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lunaswicked · 2 days ago

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Stress Relief - J.U

Paring: roommate!Jey Uso, Fem!Reader Tags: Heavy smut, enemies to lovers, oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, pure lust, breeding kink, hair pulling, cervix kissing, 18+, MINORS DNI A/N: Thank you ANON for requesting this one. I had more than enough fun writing this.🩷💛 Word Count: 4.5k

There’s just something about him that pisses you off.

Maybe it’s that damn mullet—too perfect, like he actually puts effort into keeping it that way.

Or maybe it’s those stupid grillz that flash every time he smirks like he knows something you don’t.

Or the way his eyes get all dark and intense whenever you're too close, like he’s waiting for you to slip up.

And don’t even get started on the hoochie shorts—him walking around the house like he owns the place, thick thighs out, no shame whatsoever—

“Right, Y/N?”

You blink, brain still stuck on him, and realize Jasmine’s looking at you expectantly. Fuck. You have no idea what she just said.

“Huh?” you mumble, scrambling. “My bad, I’m just tired.”

Jasmine side-eyes you before clearing her throat. “I said, isn’t it Xavier’s fault and not mine? Like, he was the one who stayed up all night gaming, knowing damn well he had a test, and then had the audacity to blame me when he failed because I didn’t wake him up?”

Classic Jasmine and Xavier. Always on some dumb shit.

“Yeah,” you nod, finally catching up. “That’s on him. He’s his own person. Can’t blame you for his L.”

After a solid hour of Jasmine ranting about Xavier’s dumbass decisions and you half-listening while nodding at the right times, you finally make it back home. The second you step inside, a heavy sigh escapes your lips. Silence. Thank God.

You toss your keys on the counter and kick off your shoes, already mentally preparing to crash in your room and not deal with anyone for the rest of the night—

And then you see him.

Jey.

Laid out on the couch like he pays all the bills, legs spread like he owns the damn place, one arm draped over the back of the sofa, the other scrolling through his phone. His infamous hoochie shorts are front and center—gray, slightly too tight, showing way too much thigh.

Your eye twitches.

“You comfortable?” you deadpan, crossing your arms.

Jey doesn’t even look up. “Mmhmm.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, debating whether it’s worth it to start an argument tonight. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

With a shake of your head, you step toward the hallway, but before you can make your great escape, Jey finally acknowledges you—well, more like calls you out.

“You had a good lil date with Jasmine?” His voice is lazy, that usual cocky drawl laced with amusement.

Your jaw clenches. “It wasn’t a date. We were just talking about some shit.”

Jey hums like he doesn’t believe you. “Uh-huh.”

You hate when he does that. It’s like he enjoys getting under your skin for fun.

Rolling your eyes, you keep walking, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But just as you reach your bedroom door, you hear him mumble, almost like an afterthought—

“Didn’t even say goodnight. Rude ass.”

Your fingers tighten around the doorknob, and for a brief second, you consider turning around, throwing a pillow at his stupid manspreading self, and telling him exactly where he can shove his passive-aggressive comments.

But you don’t.

Instead, you exhale, push your door open, and mutter just loud enough for him to hear—

“Goodnight, Jey.”

You don’t have to turn around to see his smirk. You can feel it.

After shutting the door behind you, you waste no time stripping out of your clothes and heading straight for the shower. The hot water does wonders, washing away the tension from the day, but it doesn’t completely wipe away the lingering irritation from Jey’s annoying ass.

By the time you step out, fresh-faced and wrapped in an oversized t-shirt, your mood has mellowed slightly. You towel-dry your hair, scrolling through your phone as you step back into the living room, just to grab your notebook off the coffee table.

And then you see it.

An empty water bottle. On the floor.

You freeze, eyes flickering to the plastic offender before trailing up to the culprit himself—Jey, still posted up on the couch like he’s got no worries in the world, scrolling through his phone like the place doesn’t look like a damn mess.

"Seriously?" you scoff, arms folding across your chest. "You just gon’ leave this here like we got a maid or something?"

Jey barely glances at you. "Man, I ain’t got time for the arguing shit tonight." His voice is lower than usual, rough around the edges. "I’m already stressed the fuck out."

You raise an eyebrow, leaning your weight onto one hip. "Oh wow. You’re stressed? No way. I thought you were just chillin’ in those hoochie daddy shorts with not a care in the world." Your voice drips with sarcasm, and you expect him to throw something smart back, to keep up the usual banter.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, his jaw flexes, his thumb stopping mid-scroll on his phone screen. He lets out a slow exhale, tilting his head back against the couch, eyes slipping shut for a moment like he’s forcing himself to keep it together.

Something shifts.

The air gets heavier, quieter.

"You ever have one of those days," he murmurs, voice deep and tired, "where no matter what you do, shit just don’t go right?"

You’re not sure what it is—maybe it’s the way his voice drops, or the way his chest rises and falls like he’s carrying more weight than he wants to admit—but something makes you pause.

Your fingers tighten around your notebook as you stare at him. "Yeah," you say after a beat, softer this time. "'Cause you ain't the only one."

He lifts his head then, dark eyes meeting yours. For once, there’s no teasing, no cocky smirk—just something unreadable, something you’re not sure you wanna figure out.

The tension between you thickens, stretching into the small space between the couch and where you stand.

And then, before you can even think to move, Jey shifts, legs spreading a little more like he’s testing you, eyes flickering down to your bare legs before dragging back up to your face.

"You stay runnin’ yo mouth," he mutters, voice just low enough to make your stomach dip.

Your breath catches slightly, but you don’t back down. "And you stay leaving shit around like a damn child."

His lips twitch. Not quite a smirk, but close. "You really tryna argue with me right now?"

"You started it," you quip, gripping your notebook a little tighter, suddenly hyper-aware of how the room feels smaller, how the space between you feels like nothing at all.

Jey leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his presence pulling you in without even trying. His voice drops even lower when he says, "You sure you wanna go there?"

Your heart kicks up. You should walk away.

But you don’t.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head at him, but it’s not your usual annoyed laugh. No, this one is softer, teasing—like you’re calling his bluff. Because that’s all Jey ever does, right? Talk shit. Act like he’s that guy. Like he gets under your skin more than you get under his.

But then you see it.

The way his eyes darken.

Your laughter dies down when he slowly—real slow—pushes himself off the couch, standing to his full height. He tilts his head slightly, watching you with that unreadable expression, tongue swiping across his bottom lip like he’s thinking real hard about something.

You should’ve walked away when you had the chance.

But now? Now it’s too late.

Jey moves with a lazy kind of dominance, circling you like a damn predator, eyes dragging over your frame, taking his sweet time like he’s got all night.

You swallow, gripping your notebook a little tighter. "What?" you say, feigning nonchalance, but your voice is already a little weaker than before.

Jey lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Man…" He exhales sharply, flexing his jaw. "Just told yo ass I’m stressed, mama. I’m tryna keep cool."

His voice is deep, smooth, but there’s something dangerous lurking underneath it. Like he’s on the edge of something, and you’re the one about to push him over.

"You ain't the only one stressed," you shoot back, though it doesn’t hold the same bite as before. You feel hot, like the air thickened between you without warning.

