. His outburst leaves you momentarily speechless, the gravity of the situation sinking in. The air feels thick with dread, every second ticking by amplifying the weight of your predicament. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm for both your sakes.

There isn’t anything you can do, Heeseung’s concerns are all valid and very much real. He isn’t meant for prison life and they will pick on him straight away. You would be okay, thinking about the years of building yourself a thick skin and strong backbone, but Heeseung is just finding his confidence, all of it will disappear as soon as he adorns the navy trousers and grey sweatshirt that bunch him with the other inmates.

However, there is one thing you can do for him if not grant his freedom.

“Then…” you bite your lip and pinch the tips of your fingers in contemplation. “Let’s make sure you don’t go to prison a virgin.”

The words reach the panicked boy’s ears, rendering him speechless. He didn’t mean his earlier words literally, but the offer hangs in the air, a tangible and teasing proposition. He stares at you, processing the unexpected proposition, his mind momentarily distracted from the terror that gripped him.

“You don’t have to do that,” he finally whispers, his voice trembling but touched with a hint of gratitude. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just…” He trails off, his voice faltering.

Climbing onto his lap, you push the covers back and settle atop him, the thin lace and cotton of your underwear providing only a minimal barrier. Your legs trap his sides as you pull him to sit up slightly, his face now angled to meet your empathetic yet lust-filled gaze.

“If we are going to jail, whether it’s in the next week, month, or year, let’s at least spend one night that we’ll remember,” you suggest gently, your voice a mix of compassion and desire.

Heeseung’s eyes widen slightly, his breath catching as he processes your words. “But... are you sure?” he asks, his hands hesitantly resting on your hips. This, of course, isn’t your first time, but he doesn’t want you to feel obligated to do anything or force you into this because of a stupid fear he has.

You nod, your expression softening. “I’m sure. I want you so badly, Heeseung if you’ll let me?” The question comes off shy despite your hands rubbing his chest and shoulders in a subtle attempt to get him to say yes.

Heeseung's eyes soften, his reluctance giving way to a tentative smile. “I want you too,” he murmurs, his hands tightening slightly on your hips, his fingers creating indents in your skin.

When he first came to you, he just wanted to get fucked and have it over and done with, but now that he knows you and your heart, he doesn’t see it as a conquest he must defeat in honour to progress into adulthood. No, now he sees it as giving himself to the one person he worships, the journey you have both been on finally giving him the clarity to understand what he wants. You.

Although he made a point to express his concerns about being a virgin in prison, he didn’t really mean it the way you took it. Sure, it’s a worry for him, but prison is in general. Deep in his heart, he knows that the real cause of his worry is the fact that he could go his whole life without ever giving himself to you completely, never knowing what you feel like or how your bodies move with one another. You are the romance-induced first time he has been saving himself for and he can’t believe it’s about to happen.

You lean in, your lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. It starts gentle, a soft melding of mouths that slowly deepens as Heeseung responds, his hesitation melting away. Your tongues meet, exploring each other with a mixture of curiosity and growing desire. The kiss intensifies, becoming more urgent, and more demanding, as the need for closeness overwhelms you both.

Heeseung's hands slide from your hips to your back, fingers dancing along your spine. He fumbles slightly, his nervousness evident as he tries to unhook your bra. You smile against his lips, reaching back to help him unclasp it and let it fall away, revealing your breasts. His eyes widen, a mixture of awe and uncertainty as he takes in the sight of you.

God, has he missed these tits.

“Do what you want Heeseung. I’m yours for tonight,” you whisper into his mouth as you ghost your lips over his, the lack of contact only causing him to whimper out.

Heeseung swallows hard as he uses his hands to massage your breasts, littering them with gentle kisses. His touch tentative but growing bolder as you encourage him. Your fingers find the waistband of his selected underwear and you giggle as you finally take in the sight of them. Embarrassed but determined, Heeseung lifts his hips, allowing you to pull his comical boxers down in one swift motion, freeing his erection.

You shift slightly, positioning yourself to straddle him more comfortably. The thin barrier of your lace panties feels almost painfully teasing against his hardness. One of Heeseung’s hands moves to your waist, his touch both gentle and possessive as he helps you slide your panties down your legs, his other hand rubbing his thumb over your nipple like it was a button on his much beloved Sega Mega Drive.

You kick them aside, fully naked now, and press yourself against him. Heeseung’s breath hitches as your bodies align, his erection pressing insistently against your wet folds. You kiss him again, more fervently this time, your tongues tangling as the intensity between you builds.

One of Heeseung’s hands slides between your legs, fingers parting your folds and finding your clit. He rubs slow, deliberate circles, drawing a moan from your lips. You break the kiss, resting your forehead against his as you pant softly, your hips rocking into his hand.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly with a hint od desperation as he seeks your approval.

“Just like that,” you murmur, guiding his hand to the right spot, helping the virgin out just slightly. “Keep going.”

His fingers trail lower with your guidance, teasing your entrance before one slips inside, eliciting a shuddering gasp from you. He moves with exquisite slowness, each thrust of his finger deliberate and careful, as if savouring the feeling of you around him.

You can’t see it due to your eyes closing and losing yourself to his touch but he is holding in his breath, all the new feelings and sensation beginning to overwhelm his senses. It was one thing to see a vagina in the flesh, his mouth tasting you so deliciously only hours before, but for any of his body to be inside of you, even his fingers, might send him into overdrive. It’s warm and not what he was really expecting, though, he didn’t go in with much of a clue to begin with.

If there is one thing books and porn have taught him it’s to start slow and work his way up to thrusting his fingers into you with verocity. He feels around, exploring you and your walls to gage a reaction. In some cases you wince from a shot of uncomfort, other times you let out a low moan followed by an array of profantities.

Once he finds his rhythm and is confident enough, he adds a second finger, curling them slightly to press against that sweet spot inside you, his palm pressing against your clit. Instinctively, you grip his shoulders and begin to ride his hand, using him to chase your release.

“Fuck,” your breath comes in ragged gasps as he works you closer to the edge. The pressure builds steadily, a coil of heat tightening in your belly with each stroke of his fingers. Your hips move of their own accord, seeking more of the delicious friction he provides. “Heeseung,” you moan, your voice trembling with need. “I’m close…”

He looks up at you, eyes filled with a mixture of concern and desire. “What should I do?” he asks, his voice shaking.

“Faster,” you urge, guiding his hand with yours. “Just a little faster.”

Heeseung follows your instructions, increasing the pace of his fingers and pressing more firmly against your clit. The knot inside you tightens further, until it snaps, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You cry out, your body trembling as the orgasm washes over you, gripping his shoulders for support.

Heeseung watches you with a blend of awe and desire, his fingers slowing but not stopping as he helps you ride out the aftershocks. When you finally come down from the high, you collapse against him, your breath coming in shallow pants.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers, realising that you’ve come undone thanks to him for the second time that day, his inexperience never being the hinder that he once thought it was. This orgasm was a little more shattering to your body though, the desperation in your subtle grabs to his skin telling him that you were taken to heaven and back and desperately seeking more.

You kiss him again, softer this time, a tender meeting of lips as you both savour the intimacy of the moment. But the need for more still burns within you, and you can feel Heeseung’s erection pressing insistently against your thigh.

Without breaking the kiss, you lift your hips, reaching down to guide him to your entrance. “Let me take care of you,” you whisper, positioning him at your entrance. “Are you ready?”

Heeseung nods, his breath hitching in his throat as his Adam’s apple bobs with the swallow of dry air. This is it, he is finally losing his v-card, and to someone he cares so deeply about. You will never understand the rush of emotions coursing through him as you hover over his length, waiting for consent to take him. You are about to give him his dream, the one he harbors in his heart; not losing his virginity, but being in love.

He thought it before but now it’s so clear to him. All this time you’ve spent with one another, each late-night conversation, opening up to one another in ways only lovers do, and the constant tension of something more underneath the surface level partners in crime you often refer yourselves as. It was all a timeline to falling in love. He doesn’t know if you feel the same, perhaps it’s too fast for you and it’s just his innocent heart that is jumping the gun, but he is so sure of his feelings towards you.

There is no one else in the universe he would rather lose his virginity to.

“I’m ready,” he utters, the thumping in his ears caused by his ear creating a backing track to his confirmation. “I’m so ready, Y/N.” The gleam of pride in his eyes takes you aback for a moment, the words kissing your heart with trust. “Do you have a condom?”

“No,” you pant out in regret and irritation, the conversation prolonging the feeling of his shaft plugging your pussy up so beautifully. “But I got the implant when I started doing this as an extra precaution, just in case the condom didn’t work.”

The explanation puts the boy at ease, knowing that there is no need to worry about adding a baby to this madness of a predicament you’re in. Nodding, he silently tells you that he is okay to go once again, inhaling deeply as you line him up with purpose.

As you slowly sink down onto him, both of you gasp at the sensation. You move with deliberate slowness, allowing your bodies to adjust to the feeling of being so intimately joined. Heeseung has never felt something so incredible in his life. Your walls are stretching in real time around him, accommodating his thick size with ease, your juices from earlier acting as a natural lubricant.

Heeseung’s eyes flutter shut, a soft moan escaping his lips as he feels you envelop him inch by inch. Every nerve ending in his body is alight with sensation, the warmth and tightness of you overwhelming his senses. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he tries to steady himself against the flood of pleasure.

“Y/N,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, filled with awe and disbelief.

You smile down at him, your own breaths coming in shallow pants. “You feel so good, Heeseung,” you murmur, your voice husky with desire. You feel honoured to be the first cunt wrapped around the boy’s cock, the feeling of him invading your tight hole and the way his prominent veins add another layer to the pleasure is outstanding causes your eyes to roll back.

It’s not like you haven’t had a cock like Heeseung’s before but for some inexplicable reason, his is erasing every feeling of the others. If this did happen on that fateful first meeting, you wouldn’t have charged him at all, the pleasure you are feeling right now would be enough of a payment.

Heeseung’s breath catches in his throat as you begin to move, a slow rhythm that sends shivers of pleasure up his spine. Each movement is deliberate, a dance of passion and trust as you guide him through this new experience. Your hips grind against his, making his cock rock inside you, each movement sending waves of sensation through both of you.

“How does it feel?” you ask, your voice a seductive purr as you continue to ride him.

Grunting at your movements, Heeseung quickly nods, his eyes wide with an overwhelmed sensation. “Fucking unreal,” he manages to choke out, his voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. He has to apologise to his teenage self for denying him this simple pleasure while his friends were getting their socks rocked.

Your lips curve into a satisfied smile at his response, your fingers splaying across his pecks as you bounce rhythmically on his cock. “I’m glad,” you murmur, your voice dripping with sensuality. “You feel amazing, Heeseung.”

Heeseung moans softly as he tries to keep up with your pace, bucking his hips sloppily, becoming erratic and lacking a consistent pace - not that you mind, you don’t expect him to be fucking you with the skill of a pornstar. The main thing is that he is enjoying it, and by the strangled whimpers and ‘fucking hell’ that leaves his lips every other second, you’re assured that he is.

But this is about teaching him and letting him learn the art of fucking. “Heeseung,” you whisper, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I want you to do something for me.”

Heeseung’s gaze is filled with trust and anticipation. “Anything,” he breathes.

“Let me guide you,” you say softly, your hands moving to cup his face. “Follow my lead, okay?”

Heeseung nods, his eyes wide with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. “Okay,” he agrees, his voice trembling slightly.

You start to move again, slower this time, your hips setting a steady rhythm. “Match my pace,” you instruct, your voice gentle but firm.

Heeseung tries to follow your movements, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. At first, his rhythm is clumsy, his thrusts too quick or too slow. You can feel his frustration building, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he struggles to find the right pace.

“Relax, Heeseung,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss him softly, instilling reassurance into him that taking his time to learn isn’t going to ruin the moment. “You’re doing great. Just feel it.”

Heeseung takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. He concentrates on your rhythm, his body gradually finding a better sync with yours. The clumsiness begins to fade, replaced by a more confident and deliberate movement.

“That’s it,” you encourage, your voice a breathy moan as you feel him moving more smoothly inside you. “Just like that, fuck.” You drop your head as the tip of his cock hits just the right spot, kissing your cervix tenderly.

Heeseung’s eyes light up with a mix of relief and pleasure as he hears your words. His hands move to your waist, guiding you as you ride him, his thrusts becoming more confident and sure. The sensation of him filling you with each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, your moans growing louder with each movement.

Every thrust brings a gasp or a moan from him, his body responding eagerly to your touch. He feels a mix of sensations - pleasure, awe, a hint of disbelief that he’s finally experiencing this with you. You lean down, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing together in sync with the rhythm of your bodies. Heeseung kisses you back with equal fervour, his need for you evident in every touch and every movement.

“I never imagined it could feel like this,” he admits between kisses, his voice rough with desire. “Being with you, it’s everything.”

Your heart swells with affection as you feel him opening up, allowing himself to be vulnerable with you in this intimate moment. You continue to move, your hips rolling against his in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. The room is filled with the sounds of your combined breaths, the slick slide of your bodies, and the soft, wet noises of your connection.

“You feel so good,” you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ride him harder. “So, fucking perfect.”

Heeseung’s breath hitches, a whimper escaping his lips at your words. If he wasn’t lost in the feeling, he would ask if he was being a good boy. His eyes lock onto yours, a mixture of awe and desperation in his gaze. He can feel himself getting closer, the tight coil of pleasure in his belly winding tighter with each thrust. His hands roam over your body, one moving to your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you.

Feeling a surge of confidence and an overwhelming urge to please, Heeseung leans forward, his lips parting as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. The sensation is electrifying, a new layer of intimacy that sends shivers down your spine. His mouth is warm and eager, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before sucking gently. He hums around your nipple, the vibration adding to the pleasure that courses through your body.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, your head falling back as you give in to the sensation. Your fingers thread through his hair, holding him close as he continues his ministrations.

Heeseung’s thoughts are a whirl of sensation and desire. He’s hyper-aware of every reaction he elicits from you, the way your body responds to his touch, the sounds you make as he lavishes attention on your nipple. He’s never felt anything so intimate, so deeply connected, and it drives him to please you even more.

