definitely-not-mothman

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} JUNCRUITER Prt 30

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft, sexual content •-

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Jun-ho woke to the sound of chimes and an announcement ringing throughout the room.

“Good morning, everyone. A new day has dawned. Please wake up and prepare for your duties. Staff headcount will begin in exactly ten minutes.”

The detective groaned softly as the lights within the room turned on automatically, burning his eyes slightly. He winced and took a moment to get his bearings before slowly sitting up, careful to keep his back to the camera. He tried to act as naturally as he could, stretching before standing and using the sink within the room to wash up a bit. On the wall across from his bed sat a timer, counting down the ten-minute period he was given. Jun-ho was quick to dress and put on his mask before waiting for the door to his room to unlock. Once the timer ran out, the door emitted a loud buzzing sound, and Jun-ho exited through it.

“Headcount will begin now. Please wait in front of your doors,” The woman over the intercoms spoke. Jun-ho stood straight, keeping his gaze straight ahead as he followed his instructions. He could, however, feel the gaze of the guard to his right on him. Jun-ho remained still, though he glanced at the guard through the corner of his eyes. Perhaps he knew the original Guard 29, something that could certainly cause problems down the line.

“Headcount is now complete, please continue on to your duties,” The announcer called, and suddenly they were moving, walking down the halls in two straight lines. They descended the colorful stairs until they reached a series of dark green halls. From there, they entered a large room with sand floors and massive playground structures. The walls were painted a bright blue with white clouds scattered around, aside from the far wall where four doors sat, each with a different symbol on it. A circle, a triangle,  a star, and an umbrella. It was all absolutely insane.

Panic swelled within Jun-ho as the guards began to branch out and take different spots within the room. Where the hell was he supposed to go? Did it matter? He glanced around the room before slowly walking towards a line of guards that stood against one of the walls. Nobody appeared to react to his decision, giving Jun-ho a small sense of relief. He tensed, however, as a set of armed triangle guards entered the room, the players following behind them. It was within that moment that Jun-ho fully realized what was about to happen. Whatever game had been chosen, it would begin soon, and people were going to die. Jun-ho would have to stand there and watch as innocent lives were taken, and there was nothing he could realistically do to stop it. Not while the game was taking place. Stepping out of line now would be a guaranteed death wish.

“Players, welcome to the second game. We will begin shortly,” The announcer spoke up over the intercoms. “Before the second game begins, choose one of the four available shapes you see on the wall. Once you have chosen your shape, you will stand in front of it.” At first, none of the players moved, instead quietly conversing amongst themselves. Then, the announcer spoke up again, her voice sharper. “Choose a shape and stand in front of it, immediately.”

All at once, the players began to move, breaking into long lines before each of the shapes. Jun-ho watched with a frown, trying to decipher what the hell the game was. If it had nothing to do with the playground equipment, then what could it possibly be? He glanced over each of the shapes before his eyes widened slightly. A circle, a triangle, a star, and an umbrella were all common shapes to use for dalgona. A strategy-based challenge where shapes were carefully cut out of the fragile candy. His hyung had once taught Jun-ho how to do it when he was a child, though the detective had been absolutely terrible at it. A fact In-ho had enjoyed teasing him over, blaming it on Jun-ho’s lack of patience. A judgment that had been completely fair back then, Jun-ho could never sit still as a child. Something that translated it him often rushing through trying to carve out his shape. 

“All players, please take one case each from the table at the front of your line,” The announcer instructed as the doors with the shapes opened, revealing tables with circular tins stacked on them. The players followed the instructions, each taking one of the tins that were handed to them by the guards at the tables. “Please take a moment to open the case and check the contents,” The announcer continued. “The second game is Dalgona. The shape you have chosen is the shape you must remove from the honeycomb. The time limit for this game is ten minutes. You will pass if you trim out the shape without it breaking or cracking within this time limit. With that, let the game begin.”

A clock on the wall set itself to a ten-minute countdown, and the game started. Jun-ho watched as the players spread out and began to try and carve out their shapes. The atmosphere of the room was incredibly tense, silent aside from the ticking of the clock and the scratching of needles against the honeycomb. Then, after a few moments, a desperate voice rang out.

“Please, one more chance! Please, please don’t!” Jun-ho’s attention snapped up to the large slide, where a player sat up top with a triangle guard who stood in front of him. The triangle guard raised his gun to the player’s head and fired, sending the poor man’s body down the slide, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Jun-ho winced, his fists clenching at his side as bile threatened to rise into his throat. He swallowed and let out a quiet yet shaky breath. The shots didn’t stop after that, round after round fired into player after player as their honeycombs broke. Jun-ho tried to focus on anything else, staring down at the ground instead of the increasing number of bodies that lined the floor. Then, one of the other guards approached him, and Jun-ho’s breath hitched within his throat as his mask was scanned by a device in the square guard’s hand. 

“Number 29,” The guard spoke, his voice deep with an underlying threat. Jun-ho swallowed before hesitantly speaking up.

“Sir?” He questioned.

“What is your duty for today?” The guard demanded. Fuck, Jun-ho, or rather, Guard 29 wasn’t supposed to be there, was he?

“My duty is…” Jun-ho trailed off, panic rising within him.

“29, your duty is to carry out the eliminated players. So why are you here now?” The guard interjected as he took a menacing step towards Jun-ho. The detective blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m sorry…I got confused,” He stammered, silently cursing himself for such a stupid answer. Still, what else was he supposed to say?

“Wait here until the game ends,” The square guard ordered coldly. “Then you and I will have a word about that confusion,” He then finished before walking away. Jun-ho let out a small sigh of relief, though the feeling didn’t last long. How the hell was he going to get out of this now?

Time passed, and more players either died or completed the challenge. Jun-ho glanced over the remaining players carefully. There were only two minutes left, and so many players yet to walk out. How many of these could realistically make it through? Jun-ho paused as his gaze fell on the familiar face of Seong Gi-hun. It was a relief to know the man was still alive. He sat on his knees, holding the honeycomb up towards one of the lights within the room before bringing it back down to lick away at the back. It was an odd sight to see, but something Jun-ho quickly identified as damn well guenius. The other players seemed to quickly agree as well, as soon most of the remainders were copying the man’s actions. Jun-ho held his breath as the clock ticked down. Twelve seconds…ten…seven…four…three…two. Gi-hun managed to pull his shape at the very last second, saving himself from death. 