Jey stops behind you now, standing close. Too close. You feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of his cologne mixed with whatever stress he’s been carrying all day.

And then—his breath is at your ear.

A shiver racks through you before you can stop it.

"Maybe I should relieve my stress and fuck the attitude outta you."

Your breath catches.

Your whole body goes rigid.

Because what the fuck did he just say?

Your brain straight up short-circuits.

Mouth slightly parted, hands gripping your notebook like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded—you don’t know what to say. Because what the fuck are you supposed to say when your roommate, the man you claim to barely tolerate, just whispered some filthy shit in your ear like it was nothing?

Like he knew what he was doing. Like he knew the effect it would have.

And fuck—fuck—it wasn’t your fault that your panties were now coated in the wetness from your meaty pussy. It wasn’t.

Blame the stress, blame the long-ass day, blame him for walking around in them damn hoochie shorts with thighs thick enough to make a grown woman weak. Blame anything but yourself.

But Jey? Jey knows exactly what he’s doing.

You feel him shift behind you, not touching you, but standing so damn close that you can feel the heat of his skin, the weight of his presence pressing down on you like a vice.

"You real quiet now," he murmurs, voice low and taunting. "Where all that mouth go, huh?"

Your breath is shaky when you finally force yourself to move, spinning around so fast you nearly stumble back into the coffee table. But Jey—being the asshole that he is—catches your wrist, steadying you before you can escape.

"Easy, ma," he says, voice smooth as hell. Too smooth. Like he’s amused. Like he’s enjoying this shit.

Your heart pounds so hard it’s all you can hear.

"I—" You blink, trying to get your shit together, trying to remember why you were mad in the first place. "You—You’re such a fucking ass, you know that?"

Jey smirks, tilting his head slightly. "And you love it."

His fingers are still wrapped around your wrist, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your skin, slow and deliberate. It sends a jolt of heat straight to your core, making your thighs clench on instinct.

"N-no, I don’t," you lie, voice barely above a whisper.

His grin deepens, eyes flicking down to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your gaze again.

"Lyin’ ass."

The tension is so thick you could choke on it.

And Jey? He’s standing there, looking at you like he’s got all the time in the world, like he’s waiting on you to admit what you both already know.

"Fuck it," you mumbled, your voice breathy and shaky, almost like the words were ripped out of you against your will.

You didn’t care anymore. Not about the stupid notebook. Not about the stupid tension. Not about the stupid fucking game Jey was playing, getting under your skin and twisting you up all at once.

You dropped the notebook, not even thinking twice, and yanked him in by his collar, slamming your lips into his.

It was hard. Demanding. The kind of kiss that’s all teeth and desperation. Like neither of you could wait another second to feel what this fucked-up energy between you really meant.

Jey’s mouth moves against yours like he’s starving, all heat and tongue, and before you know it, his hands are on you—rough, unforgiving—grabbing your ass like it belongs to him, pulling you flush against him. The pressure of his grip sends a surge of heat straight through your body, your pussy throbbing in response.

You moan against his lips as his fingers squeeze your ass, the sound barely escaping before he’s swallowing it down. He’s devouring your mouth, like he can’t get enough, like he’s wanted this for way too long and finally got what he wanted.

You feel it in every inch of your body, that pull, that hunger. You feel his breath mixing with yours, the ragged way he’s breathing, the way his chest is rising and falling like he can’t keep up with what’s happening between you two.

Your hands slide up to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath your palms, and for a split second, you think about pulling away—thinking you should stop before it gets too far. But the moment your hands find his neck and your fingertips dig into the back of his hair, you can’t think about anything but the way his body feels against yours.

"Jey," you whisper, barely breaking the kiss, your lips swollen and breathless. "What are we doing?"

He doesn’t answer, not with words anyway. He answers with another savage kiss, deep and messy, like he’s showing you exactly how far this has gone. And fuck, you don’t know if you’re ready for it, but you sure as hell don’t want it to stop.

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his dark gaze searching yours like he’s reading every inch of you, figuring you out. You feel the weight of his stare.

“What we shoulda been did,” he murmurs lowly, voice rough as hell.

And in that moment, you don’t need him to say anything else. You already know.

His body was fucking tense, like he was barely holding it together. You could feel the strain in his movements, the way his shorts were stretched tight, his muscles flexing with every shift. And damn, you could see it—his hard dick pressed up against them, making your heart race even faster.

Jey was barely keeping his cool, sweat beading down his forehead, his breaths coming out in sharp, heavy bursts. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips tight enough to leave marks, and you could see it in his eyes. He was struggling, trying not to lose control, but damn—he wanted to.

You felt the heat of the moment, the tension that was thick enough to choke, and then his voice broke through, low and rough. "Be a good girl and get yo knees fa me," he growled through gritted teeth, barely holding it back.

And fuck, those words hit you like a freight train. It was like a switch flipped in your brain, your body moving almost instinctively as if you already knew what was next. You didn’t even think about it—you just did.

Dropping to your knees, you looked up at him through your lashes, your gaze locking with his, and there it was. That darkness, that possessive hunger that always lurked just beneath the surface. Jey’s jaw was clenched, his hands gripping the back of your head for support, as if he needed it to stay steady.

His eyes roamed over you like he couldn’t believe you were really there, like you were some kind of temptation he couldn’t resist.

You took your time, letting the tension build between you as your fingers grazed his waistband. Slowly, you tugged his shorts down, watching them slip past his hips until they pooled at his ankles. The sight of him like that, completely exposed, made your breath hitch in your throat.

But you weren’t done.

You leaned in a little closer, your hands tracing down his thighs before sliding under the waistband of his underwear. You took a second, letting the moment drag out, before pulling those down too, inch by inch, until they joined his shorts on the floor.

His thick dick arched towards you, glistening slightly as if it had been waiting for this moment. The huge, meaty length, likely around nine inches, had a rosy tip that was already dripping with precum.

As you traced your finger around the swollen tip, a deep moan escaped his lips. “Ugh, mama,” he murmured, sounding so fucking good. A low grunt rolled from him as you tightened your grip and began to move your hand, the sound of you stroking his wet, aching dick echoed in the living room. “Mmh, shit,” he breathed, tilting his head back.

You lean in, your heart racing, and place a gentle, wet kiss on the swollen, angry tip of his dick. The warmth of your lips sends shivers through his body, and without a moment's hesitation, his hips instinctively thrust forward, a reflex wanting for more. “F-f- fuck, please,” he breathes out, the desperate need in his voice sending a shock through you.

He tilted his head back, surrendering to the feeling moving through him. Veins bulged on his hands as he tangled them in your hair, desperately trying to mask the expressions that escaped him. With each flick of your tongue, his hips shuddered in response. Your other hand began a slow journey, trailing to his balls, where you gave a gentle squeeze, drawing out a gasp that escaped his lips as your mouth sucked him deeper.

You felt him hit the back of your throat, and a whimper slipped from him — a sound of pure need. The feeling made your pussy swell, your wetness pooling as you ground your hips against the fabric of your panties, craving more.

You could feel his rough grip tightening in your hair, a mix of pleasure and desperation evident in his voice as he stuttered, “Mama —! SHIT, wait—.” His eyes widened, a clear sign of the overwhelming urge building inside him, a tidal wave of release.