His tongue flicks over your nipple before he sucks it back into his mouth, his lips creating a tight seal. He alternates between gentle sucks and firmer pulls, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh just enough to make you gasp. The sensation is a perfect blend of pleasure and a hint of pain, heightening your arousal to an almost unbearable level.

Heeseung’s free hand moves to your clit, clumsily finding it after a few seconds to give it some well-deserved attention. The dual sensations make your hips move more urgently, grinding down onto him as your climax approaches.

“Y/N, I’m so close,” he moans against your breast, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He didn’t want to bust a nut quickly and has been holding back as long as he can, determined to make sure this was a good experience for you.

“Me too,” you whisper, your own climax building with every movement. “Don’t hold back, Heeseung. Let go with me.”

With a final, powerful thrust, Heeseung cries out, his body tensing beneath you as he finds his release. The sensation of him pulsing inside you triggers your own climax, and you cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash over you. You collapse against his chest, both of you trembling as you ride out the aftershocks together.

As the intensity of the moment fades, you lie there in each other’s arms, your breaths gradually slowing. Heeseung holds you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively as you both savour the aftermath of your passion. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, but also with a newfound sense of closeness and adoration.

Looking up at him, you smile lazily, tiredness taking over your limbs from the excitement of today and the fucking. “Well, how does not being a virgin anymore feel?”

“It feels,” he pauses, gathering his thoughts as they fight through his post-orgasm haze, “fucking unbelievable.” Heeseung places a soft kiss on your sweaty forehead and inhales your scent, enveloping his senses with you. His gestures are so loving and tender that you feel a ping in your heart, the same kind that you get when you eat your favourite meal or hear the song that gives you butterflies when it comes on the radio.

It feels like home.

“Thank you for letting me be your first,” you pout, kissing his sticky chest. Your lips press against the salty sheen of sweat on his skin, the taste mingling with the lingering sweetness of the moment.

Heeseung’s heart swells at your words, his eyes softening as he looks down at you. “I should be thanking you, Y/N. I am so happy that it was you I had this experience with.” His admission is heartfelt and pure, his voice trembling slightly with emotion.

You can see the depth of his feelings in his eyes, the way they shine with awe and adoration. It’s a look that makes your own heart flutter, the connection between you feeling even more profound in the aftermath of your intimacy.

Feeling safe and secure despite circumstances that loom on the horizon, you lay your head back on his chest, settling in for the night. You don’t want to move, your body is too spent to care about peeing or your dead weight is making Heeseung uncomfortable. None of it mattered as sleep pulls you in.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah…”

“I love you.”

Your heavy breathing fills the room, indicating your lulled state. He doesn’t know if you heard his confession but Heeseung doesn’t mind, he just had to get it off his chest, never wishing to keep his feelings from you ever.

“Good night, baby,” the nickname escapes his lips but it feels so right, everything about this moment feels right. Heeseung’s fingers trace lazy patterns on your back as he closes his eyes with a smile on his face, his heart relaxed for the first time in weeks.

He wishes every day could be as good as this one.

_____

Startled awake by an incessant crowing outside the bedroom window, Heeseung jerks up, his body relaxed but his mind still on semi-high alert. The sun's early morning rays filter through the thin, floral curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the quaint cottage bedroom. Dust particles float lazily in the warm light, adding a touch of magic to the peaceful scene. This is the best night’s sleep he has had, not just since you two began this wild chase, but in the past few years. The bed is a cosy nest of crumpled sheets and soft blankets, the scent of last night's intimacy lingering in the air.

Heeseung stretches, feeling the pleasant ache of spent passion in his muscles - even his head feels a million times better after the beating it took yesterday. His heart swells with a mix of pride and joy as he recalls the events of the night before. Losing his virginity this way wasn’t what he expected, but it was everything he wanted. There was a raw, unspoken connection between you both, an intimacy that transcended mere physicality.

Your heart was in it; he could feel it in the way you whispered affection and clawed at his body. There's a pride swelling within him, knowing there’s a high probability that this is the first time you’ve had sex that wasn’t just for survival or a quick cash grab. Last night was different - there was love between you, plain and simple. You didn’t have to say it or even hear his confession to know what it was. The way you both kissed one another as if the world meant nothing when you had each other, the way your bodies connected in a manner some lovers could only dream of.

Heeseung wishes that all of this were under different circumstances, as he always has, but something tells him that, in some whacked-out way, the universe would have put you together no matter what. The room around him is a testament to simpler times, with its rustic wooden furniture, a small dresser topped with a chipped vase of wildflowers, and a single, worn armchair in the corner.

Turning his upper body to look at you sleeping, the serenity in his chest quickly vanishes and panic arises from the pit of his stomach. You aren’t there lying peacefully, basking in the morning sun like you should be.

His heart bumps against his rib cage as his mind settles on the worst possible scenario. Frantic, Heeseung clambers around the room, searching for any clue as to where you could have gone. In motels you’ve previously visited, you always left a note to say you’d gone to grab some food or ice, but this time there is nothing but a few strands of your hair decorating the pillow where your head should still be resting.

Rolling off the bed, Heeseung quickly grabs his boxers and puts them on, making his way around the house in search of you. The cottage bedroom, once a sanctuary, now feels ominous and empty. He glances around, his eyes darting over the rustic wooden furniture and the small dresser topped with a chipped vase of wildflowers. The morning sun, which had moments ago seemed warm and inviting, now casts long, eerie shadows.

“Y/N?” he shouts loudly, enough to wake every bird and hibernating bats in the vicinity. His voice echoes through the small cottage, mingling with the distant crowing of the rooster.

His mind races with terrifying possibilities. He thinks about how you could have been snatched in the night, but that doesn’t make sense—he would have felt that or heard you scream. Maybe you went for some fresh air and got caught by the police; they might have snuck up on you and cuffed you right there and then. But wouldn’t they have raided the cottage for him too?

Then his face pales, and he stops in his tracks. What if that psycho got a hold of you? He ran in the opposite direction, but that doesn’t mean the psycho couldn’t have made his way in a circle right to this house. What if he had the same idea and wanted to camp out here, and you just happened to be in the kitchen making some tea when he found you? What if he…

Sickness forms in Heeseung’s throat as he dashes to the kitchen, trying to dispel the horrific final “what if” from his mind. The cosy cottage now feels like a labyrinth of dread, every creak of the floorboards amplifying his fear.

“Baby?” he yells again, terror ripping through his vocal cords. “Y/N, please answer me.”

The kitchen, with its quaint, mismatched dishes and the faint smell of musk and nostalgia offers no comfort. Heeseung's eyes frantically scan the room, hoping to find you safe and sound, but the emptiness only feeds his growing panic. His breath comes in short, desperate gasps as he clutches the edge of the wooden countertop, his knuckles white with tension.

Y/N!” His voice cracks with despair, echoing through the silent house. Heeseung’s mind is a whirlwind of fear and helplessness, each passing second feeling like an eternity as he waits for any sign of you. The world outside, with its serene sunlight and gentle breeze, seems cruelly indifferent to his agony.

Suddenly, he feels a hand on his arm, and he whips around instantly.

Your face looks up at him with wonder and concern. “Hey, hey. I’m here, Heeseung,” you say calmly, hoping the soft dulcet tone of your voice can reduce the evident panic coursing through his veins.

Instantly, he hugs you tight, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other wraps firmly around your waist. His nose digs into your scalp as his lips press softly against your cranium as if he needs all his senses to be alerted to your sudden appearance - the only way to calm his unsettled heart.

“Heeseung,” you murmur into his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart against your cheek. “What’s wrong, what happened?”

Heeseung doesn’t respond immediately, just holds you tighter, his breath ragged and heavy with relief. The warmth of your body against his, the familiar scent of your skin, and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat begin to soothe the storm inside him. Gradually, the tension in his muscles eases, and his grip loosens just enough to look down into your eyes.

“I thought… I thought something happened to you,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. The morning light highlights the tears glistening in his eyes, a stark contrast to the fear that had consumed him moments before.

You reach up and gently wipe away a tear that has escaped down his cheek. “I’m here. I’m safe,” you reassure him, your fingers lingering on his face. “Nothing bad can happen to me when I’ve got you, yeah?”

Balancing on your tiptoes, you place a tender kiss on his dry lips, trying to instill in him some comfort that you are fine and alive. To be honest, if it were he who had disappeared without a trace, you would probably be in an even worse panic than he is.

The kiss is charged with a cocktail of emotions, lips neatly brushing one another as you both fall into an equanimity that is desperately needed in this moment of uncertainty. The tension around his shoulders fades as he melts into your touch, the fear and anxiety dissipating with each passing second.

Heeseung’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as if grounding himself in your presence. The taste of salt from his tears mingles with the warmth of the kiss, creating a poignant mix of relief and love. You feel his breath hitch, then gradually steady, synchronizing with your own.

When you eventually draw back, your foreheads touch. The world outside continues its peaceful morning, the calm wind and soft natural light now serving as a soothing backdrop rather than a harsh contrast.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” you whisper, your breath mingling with his. “I should have left a note like usual but there is not a pen or paper in this house, can you believe it?.”

Heeseung shakes his head slightly, his eyes still closed, savouring the closeness. “No it’s okay, I’m just glad you’re here,” he murmurs. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

You smile softly, cupping his face in your hands. “You won’t. We’re in this together, remember?”

Heeseung nods, finally opening his eyes to look into yours. There’s a depth of gratitude and love in his gaze that warms you to your core. “Yeah, together,” he echoes, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Where did you go?”

Absentmindedly, you reach up to the gauze on his head and peel it off, inspecting the wound as you explain your absence. “I was looking for a route out of here. And to see if the place is still teeming with police.”

You grab a clean washcloth from the sink and wet it, gently dabbing the dried-in blood away. The gash looks better, although still open, a protective layer of skin is forming over it. It’s fragile and one rough knock could re-open it, but for now, it’s okay. You tell him to wait there while you grab the first aid kit from the sitting area before returning, setting out to apply a new gauze.

Once you clean his wound with the antiseptic wipe, which hurts considerably less than last night, Heeseung speaks up. “And? Is there a way out of this or are the police everywhere?” He isn’t a fan of you going out there on your own but he won’t dwell on it since you’re back here in his arms. His hands settle on your hips as his thumbs stroke your skin, craving contact with you as much as possible.

He doesn’t know if it was the idea of losing you or the sex that makes him crave your skin on his, but he won’t complain either way, and neither will you.

“There are sirens, faint but they are there,” you begin to explain, your voice disheartened, “I think I found a way out though.”

Heeseung’s eyebrows raise and his hands grip your hips slightly, a mix of curiosity and relief. “Oh?”

“Yeah, there is a dock not far from here, maybe about an hour away. It carts goods from Ayr to Dublin around lunchtime, if what I saw was right. We could sneak on it and get the fuck out of the UK, at least until we come up with a solid plan.”

It’s not foolproof and there are more cons than pros, but any minute, the police could come banging on this door and you’re sure as hell going to get caught then.

Heeseung’s shoulders slump as he processes this new information. “It’s risky, but we don’t have many options,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he nods resolutely. “Alright, let’s do it. But we need to be careful. One slip and it’s over.”

You nod in agreement, your mind already running through the logistics. “We need to move fast and quietly, the only way to the dock is through the woods and that’s exactly where the police are still looking.”

Heeseung gives a small, determined smile, his hands still tracing soothing patterns on your hips. “I’ll follow your lead,” his voice is low and assured. He really does believe there is nothing he can’t do as long as you’re beside him.

As you finish dressing his wound, you can’t help but feel a surge of determination. The bond between you has only grown stronger through this ordeal, and you’re resolved to face whatever comes next side by side. You share a final look, a silent promise to protect each other at all costs, before you start making preparations to leave.

“Okay, let’s go.”

_____

The woods is much easier to navigate in the middle of the day, however, it does make it easier to be spotted.The woods are much easier to navigate in the middle of the day, but the bright sunlight filtering through the canopy also makes it easier for them to be spotted. Heeseung and you move cautiously, stepping over roots and ducking under low-hanging branches, every sense heightened by the urgency of the situation. The dense foliage provides some cover, but the occasional break in the trees sends your hearts racing as you dart across open patches of sunlight.

The forest floor is a mix of damp earth and fallen leaves, each step a muffled crunch that both reassures and unnerves you. Birds chirp overhead, their songs a stark contrast to the tension thrumming through your bodies. The scent of pine and fresh moss fills the air, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of Heeseung’s dried blood.

You take the lead, your eyes scanning the path ahead for any signs of danger. Heeseung follows closely, his hand occasionally brushing against your back, a silent reassurance that he’s right there with you. The two of you communicate through subtle gestures and quiet whispers, knowing that any loud noise could draw unwanted attention.

In the distance, the faint wail of sirens echoes through the trees, a chilling reminder of the police presence. You exchange a worried glance with Heeseung, both of you quickening your pace. The sirens grow louder, a relentless reminder of the danger closing in behind you.

“We need to move faster,” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the rustling leaves.

Heeseung nods, his expression determined. “Stay close.”

The woods stretch out before you like a labyrinth, each turn and twist another gamble. You rely on your instincts, hoping they guide you true. The sun is high now, casting dappled shadows that dance across the forest floor. Sweat beads on your forehead, both from the exertion and the stress of being pursued.

Every so often, you pause to listen, straining to hear any signs of movement behind you. The sirens are still there, but they seem to be moving parallel to your path, not directly toward you. It’s a small relief, but you know you can’t let your guard down.

As you navigate a particularly thick patch of underbrush, you catch sight of a flash of blue through the trees. You freeze, grabbing Heeseung’s arm to stop him. You both crouch low, peering through the foliage. In the distance, you can see police officers moving methodically through the woods, their uniforms stark against the green backdrop.

“Shit,” Heeseung breathes, his grip on your arm tightening.

You nod, your mind racing. “We need to divert. There’s a stream nearby, if we can reach it, we might be able to throw them off our scent.”