“Your time to remove the shape is now over. All successful players must leave the playground immediately,” The announcer called out. The players who managed to finish all got up and made their way out of the run, while those who remained began to plead with the triangle guards around them. The pleading did nothing, however, with most of them being shot right away. That is, with the exception of one. In a matter of seconds, Player 119 had lunged for the guard that was about to shoot him, stabbing his needle from the game into the guard’s mask, no doubt hitting his eye. Jun-ho watched in alarm as the player grabbed the guard’s gun off the ground and pointed it at the rest of them. He then quickly turned and shot the square guard who was about to grab him in the arm. The player hooked an arm around the square guard's neck, pressing the stolen gun against the side of his head.

“You see this, you assholes?” The player yelled out as the remaining triangle guards began to approach, their guns raised. “Goddamnit! What kind of sick game was that? Why the hell did some people get easy shapes while we all got shitty umbrellas, huh?” He demanded. “Step back! Step back or I’ll shoot!” He then cried out in desperation. Jun-ho and the other circle guards remained against the wall, while some of the triangles turned around to kill off the players not yet finished off. There was no mercy with it, no clean shots like there had been during the game. Quick and brutal rounds that left the walls and playground structures dripping with blood.

“Fuck,” Jun-ho whispered in horror, his hands shaking slightly at his side. The player watched it all as well, tears mixing with the panic on his face. He changed his position, pressing the gun to the back of the guard's head. 

“Take your mask off,” He ordered, his voice shaking. “Don’t make me shoot you, take it off!” He then yelled. The guard slowly complied, reaching up and taking off his mask as well as the balaclava that was underneath it. “Turn around now,” The player demanded. His eyes widened as the guard complied. “You’re so young, just a damn kid, What the hell did they do to you?” he stammered, staring up at the guard for a moment before stepping back and raising the gun to his own head. Jun-ho quickly closed his eyes, flinching as the gunshot came.

Fuck.

“Back to work,” The cold voice of the square guard that had spoken to Jun-ho earlier rang out. The other circle guards around Jun-ho began to make their way back into the hallway where they had entered the room. Jun-ho quickly followed, copying the others as they pulled large black coffins with pink bows on them down from forklifts. He flinched once more as another gunshot sounded from within the game room, turning his head just in time to catch a glimpse of a man dressed in black leaving the room. Jun-ho frowned, but continued following the others around him, carrying the coffins into the game room. They loaded the bodies of the players into the coffins before stacking them back onto the forklifts. Eventually, Jun-ho and another guard approached the body of the unmasked square office, now dead on the floor. He had been shot in the head, no doubt a consequence of unmasking himself in front of one of the players. Jun-ho glanced the body over carefully as he crouched down to pick him up by his arms, spotting his discarded mask on the floor. Once the body was transferred to a coffin and the other guard was busy grabbing the lid on, Jun-ho reached down and grabbed the mask, discreetly slipping it into his pocket. He then carefully reached into the pocket of the deceased guard, pulling the key from his pocket and pocketing it as well. The coffin was sealed and carried off, and much to Jun-ho’s relief, nobody questioned where the mask had gone.

“Number 29,” the cold voice of the square guard spoke up as Jun-ho finished loading the coffin. Jun-ho paused, dread filling him as he realized what was coming. Right, he had almost forgotten about the threatened conversation with the guard.

“Yes, sir?” He asked softly.

“Plans have changed, you are requested elsewhere,” The guard stated. “Come with me,” He then ordered.

“Elsewhere?” Jun-ho couldn’t stop himself from questioning.

“Don’t sound so relieved. I don’t know what you did to catch the attention of The Recruiter, but it’s not going to end well for you.” The guard said as he led Jun-ho through the game room. Jun-ho’s breath hitched, and he stumbled over his own feet, falling to the sand with a small gasp. No…no, it was too soon. One brief encounter was enough; he couldn’t stand face to face with Gong Yoo, not this early on. It would ruin everything, not to mention the fact that Jun-ho had no idea where he stood with the man at this moment. Would he kill him? Let him go? There was no way to tell, a fact that made Jun-ho’s heart pound.

“Get up,” The guard ordered coldly. “Get moving, I don’t have all damn day. The fact that you just became a dead man walking is not my problem,” He hissed as he grabbed Jun-ho by his collar, yanking him up to his feet. Jun-ho managed to snatch onto a handful of sand in the process, clutching it tightly in his fist as the guard dragged him out of the room and down a series of halls. Everything moved too quickly, the pace too fast. It only felt like a matter of seconds before they stopped in front of a large black door at the end of a dark hallway. The detective was certain he was going to either puke or pass out, maybe both.

The guard opened the door and pushed Jun-ho inside before swiftly closing the door behind him, leaving Jun-ho trapped within the room. Jun-ho fought to keep some form of composure, his breathing heaving as his heart threatened to explode within his chest. The room was spinning, the walls closing in. He wanted nothing more than to pull off the damn mask and balaclava so he could actually breath properly.

“There you are,” Gong Yoo’s calm voice rang out, breaking Jun-ho from his downward spiral. Jun-ho looked up to find the man standing in the centre of the luxurious lounge he had been forced within. There was a look of amusement upon his face, though something else behind his eyes, a sense of…dread? “Number 29, tell me...your name is Choi Do-yun?” He questioned as he stepped forward, circling Jun-ho. 

“Yes, sir,” Jun-ho managed to answer stiffly, doing his best to lower and disguise his voice.

“Of course, you are,” Gong Yoo hummed as he stopped in front of Jun-ho, “Though I must admit. I am a little confused,” He then added with a tilt of his head. “I received a phone call just over an hour ago from one of my associates within the Coast Guard. Do you want to take a guess at what they told me, Choi Do-yun?”

“I wouldn’t notice, sir,” Jun-ho answered, tensing as Gong Yoo grabbed him by the front of his uniform, forcing him closer.