But, rather than slowing down, you were only spurred on, sucking him harder while tightening your throat around him, matching the rhythm of your hand as it continued to tease and squeeze his balls. “Please— Mmmmm,” he moaned, pleasure erupting from deep within. Then, without warning, you felt it — a hot rush as he erupted, flooding your throat with warmth, each wave sending electric jolts of satisfaction through both of you.

Jey grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you up with barely any effort, his grip firm but not painful. Without saying a word, he pulled you toward the couch in two long strides, moving like he was in control of every inch of the space between you.

His breath was still heavy, fanning against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You know you don’t hate me, mama," he murmured in your ear, his voice low, thick with something dangerous. His lips brushed against your neck, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to make you fall apart.

"You just hate that you want me," he added, his teeth grazing your skin between kisses, making your knees damn near buckle.

You let out a shaky whimper, barely above a whisper. "Jey..."

His grip on you tightened. "Yeah, baby?" he teased, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You swallowed hard, your breath coming out shaky as your fingers gripped onto his arms for some kind of stability. His lips were still on your neck, warm, teasing, like he was waiting for you to say it.

"F-fuck me... please," you finally breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, but desperate enough for him to hear exactly what you needed.

Jey pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable—something dangerous. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, and for a moment, he just watched you, like he was letting your words settle, making sure you meant them.

Then, his grip tightened, and he smirked. "That’s all you had to say, mama."

He flipped you around like it was nothing, hands firm on your waist, making sure you landed exactly where he wanted you—ass pressed up against him. Your hands hit the couch for balance, fingers gripping the fabric as your breath came out shaky.

Jey didn’t rush. Nah, he took his time, dragging his fingers down your hips before slowly peeling your shorts and panties down, letting the cool air kiss your skin. It was deliberate, like he was making a point—like he wanted you to feel every second of it.

You arched for him without thinking, body reacting on its own, and he let out a low hum—like he liked what he saw, like he was taking a mental picture of the way you were laid out for him.

Jey peeled off his shirt and tossing it aside, his warm hands running over your hips before he positioned himself right at your entrance.

“Gonna be a good girl fa me and take this dick?” Jey rasped, his voice thick with need, his grip on your hips tightening. His teeth clenched like he was barely holding himself back.

You barely had time to respond, a shaky “y-yes, I—” slipping from your lips before a gasp tore through you.

“Oh my God—!”

Your fingers dug into the couch as he pushed forward, taking his time, making sure you felt every inch of his meaty dick. He was ripping through the gummy walls of your pussy. The room felt hotter, the air thick with tension, his deep groan mixing with your breathy whimpers.

His movements grew rougher, more urgent, his grip firm as he drove deeper. Each thrust sent waves of heat through your body, the pressure making your breath hitch. The sound of his heavy balls meeting your clit filled the room, a rhythm that left no space for second thoughts.

His low groans mixed with your breathy moans, his pace relentless, like he was set on making sure you felt every bit of him.

“Jey… J-Jeyyy,” you whimpered, voice breaking as he moved just right, hitting that perfect spot like he knew your body better than you did.

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, rough and needy. “Yeah… lemme h-hear you, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with pleasure.

Then he stilled, buried deep, making your breath hitch. His grip tightened as he leaned in, his next words dripping with heat. “You feel so. Fucking. Good, mama,” he growled, punctuating each word with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, making sure you felt every inch of him.

Jey’s grip on your hair tightened, pulling you upward just enough to feel the strain in your back as you arched deeper. He fucked you so smooth, almost hypnotic, as each motion seemed to draw out all the tension that had built up between you both. His breaths grew heavier, as if every second was another release of the stress he’d been holding onto all day.

You were both so close, the tension building, each of you chasing that same overwhelming release. Your body trembled as the pressure inside you built up to an unbearable peak.

“Jey, I—oh god,” you moaned, your voice shaky as he moved with purpose, knowing exactly what you needed.

“Mhm, give it to me, mama,” he murmured, his breath ragged. “I’m close too.”

You let go, the wave of pleasure crashing over you, your body shuddering as the world around you blurred. Jey’s grip on you tightened as he followed, his rhythm slowing as he caught his breath, both of you lost in the aftermath. The air between you was thick, charged, like you were both coming down from something intense and raw.

Jey scooped you up like it was nothing, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You could feel the heat of his skin pressed against yours, and everything felt so close, so right. You were exhausted, barely keeping your eyes open, but it didn’t matter. You just trusted him to take care of the rest.

He didn’t even say a word—just held you tight and started walking, his hands steady on your ass as he carried you effortlessly. You didn’t even know where he was taking you, but you didn’t care. You were just so tired, so wrapped up in the feeling of him, the weight of your body melting against his.

Then, he kicked open the bathroom door with one smooth motion, not even breaking a stride, like he’d done it a million times. He didn’t put you down, just shifted you slightly so you were still pressed against him as he turned the shower on. The sound of water filling the air was calming, almost like it was meant to wash away everything from the day.

When he finally set you down, your legs wobbled slightly, but you steadied yourself, stepping into the shower as the warm water hit your skin. Jey followed you in, his hands never leaving your body as he stood close behind you, like he just couldn’t get enough of being near you.

You could feel yourself finally relaxing as Jey took over, the gentle motion of the washcloth gliding across your shoulders. His touch was soft but firm, like he knew exactly how to soothe you. When the cloth passed over your skin again, it lingered there for a second longer, and then, you felt his lips press a tender kiss to your shoulder. The soft foam of soap clung to his lips, but he didn’t seem to care. It was almost endearing in its own way.

"Y’know, I always wanted this," he murmured, his voice hushed but full of intention as his fingers ran in slow circles on your back, the washcloth soothing your skin.

Your stomach fluttered, and the feeling felt so real, so raw. You turned around to face him, meeting his eyes. His smirk was just enough for his grillz to flash in the low light, the mischievous glint in his eyes unmistakable.

“Yeah… me too,” you admitted, the words coming out quieter than you expected.

You realized then, maybe you never hated him the way you thought you did. Maybe the whole time, you wanted him so badly, you hated how much you needed him.

Before you could overthink it, your hand reached up to his wet mullet, tugging him down toward you. Your lips met in a kiss, slow and lingering, as his hand moved to your ass, giving it a softer squeeze. There was no rush now. No tension. Just the feeling of being with him, finally, in a way you never expected.

There’s just something about him that pisses you off.

Something about the way he makes you love him.

🏷️: @luvrsluxe @skyesthebomb

#smut #fanfic #jey uso #wwe fanfiction #jey uso fanfiction #wwe #jey uso smut #jey uso x reader #main event jey uso #jey uso fic

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damn-stark · 12 hours ago

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Chapter 2 Lavender green, lavender blue

Chapter 2 of Sinnerwoman

A/N- Ahhh!! The second chapter is here and I really hope you all like it just as much as I liked writing it!!

Warning- ANGST!! Weapons, blood, light violence. Talks of death! And small SA part. Spoilers for the show!

Pairing- Hwang Jun-ho x fem!reader

Episode- 1x09 & 2x01-2x02

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

——

A decision has been made. It was made the moment the Front Man revealed his identity, but what is the warmth and the sound of your lover's beating heart compared to a lifetime of bitter solitude and agonizing screams?