Heeseung agrees without hesitation, and you change direction, angling toward where you remember the stream to be. The terrain becomes more challenging, the ground uneven and littered with fallen branches. You navigate as quietly as possible, mindful of every step.

The sound of rushing water grows louder, a hopeful sign that you’re on the right track. The stream appears ahead, a narrow but fast-moving ribbon of water cutting through the forest. You approach it cautiously, checking the area for any signs of the police.

“We’ll follow it downstream for a bit, then cross over,” you suggest, eyeing the opposite bank.

Heeseung nods. “Good plan. Let’s go.”

ou move quickly along the stream’s edge, the cool air off the water a welcome relief against your heated skin. The babble of the stream helps mask the sound of your footsteps, providing a small sense of security. After a few minutes, you find a shallow spot and carefully wade across, the cold water biting at your ankles.

On the other side, you pause to catch your breath, listening intently. The sirens are faint now, almost drowned out by the sound of the stream. It seems the police have moved further away, at least for the moment.

Or so you think.

Unbeknownst to you, two police officers are intently studying the footsteps you’ve left behind, following the trail with determined precision. They move swiftly through the underbrush, their eyes scanning the ground and the surroundings with practised ease.

“Over there!” one officer whispers urgently to his partner. They pick up their pace, pursuing you with renewed determination.

From their vantage point, they catch a glimpse of you and Heeseung through the trees. They see you clasp hands and begin to run, your figures darting through the forest like shadows.

Heeseung and you run up the forest, hearts pounding in sync with your hurried footsteps. Every muscle in your body is screaming for you to stop, but fear propels you forward. The forest becomes a blur of green and brown, the terrain treacherous with roots and fallen branches. You focus on not tripping, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

The officers aren’t as nimble and light on their feet as you two are, and you take every opportunity to duck behind trees and try to lose them amongst the branches and foliage. It’s difficult but you create some distance for a minute, never letting up on your track race speed.

Your heart is beating, blood boiling, and head spinning as your legs move on their own. This is it. You think to yourself about how you made such a great deal last night about knowing you would be caught and how you could accept it. But now that the moment is actually here, you’re terrified.

There isn’t a part of you that is ready to be locked up. You’re so young and this was all a misunderstanding, if you just explained it to them, maybe you could get a light sentence. It’s not your fault that the man came in and tried to choke you to death, you had to set boundaries and that’s more than okay, isn’t it?

But the law won’t see it that way. Of course, they won’t, because to them, you’re lower-class trash. That man was highly respected by his family and peers, and you’re just a lowlife prostitute who ruins marriages. You have never seen yourself that way, but this is exactly how the media are painting you out to be. In their eyes, you’re a villain, a scourge. There is no saving yourself from this.

As you slow down, you see the ground before you vanish, patches of brown and green turning into nothing but air. You’ve hit a dead-end, stuck between the relentless pursuit of the police and a deep, yawning cliff that there is no way down from.

Heeseung, a few steps behind, sees you slow down and quickly catches up, his head shaking violently. “Come on, baby, we need to go,” he urges, his voice filled with panic and desperation. Your stuttering steps finally stop, causing his eyes to widen, wondering why on earth you are pausing in the middle of a high-paced chase.

“We’re trapped.” Your voice trembles, eyes distant as you stare into the abyss of the cliff.

Heeseung’s eyes follow yours, and his heart drops. The cliff before you is a sheer drop, the ground simply vanishing into a void of jagged rocks and certain doom. The wind howls up from the chasm, a stark reminder of the peril you face. Behind you, the sounds of the police grow louder, the shouts and rustling foliage a testament to how close they are.

Heeseung pulls you close, his grip on your hand tightening as if he can tether you to safety through sheer will. The forest around you seems to close in, the trees now silent witnesses to your desperate situation. The sky overhead is a bright blue, mocking you with its serenity while chaos reigns on the ground.

“Maybe…maybe we can climb down,” Heeseung suggests, his voice strained, but even as he says it, he knows how impossible it sounds. The cliff face is almost vertical, with only the slightest hint of a path that could easily crumble underfoot.

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “There’s no way. We’ll fall.”

Heeseung looks back toward the forest, where the shadows of the police are closing in. Their voices are distinct now, every word a nail in the coffin of your dwindling hope. You can hear the commands faintly, the urgency in their tones as they coordinate their approach.

You move away from the cliff, looking up at your partner. “I’ll hand myself in.”

Heeseung almost chokes on his shock as he hears your words. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He isn’t one to swear at you, not unless he is truly riddled with dread or panic, the curse words slipping easily into his vocabulary due to the cloud in his brain. Sometimes, it is truly the only way to express himself.

“It should give you some time to run. The dock is like 10 minutes away from here, and the boat leaves in 20 minutes. If you run now-”

The words hang heavy in the air, each syllable echoing with the weight of impending separation. You can see the conflict raging behind Heeseung's eyes, the turmoil of wanting to protect you conflicting with the reality of their dire situation. He hesitates, his hands trembling as they cup your face, the touch both gentle and desperate.

“If you think for a second I’m leaving you behind, you’re delusional, Y/N.” His voice cracks, betraying the raw emotion coursing through him. “After everything you’ve done for me? I am not letting you face this alone.”

Your heart clenches at his words, at the fierce determination in his gaze. Tears well up in both your eyes as you stare at one another, each of your souls clinging to the love that is passing through you. There is a commitment between you that most married couples don’t even have; it’s an honour to be loyal and devoted to one another the way you have been.

“Heeseung, please,” you plead, your voice breaking under the weight of your decision. “If they catch us both, it’s over. At least one of us has to make it. You need to live a free life, not one behind bars.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightens, his resolve hardening even as his heart breaks. “No. We’re in this together, no matter what. I promised you, didn’t I? I promised I’d never leave you.”

His words pierce through the chaos around you, anchoring you in the reality of your love. You reach up, covering his hands with yours, feeling the warmth and strength that has always been there for you.

“Heeseung,” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and adoration. “You’ve been my everything since I’ve known you. You followed me through all of this and I couldn’t be more grateful. But I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me. Prison isn’t a place for you.”

“And I can’t bear the thought of living without you,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion. “We’ve fought so hard to stay together, to protect each other. I won’t let it end like this. I don’t care what we have to do, I won’t let them take you away from me.”

He knows deep down that if you both get caught, there is a chance he can escape this if the news last night is anything to go by. Jongseong is painting him in a firmly good light, he could get away with this, possibly make them see his side.

But what life could he live knowing that you’re rotting away in jail for a crime that was completely justified? He could fight your corner but people would just presume it was stockholm syndrome or something else ridiculous, never understanding that he chose this with you, even after you gave him a million chances to leave.

The sirens grow louder, the policemen’s voices are bellowing through the trees, and the urgency of the situation pressing down on you. But in this moment, it’s just the two of you, locked in a gaze that speaks of endless love and unbreakable bonds.

His mind races to find a way out of this for both of you, running isn’t exactly a viable option anymore, there is nowhere to run or even hide.

Nuzzling his nose against yours, tears cascade freely from your eyes, the salty liquid mixing with the dampness on his cheeks. This intimate gesture makes Heeseung's heart soar, feeling as though he's falling even deeper for you, if that were even possible. Every atom of his being belongs to you, and the two of you are acutely aware of this truth. Your souls are intertwined, embracing each other as you confront this dire predicament together.

He looks around, the desperation in his eyes mirroring your own. His hands slip from your face but remain in contact, fingertips grazing your skin, as if he's terrified that losing touch will cause you to vanish entirely. Heeseung glances at the precipice once again, a lump forming in his throat, his eyes blinking rapidly as the gravity of their situation becomes undeniable.

"We can't stay here," he murmurs, his voice trembling. The sound of sirens grows louder, the authorities closing in. Heeseung's gaze locks onto yours, a mixture of fear and determination in his eyes. "They'll catch us, and everything we've fought for will be for nothing. I can’t fucking lose you, baby. Not when I just got you."

As his words sink in, a valve of emotions opens up inside of you. Fear, desperation, and an overwhelming love for Heeseung intertwine, making it hard to breathe. You realise in that moment that you can't possibly live without him. The thought of being separated, of living without his presence in prison, is unbearable. He is your anchor, your solace, and the love that sustains you. You’ll crumble from the inside out if you’re not together, the codependency and attachment between you all too real.

Heeseung's fingers tighten around yours, his grip both reassuring and urgent. "There's only one way out," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He looks back at the cliff, the void below seeming both menacing and oddly inviting. "We jump."

The weight of his words hangs in the air, the enormity of the decision circling both of you. Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear of the unknown mingling with the trust you have in him. Heeseung's eyes search yours, seeking reassurance, hoping you'll understand.

“What? Are you crazy?” you ask nervously, looking at the large drop below you.

The wind howls around you, the cliff's edge crumbling slightly under the pressure of your feet. Heeseung cups your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that continue to fall. "Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice breaking with emotion.

"Yeah, I am, but it's the only way if we want to stay together," he repeats, his voice stronger this time. "If we jump, we have a chance. We'll be free, and no one will be able to separate us."

Of course, this is insantiy. You have known one another all but two weeks and suddenly you're both contemplating dying rather than being seperated by jail cells. So why is your heart beating in agreement?

Your breath shakes as you inhale, your head disagreeing. Not because you don’t trust him, but because you can't bear the thought of Heeseung not breathing at the end of this decision. You couldn’t care less about your own fate, but his life is too precious to waste.

"Heeseung," you whisper, your voice quivering. "I won't let you die. You're too important. The world needs people like you, soft and good." You hiccup a sob as your brain even contemplates the idea. "You’re so, so good, Heeseung."

Heeseung's eyes soften, pain and tenderness illuminating their depths. He presses his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own in a shared moment of intimacy. “This world isn’t worth living in without you. It doesn’t deserve good people after the cards it dealt us,” he whispers, his voice steady despite the fear that lingers in his eyes.

“I promise you, Y/N, I will find you in every lifetime.”

Those words shatter your heart into pieces. The sincerity in his gaze, the unwavering determination - it’s almost too much to bear. Tears ricochet down your cheeks faster now, mingling with the saltiness of his own.

"Heeseung," you choke out, your voice barely a whisper. "I don't want you to suffer. I can't stand the thought of losing you, even for a moment."

His hands move to cradle your head gently, petting your head, something you’ve come to love with each night spent with him. Often, he would do this to calm you down when you couldn’t sleep, even without asking.

"We won’t lose each other," he says firmly, his voice a lifeline in the storm of emotions. "Not now, not ever. We’ll find a way, no matter what. But right now, we have to take this chance. If not, we’ll never be together again.”

The love that has blossomed between you is so powerful that both of you would rather face death together than be separated. It’s a testament to your commitment, and though it may seem foolish to others, it’s the only choice that feels right. If the alternative is prison and a life without each other, then you would rather take your last breath in each other's arms.

“I never wanted this to happen to you,” you confess, sucking in your lip as you try to keep the last semblance of resolve strong inside of you.

Smiling sadly, Heeseung shakes his head. “Baby, I wouldn’t have this any other way. I found myself through all of this, I got to see the world and take chances, be someone who isn’t scared of literally living their life. You helped me with that, and I wouldn’t trade it for all the stars in the sky.”

You smile back at him, nodding. Your heart understands exactly what he means because watching Heeseung blossom into this confident and headstrong man, something he always wanted to be, is the highest reward both of you could take from this other than the love for each other. You have also grown in ways you never thought possible, letting your vulnerability shine through, and trusting someone with all your chest which would never have happened without him, without this experience.

If you’re going to die now, you’re happy with the person you have become.

Heeseung's grasp on your hands tightens, his eyes filled with ferocious purpose. "We'll jump," he adds, his tone firm and committed. "And whatever happens, I'll meet you on the other side."

Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear of the unknown mingling with the intense adoration you feel for him. Nodding, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the leap. Outstretching your pinky, you hold it to his chest. "Together?" you state, your voice a mixture of resolve and vulnerability.

Heeseung smiles a sad yet determined smile that speaks of a love too deep for words. He grasps your pinky with his, tears welling up in his eyes for the last time; tears of relief and happiness. “Together. Forever.”

He brings your joined fingers to his lips, kissing them gently, a gesture filled with all the love and tenderness he can muster. Stepping closer to the edge, he pulls you with him, his hand never leaving yours. The chasm below yawns wide and dark, dotted with trees and glistening lakes, but in this moment, the bottom holds no fear - only the promise of freedom.

“Heeseung?” your soft voice echoes into the vast horizon.

“Yeah?” he replies, his voice steady and calm.

“I love you, too.”

A tender smile graces his lips. You did hear him last night, his whispered confession reverberating through your dreams, his words and tender touches leaving an indelible mark on your heart.

Heeseung's eyes meet yours, the love and trust between you unbreakable. With a deep breath, you both move closer to the precipice, the ground beneath your feet seems to tremble with anticipation. The authoritative voices are louder now, the world behind you closing in, but none of that matters anymore.

"On three," he says softly, his voice a lifeline. "One... two..."

The final number hangs in the air, a heartbeat away. The world narrows to just the two of you, your hearts beating in unison. With a final, shared breath, you take the leap.

For a moment, everything is weightless. The wind roars past, the ground vanishes beneath your feet, and you are suspended between worlds. Heeseung's hand in yours is the only anchor, a touchstone in the freefall. You glance at him and he does the same, expressions mirroring one another as you face together the inevitable chilling bone crush. You’re happy, in love

And free.

You don’t think about your past with your brother or father, or the brothel, or the man you killed. And Heeseung doesn’t think about his family, or his exams, or the life he left behind. Both of you only think about the short-lived life you shared with one another.