“They told me that the body of the actual Choi Do-yun was found this morning,” The recruiter stated, his voice tinged with amusement and sadistic threat. Jun-ho froze, his blood running cold. Gong Yoo chuckled, his hand moving from Jun-ho’s uniform to the bottom of his mask. “So, let’s see who’s really behind this mask, hm?” He questioned before tugging the mask and balaclava up.

“No!” Jun-ho tried to protest, but it was too late. Gong Yoo pulled both items off, dropping them to the ground as his eyes fell upon Jun-ho’s face. The man didn’t exactly look surprised to see Jun-ho, but his gaze still softened as if disappointed by the reveal.

“Jun-ho,” He said, voice softer than Jun-ho had ever heard before. There was no taunt to it. He didn’t call him pet or little detective, but his actual name. Somehow, that made everything so much worse. Dread, fear, and pain swirled within Jun-ho as he met the man’s gaze.

“I-I…” He stammered, unsure of what to do, what to say. Eventually, however, the fear took over. “I’m sorry,” He mumbled, before taking the sand he had taken and throwing it directly in the man’s face. Gong Yoo gasped in surprise, yelling out as the sand dug into his eyes. He let Jun-ho go, and the detective immediately took the chance he got. He bolted for the door, throwing it open and taking off down the hall.“Jun-ho!!”

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} JUNCRUITER Prt 29

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft, sexual content •-

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Gong Yoo was downspiraling, and it was becoming increasingly apparent.

He hadn’t been able to relax since his conversation with In-ho, and it was driving him mad. He was being irrational, at least that was what he kept trying to convince himself of. Jun-ho was fine, and Gong Yoo couldn’t afford to be worrying over the detective, not now. Once the games were done, he could deal with it, and it would all be fine. In-ho would never need to find out, and Gong Yoo would be able to deal with the mess of intense emotions that were overtaking him. He had decided that at this point, the detective had absolutely ruined him. Gong Yoo had never cared before; he had never had much of a need to. It had made his work in the games all the easier. There were no attachments to anyone, no care who got hurt, no care who lived or died. 

It wasn’t like that with Jun-ho.

Gong Yoo had been able to convince himself for a while that it was nothing, but the panic that set in the moment he found himself no longer able to reach the detective solidified the truth. He did care for Jun-ho, perhaps more than he had ever cared for anyone else. Regret was such a foreign thing to him, but he was certainly feeling it now. If he could have taken back what he had done, if he had reached out sooner, perhaps things would have been much different. At the very least, he would have been able to actually focus on the games rather than the ache in his chest and the racing anxiety within his mind. Of all times to be distracted, this was certainly not it. The current games were set to be one of the most crucial ones to date. They had come so that the moment Oh Il-nam set foot onto the playing field. Everything had to go according to plan, no matter what. 

Gong Yoo walked down the halls of the facility, attempting to clear his mind enough that he could eventually sleep. Over the past few days, he hadn’t been able to get more than a few hours' worth of rest, his mind too clouded by worries for his little detective. He was just about to head back to his quarters when the staff began to end their day as well. Gong Yoo sighed softly to himself as the long lines of guards began to descend the colourful stairs. He found a spot to lean against while he waited for them all to pass. While he understood the need for so many staff, he really did wish that they had accommodated that fact with larger walkways. He watched as the guards passed, most of them veering slightly further from the wall as they passed him. They all feared him, which was fair. Gong Yoo was never the type to stray away from putting them in their places. They needed it after all, the rules set helped the games run smoothly, and expectations had been laid out since the very beginning.

Gong Yoo scowled as his gaze fell upon two guards in particular. Tall men with circle masks, acting a little too comfortable in their situation. They purposefully bumped into each other, jabbing one another playfully as they walked while nearly running into the guards both ahead of and behind them. Gong Yoo stepped away from the wall as they drew closer, kicking out his foot lightly to trip the first one as they passed. The guard yelped as he hit the ground with a thud, and the rest of the line came to a sudden stop. Gong Yoo paid the rest of them no mind, keeping his focus on the original two.

“Smarten up,” He hissed, watching as the one on the floor slowly picked himself up. “You forget where you are.”

“What the hell is your problem?” The guard demanded, annoyance clear in his voice as he brushed himself off. “We weren’t doing anything,” He protested.

“Your job is to follow the instructions laid out for you, and do so in a professional manner. Not horse around like a bunch of children,” Gong Yoo stated coldly as he towered over the guard.

“Oh, please,” The guard scoffed. “Who are you to tell us what to do? You’re nothing but a recruiter,” He hissed. Gong Yoo’s eyes narrowed, and he grabbed the guard by his collar. Before he could say anything, the guard swung at him, striking Gong Yoo across the face. Pain exploded from the impact; however, Gong Yoo didn’t let it show. Instead, he only tightened his grip on the man.

“You’re far more stupid than I initially thought,” He stated before returning the punch with enough force to not only knock him out, but also crack his mask in the process. He allowed the guard to fall to the ground, his now broken mask sliding across the floor. The second guard stood there frozen for a moment before snapping out of it and attempting to get a swing in at Gong Yoo. Gong Yoo only raised a brow and caught the fist before it could connect, bending the man’s wrist back until he heard a satisfying snap. The second guard screamed out in agony, though Gong Yoo quickly silenced him with a swift blow to the throat.

“Are you done?” Gong Yoo questioned as he crouched down before the two guards. “Did that get you where you thought it would?” He hummed, watching as the still-conscious guard struggled to breathe. Gong Yoo reached out and peeled the mask off the guard’s face, relishing in the look of pure panic in the young man’s eyes. “Poor thing, it appears we made a mistake with both of you,” He mused before standing up, knocking the guard out with a sharp kick to the side of his head. Gong Yoo sighed softly and took a step back, flexing his jaw to try and rid himself of the pain from the blow to his face. “Keep moving!” He snapped to the other guards, feeling their terrified gazes on him. They were quick to obey, though Gong Yoo hardly paid much attention to them, instead keeping his gaze on the unconscious men at his feet. It had felt good, getting that anger out of his system. He almost wished he had done more. 

Eventually, Gong Yoo pulled his gaze from the men at his feet and watched as the rest of the guards passed, half hoping that someone else would dare to step out of line. It wasn’t long until he got his wish, a small guard stumbling to a near stop as he stared up at Gong Yoo. The recruiter had to suppress a smirk as he stepped forward, keeping his cold exterior.