Nothing…nothing compares to what you have to return to, but you can’t stay or risk waiting. Jun-ho might be in a coma, he might wake up a month from now, and you would have waited a month or all your life if you had to, but you can’t risk it.

You have to leave, he has to forget about you for his own safety. And maybe it is a selfish decision, you got mad at him because he chose to leave you in the dark when he decided to put his life at risk to sneak onto that Island, but this is different. This is a sacrifice you're making to save his life. Does it make leaving him behind any better?

No, you don’t want him to forget about you. You don’t want him to meet someone else, and you don’t want him to live the life you wanted with him with someone else. You want him to only love you, but there’s no other choice. He won’t stop pursuing the Island and that will get him killed, and you don't think you’ll be able to survive this time if you have to watch someone else that you love die in your arms again, so you have to leave.

First, though, you have to snuggle up against him and share his warmth for a little longer. You have to hear the sound of his beating heart for a little longer to memorize its calming beat.

Just a little longer.

“Lavender’s green, dilly, dilly…lavender's blue,” you sing, or try because every word of the lullaby comes out shaky and like you’re out of breath because you can’t help the tears that run down your cheeks and stain Jun-ho’s hospital gown.

“If you love me…dilly, dilly. I will love you,” you continue and maybe you aren’t the best singer, but memories fade or get obscured, especially those of children, and that lullaby is one of the few memories you have of your sister when she would sing it to you at the orphanage. It means so much to you, to her memory and now when you think of that song, besides your sister, you’ll think of the only man you’ll love. The man who loved you; your Jun-ho, so you have to share it with him. Even if he can’t hear it.

Yet those last words uttered were like a pierce to the heart and with each impact, more and more of you was chipped away, leaving no more strength to continue the rest. Thus you stroke Jun-ho’s chest one more time before you shift your head to press a light kiss on the part of his chest that you were resting your head on. You then slide off the bed and sit up to study every inch of his face before you lean down and leave one last kiss on his lips.

Rather than getting up right away, you let the warmth of your lips linger on his to cherish the taste before you force yourself off the hospital bed.

When you’re standing at the foot of the same bed you steal one last glance at him, wishing you could have seen his eyes and talked to him one more time, but you keep telling yourself that what you’re doing is for the best, so you push yourself away with tears crawling down the curve of your cheeks.

Before you can leave the room and the hospital, however, you make a stop at the bathroom. You splash your face with water to wipe the tears off your cheeks and any marking they could have left behind. If you had any other clothes besides the ones you wore to the Island, you would have put them on now, but you have nothing. All you can do is disconnect your phone from any satellite that gives you service, and then the wifi to go offline, making the hospital the last place your phone would have been.

Once that is taken care of, you move to leave, but you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, so you stop and slowly scale your eyes to the scar of a skidding bullet above your ear, and every bad memory you have of the island comes rushing in, making you hesitate and dread having to return to that horrible and terrible life.

You almost have the nerve to return to Jun-ho’s bedside and pretend you weren’t going to leave. You don’t want to see it again. You don’t want to live it. You can’t hide behind a mask again, but…it’s a sacrifice you have to make for the man you love, so after a deep breath you make it out of the bathroom. You throw your phone away in the nearest trash can and stride out of the hospital.

No one stops you, and no one looks. You walk out alone under the cover of rain and leave everything behind.

——

*3 YEARS LATER.*

“…IT'S ALMOST BEEN THREE YEARS SINCE THE DISAPPEARANCE…”

Whatever had been said before didn’t matter. It didn’t even register as noise, but these words finally steal his attention. After all, it's been the same words they once repeated daily and then weekly, monthly, and then every year, so like his name, Jun-ho becomes alert when he hears them,

“…OF THE RESPECTED AND DECORATED DETECTIVE KANG…”

Yet when the news anchor begins to say your name he tunes out the news again. He can’t muster the strength to hear your name or see the portrait of you that they display on the screen without feeling agony pierce his heart. So with memorized timing, he tunes out those few seconds and then focuses again to hear the rest of the news bit.

“…SHE WAS LAST SEEN LEAVING THE HOSPITAL. IF YOU HAVE INFORMATION ON HER WHEREABOUTS PLEASE CONTACT YOUR LOCAL AUTHORITIES. THANK YOU.”

Yet no one ever does contact the authorities. It’s like you just vanished in the rainfall that supposedly hit that night.

Maybe if you hadn’t been seen at the same hospital he was taken to it would be easier to pass you off as dead, but you were seen. You made it out of the Island, just like he did, so how could he possibly forget you? You of all people. You out of every soul he knew. You…his epic love.

Just like his brother was his life. You were also all of his life and so much more of it. He would have to be dead to forget you.

Maybe death would be good though. That way he would forget what he saw his brother become. That way he could stop blaming himself for your disappearance, but when he looks up at the picture of you and him that he has attached to his locker mirror, he thinks to himself, “How can I possibly die without knowing where you are, or…what happened to you?”

He can’t die yet. He has so many questions, and so much unfinished business that also has nothing to do with you, but, you…

“You,” he thinks to himself as he pulls the picture off the mirror, catching at that moment the wandering eyes of his colleague before he quickly looks away and walks off without saying a word.

At first, the first few weeks of your disappearance, when he returned to work, all he would get was pitiful consolations. After that, anytime you were brought up they just passed him pitiful stares that were also mixed with curiosity as they wondered if he still cared.

He would tell them to fuck off, but he doesn’t want to waste his breath so he lets them think what they want. He’s still searching for answers and he’s the only one that needs to know that.

“I won’t stop looking,” he thinks to himself as he folds the picture so you and your timid smile are the center of attention.

After he strokes his thumb over the image of you he sticks the picture back on his mirror and tries to continue changing back into his normal clothes, but then the scar his brother left on his shoulder steals his attention.

Just like you, how can he possibly forget about In-ho? Sometimes he forgets what he saw, but when he sees his scar, when he feels the shape under his fingertips, he remembers what happened that day In-ho shot him and he’s hit with a wave of different emotions and questions.

One question he has is if In-ho has anything to do with your disappearance. You escaped the Island, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t find you after you escaped.

Maybe In-ho…took you away from Jun-ho’s life?

He doesn’t like that possibility, he can’t imagine that his brother is the one who stole the woman he loved from him, so he finishes changing. Once he’s done, like every day that came before, he leaves the department and heads to his car.

Yet this evening as he’s walking to his car he feels this sensation like someone is staring, so he stops walking, and lifts his gaze to look in the direction he felt the stare coming from.

However, when his eyes find the spot, there’s no one there. There’s just an empty street. So after a couple of seconds of lingering, he continues to his car. It’s only once he’s driven off that you come out from behind a pillar, and keep your eyes where you had seen him last before you take a deep breath and collect yourself to check your phone.

When you see what time it is you groan in annoyance and set off. There’s no hurry in your pace, or an urgency to get a ride to where you’re meant to be. You go on as if you’re taking a stroll through the city, enjoying the sights like a tourist, and enjoying the sounds of everyday life because that’s the one thing you like; the commotion of the busy city life.

Where you live now is like living in a construction site, or sometimes it feels like an office. In the off-season when there’s not an army of workers, there is a stillness that you appreciate, but with it comes a silence that drags on and if you weren’t used to it you would be driven insane.