As you plummet into the unknown, you hold onto the promise Heeseung made. No matter where this leap takes you, no matter what lies ahead, you will find each other. In this life, and in every lifetime to come. The vast expanse of the sky, the rush of the wind, and the unyielding grip of Heeseung's hand - this is your freedom, your eternity, your together.

taglist (closed): @yzzyhee @intromortal @zerobaseone-zhanghao @hooniehon @deobitifull @alvojake @sageryuri @slut4hee @binniesbabe @vveebee @minniejenseo @jebetwo @seunghancore @laurradoesloveu @yongbokified @jaehoonii @jaeyunluvr @melonvrs @criminalyun @enhastolemyheart @fakeuwus @flwrhoes @rayofsunshineeee @moonlighthoon @jaehyuniewifeu @en-ternals @haechonly @got-sunghooned @brownsugarbaybee @heeseungspookie @sunpov @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan

#enhypen smut #enha smut #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #aj writes #iavnam

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shonen-brainrot · 9 months

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Inmate!Dabi, who maneuvers through the intricate hierarchy of Tartarus, holds a position of both fear and respect.

Inmate!Dabi, who swiftly garners a notorious reputation among newcomers in prison, as word circulates with cautionary whispers, "Steer clear of that guy, you don't want to cross paths."

Inmate!Dabi, who becomes an exceptionally perilous figure, given his readiness to resort to violence. To find oneself a prisoner while becoming the object of his obsession would undeniably plunge one into an abyss of absolute hell.

Inmate!Dabi, who stands behind a plethora of poker games and shady activities, deftly manipulating both the incarcerated and the enforcers simultaneously. Thanks to this shrewd strategy, he collects favors, ensuring practically everyone is indebted to him in some fashion.

Inmate!Dabi, who consistently emerges unscathed from prison riots.

Inmate!Dabi, who has a penpal connection with you.

Inmate!Dabi, who becomes increasingly fixated on your correspondence, displays a subtle but undeniable obsession.

Inmate!Dabi, who, driven by a growing obsession, insists that you visit him in Tartarus.

Inmate!Dabi, who, having earned your trust through an extensive exchange of letters spanning half a year, achieves his goal when you finally inform him in one of your letters of securing permission to visit him.

Inmate!Dabi, who finds himself one day with handcuffs securing his hands, being escorted directly into the visiting area.

Inmate!Dabi, who, utilizing a substantial sum of money amassed from poker and other ventures, successfully bribes both guards escorting him. Upon entering the visiting area, they oblige by removing his handcuffs, leaving only the quirk blocker restraint secured around his ankle.

Inmate!Dabi, who waits patiently as other visitors leave the room, accompanied by fellow inmates who cast cold glances his way.

Inmate!Dabi, who is unable to tear his turquoise eyes away from your beautiful face and the contours of your body accentuated by the snug jeans and white shirt you wear.

Inmate!Dabi, who, with his voice carrying a low, persuasive tone, encourages you to come closer. "Don't be shy. There's nothing to be afraid of, doll," he smirks, his turquoise eyes locking onto yours.

Inmate!Dabi, who engages in casual chitchat with you, bluntly checking you out as you sit across the table. He smoothly asks questions, and you respond politely.

Inmate!Dabi, who, in a sudden move, leans forward and extends his hand, his long, calloused fingers gently brushing your cheek, eliciting a gasp as you notice the absence of handcuffs. "Don't worry, doll," he smirks, "I ain't gonna hurt ya, yeah?"

Inmate!Dabi, who informs you that he was on his best behavior, earning the privilege to go without cuffs, slyly admitting it was just to have the freedom to touch you. Another gasp escapes you, your cheeks flushing with a rosy hue, and you don't know why are you reacting that way.

Inmate!Dabi, who, as the visit comes to an end, rises from his seat and confidently seizes your wrist, pulling you closer to whisper in your ear, "I can tell you're into me, you wouldn't be here otherwise. No need to be shy about it, good girls like you always enjoy a little play with bad boys."

Inmate!Dabi, who forcefully presses his rugged lips against your soft ones, stifling a small moan that escapes your lips as his free hand firmly grasps your ass. squeezing it with intensity. "I'm already counting down the moments until your next visit, doll."

#ru writes 🍬#mha headcanons #mha angst #dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #mha dabi #dabi headcanons #dabi angst #bnha angst #my hero academia #dabi x y/n

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alvojake · 3 months

Text

The Murder House | Epilogue

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕/𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒐𝒏𝒆 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒘𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 | 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆

「synopsis」 : it's been a few weeks since you managed to escape from the murder house, but it's not quite over yet. your brother's trial was right around the corner and everything is brought back to the table. after he's found guilty and sent to prison you are determined to find out some answers, though you aren't sure if you'll like what he has to say....

「word count」 : 6.2k

「genre」 : horror/thriller, gore, angst, psychological thriller, mystery

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, petnames (my love, love...), kissing, court trial, sister complex, familial issues, mentions of abuse (mental & physical), obsessive behavior, threats, mentions of death, gaslighting, lmk if I missed anything!

It had been raining all morning long, the rain softly falling onto the ground, decorating the windows with small spatters. Leaving the air with that fresh rain smell. It was something that you normally loved, but now? Now, all the rain did was remind you of those you have lost. Reminding you of all of the pain and suffering that they had to endure. Reminding you that your brother indeed killed them and that this wasn’t some sick nightmare. Reminding you that this is very real and this is now your reality.

Yet you couldn’t help but stand by the window in your now bare apartment, watching as the rain poured heavily outside. Soaking anything it could touch. The sound of the raindrops hitting your window and roof was almost hypnotizing.

The once steaming mug of coffee in your hand was now room temperature, as it had been long since forgotten. Your eyes fixed on nothing in particular besides the falling water droplets, watching as they crashed onto the surface of the window pane.

You weren’t sure how long you had been staring out the window, maybe five minutes, an hour, a few hours. Your sense of time had vanished, far too lost in your own mind to really know nor care. At least not right now.

“Hey, do you have everything together?” Jay’s sudden voice in the quiet space nearly caused your heart to lurch into your throat, the coffee mug almost slipping from your fingers as you looked over at him with wide eyes. Your heart races underneath your rib cage, almost loud enough to deafen you for a few moments. Noticing your distress, Jay stops in his tracks, an apologetic look painting his features, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” You whispered softly, setting down the cold coffee on one of the few tables that didn’t have anything sitting on top of its surface. Your eyes then travel around the empty living room, looking at all of your boxed-up belongings, the furniture holding these boxes. It felt… strange.

You had so many plans for this place, all the game nights you and the boys would do or the parties you would throw for one of their birthdays. All of those plans were left to dogs now. The only thing this place harbors now is guilt and longing.

Guilty that you couldn’t save them. Guilty that you didn’t catch onto your brother or Jake’s strange behavior before it got too late. Guilty that you got to live while they were buried six feet in the ground.

“Hey, I see that look,” Jay’s voice pulled you out of your head once more, causing you to look up at him as he walked over, “stop blaming yourself, y/n; none of this is your fault.” His voice was soft, his hand moving to cup your cheeks softly.

“But-”

He didn’t even let you get another word out as he pressed his lips against yours, silencing any other protest that was to fall from them. His fingertips press against your jaw to angle your head a little bit better.

After a few moments, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, “There is no ‘buts’ y/n. None of this is your fault, and I know the guys would agree with me.”

Curing your lips inward, you nod softly, prompting Jay to move back to grab your abandoned coffee cup. Your eyes glance around the room once again, a pain twisting in your heart.

“This feels so… wrong.” Your voice was low, not really speaking to anyone in particular, more so just voicing your thoughts. Jay dumps the coffee out in the sink before raising it out and setting it to the side.

Walking back into the living room, he finds you looking at a photograph, your eyes glassy as if you were about to cry. Walking over, he wraps his arm around your smaller frame, looking down at the photo as well.

It was one from when all of you went camping a while back, sitting around the fire. You had managed to ask another camper if they would be kind enough to snap a few photos for you, and the nice lady was more than happy to oblige.

Your thumb brushes over your brother, who is sitting on the far side next to Sunoo, a huge smile adorning his features. It left you wondering where things had gone wrong or if it was just an act from the beginning.

“Riki’s trial is in three days,” You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized that you had been holding, “this will be the first time I’ve seen him since the house…” Tears involuntarily filled your eyes, and your heart felt as if it was ripping more and more as thoughts of seeing your baby brother up on that stand.

“I’ll be right there with you every step of the way, my love.” Jay pressed a kiss to the side of your head, his hand rubbing up and down your arm soothingly.

Licking your lips, you inhaled deeply before setting the picture back into the box you had pulled it out of. Closing it once more, you then swallowed thickly, turning towards Jay, who was still looking at you.

“How’s Jungwon?” You asked, resulting in Jay letting out a soft sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

“He’s still not awake, but he’s healing great, so the doctors think he’ll wake up soon,” Jay explained, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

Jungwon had fallen into a coma shortly after getting to the hospital. The doctors had told the two of you that they should be happy that it was just a coma because, after all of the trauma that his body and mind had endured, they were surprised that he even survived the surgery.

You release your hair from the claw clip that was holding it up, running your fingers through the locks before clipping it up once more. Looking over at the window you saw that the rain had stopped, the sun peeking through the clouds.

“When is the moving truck supposed to be here?” You asked, looking back over at Jay, who had just pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“They said within the next few minutes, let’s start moving the smaller stuff down.” He relayed the information that he had been given before pocketing his phone to look up at you.

You nodded your head before grabbing a box and following Jay down to the bottom floor of the apartment complex.

After all of the boxes were piled into the moving truck, you moved away, allowing Jay to pull the shutter door close. You turn back to the building once more, looking up only to catch a glimpse of Heeseung’s apartment window.

Tears pooled along your waterline as you saw the small stickers that were still on the window pane. The very stickers that you had put on there yourself as a joke because you said his living room needed more color.

You had fully expected him to go and scrape them off the moment that you had left the apartment, but they were there the next time you came over and the next, and the next, until you realized that he had no plans of removing them.

Jay thanked the truck drivers and promised to meet them at the new apartment before turning to tell you that everything was ready to go. However, he stopped short when he noticed the tears that slowly rolling down your cheeks.

Walking over with quick steps, he wraps his arms around your body, pulling you into his chest as sobs tore through your throat. Jay bit his tongue as he listened to your cries, knowing that your tears were soaking his shirt. He wanted nothing more than to help make you feel better, but he knew that it wasn’t going to be easy.

It was never going to be easy. You both had witnessed your friends dying in front of you in the most traumatic way possible. That doesn't just go away, not that was something that is bound to haunt your sleepless nights for years to come. No amount of therapy was going to make that better, maybe help manage it, but that doesn't make it easy.

It wouldn't bring your friends back.

“I miss them so much, Jay.” You cried out as your fingers balled the fabric of his shirt into the palm of your hands.

Jay’s arms tighten around your body as he inhales deeply, trying his best to keep his own tears at bay. Then, leaning down to press his lips against the crown of your head, his eyes closed.

“I know. I miss them too.” He whispered against your hair, his eyebrows furrowed as the faces of your lost friends flashed across his mind.

After a few long moments, your tears finally ran dry once more, leaving your eyes stinging and cheeks flushed red. Pulling away from Jay’s body, you reached up to wipe the leftover tears that stuck to your cheeks and eyelashes.

Letting out a shaky breath, you looked up at Jay, who was looking at you with such a soft and pitiful look that it only made the urge to cry again ten times stronger. However, you refused to cry anymore, so swallowing down the tears, you opened your mouth, your bottom lip trembling as you spoke.

“I just wanna know why, Jay.” You spoke slowly, scared that if you spoke any louder that the tears would start running again. “I need to know why so they can rest peacefully. I need to know the reason he did it.”

Jay nodded his head, agreeing with you as he trailed his hands from your arms to your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours. Bringing your hand up to his lips he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your knuckles.

“We’ll get our answers soon; we just have to wait a little bit longer.” He promised, thumb rubbing over your knuckles as he dropped your interlocked hands to his side. It was then that he started to feel the first few drops of rain on his face. Looking up, he saw that the sky had grown cloudy once more, meaning that it was going to start storming again. “Let’s get out of here before it starts pouring.”

He tugged on your hand, pulling you towards his car and opening the door for you. Climbing inside you snap the seatbelt over your body before watching as Jay rushed around the car to jump into the driver's seat.

The rain started to pour as soon as he shut his door, obscuring your view outside of any window around you.

Jay then started the car before pulling out of the parking lot, making your journey to the new apartment one filled with soft music and loving touches to help keep your mind from wandering too far.

This was your new life. You didn’t like it, but you didn’t have much of a choice. However, you were thankful to have Jay by your side through everything.

When the day for the trial came around your nerves were standing on end. However, you didn’t know the impact that seeing your brother walk into the room in cuffs, a dark and cold look adorning his face, would have on you.

Your mind went reeling when he took the witness stand, and his eyes found yours easily. A small, barely noticeable smirk pulled on the corner of his lips. The small action causes the room to erupt in a flurry of hushed whispers.

Jay squeezed your hand as your leg started to bounce slightly. The feeling of eyes on you only added to your anxiety, knowing that they were talking about you. Whether it was good or bad things, you weren’t sure, nor did you really want to know.

“Silence in the courtroom.” The judge took their spot, and the trial had started.

You intertwined your finger in your lap as you tried your best to watch and listen as they questioned Riki.

His expressions shake you to your core. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else but this courtroom. Looked so unbothered with everything and most of all. He looked like a completely different person.

There was no way that the man sitting on the witness stand right now was the very man that you called your brother.

Biting your lip, you continued to watch as they pulled up the evidence and further questioned Riki, but he barely said a word to anyone. His eyes only flickering to them as they asked a question that he deemed stupid, other than that his eyes were on you. Leaving you sitting uncomfortably in your seat, trying everything in your absolute power to not meet his burning gaze.

Then, there was a question asked that made your breath hitch in your throat, and your hands started to shake tremendously.

“Did you or did you not kill Lee Heeseung, Kim Sunoo, Park Sunghoon, and Sim Jaeyun?” She asked as she walked in front of the jury stand, looking over at Riki, who had torn his gaze away from you to look at her with a blank expression.

Riki’s lawyer sat off to the side quietly, believing that he had talked to Riki well enough for him to keep his mouth shut; however, as soon as the boy opened his mouth, he felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

“I did.” He shrugged, expression completely unbothered, “and I’d do it again.”