“Did you not hear me? I said keep moving,” He hissed softly, grabbing the guard by his collar and pulling him closer. He froze, however, upon hearing the small whimper that came from the guard. A familiar sound that Gong Yoo had long since grown accustomed to.

No, No, it couldn’t be…

Gong Yoo’s grip loosened before he eventually took a step back, staring down at the guard. It was a coincidence, it had to be. The guard just so happened to sound like Jun-ho; that was it. There was no possible way that his detective would have ended up on the island. Gong Yoo was simply connecting dots that weren’t there; his nerves and lack of sleep were getting the better of him. Yet, something told him differently, a gut feeling that he couldn’t shake. He watched as the guard stepped back and quickly followed after the others, soon disappearing from Gong Yoo’s sight. Gong Yoo could only stand there, leaning against the wall with his gaze fixed on the doorway the guard had left through.

It couldn’t be his detective…could it?

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} JUNCRUITER Prt 28

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft, sexual content •-

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Jun-ho followed the lead of the other guards, never acting until they did. They remained in the cabin of the ship for what felt like hours, standing there in silence until an order finally came over the intercoms.

“Prepare for arrival.”

The guards around Jun-ho began to move in a single-file line, exiting the cabin and walking down the stairs to their respective vehicles. Jun-ho followed silently, entering the van he had originally arrived in. He glanced back at the players, taking in a deep breath before starting the vehicle. He followed the other vans off the ship, down a narrow grid road, until they reached an underground parking lot. There was a large number of guards waiting for them, lined up against the wall of the parkade with gurneys in front of each of them. The vans were parked in single-file lines, with each of the drivers getting out and assisting the other guards in moving players from the back of the vans onto gurneys. Jun-ho had to force his hands to keep from shaking as he carefully unloaded each person from the back of the van. He felt sick, watching as each player was transferred and rolled down a long hallway. Hundreds of people who went through hell, and were now returning to it because they felt they had no other choice.

“You there,” A sharp voice spoke up, drawing Jun-ho’s attention from the large man he was trying to pull onto a gurney. He turned his head to see a Square Guard pointing at him. “You’re taking too damn long, take this one and dress her,” He ordered, gesturing to a gurney with a young woman on it. Jun-ho nodded slowly and set the man back down in his seat before making his way over to the other gurney. 

He pushed the woman down the hallway, following the other guards into a large room where each gurney was positioned in rows of ten in front of white boxes. Jun-ho could see the other guards already in the process of dressing players in green tracksuits and putting their personal items in the white boxes. With the help of another guard, he began to do the same, muttering a quiet apology under his breath as he removed the woman’s clothes. As he set her up and began to remove her coat, he felt a hand brush against his hip, followed by the feeling of something dropping into his pocket. He frowned, hesitating before continuing what he was doing. They dressed her in green track pants, a white shirt with the number 067 on it, and a green track sweater. As they finished, he once again felt a hand brush against him, and whatever had been placed in his pocket was discreetly removed. Jun-ho tensed and watched the woman carefully as they laid her back down, noticing her right hand twitch and move slowly as if sliding something up her sleeve. She was awake, somehow she had managed to either wake up earlier or avoid whatever method they had used to incapacitate the players. Jun-ho glanced around the room, watching as the dressed players were wheeled elsewhere. He didn’t know what was next, but he knew how dangerous it could be if the woman were caught. He waited for a moment when the guard assisting him was distracted by the task of putting shoes on the woman. Jun-ho took the opportunity to move, zipping up the woman’s jacket while leaning down slightly to speak.

“Relax your hand,” He whispered, relieved to see the woman tense as if she had heard him. “You need to be completely limp; they’ll notice if you’re not.” He added quietly before bringing a hand down to her hand, he gently pulled at her fingers to force her hand open, before discreetly pulling the hidden item into his hand. Then, while pretending to straighten out her uniform, he slipped the item into her jacket pocket. He felt the woman relax ever so slightly, her eyes fluttering ever so slightly.

“Prepare for transport,” A feminine voice rang out through the intercoms in the room. Jun-ho glanced away from the woman, grabbing onto the gurney and following the lead of the guard assisting him. They walked in a single-file line, down a series of winding, colorful hallways that Jun-ho assumed her specifically designed to confuse and prevent escape. Eventually, they reached a massive room, filled with rows of bunk beds.  Each player was laid down in a bed before the guards pulled the gurneys from the room and returned to the preparation station. Jun-ho remained vigilant the entire time, taking in every single detail he could. He would need to find a way to slip away, eventually. At the moment, he was nothing but a sitting duck. He would make a mistake eventually, and when he did, he was certain the outcome would be death. 

“Attention all active staff,” The same female announcer spoke up at Jun-ho followed the other guards out of the room and down the winding hallways once more. “Your work is done for today. All active staff must take this time to return to their rooms,” She explained. Jun-ho felt himself tense, where the fuck was his room? How was he supposed to know how to access it? He could feel his heart beginning to race as he checked through his pockets as calmly as he could, not wanting to draw suspicion. He almost gasped in relief as his fingers brushed against a key. Slowly, he pulled it out, reading over the number 29 on the silver tag attached to the key. He doubted they used names within the facility, meaning the number was more than likely his identity tag as well. He’d have to remember to keep track of the numbers he took, just in case.

The sound of yelling broke through the overwhelming silence of the hallways, and the guards ahead of Jun-ho all paused. Jun-ho attempted to glance over the shoulders of the guards ahead of him, catching brief glances of a struggle up ahead.

“Something must be wrong,” The quiet voice of the circle guard behind Jun-ho spoke up. “It’s never been like this before.”

“What?” Jun-ho whispered as he carefully glanced over his shoulder. Before he could get an answer, an all too familiar voice snapped his attention back forward.

“Keep moving!” 

Jun-ho’s breath hitched within his throat as the line began to move again. He had no choice but to keep moving, though each step he took only made the pit in his stomach grow deeper and deeper. It wasn’t long until everything came into view. Two guards, unmasked and battered, lay unconscious on the floor, with the very thing Jun-ho was dreading standing over them. His suit and hair were disheveled, with blood splattered against his bruised knuckles.