That’s why you soak in the everyday commotion while you can. Even if it makes you late to your meeting.

“Hi, I’m here to join a party already at a table. Under the name, Oh,” you let the hostess know, and right away her eyes search the list on her screen. In a matter of seconds, her finger stops scrolling and she faces you with a perfectly practiced smile.

“Follow me,” she says and walks away from her podium to guide you to a secluded table at the end of the room, still nicely lit, but secluded to offer privacy.

Thus the walk is longer than usual, but when you reach the table the party waiting for you stands from their seats to welcome you to the table at long last.

“Here you go, ma’am, do you know what you want to order or should I leave the menu?”

“No,” one of the party members interjects. “We already ordered ahead for her. Let the waitress know she’s here.”

The hostess offers him a smile and nods in comprehension before she backs up and walks off, leaving you alone to face your rather patient dates.

“Forgive me,” you announce with a small smile. “I’m late. I know. There was some business I needed to take care of.”

You proceed to take your seat that faces the party you met up with, and they then take their seats after you, letting you meet them at their eye level and offer them a wider smile. “Shall we?” You suggest.

——

*2 YEARS AGO*

“…I don’t like to see you get hurt and if something had happened to you, or if something happens to you because of me, I…don’t think I could ever in my life forgive myself. I…love you.”

“I…love you.”

Jun-ho’s words are the commotion that keeps the quiet lobby from truly being deafening so late at night. While the picture in your hand keeps you company in a lobby where you’re the only one occupying it.

That is until you hear the glass front doors get pushed open and a single pair of wet footsteps walk in and change the occupation from one to two. Or so that’s what it sounds like.

You peer back thinking you’ll catch more people walking in with the person you’re waiting for, but alas, it’s a single man. A homeless man…maybe? He looks ragged with his beat-up clothes, his shoulder-length unkempt hair, and his dirty face.

But who are you to judge his appearance?

“The elevators are down the hall,” you share as you turn your head away from the man who seems lost. “If not. The receptionist start their shift at six. You’ll have to be gone by then.”

The man begins to walk down the hall while he offers you a response. “Oh…thank you. Goodnight.”

“Good night,” you deadpan and keep listening in. It’s not until you hear the elevator doors close that you bring up your picture again and keep admiring Jun-ho’s image, his heartwarming smile that he only showed to the camera because you were posing with him. Otherwise, you would only catch him in a picture alone if it was off guard. It’s why you have a lot of pictures of him off guard, and that’s why the ones with him actually looking at the camera and smiling are your favorite, but the one you hold in your hand is a picture you cherish the most because decorations from your favorite holiday adorn it, and he’s holding your little black Scottish Terrier, Gentleman.

If only you could be with them, especially now, but if you picked up your dog the moment you left the hospital that night, it would have made your disappearance questionable, so you left him behind with your neighbor the day you left for the Island. And Jun-ho…there’s hundreds of reasons why you can’t be with him…

That’s why you’re here alone, watching the snow start to fall and stick to the ground with a solemn look that will probably never leave. Once the snow is thicker you put the folded picture away and step outside where you break the snow’s path so some part of it can fall on you instead.

It takes a while for you to look up as you stand in your solitude and let the snow weigh you down first as if you’re just another object on the street. When you do finally break from your stupor, you slowly look up at the white sky intermingled with the night, and notice two perfectly shaped snowflakes dancing down from the sky in an attempt to reach the ground, so you put your hand out and try to catch them on your palm.

Nevertheless, one snowflake breaks away from its path and continues barreling to the ground, while the other lands on your palm all alone and melts right away.

Perhaps if the other snowflake had also landed on your palm, the lonely snowflake would have lived longer, but it was no good alone. Thus you fist your hand with disappointment and attempt to head back inside, but in that moment you then catch a man across the street.

He doesn’t seem conscious, he seems to be sleeping with the way he’s slumped on the ground, but you can’t be sure from where you are, so you make your way to him.

The moment you reach him you call out to him in hopes of gaining his attention. “Sir? Are you okay?”

You wait for a few seconds but there’s no response. His eyes remain closed and his breathing heavy, so you get closer and catch a whiff of alcohol, but you don't let that matter. You still shake him gently, causing him to slip.

When he doesn’t wake up that way you back away and immediately pull your phone out to call the police. And rather than staying there and waiting for the police out in the open, under all the street lights, you choose to walk off to a bench across the street and wait there where you won’t be seen.

You continue to wait and wait until finally a siren sounds and police show up to take the man out of the cold. And even then you don’t leave the cold yourself, you stay on the bench, letting the snow continue to pile up on your slouched figure as you wait and lose yourself on the untouched sheet of snow already covering the ground.

After some unknown time passes the headlights of a car break you from your stupor and you look up, noticing black SUVs with dark tinted windows pull up to the apartment building you had been waiting in. Thus ending your waiting period and making you dust the snow off your body before you get up to look like some creep waiting just outside the car.

Thankfully who you’re waiting for doesn’t leave you waiting too long, but the moment your eyes land on him your breath catches in your throat. And when his eyes fall on you, he comes to a stop and has the nobility to look at you in the eyes.

There’s no softness and no agitation. He doesn’t pass you a firm or deadpanned look. He seems curious about you, just as you are about him; Hwang In-ho, the older brother of the love of your life, and the Front Man.

Even so, neither of you exchange any words on any matter, he just says your name so you counter by stating his own name. “Hwang In-ho. It’s nice to meet you in a calmer environment.” You scoff and he just looks at you before he turns his body to face the car.

“Are you coming?” He asks and walks away without waiting for an answer as if he knows what you’re going to choose. Yet you still linger where you are to hesitate as if you have a choice when your mind's made up and has been forcing you to follow through with that decision for a year now.

It’s just…if you get that in that car, you officially go back to that nightmare. You leave your life behind. You leave Jun-ho, and trade it for…a life that turned its back on you?

“Your father is dead,” In-ho shares from inside the car as if he can read your mangled thoughts only getting more and more twisted—“you have a chance to start over. Not where you started, but by my side. Just as we discussed. Get in the car.”

You put your hands in your pockets to grab the picture and debate for a second longer before you choose not to live a lifetime secluded. If you’re going to be alone you might as well be alone there where you can be a piece upon the board. So you get in the car and watch your decision get sealed when the door closes.

“Is the host dead?” You ask first and foremost, skipping formalities because you already know each other's names.

“The flower arrangement was inappropriate,” he says in a deeper tone that could be passed as scolding.

“Well,” you respond with a growing malicious smile. “Look at it this way, now my flowers will be the first to decorate his grave.” You snicker and look over at him with a smile, but he looks at you nonchalantly.

“You can’t see Jun-ho anymore,” he changes the subject bluntly, causing your smile to fall and your amusement to fade right away.

“I know that,” you mutter as you turn your head away to look out the window. “That’s why I disappeared because I saw you. I knew who you were and what you meant to the games, and I…knew,” you pause and swallow back a lump of emotions that had begun to form in your throat. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to lie to his face.”