His words result in a few gasps around the room, as well as hushed whispers once more. Your ears start to ring, drawing out the noise around you as your eyes focus on Riki and Riki alone. He tilts his head in mock surprise when he realizes that everyone is looking at him like he is insane.

Riki then looks back over at you, meeting your gaze with a very sinister gleam in his eyes. Then he lets out a smile that matches that same gleam, causing your heart to lurch into your throat. Suddenly, everything in the room started to feel overwhelming, and it felt as if you were going to pass out if you stayed in the room any longer.

So you leave, jumping out of your seat, resulting in a few turned heads as you rush out of the room. Not sparing a glance at anyone as you tear the door open and run out, your heart beating viciously under your ribcage, and heat rushes up your neck, painting your face a deep shade of red.

Jay watches as you rush out of the room, contemplating on going after you. However, he didn’t want to miss Riki’s sentencing for you either. The detective that was sitting in front of you and Jay noticed Jay’s hesitation and turned to look at him.

“Go after her. I’ll come and let the two of you know the sentencing afterward.” He reassured the younger boy, who just looked at him with thankful eyes before standing to his feet.

He moved towards the courtroom doors, but he caught Riki’s gaze moments before reaching for the door handle. The look was one of pure, unfiltered hatred as he glared at the silver-haired male.

A chill ran down Jay’s spine as he turned away and walked out of the room to go and find you. He tried his best to ignore that glare that painted Riki’s features, one that told Jay that if he was given the chance, he would finish what he had started in the house months ago. That gaze, though, was now burned into his brain.

It felt like an eternity before the courtroom doors opened, and the detective walked out, looking around the hallway before seeing you and Jay sitting on a bench not too far away. Jay looks up to meet the detective's eyes, his hand still resting on the small of your back. Your head stayed down, face buried in the palm of your hands.

The detective walks over to the two of you, stopping just a few feet away, not wanting to invade any kind of personal space. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he contemplated how to relay the information he had just gained from the previous room.

He then cleared his throat, causing you to glance up at him with tear streaks running down your flushed cheeks. It was a look that he had seen multiple times before in his life, but he couldn’t help but feel bad for you.

“Your brother pleaded guilty,” He relayed that information, and an audible gasp fell from your lips, fresh tears building in your eyes, “he was sentenced to life with no chance of parole or bail.”

A choked sob broke through your lips, your fingers tightening on Jay’s sweater sleeve as you took in the information that was just given to you. You knew this was coming. Knew that the chances of him getting life in prison were high, but you couldn’t help but still feel guilty.

Maybe if you had paid just a little bit more attention to him and his behaviors then maybe all of this could have been avoided. Maybe if you were able to catch on to the way he and Jake had been acting, then maybe you could have stopped it before it went too far.

You hadn’t even realized that you were picking at the skin around your nails until Jay reached over and grabbed your hand, stopping the assault on your fingers. Looking over at him with teary eyes, he just offered a small, sad smile before looking back at the detective.

Inhaling deeply, you also moved your gaze to look at the detective as well, “When will I be able to see him?”

“They are probably going to have him held until all of the paperwork is done,” He started, and you listened; your bottom lips got trapped between your teeth, “once the paperwork is done, they’ll transfer him to the prison facility, and you should be able to see him shortly after that.”

Nodding softly, you wiped the tears off of your face and sniffed, “Thank you, Detective Choi.”

“No problem, kid,” He then pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen before looking back at the two of you once more, “I have to go, but take care of yourselves.” Then, without another word, he walked away, leaving both you and Jay to sit in silence.

Jay squeezed your hand, which was still connected to his, gaining your attention once more. " Did you want to go and visit Jungwon before visiting hours ended?”

Your eyes flickered over to the digital clock that hung on the wall across the hall, seeing that you only had a few hours before they ended. It had been a few weeks since you’d seen the boy. Maybe you were too scared to see his almost lifeless form. Or maybe you were just scared that it would be the last time that you saw him.

“He’s okay, y/n; you don’t have to worry so much.” Jay’s voice was soothing, pulling you out of your head once again.

Swallowing thickly, you nodded your head, wiping more of the tears from your face. There would be a time when you would have to go and see him, and what better time than now?

“Yeah, let’s go see him.” Your voice was shaky and unsure, but you stood to your feet, pulling Jay up with you regardless. Then, the two of you made your way out of the courthouse and back to Jay’s car.

Walking into the hospital to check in you both were left feeling a little uneasy when the nurse smiled a little too brightly when you told her who you were visiting. She had told the two of you that you could just head on up to Jungwon’s room.

“I wonder what all of that was about…” You spoke out loud as you walked next to Jay, your pinky linked to his. Jay hummed softly, telling you that he wasn’t too sure either, before stopping in front of Jungwon’s hospital room door.

Jay tried his best to keep the smile that was threatening to spread on his lips as he released your hand to place it on your back, urging you to open the door. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked over at him, confused by his actions.

“Why are you acting so weird?” You squinted at him, but your hand wrapped around the door knob nonetheless.

Pushing the door open, you walked into the room, hesitantly scared to see Jungwon lying on that bed, unresponsive. However, walking into the room you were met with a sight that you never prepared yourself for.

Your eyes blew wide open when they landed on Jungwon. There he was, sitting up in the bed, a pudding cup in one hand while a white plastic spoon hung from his lips. The sound of the door opening caught his attention, causing him to look over at you, and as soon as his eyes met yours, a wide smile broke out on his face, his dimples on show.

“Oh, my god.” Tears pooled in your eyes once again, your head swiveling around to look at Jay, who just gave you a smile similar to Jungwon’s. Turning back to Jungwon, your feet move before your mind can register it.

Walking over, you reach out to the boy, who sets his pudding cup down to encase your body in a hug as you practically fall into his arms. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you held his body close to yours, thanking anything and everything that he was okay and that he was awake. Pulling away, you grabbed his face in your hands, squeezing his cheeks slightly as you checked him over for injuries despite being in a coma in the hospital for the last month.

“When?” Your voice cracked as you released his face, looking over your shoulder at Jay, who had just walked into the room. He walked over to join you and Jungwon, sitting in the chair that was next to the bed, his hand resting on your thigh.

“This morning.” Jay chuckled as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He wanted it to be a surprise for after the trial.” Jungwon cut in, causing your head to snap over in his direction.

You were happy, beyond happy, that he was okay, but you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that they had kept it from you until now. However, you weren’t going to let it weigh down on you for long. You wanted to spend time with your friend now that you knew for sure that he was okay.

“How much longer are they going to keep you here?” You asked as you made yourself comfortable on the end of Jungwon’s bed, giving him enough space to be comfortable. Fingers playing with the fabric of the blanket that was folded by his feet.

“They said they wanted to keep me for a few more days for observation, seeing that the knife wound is pretty much healed,” Jungwon explained as he grabbed his pudding cup once more, scooping a good amount on his spoon before sticking it in his mouth. “Also, how did the trial go?”

You inhaled sharply at the question, reliving the events and emotions all over again, but you knew that he deserved to know everything just as much as you or Jay. So you shift in your spot a bit before explaining everything that had happened in the courtroom.

Jungwon then sat there in silence for a few moments, taking in all of the information as he ate the pudding slowly. He then looked back at you, tilting his head slightly and pulling the spoon from his mouth.

“Are you going to go see him?” He asked, almost unsure if he wanted to know the answer or not.

Your tongue jutted out to wet your lips before nodding slightly, “Yeah, I… we need the answers.” You explained, causing Jungwon to nod. He knew you were right, that you all had questions that you wanted, no needed answers to.

“Just be careful; he could try playing his mind games again.” He looked at you with a worried gaze, worried that your brother could sway you into believing that what he did was right. You just gave him a small smile and patted his leg that was closest to you, reassuring him that you would be. He swallowed down the last of the pudding before setting the empty cup to the side and letting his hands fall into his lap, “well, now you guys have to catch me up on your lives.”

And that’s how the three of you started to talk about your lives after getting out of that haunting house.

After about two and a half weeks, they finally gave you the clearance to see your brother at the prison he had been transferred to. So now you and Jay sat in his car in the parking lot as you tried to gather all of your bearings to face your brother once more. Jay had his hand on your thigh right above your knee, his thumb rubbing your skin soothingly.

“Don’t stress too much, love; he won’t be able to do anything to you.” Jay’s voice was soft, and you nodded slowly, “Plus, I’ll be right outside, waiting for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you, Jay.” You whispered before looking down at the time, seeing that it was almost time to go. So, taking a deep breath, you gather yourself before getting out of the vehicle with Jay and making your way toward the prison doors.

After getting through security, you found yourself sitting in front of the glass divider, waiting for them to bring your brother in. Your leg was bouncing against the palm of your hand, the clapping sound being the only thing heard besides the faint ticking of the clock on the wall behind you.

The loud buzzer nearly made you fall out of your seat, your head snapping up to watch as the door opened. Your ears rang as Riki walked through the doors, his hands cuffed in front of him. His eyes found yours almost far too easy as he took his seat in front of you.

The officer had said a few words, but they weren’t heard over the ringing in your ears. He then walked back out the door he had come in from, leaving both you and Riki to sit in silence.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m surprised you even came.” His voice held a teasing tone, almost as if he were mocking you, “figured you’d be too scared to see me.” Your eyes snapped up to meet his, your heart dropping as soon as you did.

It was then that you realized that the man sitting in front of you was no longer your brother but rather just someone who had done a horrible thing. A thing that you wanted to get answers to.

“Why did you do it, Riki?” Your voice shook as you shifted in your seat, standing a little bit straighter, deciding that showing any kind of fear would only hinder your ability to get those answers you were seeking.

Riki’s head tilted slightly, a smirk tugging on his lips, “Why wouldn't I do it?”

Irritation started to bubble in your chest, the fear and anxiety you once felt now vanishing.

“Now is not the time to play coy, Riki. Why did you do it?” Your voice came out more stable, causing the male to straighten his head, his eyes narrowed into slits realizing that he no longer had you scared.

“You wanna know why I did it?” His voice turned dark, sending a chill down your spine, “Well, sis… you better listen closely.” There was an underlying tone in his voice that left you feeling uneasy, but you were going to stand strong. “Why don’t we start from the beginning, huh? Remember that promise you made me whenever we finally got out of Mom and Dad’s house?”

You did. You remembered that promise like it was the very day you had made it. That day was rainy. Both of you were soaked head to toe as you sat inside your car in an empty parking lot miles away from your parents' house. The heat was blasting through the vents in the hope of warming you and drying your drenched clothes. It was silent between you, neither of you knowing what to say.

“Are we really safe?” Riki asked, causing you to look over at him, your eyes softening as you took in the fear that was on his face.

You reached over the center console taking his hand into yours, encasing his fingers with your own. A small smile on your lips as you managed to lull him into looking over at you.

“I promise you, bub, that we are safe; we don’t have to worry about them anymore.” You started, your heart racing under your ribcage. “It’s me and you now. It’ll always be me and you.”

At that time, you hadn’t expected him to take that promise so seriously; you had made that promise knowing that the two of you would meet new people and eventually move on with your lives. Had he really thought that the two of you would be together until the end?

You looked up at him, your eyebrows furrowed, showcasing your inner turmoil.

“You broke that promise, y/n.”

“I did no-”

“You did,” He growled harshly, causing you to jump in your seat, “you were going to leave me for one of those douchebags. You were going to abandon me for what? Some stupid fleeting love that’s not gonna last?”

Your eyes went wide as he started to get aggressive, your hands shaking.

“Riki, I wasn’t going to abandon you.” You tried your best to keep your voice steady, “We’re getting older; we’re going to have our own lives. You couldn’t rely on me forever.”

Riki scoffs, anger flashing in his eyes, “So you were abandoning me?” You opened your mouth to protest, but he was quick to cut you off once more, “That’s why I needed to get rid of them all; only then would you realize that I was the only one you needed. The only one worthy enough to spend the rest of our lives together.” Hearing those words fall from his lips that you realize that something was immensely wrong, “I was almost there too, but then you had to go and try to be the hero.” He hissed, eyes boring into you with such a heated gaze that left your skin crawling.

“Riki-”

“No, because I went through all of that trouble just for everything to get fucked up.” His fingers curled into a fist before suddenly, his whole demeanor relaxed. The glare falling away leaving behind a smile that made your stomach turn, bile crept up your throat as the next few words fell from his lips. “But I’ll get to try again in the future, and this time…” He leaned forward until his face was merely inches away from the glass, “I won’t fail.”

You felt extremely lightheaded as you realized the weight of his words. The worst part of it all is you knew he wasn’t just playing a mind game; you knew that he would actually follow through with his word. Inhaling deeply, you reminded yourself that he was going to be locked away for a long, long time, and you would be just fine.

“You’re not getting out any time soon, Riki; what you did was wrong, and I will never forgive you for it.” You spoke lowly, scared that your voice would crack if you talked any higher.

Riki laughed sarcastically, leaning back in his seat once more, “I’ve done a lot of things; wiggling my way out of here won’t be much different.” His voice was cold, and he sounded so sure of himself that you had almost believed it, save for the fact that he had just outed himself.

“Times up Nishimura!” The officer exclaimed as he opened the door, the buzzer making you jump slightly.

Riki fought against his hold as he pulled him from the chair. " Let go of me!” he shouted, yanking his arm out of their hold. His eyes found yours once more. " Don’t worry, sis. I’ll be back for you, and then we can truly be happy together, just like you promised.”

Then, with that, they pulled him out of the room, and you were left in silence, only your thoughts keeping you company. You didn’t want to think about his words too much, knowing that he had a track record for playing mind games.

Another buzzer was heard, pulling you out of your own mind. An officer stood in the doorway not too far from you.

“It’s time to go, miss.” He spoke respectfully as he waited for you to gather your baring before standing on shaky legs.

You thanked him before walking out of the room and making your way towards the entrance, where you found Jay sitting, playing some game on his phone while he waited. Hearing the sound of your footsteps, he looked up, offering you a small smile, but it quickly vanished as he took in the troubled look on your face.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asked, standing to his feet and reaching out to grab your arm.