Gong Yoo.

Jun-ho felt his pace involuntarily slowing the closer he got, his heart thundering so hard within his chest that he was certain the man would be able to hear it. It only increased as Gong Yoo turned around to face the guards as they paced, his gaze cold and almost murderous. Eventually, it fell on Jun-ho, and the detective felt himself tense, nearly coming to a stop. Gong Yoo’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped towards the detective, towering over him.

“Did you not hear me? I said, Keep moving,” He hissed, reaching out a grabbing Jun-ho by the collar of his uniform and yanking him closer. The action drew a small whimper from the detective, his body shaking slightly as he stared up at the man. Gong Yoo seemed to pause at this, his grip loosening as he stared down at Jun-ho. Jun-ho could only stare up at him through his mask, praying that he hadn’t just given himself away. Eventually, Gong Yoo let him go and stepped back, keeping his gaze fixed on Jun-ho but saying nothing. The guards around Jun-ho began to move again, and the detective quickly took the opportunity to escape, getting back in the line as quickly as he could. He could still feel the man’s gaze on him as he continued down the hall. Jun-ho was screwed, so completely screwed.

Time felt slow as Jun-ho walked through the halls and up various flights of stairs, his mind running a million miles a minute. He assumed he would have run into the man eventually, but had foolishly hoped it would have been later on. Now he was left with a sick feeling within his stomach, a dull ache in his chest, and the overwhelming sense of dread that came with the realization that if Gong Yoo truly had recognized him, things were about to get so much worse.

Jun-ho took in a shaky breath as they finally arrived at a long hallway adorned with numbered doors on either side. He walked alongside the wall, reading over the numbers until he found room 29. Slowly, he took the key from his pocket once more and slid it into the lock before managing to open the door. He stepped inside quickly and closed the door behind him, wanting to get away from the others as quickly as possible.

The room was tiny, something akin to a prison cell. A small bed against one wall, a desk, sink, and toilet against the other. Just above the desk, a plaque also hung, with the list of rules Jun-ho was expected to follow written on it.

Always wear your mask. Do not converse without permission. Do not leave your room without permission. 

Jun-ho let out a shaky sigh before noticing the large camera that sat implanted in the corner of the room. It could prove to be troublesome, depending on who was watching. Would they be able to recognize that he wasn’t the actual Guard 29? Did they pay attention to their faces at all, or did they not care as long as the guards were following the rules? He let out another small sigh as he sat down on the bed, careful to keep his back to the camera. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there in silence, going over every little detail that he had witnessed so far. Eventually, someone came by with a tray of food, though Jun-ho didn’t even touch it. Eating was just about the last thing he wanted to do at that moment. Instead, he stayed where he was until the lights within his room shut off, and even then, he was slow to get up and change into the sleepwear provided to him. He needed to sleep; he knew that, no matter how disinclined he was to do so. He would accomplish nothing if he stayed up, and fatigue would only lead to mistakes. So, he forced himself to lie down on the uncomfortable bed, covering himself with the blankets so he could discreetly pull out his phone, taking a moment to write down everything he had witnessed. Once he finished, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and attempted to coax himself into sleep. Eventually, he managed. Slipping into uneasy dreams of games, drowning men, and Gong Yoo.

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} JUNCRUITER Prt 27

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft, sexual content •-

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Working with law enforcement was always going to be a dangerous job, Jun-ho knew that. When he had declared that he would become a detective, both his eomma and hyung had gone to great lengths to stress how straining and high-risk the profession was going to be. Jun-ho had assured time and time again that he could handle it, and for the most part, he had managed to do so. However, that was mostly because he had never truly been alone during any of it. There was always a team to report to, always resources to access. This time, he had nothing. Nobody knew where he was going, what he was getting himself into. If something went wrong, that was it. No answers, no escape, there would be nothing he could do.

And yet, there was nothing that could convince him to stop now.

The van that had taken Seong Gi-hun had left Seoul altogether, driving to Busan. Jun-ho had followed carefully behind it to Moonjin Port, parking his car just beyond the entryway and shutting it off. He hadn’t fully considered the sheer size of the operation he was dealing with until he saw how many vans sat in a long line within the port. There had to be at least four dozen of them, all identical and sitting in a neat line, waiting to board a large shipping vessel. Jun-ho took in a deep, shaky breath before he got out of his vehicle. He checked his pockets, ensuring he had his gun, badge, and phone. He paused, upon his fingers brushing across the other phone within his pocket. It was warm, as if it had been on for quite some time. With a small frown, Jun-ho pulled it from his pocket, carefully turning it one.

Seventeen missed calls.

Gong Yoo was trying to contact him, a thought that made Jun-ho’s heart leap in his chest. Did he know what Jun-ho was about to do? Or was this just another attempt at keeping him distracted, at getting him back under Gong Yoo’s control? Jun-ho shook his head before repocketing the device. He wouldn’t allow his focus to drift; there were far more important things to worry about.

Jun-ho swallowed his building fear and carefully crept towards the line of vans, ensuring he stayed within the blind spots of the drivers. He had to get on the ship without being seen, even if that meant putting himself at risk by climbing underneath the vehicle and hanging on. He winced slightly as his back scraped against the concrete while he slid underneath the last van in the line. He hooked his arms up on what he could, raising himself up against the bottom of the vehicle. It was hot, and the strain on his muscles was far from easy to handle, but he managed to endure it until the van boarded the ship and came to a stop. He only lowered himself once he was absolutely certain it was safe to do so, carefully sliding out to the back of the van and rising to his feet. He noted everything he could about his surroundings. Everything was so quiet, so precise and orderly. It was unnerving.

“Begin assessment of the players,” A voice rang out through the intercoms within the ship. Jun-ho flinched slightly as all the side doors to the vans opened at once. He rounded the one he was behind slowly, peaking inside to see Mr. Seong passed out cold in one of the seats, alongside four other individuals.  The sound of doors opening once again filled the space, as the masked drivers of the vans all got out. Jun-ho cursed silently, panic rising within him as he quickly got into the van, climbing over Mr Seong and moving into the back of the van. He just managed to sit down between two of the other players and close his eyes before the driver rounded the vehicle and peered inside. Jun-ho forced himself to stay as still as possible as he felt the vehicle shift, the driver climbing inside it. He could hear something beeping periodically, and his pulse quickened as he realized they were scanning the players for something, something Jun-ho did not have. 