You see your eyes water through the reflection painted on the window, so you avert your gaze and continue. “He really cares about you…you know. He looks—looked up to you. It wasn’t long after we met that he told me about you, so…seeing you take that mask off…” you trail off and peek over at him, seeing that he can't look at you, his eyes are on his hands, and his jaw is clenched, giving away his discomfort on the matter.

“…was when I knew what I had to do to protect him because if he knew that I knew how to find you, he wouldn’t stop. He would get himself killed to get back on that Island again. To reach you, and,” you pause and feel the tears break away to fall down your cheeks.

“I can’t lose him. He means everything to me. And coming from someone with nothing, losing everything is like losing one's own life.”

In-ho hums, and you take that as a simple form of acknowledgment, but if you could understand the deeper meaning behind that simple acknowledging hum, you would know that he also knows what it’s like to lose everything.

“I already lost everything once. I can’t lose it again. So I know I can’t see him again,” you finish stating and then wipe the tears off your face to slowly look over at him.

“Are you sure there will be a place for me there?” You make sure to ask.

In-ho’s eyes drift to you to catch a glimpse of you before he reaches down and grabs a black box decorated with a pink bow to give it to you.

You don’t wait or question him. You pull at the pink bow to pull it off and then pull the lid off the box. When you reach inside you pull out a shiny silver mask of the top half of a crane’s face.

“This is where you belong,” In-ho assures you as you keep looking at your mask and realize there’s no turning back. This is you now. Again.

Another piece on the board…

Or the piece that ends it all.

——

*NOW*

“I’m glad that we are meeting in the city,” you muse as you pull your coat off and hang it on your chair. “The island tends to suffocate me.”

“You insisted on meeting here,” In-ho quips as he studies you as if that will give away where you were. “Annoyingly so.”

You shrug and flash him a sweet smile. “And you accepted. You had the power to deny my suggestion but you caved, so my point still stands.”

In-ho sighs deeply in annoyance before he snaps his gaze away to look at your third guest, the man in charge of recruiting the players for the games. “Anyway, considering some of us are meant to be missing, we're short on time. Tell us what you know,” he directs at the recruiter.

“Well,” the recruiter doesn’t leave you waiting. “As I’ve mentioned, player 456, Seong Gi-hun, and his…hired lackey,” he adds without masking his disgust. “Are trailing me.”

“What else is new,” you mutter and sit back as the waitress walks over with your cup of coffee just the way you like it. “Aren’t they on the subway lines every day?”

The recruiter sighs whilst he also picks up his spoon to mix his coffee. “On the dot. Which leaves me surprised that…such low lives are so loyal to their boring jobs.”

You pick your cup up and raise it to quip. “Money. Maybe we can offer them more to act like they don’t see you. That will keep player 456 chasing after his own tail.”

The recruiter laughs and you flash him a smile as you take a sip of your coffee. Albeit In-ho doesn’t share your amusement. “That won’t be necessary. You will let Player 456’s lackey find you.”

The recruiter lets his spoon go and blinks repeatedly in confusion before he questions the command. He’s not one to question any command given to him. If In-ho or anyone above him says bark, he will do so without hesitation, but he questions this command this one time. “Are you sure?”

In-ho nods. “Play with them or be straightforward. It doesn’t matter as long as Player 456 gets this key,” he shares before digging in his suit pocket and pulling out a brown card that he hands to the recruiter. “He won’t want any other thing but to see me. That key will have all he needs to find me.”

The recruiter doesn’t read the card. He blindly tucks it away and nods in comprehension.

“How many players have you recruited?” You interject now as you take a longer sip of your coffee.

“I’m close to getting all the players we need. I have of course left three spots open.”

“Good,” In-ho mumbles.

The recruiter licks his lips and leans forward. “Will you still go through with it, Captain?”

In-ho grabs the cup of his almost-finished coffee and leaves the question unanswered for a moment before he nods and then takes his last drink of coffee. Once he's done he proceeds to answer. “As long as player 456 does.”

You set your cup down and keep your eyes lingering on the coffee in your cup to avoid anyone’s potential stare.

“Will you?” The question gets passed and you know the Recruiter is looking at you. “It’s hard to imagine you getting your hands dirty. All those people.”

You swallow thickly and simply steal a glance at him before you take a sip of your coffee and keep your eyes on the cup rather than him to avoid letting him read any part of your current thoughts.

The Recruiter is no mind reader, but he’s crazy enough to know what’s lurking in the shadows of your mind. He always has.

“I’ve been a cop,” you argue. “I know how to get my hands dirty. It doesn’t bother me, and neither do the people.”

“Right,” he snickers. “You’re a lone wolf. With no social skills.”

You sit the cup down hard and snap your eyes to him, catching that stupid taunting smile plastered on his stupid face.

Just like when you were young he always finds a way to pester you.

“If you weren’t number two. You would die. There’s a difference between watching and actually playing. Did you ever play those games in the orphanages you—”

“My brother and I played all the time,” you cut him off before he can tick you off. Which is hard to do. You know how to keep your cool, but he just knows how to press your buttons. “Don’t worry about me,” you deadpan and then look at in-ho. “Shall we?” You press.

In-ho nods without fret, letting you grab your coat before you get up. In-ho mirrors your actions, and before he heads out he does add one last thing to the Recruiter. “Do you have us covered?”

Without a doubt the Recruiter tries to please In-ho by agreeing, letting In-ho then point his hand ahead to let you lead the way out of the cafe.

“See you soon,” the Recruiter throws at you as you walk away without giving your goodbyes, but there’s a reason you didn’t so you just offer him a feigned smile over your shoulder before you roll your eyes away and leave. Once you’re in the car you lean your body toward In-ho and don’t forget to complain.

“Why don’t we change recruiters? This one’s psychotic,” you grumble as you prop your elbow on the armrest and rest your chin on your hand. “He’s always been missing a few bolts in the head.”

In-ho grabs the newspaper of the day from the seat pocket and begins to read the articles. “Some will say that’s what makes him perfect for the job. Don’t let him get under your skin.”

You roll your eyes but keep watching him. “I know someone who will be better at the job. And he’s got a charm to him.”

“Who?” He immediately counters. “I never see you talk to anyone besides me.”

You sit up and look at him like he’s wounded you, while he hides his faint smile by keeping his eyes on the newspaper.

“Oh. Funny.” You grumble and turn away to look ahead with your body slumped in the seat.

“If you’re going to join the game you’ll need to socialize. Gain their trust. Or you’ll be a burden to me.”

“I’m not asking you to take care of me. We can pretend not to know each other.”

“That'd be impossible, who would you talk to then?” He teases you dryly. He’s teasing you!

It seems like you're starting to prefer when he was standoffish and blunt.

“Just be a player. Gain their trust and sabotage Player 456,” he puts it simply without long explanations because this is a matter you already discussed.

“No, no.” You shake your finger. “My job is not to crush Player 456 and destroy his last flicker of will. That’s your job. I am simply joining to not die of boredom watching the games.”

Or so you say out loud.

“Well whatever the case, there’s no fun in it if you isolate yourself,” he disregards you to keep insisting, making you sit back again and look out the window this time. “Do you want me to tag along on the 31st?”

“If it’s what you want,” he says while the newspaper in his hand rustles as he sets it down. “I’m gonna have snipers posted on the route. And two men that will walk in the club.”