Looking up at him, you swallowed thickly and ran your fingers through your hair. " Um, can we just go? I’ll explain everything when we get home.”

Confused, he just nodded before leading the both of you out of the facility and back to his car. He had tried to ask you anything to get you to talk, even if it was about something dumb, but you didn’t utter a single word on the way home, your mind far too occupied.

You couldn’t help but wonder how true your brother's words were. Would he really be able to get out of there and go after you and your friends once more? Or was it just some hoax to get you all worked up and scared? It was a question that only time could tell, even if you truly hoped that it was all just words and that he was all bark and no bite. However, you couldn’t shake the bad feeling that filled your gut.

Months later, everything seemed to be going better. You and Jay were happy, and Jungwon was fully recovered and could get back to his daily life. The only difference was that the three of you made it a weekly thing to visit your friends' graves.

So that’s where the three of you were now, stepping out of Jay’s car to take in the breezy spring winds. You close your eyes and just let it wash over you, leaving a sense of serenity to fill your mind.

“Don’t forget the flowers in the back, Won.” Jay reminded the younger boy as he exited the vehicle, pocketing the keys before walking over to you just as you opened your eyes.

“Got 'em.” Jungwon held the small bouquet of flowers in his arms until you walked over and took a few from him, and he thanked you.

“Come on, it’s supposed to rain here soon.” You told the two boys before turning and making your way towards your friends’ graves.

The three of you chatted peacefully on the way there. However, noticing someone standing at the graves caused you to stop in your tracks. They were wearing all black, and their hood was pulled over their heads, so you couldn’t see any other features.

“Do you know who that is?” You asked Jay as all three of you watched the person walk away, their hands stuffed in their jacket pockets.

“Maybe a family member?” Jungwon asked, although his expression showed that he didn’t fully believe his words himself.

Trying to shake it off, you just moved towards the graves once more, the two boys following behind you. You spent a few good minutes making sure that all of the headstones were clean and pretty as you sat the flowers down. However, during all of this, and even as the three of you were leaving, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. You had even thought you saw that same person out of the corner of your eyes, but when you went to look, you didn’t see anyone there.

‘I’m just paranoid, there’s no one here.’

And that’s what you continued to tell yourself despite the churning gut feeling that something just wasn’t right. You knew that your brother was locked away, and you could finally live your life in peace once more.

You were safe.

Right?

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year

Text

MINHO

MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS IN GREEN

○ FLUFF | □ SPICE | ● ANGST | ■ SMUT |• HEADCANONS

◇ FEM! READER | ☆ GN! READER | 《》 MASC! READER

□ LONGING FROM AFAR ◇

↳ Minho has always been cocky and self-assured. That is until a girl arrives in the Glade. A girl he's had some interesting dreams about.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

• SOME HEADCANONS ◇

↳ Just some headcanons about our favourite Runner.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ FIRECRACKER ◇

↳ Minho finally agrees to teach you how to fight after weeks of pestering him. Though, things take an unexpected turn.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

○ SAFE PLACE ◇

↳ After you narrowly escape the vicious actions of another Glader who couldn't take no for an answer, you find refuge in Minho's hut - and his arms.

Contains references to sexual assault but there's nothing explicit.

○ UNDER THE INFLUENCE ◇

↳ After the Greenie Day celebrations leave you a little bit intoxicated, Minho takes care of you and keeps you safe.

○ HIDE AND SEEK ◇

↳ You're training to be a Runner and, as the Keeper, Minho is made to look after you. Though, things take a dramatic turn as Minho is forced to save your life.

LET ME MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER ◇ ➤

□ PART 1 | ■ PART 2

↳ Somehow, you end up giving your best friend a massage. Things go about as well as expected.

Basically porn with plot. 18+

□ INAPPROPRIATE WORKPLACE BEHAVIOUR ◇

↳ You miss out on the Bonfire to stay to help Minho with the Maps. Unfortunately, he's a little distracted.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ AFTER THE CALM ◇

↳ Joining the group from the scorch, the Gladers take a blow after losing Newt to the Crank Palace. So, you help cheer Minho up.

Book-based fic. Contains suggestive content and spice.

■ REWARD AFTER A HARD DAY'S WORK ◇

↳ You try to spend as much time with your boyfriend as you can. So, when he finishes his long day of running the Maze, you decide to join him in the shower.

More porn with very little plot. 18+

□ BEYOND THE OTHER SIDE ◇

↳ Despite your feelings for one another, you and Minho have decided it's best to stay friends. But, after you nearly lose him to the clutches of the Maze, and he says some choice words to Gally - you decide enough is enough.

Book based fic. Some suggestive themes.

● ALL YOU HAVE ◇

↳ Minho has always had you by his side. He doesn't know how he'd cope without you. Well, now he might have to learn how.

Bro, you die. Rip.

WARMTH IN COLD PLACES ◇ ➤

○ PART 1 | □ PART 2

↳ You are an undercover agent for The Right Arm working behind enemy lines in WCKD's headquarters. Your simple intel gig ends up being the least of your problems as you're suddenly put on the front lines of a rescue mission. It doesn't help that the boy you're pretending to keep prisoner is pretty cute.

□ BEHAVE ◇

↳ You're obsessed with your boyfriend. It's just so hard to keep your hands off of him - even when he's working.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ MIRAGE OF THE PAST ◇

↳ Despite never seeing Minho before, you swear you recognise him. That's why you're always staring. Well, and the man is fine. Now in your place of refuge, the Safe Haven provides you with a home, and a new sense of freedom. A bit of flirting can't hurt, right?

Contains suggestive content and spice.

○ IT TAKES TIME ◇

↳ You were immediately attracted to Minho when you met him in the Scorch. Now, after six months and many losses, you're reunited.

○ STAY CLOSE 《》

↳ Your dream of becoming a Runner is crushed time and time again. But that doesn't stop you from running out into the Maze to help Minho and Alby. Though, that doesn't mean you're the only one willing to risk your life to protect those you care about.

□ FRIENDLY COMPETITION ◇

↳ A friendly game of capture the flag turns heated thanks to yours and Minho's competitive spirit.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

○ SOFT AT HEART ◇

↳ Soft, sweet and caring; you're the mother of the Glade.

■ FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING ◇

↳ Your's and Minho's first time.

Some fluffy smut. 18+.

○ BLIND EYE ◇

↳ Minho has a crush on you. You're oblivious. He's losing his mind.

○ DECEPTION IN LIBERATION ◇

↳ You're from Group B. Meeting someone in the middle of a prison break is one hell of an introduction.

□ HIGH SCHOOL NOT-SO-SWEET-HEARTS ◇

↳ High school AU. Minho is popular and sporty. You're quiet and smart. It's a stereotypical high-school romance, except Minho is the one tripping over himself for you. And, well, you don't believe him.

Contains suggestive content and spice. Minho won't accept your rejection.

○ HOW TO WINGMAN (POORLY) ☆

↳ Everyone in the Glade is sick of watching you and Minho dance around your feelings for each other. So, they decide to do something about it. Well, they attempt to, at least.

○ DIE FOR YOU ☆

↳ Song fic based off of "Die for You" by The Weekend.

ON YOUR OWN ◇ ➤

○ PART 1 | ○ PART 2 | ○ PART 3

↳ You were put in a Maze all on your own, with nothing but your dog. The isolation is one thing, but what'll happen when you finally escape?

○ SOLIDARITY ◇

↳ Minho is used to being the tough guy; but he doesn't know how to react when he meets someone tougher than him.

○ LIFE BEFORE DROWNING ◇

↳ You're from one of the many alternative Mazes - and yours happened to be full of water. Though, you only realise how weird your Maze was when you reach the Safe Haven, and meet a certain Runner, who feels weirdly familiar.

○ SAVIOR COMPLEX ◇

↳ You're a new Runner, and a disobedient one. So, when you get stung, Minho is left to play saviour. And doctor. Though, as he looks after you, he starts to think you might not be so bad.

○ IN ADVANCE OF GREIF ◇

↳ Getting bitten by a crank is never fun. But, you're from a Maze, so, you'll be fine... right?

□ EXPOSURE ◇

↳ In an attempt to comfort Chuck, you confess an embarrassing secret about something you did back when you were crushing on Minho and before you started dating. Unfortunately, your boyfriend isn't as heavy of a sleeper as you originally thought.

Contains mild suggestive content and spice.

□ SPARKS ◇

↳ Now in the Safe Haven, the sexual tension between you and Minho has turned into a twisted game of restraint. Though, it's hard not to break when you finally catch a glimpse of Minho's lightning scars.

Contains suggestive themes and spice.

□ BEST FEATURE ☆

↳ You can't stop staring at Minho's arms.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

• INDOCTRINATION ☆

↳ The first time you ever met Minho in the WICKED facility, and the corrupt childhood you briefly spent together before things take a wrong turn.

#🌿 petri's masterlist #tmr fanfiction #tmr imagines #tmr minho #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #minho maze runner #minho tmr x reader #the maze runner

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subbyp · 4 months

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hades modern au wherein hades quits/takes early retirement from his job as a prison warden (his participation in the carceral system being one of the many factors that nearly destroyed his still-teetering marriage) and opens an escape room business with the gimmick of absolute ball-busting punitive difficulty

he then recruits his twentysomething son, who has been half-dragging his feet/half-honestly fucking up the criminology degree that hades insists on paying for, to be the head tester.

this is a job that zagreus would actually enjoy except that for some deranged reason known only to himself hades’ other pick for senior tester is zagreus’ childhood best friend, than, who has been pissed off at zagreus for going on five years now for reasons he does not feel obligated to directly explain. also, because you can’t spell “nepotism” without “several direct kicks to the figurative testicles”, the senior game master is zagreus’ ex-girlfriend.

meanwhile than’s brother, the receptionist (who answers the phone “Tartarus Puzzle Rooms, there is no escape, how can I help you?”), likes to watch the security camera so he can cheerfully taunt anyone who loses.

the custodian has an emotional support snake.

security consists of a heavily decorated war hero who spends most of his time standing in front of a closet trying not to have a flashback.

the guy who was ostensibly hired to do aesthetic design—music, prop-building, etc—refuses to work because he misses his ex-wife too much (and anyway his best work was always done with her collaboration, without her really he can’t do anything worthwhile, so why bother? the real question is why hades keeps signing this guy’s paychecks).

zagreus’ insane relatives (his uncle the governor; his other uncle the celebrity oceanographer; his large group of colorful cousins including but not limited to the historian/Go champion, the iron-livered party-boy philosopher, the Olympic archer/survivalist, the frightening violent weirdo, the agelessly hot actress who he’s pretty sure is hitting on him, and the guy with 10000 jobs) keep dropping by.

one of the other employees is a guy who used to be one of hades’ inmates. he has a pet rock—which he talks to—and he’s probably the nicest, sanest guy on staff.

one of the recurring parties is this ultra-rich pro athlete dipshit who seems to think it is his personal god-given duty to beat zagreus’s time in every room. he brings along his personal assistant/bodyguard most visits. the PA is significantly better at the puzzles than his boss is.

#hades game #hades supergiant #ill come up with other things for this as I progress through the game I’m sure

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jaystardust · 4 months

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‎ ☆ 🖇️ 𖥻 ˚.ᵎ UNVEIL

Pairing: Park Jay x reader

Genre: bad boy, strangers to lovers, angst, blackmailing, suggestive, kind of Gossip Girl universe themed, apparition of Yeonjun (txt)

Warnings: blackmailing, making out, angst, betrayal (tell me if I forget something)

Summary: Enigma, Hybe High's anonymous gossip queen, finds her carefully crafted world threatened by the arrival of Park Jay, a rebellious kind of bad boy. a web of blackmail and stolen glances leads them down a thrilling path of forbidden desire, risking Enigma's online persona and a chance at real love.

Word count: 6.5K

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The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and Prada perfume mingled in the air, a potent signature of your mornings at Hybe High. You weren't royalty, but reputation was everything at this elite private school, and yours was meticulously crafted.

You were Enigma, the mastermind behind the anonymous blog, Unveil. A digital oracle dispensing juicy gossip about the student body with a scathing wit that left its targets squirming.

This year, however, the tea had gone cold. The usual suspects – the president's son's gambling problem, the head cheerleader's secret nose job – held no allure. You craved a real scandal, something to reignite the blog's fire and solidify your position as the school's unseen puppeteer.

Then came Park Jay, the new transfer student who arrived shrouded in a veil of mystery. He wasn't your typical Hybe High royalty. Clad in a worn leather jacket and ripped jeans, his indifference to the school's social hierarchy was as refreshing as it was infuriating.

However, digging up dirt on Jay proved impossible. He was a ghost, his past shrouded in mystery as thick as the expensive perfume that clung to you. Frustration gnawed at you, a familiar itch that Unveil usually scratched. But this time, it was different. This time, the frustration was laced with a strange fascination for the boy who didn't seem to care about the social games everyone else played.

One gloomy afternoon, as you hunched over your laptop in the library, a shadow fell over your screen. You looked up to find Jay, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Enigma, I presume?" His voice was a low rumble, sending shivers down your spine.

Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. How? How did he know? You scrambled to mask your surprise, forcing a nonchalant shrug.

"And who might you be, Sherlock Holmes?" you retorted, trying to sound flippant.

"Just someone who appreciates a good secret," he said, his gaze unwavering. "And who wouldn't want to leverage it?"

The blood drained from your face. Leverage? This couldn't be happening. Your mind raced, desperately searching for an escape route. He leaned closer, his voice a husky whisper.

"How about you do a few little things for me, Enigma," he purred, "and I keep your little blog a secret?"

The world tilted on its axis. This wasn't how the game was supposed to be played. You were the puppet master, not the marionette. Yet, there you were, trapped in his gaze, the weight of your secret a suffocating burden.

"What kind of things?" you managed to croak.

A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "Homework, errands, maybe even something a little… humiliating." His eyes glinted with a challenge, daring you to defy him.

You hated him. You hated the way he made your carefully constructed world crumble around you. But more than that, you hated the strange thrill that danced along your nerve endings. This was a game you didn't know the rules of, a game that was both terrifying and strangely exhilarating.