It wasn’t long before a gloved hand grabbed onto his chin, tilting his head to the right before something cold pressed against the spot just behind his ear. Dread consumed the detective as an error noise filled the van, what the fuck was he supposed to do now? The driver tilted Jun-ho’s head to the left and tried the scan again. When the error beep rang out once more, Jun–ho sprang into panicked action. He opened his eyes and quickly punched the driver, sending him stumbling back into the front seats. The driver grunted and quickly lunged forward, grabbing Jun-ho by the arm while pulling a knife from his pocket. Jun-ho fought back as best he could, grabbing the man by the wrist with his freed hand. He slammed the driver’s hand down against the back of one of the seats until he dropped the knife. From there, he managed to free his other arm and hook it around the driver’s neck. He fought against the driver’s attempts to knock Jun-ho off of him, tightening his chokehold around the man until he slowly fell limp. It was only then that Jun-ho let go of him.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled, staring down at the now incapacitated driver, his thoughts racing to come up with some form of plan. “I’m sorry, I have to do this,” He then whispered as he slowly began to strip the man of his uniform. He had to reach that island, no matter what. He was never going to be able to do so without taking risks, and right now, taking the place of the driver seemed to be his best and only option. Jun-ho managed to switch their clothes around his little issue, ensuring he grabbed his things and slipped them into the pockets of the pink uniform he now sported. He did, however, leave Gong Yoo’s phone in the pocket of his sweater. He didn’t need the distraction, nor could he afford Gong Yoo using it to try and track him down.

“Now what?” Jun-ho whispered to himself as he looked down at the driver. He couldn’t just leave the man be. He would wake soon, and then it would all be over. All this effort for nothing. He had to be taken care of, a thought that made Jun-ho sick to his stomach. The idea of taking another life had never sat right with him. He had had to do it all of two times during his time as a detective, both times it had been his absolute last option, and both times had absolutely wrecked him for the weeks that followed.

Now he was about to do it again.

The man, whoever he may be, was an awful individual. Someone who willingly took part in the murder of hundreds of vulnerable individuals. Killing him would be the lesser of two evils, a way to ensure that Jun-ho could continue on and find a way to put a stop to all of it. He had to do it, he had to. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered again, glancing at the man over before slowly climbing over his body. He carefully exited the van, glancing around to ensure none of the other uniformed men were around. Once he was certain he was in the clear, he pulled the man out of the van and dragged him over to one of the windows. As quickly as he could, he pushed the body up and over the window ledge, wincing as he heard it hit the water below.

“Hey!” A voice rang out, causing Jun-ho to freeze. His hands clung on tightly to the window ledge as he slowly turned his head to find another suited individual, this one with a triangle symbol on his mask rather than a circle like the one Jun-ho now wore. He walked towards Jun-ho, a rifle in hand, and fixed on the detective. Behind him, a man with a square symbol mask followed. Jun-ho kept his gaze on the gun as he slowly turned to face them both properly.

“I’m sorry,” He spoke up softly, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. Had they seen him? Did they know what he had done? “I was seasick,” He lied, trying his best to keep his voice leveled. The triangle-masked individual slowly lowered his gun while the square pushed forward, towering over Jun-ho with a menacing aura.

“Have you forgotten the rules so quickly?” He questioned, though he didn’t wait for an answer. “You do not speak unless your superior allows you to do so.” He stated coldly. Jun-ho had to stop himself from breathing a sigh of relief. So he wasn’t caught, not yet. He would, however, need to learn the rules quickly, lest he wanted to run into the same situation again. There was a hierarchy to this, which was good to know. The circled drivers or guards, whatever the hell they were, seemed to be on the bottom. Followed by the triangle ones, and then the squares. He would have to find a way to get hold of a different mask, and soon, there was no way he was going to be able to get far with the one he had now.

“Go, stand in the cabin and wait until we dock,” The square guard ordered before he and the triangle one swiftly left. Jun-ho let out a shaky breath before glancing around, spotting a set of stairs that he assumed led up to the cabin of the ship. He climbed up them and made his way to where the other circle guards stood, all silent and in neat rows. Everyone knew their place, everyone except Jun-ho. He stood in the one uncopied block within the rows, remaining silent the entire time. He could do this; he just had to be careful to follow the lead of everyone around him. Once they reached the island, he could form an actual plan. Figure out where his hyung was, and find a way to end this all. 

It was either that or die trying.

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} JUNCRUITER Prt 26

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft, sexual content •-

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Gong Yoo wanted nothing to do with Jun-ho. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. He recruited the last of the players and returned to the island. Everything had turned over so quickly compared to usual. There had always been at least ten months in between each game. This time, however, recruitment was finished, and the games were set in just under three months at the request of Il-nam. Gong Yoo didn’t necessarily mind; the few days in between his return to the island and the time of players' arrival were always incredibly busy. It meant he didn’t have much time to think about his little detective. He didn’t have to process the lingering guilt he felt over their last encounter. Not until the first round of the games had ended, and the called vote ended in a majority of the remaining players swaying in favour of returning home. It wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence; in fact, it was often one the staff looked forward to. It provided a break between the first and second games, something that was often needed after the long days of prep and stress that led up to the first game. A moment of peace, one that Gong Yoo had been dreading. 

He sat in the grand room reserved for the VIPs when they eventually arrived on the island, sipping from a glass of rum while gently fidgeting with Jun-ho’s badge in his other hand. He had kept the damn thing all this time, tucked away in his pocket each day. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to hold onto it, or maybe he did, and he just wasn’t ready to address it yet. There were many things that he wasn’t simply ready to address yet, all of which pertained to Jun-ho and the way the detective made him feel. Their little situation was messy, foolish, and a vulnerability that Gong Yoo couldn’t afford. Even if he disregarded it, admitting that he wanted more and had begun to develop feelings for Jun-ho would only put the detective in danger. Il-nam’s threat had been clear: if Jun-ho got in the way, he would be killed. A loss Gong Yoo wasn’t sure he could handle, even after years upon years of watching others die. 