You nod in comprehension and share what you already have planned. “Well, I’ll be your lookout then. I’ll have your back. Secure the perimeter, and figure out how many people Player 456 brings with him.”

Through the reflection on the window, you see In-ho nod before he turns his head to look at you before he bluntly changes the subject. “You went to see him didn’t you?”

You stiffen and slowly meet the reflection of his eyes. “You had me followed?” You snap.

“You’re making it harder on yourself,” he says without denying or admitting to the accusation which means it is true—“let him go. What if he had seen you? What if any of his colleagues had seen you?”

You roll your head his way to look him in the eyes with a firmly pointed look. “But he didn’t and he never does!” You argue with your voice raised higher than usual.

“It doesn’t matter if he never has. He can and he will,” he counters with no raise in his voice. He’s just trying to sound firm. “If he sees you, what then? You’ll throw away everything you sacrificed for him and for what? To see him dead?”

You furrow your eyebrows and puff out your chest, but can’t form any argument to throw back at him because you know he’s right. “He was all I had,” you say instead as your eyes wander down.

In-ho sighs and his voice is now softer. “I know, but you’re only hurting yourself more.”

You swallow back thickly and huff as a response. While In-ho steals a glance at you and lets his eyes linger on your drooped frown, your watery eyes, and your furrowed brows. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t show any emotion, he’s still, and providing a deafening silence that is…odd and uncomfortable. There was once a time when he could sit in the silence without it bothering him, but now?

He’s made a mistake welcoming you back on the island and allowing you to have a spot in the innermost circle, but he didn’t know what your presence would bring to his life and now that he lives amongst it, you are his new normal. So when that normal is disturbed it always feels so odd.

Like he’s upset the scales of life.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

Maybe it’s because when you were growing up you were never asked for forgiveness from the man who called himself your father, so you learned to move on and not expect it; live like nothing happened in the first place and shove that problem away. Or maybe it’s because In-ho was/is right about you hurting yourself more by continuing to see Jun-ho, but now as dinner has rolled around, it’s like he didn’t make you upset to the point you haven’t talked to him since the car ride home hours prior.

As is your new normal, you set the dinner table for two, just him and you. It makes for quite a lonely dinner, but there isn’t anyone else either of you care about on the Island to have seated with you for dinner. Plus, after the awkward stage passed, it’s actually nice having dinner together. You look forward to it when you’re not upset at him.

Therefore once you finish setting the table you have the intention to go get him, but when you leave the dining room, there he is just outside the door. It seems like he was passing by the moment you opened the door.

Albeit, unbeknownst to you, he had been outside the door debating whether to come talk to you in order to balance the scales or not. Nothing he said was wrong, he was right and he was going to stand by that, but he also knows there could have been a kinder approach and he was going to explain that.

However, he also debated whether there was a point in asking for forgiveness. He isn’t your brother or your father, he’s your superior, your colleague, and your friend so he was leaning toward that choice. Yet you walked out before he could leave.

“Dinner is ready,” you let him know with a glass of wine in your hand. “But if you want sad ramen that’s okay too.”

In-ho is stuck again. You’re giving him a way out to do as he had chosen to do, but there you stand across from him with a tiny smile tugged on your lips, a pleading gaze you couldn’t keep discreet no matter how hard you try, a warm plate of food already expecting him, and no one else to fill the silence. You’re waiting and asking for nothing in return even if there is something he wants to offer you.

Thus, he accepts your invitation. He walks in, washes his hands, and sits down with no forgiveness to offer you in return. And it's not like you bring it up either. It's like you knew how not to expect it just to please him.

“My sister,” you offer him some more information on a past that you rarely share. “…Was older, so we were separated for most of the day at the orphanage, but when dinner rolled around we always made it our tradition to eat together. It was always my favorite part of the day and something I always looked forward to.” You pause and take a bite of your food, making sure to chew it well and swallow before you take a long drink of your wine and then continue.

“When I was adopted by my family, I was glad that I could continue that tradition with my mother and my brother and on occasion my father. And then…after Jun-ho and I became close, every day after work we would have dinner together. Whether it was in the park, in a car, or at one of our houses. That’s why I learned to cook so well. You’re lucky I’m not six anymore or we’d be having banana sandwiches.”

In-ho scoffs with amusement, letting a small smile appear on his lips as he chews. When he’s done with that bite he interjects. “I can’t imagine your sister was too pleased with your meal choice.”

You laugh softly and shake your head. “Never. She always scolded me, but they were my favorite and the only thing I was allowed to make at a young age, so on days she expected me to make them, she always had boiled eggs for us to eat after.”

In-ho’s smile stays on his face for a moment and it’s in that comfortable silence that was made by the fact that you could make him smile, that you bring up the matter that left a strain between each other.

“You were right, you know,” you say after you take a couple bites of your food. “About Jun-ho.”

You pick up your wine glass as you also lower your head.

“But,” you argue in your defense.

“No,” he cuts you off, and as you bring your eyes up to look at him, you notice that his smile and any sign of amusement is completely gone, leaving him…as always, nonchalant—“You need to completely cut him off. You need to forget the life you had on the mainland. That life will only drag you down and be your worst enemy.”

Tears slowly fill your eyes, but you’re tougher on yourself this time. You don’t cry, you simply snap back with no sign of spite, just nonchalance. “So should I be like you?”

In-ho clenches his jaw as he doesn’t know how to take that, but there’s also no other way to be. “Yes,” he deadpans.

You blink and look down at your food to take a couple of bites and then a longer drink of your wine, managing to finish it and serve yourself more as you think about what he said and that it's not what you want

You know what you yearn for, or so you tell yourself and you don’t want to become everything you despise. You know what you want and you don’t want to be the person that the masks turn you into.

Is he everything you loathe though? If you look at him in the eyes. Really look at him, will he be the reminder of the father you loathe? That’s who he wants you to be…is that who he is?

“Do you think that the workers here will obey me if I am more like you?” You fill the silence as you sit back with your new glass of wine in one hand, and a firmer look that isn’t like that warm look you carried moments ago. “I mean when I’m not in your shadow that is.”

In-ho sits up and holds your gaze as he nods with reassurance. “They’ll no choice will they?”

You tilt your head slightly and scoff.

“When your father was the Front Man…”

“He ruled with an Iron fist,” you continue for him since he wasn’t here when your father was the Front Man. He only knows stories. “Yes, but that’s a thing of the past. Done by different old men. I am no man. I left a different regime behind shall we say, and then I came back under you donning a position of power right away. Do you see where my doubt comes from him?”

“They don’t get to ask questions,” In-ho says. “They have to listen to you. Now if they catch you slipping they will take the chance to do what they want. And with that comes chaos that will eat you alive. Never falter.”

You slowly look down at your wine and begin to gently spin it. “I suppose it is easy to get rid of those who don’t listen here isn’t it?” You ask with a faint smirk.

“You don’t want to overstep either. Easy or not,” he interjects.

You slowly look up at him as you stop spinning your wine and nod stiffly. “I know,” you mutter.

He holds your gaze for a couple more seconds, letting you look him in the eyes and search for what you need.

Right away you see that his eyes are kinder, he is kinder—or was, from what Jun-ho has told you, and from the rare times he metaphorically takes his mask off. Albeit if you look deeper will you see everything you despise? Or something different?