In the end, you agreed. You couldn't risk exposure. Unveil was your lifeblood, your shield, and the thought of losing it was unbearable.

The weight of Park Jay settled on your shoulders like a leaden cloak. You, Enigma, the queen of gossip on Unveil, were now a prisoner of your own creation. The evidence he held was a leash that kept you tethered to his whims. You weren't a captive in the physical sense, but your freedom of speech, your very identity as Enigma, was held, hostage.

Becoming Jay's shadow began subtly. A whispered request for a double-shot espresso from the overpriced cafe across the street during your first-period break. A casual mention of "forgotten" notes in trigonometry class, with a knowing smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. You complied, your stomach churning with a mix of apprehension and a strange sense of obligation.

The whispers started then, too. Furtive glances followed you as you delivered the steaming coffee cup to Park Jay's table, a tableau that felt staged, and surreal. "Y/n, errand girl for Park Jay?" the hallway echoed with unspoken questions. The indignity of it all fueled a simmering anger within you.

But the tasks escalated. One afternoon, you found yourself hunched over his desk during your lunch break, surrounded by textbooks and loose-leaf papers spilling like a chaotic waterfall.

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting your workspace in a harsh spotlight. You were translating a French poem for his literature class, lines blurring before your eyes as the indignity of the situation gnawed at you. This wasn't just running errands anymore; it was academic servitude.

"This," you finally muttered, slamming the textbook shut with a force that sent papers scattering across the floor, "is getting ridiculous."

Jay, sprawled lazily in his chair, finally looked up. A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes, a challenge that ignited a spark within you. "Is it?" he drawled, his voice laced with a hint of something you couldn't quite decipher. "Or are you secretly enjoying the attention, Enigma?"

You straightened in your chair, glaring at him with defiance. "Attention?" you scoffed, the word laced with venom. "I'd rather clean the toilets with a toothbrush than be seen cavorting with you in public."

His amusement morphed into a full-blown laugh, rich and intoxicating. The sound filled the room, washing over you like a wave, and for a moment, you forgot the anger simmering beneath the surface. He stopped abruptly, his gaze locking with yours, the laughter fading to a smoldering intensity. "Don't lie, Enigma," he said, his voice a husky whisper. "You find me fascinating."

The heat that rose to your cheeks was a betrayal. You scoffed again, but this time, it lacked conviction. He was right, of course. Park Jay was an enigma wrapped in a mystery, a puzzle you couldn't resist solving. His disregard for the social hierarchy, and his rebellious streak – it was a stark contrast to the entitled drones who populated Hybe High.

He was a constant thorn in your side, a danger that sparked a rebellious fire within you. You hated being under his thumb, yet there was an undeniable allure to the challenge he presented. Jay was a storm brewing beneath the surface, and you, once the master of information, were now caught in its eye.

Days bled into weeks, the initial awkward tension between you and Jay morphing into a strange, symbiotic dance. Resentment, once a simmering ember, cooled into a begrudging respect fueled by your growing realization that his intellect mirrored your own.

Witty remarks became heated debates that spilled over lunches, dissecting the intricacies of literature, or anything that threatened to break the charged silence simmering between you.

Discussions that began in hushed tones over hastily consumed sandwiches would morph into stolen moments after school, the library your refuge from the watchful eyes and gossiping tongues of Hybe High.

One particularly dreary afternoon, rain lashed against the library windows, a relentless drumbeat mirroring the disquiet in your heart. You found yourselves huddled under the awning, a shared haven from the downpour.

The library lights cast a warm, honeyed glow on Jay's face, highlighting the sharp angles and the unexpected vulnerability that flickered in his eyes.

"You know," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a tremor through you, "blackmailing someone isn't exactly how I envisioned my first semester at Hybe High."

You snorted, a humorless sound escaping your lips. "Being someone's secret errand girl wasn't exactly on my top ten either."

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that seemed to vibrate through the air. "So, Enigma," he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "is there anything you crave from me besides the assurance of keeping your little blog a secret?"

Your breath hitched in your throat. This wasn't part of the bargain. You hadn't signed up for emotional entanglements, for the way your heart would stutter a frantic rhythm in his presence, or the jolt that shot through you when his fingers brushed against yours while passing a textbook.

Yet, here you were, caught in the captivating pull of his gaze, a prisoner of your own traitorous emotions.

"I, uh…" you stammered, cheeks burning under the harsh glare of his scrutiny. "What makes you think I want anything from you?"

His smile was a knowing one, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "The way your eyes linger on me a beat too long when you think I'm not looking. The way your cheeks bloom a charming shade of pink whenever I unleash a particularly witty remark."

He was right, of course. You had tried, oh how you had tried, to maintain the facade of the detached blogger, the anonymous voice of truth. But the walls you'd so meticulously constructed around your heart were crumbling under the relentless assault of his undeniable charm.

Suddenly, the air crackled with a tension that transcended words. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as his lips hovered tantalizingly close to yours. "Unless," his voice dipped to a husky whisper, "you'd prefer I ensure your secret's safety… in another way."

Before you could even register the audacity of his suggestion, his lips were on yours. The kiss was an electrifying collision, a tangle of pent-up emotions and unspoken desires. He tasted of rain and peppermint, a heady mix that sent a jolt through your system.

Your initial resistance crumbled like sandcastles under a tidal wave, and you melted into his touch, a desperate need washing over you.

His hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, his touch igniting a fire deep within you. The kiss deepened, a desperate exploration that spoke volumes more than words ever could. It was a whirlwind of stolen breaths and tangled limbs, a moment of raw passion that felt forbidden and exhilarating all at once.

Just as abruptly as it started, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. His eyes held a dark intensity you hadn't seen before.

"This changes things, Enigma," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

"Changes what?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

He stared at you for a long moment, a battle of emotions playing out in his gaze. A beat of silence followed, and then, with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine, he added, "See you tomorrow, Enigma. Don't forget – French poem, due first thing."

He turned and walked away, leaving you reeling in the wake of his touch. Your heart thumped against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. You had just crossed a line, a line you never thought you'd even consider.

The guilt gnawed at you like a persistent pest. Here you were, the anonymous blogger who reveled in wielding information and controlling the narrative, now entangled with the boy who held your secret hostage.

But amidst the turmoil, a flicker of something else bloomed – a tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, this forced partnership could lead to something more.

Something exhilarating, something terrifying, and something that felt like a story far more captivating than anything you'd ever written for Unveil. This wasn't just a stolen kiss under a library awning; it was a turning point, a page ripped from a yet-to-be-written chapter.

The following day, French class was a blur. You sat there, the poem forgotten on your desk, replaying the kiss over and over again in your mind. Each stolen glance from Jay across the room sent a jolt through you, a secret language only the two of you could understand.

The power dynamic had shifted. The fear of exposure was still there, a cold serpent coiling in your gut, but it was overshadowed by a burgeoning sense of… possibility.

After class, you lingered by your locker, pretending to rummage through your bag. His voice, nonchalant yet laced with a hint of amusement, broke the silence. "Ready for round two, Enigma?"

You met his gaze, a wry smile playing on your lips. "Just call me Juliet, yearning for her forbidden Romeo."

He chuckled a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Careful, Enigma," he drawled, leaning closer so only you could hear. "This game we're playing could have unforeseen consequences."

His words sent a thrill of excitement through you. This wasn't just about blackmail anymore; it was about a secret shared, a line crossed, and the exhilarating uncertainty of what came next.

"Consequences?" you echoed, feigning innocence. "What consequences could there be, besides detention and disapproving stares?"

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, a hint of something dangerous glinting in his eyes.

"Let's just say, Enigma," he said, his voice a low murmur, "the consequences could be very interesting indeed."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you breathless and a little bit scared. But more than fear, you felt a surge of excitement, a sense of being swept up in a whirlwind of your creation.

You, the anonymous blogger, were now a player in the game, and the lines between truth and deception, love and hate, were about to become beautifully blurred.

The story you were living was far more captivating than anything you could have ever written, and you couldn't wait to see where the next chapter took you and Park Jay.

The next few hours were a whirlwind of stolen glances, cryptic messages disguised as homework assignments and a constant battle within yourself.

You should have been furious, plotting elaborate revenge schemes against the infuriating boy who had manipulated you into his web. But as you watched him across the crowded hallways, a strange warmth bloomed in your chest, a flicker of affection that defied logic.

You were drawn to his sharp wit, his rebellious spirit – qualities that felt like a refreshing splash of color in the beige monotony of Hybe High. Yet, the memory of the stolen kiss lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the precariousness of your situation.

Then, it happened. On this exact same day you discovered that your secret wasn't so safe anymore.

Lunch break buzzed with the usual pre-weekend chatter as you sequestered yourself in a corner booth, laptop humming with the final touches of a particularly scathing post for Unveil. The target? A particularly arrogant senior named Yeonjun, whose inflated ego needed a good public deflation.

Just as you were about to unleash your literary vitriol, a shadow fell over your keyboard. Your blood ran cold. Park Jay stood beside you, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. He didn't have to say a word. The look in his eyes, a mix of amusement and something you couldn't quite decipher, was a dead giveaway.

Panic clawed at your throat. You scrambled to shut down your laptop, fingers fumbling like a startled cat. But a gaggle of students, including the aforementioned Yeonjun, had already gathered around you, lured in by the commotion.

"What's going on here?" the senior demanded, his voice dripping with entitlement, his gaze flitting between you and the now-ex-blackmailer.

Jay's smile widened, devoid of any warmth. "Just enjoying a little private reading session, wouldn't you say, Enigma?" His voice echoed in the cafeteria, each syllable dripping with calculated malice.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. The air crackled with shock and disbelief. You felt exposed, raw, like a butterfly pinned beneath a collector's gaze.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the cruel grin spreading across Yeonjun's face. You wanted to lash out, to scream at Jay for his betrayal, but the words wouldn't come. Shame and humiliation choked them back.

Yeonjun, his relief barely concealed beneath a mask of fury, snatched your laptop before you could react. He flipped it open, revealing the unfinished blog post – a glaring accusation aimed squarely at him. A cruel laugh erupted from his lips, echoing cruelly in the stunned silence.

"So, this is Enigma”, he sneered, brandishing the laptop like a trophy. "The anonymous coward who's been making a fool of everyone."

He turned his gaze back to you, eyes filled with malicious glee. "Well, Enigma," he said, his voice dripping with venom, "it looks like your reign of terror is over."

The whispers started as a low hum, growing into a cacophony of accusations and judgments. You felt like a hunted animal, cornered and exposed. The world you'd so meticulously built around yourself crumbled to dust.

Jay, however, remained strangely detached. He watched the spectacle unfold with a blank expression, a hint of something akin to amusement lurking in his eyes.

It was that amusement that stung the most, a final betrayal that ignited a spark of defiance within you. Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "You said everything changes," you whispered, your voice surprisingly steady. "Seems like you were right."

Without another word, you snatched your bag and pushed past the crowd, the weight of everyone's stares heavy on your back. You fled the cafeteria, tears finally spilling down your cheeks, a mixture of anger, hurt, and a strange sense of liberation.

Jay's betrayal had shattered your carefully crafted facade, but it had also freed you from the prison you'd built around yourself. The journey ahead would be far from easy, facing the school's judgment as your true identity was revealed.

But as you walked away from the cafeteria, a newfound determination hardened your resolve.

You wouldn't let Park Jay, or anyone else, control your narrative anymore. You would weather this storm, pick up the pieces of your shattered reputation, and emerge stronger, a different person, perhaps, but a person nonetheless.

And who knew, maybe in the process, you'd even find a way to turn the tables on Jay. After all, the story was far from over.

As the days passed monstrously slowly, the fallout from the cafeteria incident was immense. You became the subject of relentless gossip, your once-admired anonymity a distant memory.

Yeonjun, fueled by his newfound power, used your blog posts to turn the tables on his rivals, creating a wave of chaos within the school's social hierarchy. The whispers followed you like a swarm of angry bees, stinging at your ears and filling you with a bitter mix of shame and anger.

You mostly kept to yourself, seeking refuge in the library and the solace of fictional worlds. Yet, despite the isolation, you noticed a shift within yourself. You weren't consumed by self-pity or anger. Instead, a quiet strength bloomed within you. It was a resilience born of necessity, a determination to rise above the ashes of your shattered reputation.

One day, while browsing the library stacks, you stumbled upon Jay. He was sitting at a corner table, meticulously reading a book on philosophy. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a strange mix of anger and a lingering curiosity. He shouldn't be here, not after what he'd done. He should be basking in his victory, reveling in the chaos he'd unleashed.

He looked up as you approached, his expression unreadable. No trace of regret seemed to flicker in his eyes, only a cool indifference that ignited a fresh wave of anger within you.

"Shouldn't you be writing your next scathing article, Enigma?" he said, his voice devoid of warmth. The mockery in his tone cut like a knife, a reminder of the manipulative boy who had used you for his own gain.

"I'm done with that life," you said, your voice firm, laced with a newfound steel. "And with you." You met his gaze head-on, no longer the scared, cornered girl from the cafeteria.

"Oh?" An eyebrow shot up. "Then why are you here?" His voice held a hint of amusement, a cruel edge that grated on your nerves.

You hesitated for a moment, then squared your shoulders. "Because," you said, holding his gaze, "I want to understand why you did it." You needed to know, not out of forgiveness, but out of a desperate need for closure.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a cocky smile that did little to mask the tension building in his jaw. "Is this where we confess our undying love, stripped bare by the power of truth?"

You rolled your eyes, refusing to be drawn into his games. "Hardly. I just want an explanation. What was the point of all this?" The betrayal burned in your gut, a constant ache that demanded answers.

He sighed, a hint of weariness creeping into his voice. "Let's just say," he began, leaning back in his chair, "my situation at Hybe High is a bit more complicated than it appears." He didn't elaborate, but in his guarded eyes, you saw a flicker of something akin to vulnerability.

Perhaps, there was more to his story, more to his motives, than you initially thought.