“I thought I might find you here,” A familiar voice rang throughout the room, breaking Gong Yoo from his thoughts. He glanced up to find In-ho standing in the doorway of the room. His expression neutral, though his gaze hardened as it fell upon the badge in Gong Yoo’s hand. “There are a few matters we need to discuss.”

“By all means, come in,” Gong Yoo replied with a shrug, downing the rest of his drink. In-ho stepped into the room, sitting down on the couch across from him. He was quiet for a moment, as if struggling to say what he wanted without snapping or taking a swing at Gong Yoo. His gaze remained on the badge the entire time.

“Captain Kwon was found dead two days ago in a hotel room. From what I understand, it was a rather brutal demise.” He eventually spoke up, his tone stiff with underlines of annoyance and intrigue.

“Is that so? How unfortunate,” Gong Yoo hummed as he leaned back in his seat. “Though I’m sure that whoever would do such a thing certainly had good reasons to do so.”

“For his sake, I hope he did,” In-ho stated bitterly. “His second-in-command and I had a little discussion.”

“Oh? What about?” Gong Yoo questioned, raising a brow. In-ho’s eyes narrowed as he finally met Gong Yoo’s gaze.

“I think you know,” He said with a cold edge. “I should have expected it; you were never one to listen to the rules, even if your own safety was at risk.”

“You haven’t killed me yet,” Gong Yoo pointed out with a hum. “Are you planning on it?” He questioned. He watched as In-ho gritted his teeth before sighing and shaking his head.

“No,” He answered, though his voice betrayed how badly he must have wanted to do so. “Not yet. Kwon’s replacement has stated that Detective Hwang is relaxed, happy. Something he hasn’t been in years. I would like for it to stay that way.”

“Stay that way, hm?” Gong Yoo questioned, ignoring the sense of dread that filled his stomach. How the fuck was he supposed to do that after he quite spectacularly fucked everything up with the detective? “You know, I’ve never once known you to go back on your word,” He then stated, using his taunting nature to cover his uncertainty.

“You’re already making me regret doing so,” In-ho grumbled, earning a chuckle from Gong Yoo.

“I assume there’s a but coming? Some for a regulation or threat,” He mused.

“Il-nam is dying,” In-ho stated bluntly. “That is why he has decided to enter this year's games as a player, why everything was rushed forward. I doubt he’ll make it to the end of the year,” He explained. “When he does die, you will have nobody left to protect you. Meaning, if Jun-ho gets hurt or finds out about the games, or if you do anything to make me regret allowing this to happen, I will hang you like the damn pig that you are and slit your throat. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Gong Yoo stated, keeping his voice and tone level despite his annoyance and worry. In-go glanced him over carefully, as if searching for any sign of hesitance or deception. Once he seemed satisfied, he nodded and stood, leaving the room without another word. Gong Yoo waited until he was certain the man was gone before letting out a small, shaky sigh. He took out his phone and immediately dialed Jun-ho’s number, swearing quietly to himself as the call went unanswered. He tried several times, more than he would like to admit. Each time the phone went to voicemail, Gong Yoo’s frustration, guilt, and fear grew. Either the detective was purposefully ignoring him, which was honestly understandable, or something was wrong. Gong Yoo checked the camera feeds and found nothing, then, as a last-ditch effort, he tried the tracker he had put on the spare phone he had purposefully left with Jun-ho. No Signal.

Something was wrong; Gong Yoo could feel it. The tracker had been well hidden, meaning there was no way Jun-ho could have found and disabled it. Even if the detective had smashed the phone or thrown it out, it still would have been able to give a location. No signal meant Jun-ho was somewhere where even satellites couldn’t pick him up, somewhere well out of the city borders. This was bad, very bad.

Gong Yoo was absolutely fucked. 

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} JUNCRUITER Prt 25

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft, sexual content •-

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

In-ho and his wife had bought a house just before they married. It was small, but perfect for the two of them. Seo-yeon adored it, and In-ho adored anything that made Seo-yeon happy. There was talk about selling it once Seo-yeon got sick, but she had made In-ho, alongside the entire family, promise they wouldn’t touch it; she didn’t want the memories to be lost. It had been fully paid off long before she passed, and while In-hi hadn’t returned to it since the funeral, Jun-ho and his eomma maintained the place.

Jun-ho had already searched through the place countless times in order to try and find some hint of his brother still being alive and out there somewhere. He had come up empty again and again, and yet he was back again. Searching through every drawer, every shelf for that damn card. He should have been relieved when, after hours of searching, he once again found nothing, but all he felt was anger. Anger at himself for not catching Seong Gi-hun in time, at Gong Yoo for lying to him about all of it, at himself for falling for all the lies, and at In-ho for possibly being involved with any of it in the first place.

“Damnit!” Jun-ho hissed, slamming his fist down against In-ho’s desk. It had been his last place to look, and the one he had been hoping would contain answers the most. As his fist connected with the hard oak, a loud click rang out over the thud from his fist. He paused, frowning, before slowly crouching down, pulling open the bottom drawer of the desk. To his surprise, a thin piece of plywood now sat on top of the files that had been stored in the drawer, with a manila folder resting on top of it. The desk had had a false bottom to it, a secret compartment. Jun-ho quickly snatched up the folder and emptied it out onto the top of the desk. There wasn’t much inside, but it was more than enough. A pamphlet for a gosiwon and a single key with the number 7 written on the face. Jun-ho’s heart raced as he quickly searched for the address of the gosiwon and found that it was only a twenty-minute drive downtown. Within an instant, he was running out of the house and to his car, speeding off the very second he could.

He arrived at the gosiwon in just over ten minutes, breaking at least a dozen traffic laws in the process, but he didn’t care at that moment. His mind was running a million miles a minute. Fear, anger, and hope mixed together and formed a sense of nausea as he entered the building. It didn’t take him long to navigate the halls before he was standing in front of room number seven. Jun-ho hesitated, his hand shaking slightly as he brought the key up to the doorknob, slowly sliding it in. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as the key properly turned, successfully unlocking the door. Cautiously, he stepped inside.