You…don’t know.

But does that change anything?

——

*A FEW DAYS LATER*

“Can you hear me?” You ask for assurance after you made a discreet sweep down the street.

“Yes,” In-ho responds right away in his distorted voice. “We can hear you.”

“There’s nothing that stands out specifically, but I spotted two vans full of men who have not moved or left the car. Both the driver and the front passenger have earpieces on in both cars as well. Let me pass you the license plate,” you direct that last bit to the pink guards before you share what you mentally noted in your quick scouting trip around the block.

“I’m heading back toward the club now,” you follow up by announcing as you pick up your pace, but not in a way that will pique anyone’s interest. You’re fast enough to return to the club quicker.

“We spotted player 456,” a guard shares. “He and a companion are getting out of the car and are en route inside.”

“Wait for them to get inside and then go after them,” In-ho orders.

“There’s also a man in the driver's seat. It seems like he’s waiting.”

In-ho answers with a hum before he passes an order. “Get the license plate and share it with The White Crane,” he refers to your alias. “Take note of who he is, White Crane, and if he gets out of the car to go after player 456, stop him.”

You press the button on the earpiece to give your response. “Understood.”

You keep your pace with a new task in mind. No one stops you because you blend perfectly with everyone else on the busy street celebrating Halloween.

However, you do have to admit you are a bit envious that people seem to be having so much fun. It makes you want to walk into the club and get plastered to have fun too, but you’re on the mainland on a mission, so you’re strictly forbidden to even drink, you can only be envious.

Then again when you finally approach the club, you catch sight of the club and the giant line formed outside, and you admit that maybe being inside doesn’t sound as tempting.

“They’re inside,” a guard shares.

“Alright move in.” In-ho demands.

You finally reach the street where the Pink guards said the car and the man are, but there, in a black car parked in the exact spot you’re on the lookout for, sits Jun-ho. He’s in the driver's seat of the car that matches the license plate the guards told you about.

You could be mistaken. This could be some delusion, but you’re not sick and you can see perfectly fine through your mask, so no, he’s not some fever dream, it’s Jun-ho in the flesh.

Does he notice you?

Your heart stops at the sight of the man you love, making it feel like you’re about to be hit with a heart attack, so you stupidly stop in front of the car and look in wondering if he sees you too.

But how can it be if you’re wearing a fucking mask…

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!

Of course, he’s involved. Why wouldn't he be in the middle of this ordeal?!

With or without you he didn’t let the Island go and now…you have to confront him and do what In-ho told you to do. There’s no other choice, but will you tell In-ho that it’s his brother working with player 456?

No.

Will you tell him that now that you know he’s here and once again involved in all this, that you have an absurd plan to confront him after 3 years of disappearing from his life?

Also no because he doesn’t need to know.

“I found the car and the driver,” you share through the earpiece after you manage to unglue yourself from your spot before Jun-ho can find you suspicious.

The moment you finish crossing the crosswalk though, the sight of Jun-ho getting out of his car catches your attention.

“He’s out of the car in pursuit of his friends,” you let your people know.

“Stop him,” In-ho deadpans with no clue that you’re referring to his brother.

“On it,” you assure him and cross the street properly, unlike Jun-ho who runs in the middle of a busy street like a madman, forcing a car to break.

He does make it across unscathed, but when he tries to just walk inside he’s stopped by the bouncer, so you have to pretend that you’re taking a smoke break so you don’t look like a stalker, or so he doesn’t spot you before you can stop him.

“Hey, no cutting. Go to the back of the line,” the bouncer tells Jun-ho off, which more than likely aggravates him knowing how impatient he can be.

“Police. Move,” Jun-ho snaps bluntly and once again tries to walk in, but again, the bouncer pushes him back.

“See your fellow officers waiting in line?” The bouncer points out to the line of people waiting. “It’s Halloween. Go put your uniform on first.”

With no warning and zero patience, you watch Jun-ho pull out his gun and point it at the bouncer as he shoves him back against a wall. “Does this look like a toy?” He threatens him, making you smile with amusement.

This time around the bouncer has nothing to say in return. He’s speechless, so Jun-ho is able to walk in, whilst you wait a couple of minutes before you drop the cigarette and stomp on the barely used stick to walk in without any resistance. Not because the bouncer was left shaken up after Jun-ho, it’s because they know who you are. That’s why In-ho chose this specific club.

Once you’re inside, you’re immediately enveloped by all the commotion, the raging music, and the bodies of people crowding the entrance and every step you take, making it hard to find Jun-ho, but not impossible. Luckily enough he didn’t make it far so you’re able to find him just on top of the metal stairs that lead to the main floor before he descends them and joins the madness.

With no other choice but to be like some haunting spirit you trail after him rather than being a part of the madness.

Every step he takes you take not so long after. Every turn he makes you do the same, and every person he shoves aside, you carefully slip past. There comes a point where he stops at a bar and shakes an unconscious man with a bright green horse mask, so you finally stop trailing after him. Instead, you pull your mask off and walk in the crowd of dancing bodies to find a way around Jun-ho.

“Dance?” A drunk man shouts and grabs your waist to try and pull you, but you shove him back harshly and snap at him while glaring at him.

“Do that again and I’ll tear your fingers off your hand to shove them up your ass.”

The man is left bewildered so he backs away, letting you disappear in the sea of bodies. And for a moment, because of the interruption, it seems like you lost sight of Jun-ho. You can’t find him again, but as you keep pushing through, you catch a glimpse of him so you run to get ahead. When you finally find an opening, you exit the crowd and stop across from him, making him come to an immediate halt as he notices right away.

You, the person who has been missing for three years. You, the woman he loves and has been searching for relentlessly. You stand there looking him in the eyes, unscathed, healthy, and just as beautiful as the day he lost you.

Yet it’s because he sees you so clearly in your flowing white robes that show off glimpses of your figure when the lights flash on you, that he can’t believe it’s really you. You have to be some divine spirit brought by stress.

“Come,” you wave him over with your hand without letting go of those dark eyes that glisten with brimming tears every time the flashing light basks his face. His jaw then drops slightly and his eyebrows rise as his eyes widen with shock. You proceed to not wait and turn to start walking away.

“Wait!” You hear Jun-ho call out after you.

You peer over your shoulder and see him do just as you want; he follows you, so you lure him to an employee-only door. It is hard making sure that he doesn’t lose sight of you or that actually reaches you since there’s so many people and it’s so crowded, but you manage to stay one step ahead and reach the employee-only hallway without having him stop you.

When Jun-ho sees that you disappear in the hall, he calls out your name and turns cautious when he approaches the door, letting you rush up the stairs to position yourself just around the corner and take out your taser gun.

Jun-ho continues to be cautious when he walks inside, but as he’s climbing the stairs he breaks into a run. In doing so, turning the corner hastily and not being able to stop you from hitting his neck with your taser gun that doesn't leave his flesh until he's knocked out.

Before he can hit the ground you catch him in your arms. “I'm sorry,” you whisper as you admire his face now that you can finally be close to him again. “I had to do it, but it will be okay,” you assure him before you lean down and press a kiss on his forehead. “I promise,” you whisper one last time against his temple.

A/N- Ahhhhh xD

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