"Fine," you said after a beat of silence. "But don't expect my forgiveness just yet." You wouldn't let him manipulate you again, not without a fight.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine despite yourself. "Fair enough," he conceded. "But perhaps we can start with a truce? No more manipulations, no more secrets. Just… two people trying to navigate the wreckage of this whole mess."

A truce. The word hung in the air, a flimsy offering in the face of his betrayal. There was a raw honesty in his gaze, but trust wouldn't come easy, not after the way he'd thrown you under the bus. He'd used you, exposed you, and left you to pick up the pieces of your shattered reputation.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "A truce?" you repeated, the word tasting like ash in your mouth. "You think after everything, a simple truce is enough? You get to walk away unscathed, while I face the consequences of your actions?"

"No," he countered, his voice firm. "I messed up. Big time. But I'm not the only one who can fix this." His words hung in the air, a plea for some kind of partnership, but the betrayal still stung too raw.

"Then fix it," you spat, your voice shaking with barely contained anger. "Fix the mess you created. Pick up the pieces of my reputation that you so carelessly shattered. Then, maybe, we can talk about a truce."

The challenge hung in the air, a gauntlet thrown at his feet. His face hardened, a flicker of frustration crossing his features

A tense silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of his betrayal and the defiance simmering in your eyes. Jay clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the worn armrest of the chair.

"You want me to fix it?" he finally said, his voice low and dangerous. "You want me to navigate the school's social minefield, clean up the mess you made stirring the pot anonymously?"

"Isn't that what you wanted all along?" you countered, your voice sharp. "To control the narrative, to use me as your puppet master? Well, now you can face the consequences of pulling the strings."

He scoffed, a sound devoid of humor. "Easy for you to say. You can walk away from this, disappear back into the shadows. But me? I can't just vanish."

The vulnerability in his voice, a stark contrast to his usual arrogance, gave you pause. Perhaps there was more to his story, a secret that held him captive at Hybe High. But the hurt and anger were still fresh, a wall you weren't ready to tear down just yet.

"Then figure it out," you said, your voice softening slightly. "That's the price you pay for playing with fire, Park Jay. You get burned."

Turning away from him, you started to walk away, leaving him sitting at the table, his face a mask of conflicting emotions.

"Wait," he called out after you, his voice laced with desperation. You stopped, but didn't turn around.

"What?" you asked, your voice flat.

He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "There's more to this," he confessed. "More to my situation than I can explain right now. But trust me, it's not what you think."

You considered his words, the weight of his secret hanging heavy in the air. Part of you wanted to believe him, a flicker of curiosity igniting within you. But the other part, the part that still ached from his betrayal, remained wary.

"Then prove it," you said finally, turning back to face him. "Show me that you're not just another manipulative player. Show me there's a way out of this mess, for both of us."

A flicker of hope sparked in his eyes. "Okay," he said, his voice steady. "But it won't be easy. It'll require… a different kind of partnership."

Intrigued despite yourself, you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. "A different kind of partnership?"

He leaned forward, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "One where we use your words, my information, and maybe a little bit of chaos to rewrite the narrative, together."

The challenge in his voice was laced with a hint of something else, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way to turn the tables on their betrayers, to reclaim your voice and expose the truth, all while forging an alliance as unexpected as it was thrilling.

"Alright, Park," you said, a slow smile creeping across your face. "Let's see what kind of trouble we can get into."

The truce might be off the table, but a new game had just begun. A game where revenge and redemption intertwined, and the lines between enemy and ally blurred. And as you locked eyes with Park Jay, a sense of anticipation buzzed in the air.

The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but one thing was certain: the story of Enigma was far from over.

Weeks bled into months, the dust of the exposé settling over Hybe High like a shroud. You weren't the untouchable gossip queen anymore, the fear and thrill of anonymous takedowns a distant memory. But a different kind of power simmered beneath the surface.

People saw you, the face behind the Voice of the Unheard, and that honesty felt far more liberating than fleeting popularity. It was a power borne of vulnerability, a shared connection with the students who finally saw themselves reflected in your words.

Your relationship with Jay remained a complex puzzle, a Rubik's Cube of guarded glances and unspoken truths. The initial distrust still lingered a guarded tension that crackled between you whenever you brushed shoulders in the crowded hallways. Yet, beneath it, a hesitant camaraderie had begun to take root.

Shared late nights fueled by brainstorming sessions revealed a surprising depth to him. You discovered a mutual love for the way words could paint vivid landscapes and ignite emotions, a passion for literature that transcended the walls of the stuffy library.

But most unexpectedly, you found a fierce passion for social justice burning just as brightly within him.

One afternoon, hunched over worn library texts researching the history of student activism, you found yourselves locked in a heated debate. The topic? The ethics of anonymity.

"People deserve the truth, unfiltered," you argued, your voice ringing with conviction, the memory of Yeonjun's smug face fueling your passion. "Anonymity shields those in power, leaving the vulnerable even more exposed."

"But at what cost?" Jay countered, his gaze sharp, challenging you to see the other side. "Sometimes, anonymity is the only shield for the vulnerable. It allows them to speak their truth without fear of reprisal."

His words struck a chord. Maybe Unveil wouldn't be a platform for petty gossip anymore. Maybe it could be a weapon wielded in the name of justice, a voice for those too afraid to speak, those silenced by fear or social hierarchy.

A slow smile played on your lips, a hint of a plan forming in your mind. "So, Park," you said, testing the waters, "partners in truth?"

He returned the smile, a hint of mischief flickering in his eyes, the playful glint that sometimes replaced the guarded facade. "Partners in truth it is, Enigma."

"But with one condition," you added, leaning closer, your voice a low murmur, the scent of old paper and forgotten knowledge filling the air.

He raised an eyebrow, a silent question hanging in the air.

"No more blackmail," you stated firmly, the sting of betrayal still a fresh memory. "This time, we fight together, on equal footing. Collaboration, not manipulation."

"Deal," he replied, a thrill coursing through you as your hands brushed for a fleeting moment. The spark of shared purpose ignited something deep within you, a sense of hope you hadn't dared to feel in a long time.

This new chapter, this partnership with Jay, felt exhilarating. It was a chance to rewrite the narrative, not just for yourselves, but for every unheard voice within Hybe High's walls.

The school, once a symbol of conformity and stifling authority, now held the potential for change.

The first salvo of the revamped Unveil targeted the archaic dress code, a system that blatantly favored students of wealth. Armed with interviews from disgruntled students who felt ostracized for not fitting the mold, and research on the psychological impact of such regulations, you crafted a compelling piece that ignited the student body.

The response was electric. Comments flooded the forum, sparking debates that reached the ears of the administration. Buoyed by this success, you and Jay tackled a series of issues – the exorbitant cost of textbooks that burdened families, the lack of mental health resources leaving students drowning in silent struggles, and the rampant cheating culture fostered by the relentless pressure to succeed.

Each meticulously researched and written piece ignited a firestorm of student activism, forcing the school to acknowledge and address the long-ignored problems. Through it all, your partnership with Jay deepened.

The initial spark of curiosity had blossomed into a genuine friendship, one built on mutual respect, shared ideals, and a healthy dose of playful banter.

You discovered a side of him you hadn't expected – a fierce loyalty that extended beyond his carefully constructed persona, and a genuine desire to use his privilege to help those less fortunate, to dismantle the very system that had once benefited him.

Together, you were the Voice of the Unheard wielding the power of words to rewrite the narrative of Hybe High, one story at a time. The road ahead wouldn't be easy.

Powerful forces still held sway, determined to maintain the status quo. But for the first time, you felt a flicker of hope. You weren't alone. You had him, and with him, the unwavering belief that change, however gradual, was possible.

–

One crisp autumn morning, as you sat huddled over your laptops in your usual library corner, a charged silence crackled between you. You glanced up from your screen, catching Jay's gaze linger on you a beat too long. A slow smile tugged at his lips, sending a familiar warmth fluttering through your chest.

"Being a partner in truth with Enigma isn't exactly how I envisioned spending my senior year," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

It wasn't just the words, but the way he said them, a hint of something deeper, something unspoken, lingering beneath the surface.

You mirrored his smile, a playful glint in your eyes that masked the tangled mess of emotions churning inside you. "And getting blackmailed by Park Jay wasn't exactly on my bucket list either," you countered, the memory of his betrayal still a fresh wound.

He chuckled a rich sound that sent a jolt through you. "But somehow," he continued, his eyes locking with yours, "it all worked out in the end… maybe."

The last word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken possibilities. Before you could decipher the meaning, the library door swung open with a bang, shattering the fragile peace.

Yeonjun stood there, a smug smirk plastered on his face, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

"There you two are!" he boomed, his voice dripping with mock surprise. "Skipping class again? Looks like someone's got a lot of explaining to do."

A surge of defiance coursed through you. "Actually," you said, your voice firm, "we're working on something rather important. Something that might actually benefit the school, unlike your… extracurricular activities."

Yeonjun's smirk faltered for a moment, a flicker of unease crossing his features. Jay leaned closer, his voice a dangerous murmur that sent chills down your spine. "And if I were you, Yeonjun," he said, "I wouldn't push your luck. We have a few stories about you that might be of interest to the student body."

The threat hung heavy in the air. Yeonjun's face flushed red, and he stammered a few incoherent words before retreating with a defeated slump. You watched him go, a sense of satisfaction washing over you.

The tables had truly turned. Unveil wasn't just a blog anymore; it was a force for positive change, all thanks to your unlikely partnership with the boy who had once held your secret hostage.

As you turned back to your laptop, Jay raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "So," he said, a hint of something more flickering in his gaze, "ready to tackle the next injustice, y/n?"

You swallowed, the sudden shift in the atmosphere making your heart pound a frantic rhythm against your ribs. "Always, Jay," you managed, a secret thrill dancing in your chest. "Always."

The future stretched before you, an open book waiting to be written. But in that electric moment, the words on the screen seemed insignificant compared to the unspoken tension simmering between you and the boy who had become your unlikely ally.

The silence returned, thick and heavy with unspoken desires. Jay's gaze held yours, a storm brewing beneath the surface. You felt the warmth creep up your neck, a blush mirroring his. The air crackled with an energy you couldn't explain.

"Maybe Unveil isn't the only thing that needs a revamp," he murmured, his voice husky and low, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden stillness. He leaned closer, his breath warm on your cheek. The familiar scent of peppermint mingled with something new – a musk that sent shivers down your spine.

"There's something I've wanted to do ever since that stolen kiss in the library," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear.

You inhaled sharply, the memory of that electrifying moment flooding back. The defiance, the spark, the raw emotion – that stolen kiss had ignited a flicker within you that you hadn't dared to acknowledge.

He didn't wait for your answer. His hand cupped your face, his touch sending a jolt through you. The library, once a refuge, now felt charged with a dangerous tension. He tilted your head up, his eyes searching yours.

Despair battled desire in his gaze. "This might be crazy," he admitted, his voice a rough rumble, "but I can't keep pretending anymore."

His confession hung in the air, heavy with unspoken longing. The dam within you broke. You closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a searing kiss.

This was different from the one fueled by defiance and adrenaline. This kiss was desperate, raw, and filled with a yearning that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

His lips were firm, and demanding, yet held a tenderness that surprised you. You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair, the scent of his cologne a heady mix.

The world dissolved around you. There was only the frantic press of his body against yours, the frantic beat of your hearts, the intoxicating taste of him. You explored each other with a hungry urgency, the pent-up emotions of weeks finally finding release.

He pulled away abruptly, his breath ragged. His eyes were dark with desire, his gaze roaming your face like a famished man surveying a feast.

"We should stop," he muttered, his voice thick with restraint. "This isn't the time, not here."

You traced a finger across his lips, a silent plea mirroring the turmoil in your own heart. "Don't stop," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "Not yet."

He surrendered to your unspoken request, pulling you closer once more. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, an exploration filled with tenderness.

His hands roamed your back, sending shivers down your spine. You melted into his touch, a delicious sense of surrender washing over you.

Just as you were about to get lost entirely, the library door creaked open again, shattering the spell. A young couple, oblivious to the drama that had just unfolded, snuck in, searching for a quiet corner.

Jay cleared his throat, a sheepish grin on his face. "Looks like we have an audience."

You blushed furiously, burying your face in your hands. Despite the interruption, the tension remained an unspoken promise hanging heavy in the air.

"We should probably get back to work," you mumbled, gathering your scattered laptop and papers.

Jay helped you up, his hand lingering on yours a moment too long. A silent promise flickered in his eyes. The rest of the afternoon flew by in a blur. You barely registered the words on the screen, your mind replaying the kiss over and over again.

As you packed your bag to leave, he approached you. "So," he said, his voice a low rumble, "about that revamped Unveil…"

You met his gaze, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Thinking of a more… hands-on approach to exposing injustice?"

He winked, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Maybe. But perhaps there are other kinds of stories we could write together as well. Ones that don't involve the student body."

Your heart skipped a beat. The thrill of the forbidden, the intensity of his touch – it was intoxicating, and you knew the risks. But the memory of his kiss, the vulnerability in his eyes, whispered a different story.

"Maybe we can," you whispered, the thrill of the unknown dancing in your chest. "Maybe we can write a story no one will see coming, not even us."

You walked out of the library together, not just partners in truth, but partners in a different kind of adventure, one fueled by desire and the promise of something new, something exhilarating, something that felt like the start of a story even more exciting than the one you were writing for Unveil.

The crisp autumn air felt electric as you walked side-by-side, the weight of unspoken desires and a shared secret creating a bond as powerful as any exposé.

The road ahead was uncertain, filled with potential consequences, but you weren't facing it alone. And with him, the exhilarating certainty that the most captivating story of all was just beginning.

A/N: hope that you liked it! i really like to associate enhypen members with that kind of Gossip Girl universe. should i do it for future work for other members? don’t hesitate to give me some feedback 🌷

#jay x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen au #enhypen imagines #enhypen #enhypen angst #fic tag #jay enhypen #park jongseong #park jongseong x reader #park jay #park jay x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen drabbles

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