The room was tiny and sparsely occupied. A few sets of clothes in the drawers, and a couple of photos of In-ho and his wife resting on the small shelves. To Jun-ho’s surprise, there was also a small fishbowl resting on the tiny desk space, with two little goldfish inside. They were still alive, a fact that made Jun-ho suck in a sharp breath. Someone had been there recently.

“Hyung…” Jun-ho mumbled, staring down at the fish with a frown. He could almost picture In-ho standing there, feeding the fish, sleeping in the bed, working at the small desk, or staring up at the photographs. Tears welled in the detective’s eyes as he glanced over the room once more, taking in every last detail. In-ho had been here all this time. Five years of searching and praying, and his Hyung had only ever been twenty minutes away. That is, whenever he wasn’t on whatever island he and Gong Yoo were working out of. The games, Jun-ho had to focus on the games. He sighed softly to himself, running his fingers through his hair before spotting something on one of the shelves, something out of place. A small black box, with a pink bow neatly tied on the top. Carefully, Jun-ho picked it up, dread already consuming him before he even lifted the lid. He already knew what it was, what it had to be. A suspicion that was proven correct as he opened the box, finding the thin card inside, identical to the one Seong Gi-hun had left at the station. Jun-ho fell backwards, his back resting against the wall of the room. He felt weak, his legs shaking as bile threatened to rise up within his throat. It was all true then, wasn’t it? The games, the death, all of it. A horrible, inhumane thing, and his hyung was a part of it all.

“How could you do this?” He whispered, his voice shaking as tears spilled from his eyes. His grip around the box tightened as his emotions fully took over. “Damnit! How the hell could you do this?!” He snapped, throwing the box back towards the shelf. To his horror, it his one of the framed photographs, the one of In-ho and Seo-Yeon sitting on a park bench and smiling. It fell forwards and hit the ground, the glass shattering on impact. “Shit,” Jun-ho swore softly, quickly crouching down and picking the frame up. Glass cut into his skin as he picked the picture up, setting it down on the desk. He winced slightly and glanced down at his now bleeding hand, taking in a shaky breath. This wasn’t getting him anywhere; he needed to focus on what he could do, not on what he was feeling. Jun-ho had to find Seong Gi-hun, and quickly. Any hope of putting a stop to whatever was happening lay with him. With one last glance around the room, Jun-ho took his leave. He exited the gosiwon and climbed into his car, dialing Yee-Joon’s number into his phone and putting it on speaker as he pulled away from the parking lot.

“Hello?” Yee-Joon answered after a few rings. “Jun-ho? Aren’t you supposed to be at work right now?”

“I need you to do something for me, as quickly as possible,” Jun-ho deflected, gripping tightly onto his steering wheel. “I need you to look up the name Seong Gi-hun in our system, see if you can find me an address.” He instructed.

“Okay?” Yee-Joon replied, clearly confused, but Jun-ho didn’t have the time to explain himself, nor did he feel safe in doing so. Captain Kwon had known Gong Yoo, had tried to warn Jun-ho that what the man was involved in was dangerous. That meant Kwon had to have been aware of the games, which made it likely that other high-ranking officials also knew.

“Find anything?” Jun-ho questioned, his impatience clear in his tone.

“I think so…He’s in Ssangmun-dong, I’ll send you the address,” Yee-Joon eventually answered, before a moment later the location was sent to Jun-ho’s phone.

“Thank you,” Jun-ho replied stiffly before ending the call. He put the location on his map and sped off, following the directions to the Ssangmun-dong neighborhood. He found the house easily enough, only to discover that no one was home. It left Jun-ho playing the waiting game, lost in his own thoughts as day turned to night and rain began to pour. He tried to reason with his circumstances, but the guilt was eating him alive. If he hadn’t fumbled so hard that night at the metro station, if he had managed to preserve the evidence and somehow gotten Gong Yoo arrested, maybe he could have saved a few people. If he hadn’t been foolish enough to get caught up in the sex and thrill from his encounters with Gong Yoo, he could have seen through the lies. Could have figured it all out so much sooner. At the end of the day, how much blood had fallen onto Jun-ho’s hands? The thought made him want to vomit, all he also would have, had he not caught a glimpse of the man he had been waiting for walking down the street.

Seong Gi-hun was soaked from the rain, and looked absolutely miserable as he walked down the street towards his home. Jun-ho waited until he drew closer before swallowing his nerves and approaching the man.

“Excuse me, sir,” He spoke, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking. “Your name. It’s Seong Gi-hun, correct?” He asked. The man glanced him over wearily before giving a stiff nod.

“Yeah? Who’s asking?” He questioned. Jun-ho pulled his badge from his pocket, presenting it to Gi-hun so he could see.

“My name is Hwang Jun-ho, with the Seoul Police Department. You made a report this morning, correct? Regarding a group abducting people to play children’s games, and death being the consequence of losing?” He began. “You had also reported a suited man in one of the metro stations, recruiting players for these games using Ddakji and money?” He then added, watching as Gi-hun hesitated before shaking his head.

“All of that? I…I made it up. Just some drunk concoction, you know?” He answered before moving to push past Jun-ho. The detective, however, quickly stopped him. He wasn’t about to allow this to slip away again, never again.

“My hyung, he was given the same card as you were,” Jun-ho explained, “I believe he might have been on the island with you, playing the game.” He then added, bending the truth in the way he thought might convince Gi-hun to assist him. Gi-hun, however, only shook his head and pulled away.

“Look, I don’t know what I was talking about, okay? I was drunk. I must have seen the card on the street and put it in my pocket,” He deflected, once again attempting to push by. Jun-ho stopped him once more, his heart pounding at the idea of walking away with nothing.

“Mr. Seong, please,” He pleaded softly, his desperation seeping into his tone as he gently grasped onto Gi-hun’s arm. “You are the only one who can help me. I need to find him.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” Gi-hun stated, shrugging off Jun-ho’s grip. “You don’t want my help anyway, it wouldn’t be of use to you or anyone else, for that matter,” He then said, before pulling away a final time and opening the gate to the home, leaving Jun-ho alone in the rain. The detective cursed softly to himself, trying to ignore his building panic. This was bad, so incredibly bad.

“Okay…think, what is the best course of action here?” Jun-ho mumbled to himself as he slowly walked back to his car. He couldn’t leave, he was certain of. It didn’t seem right that whatever group ran the games would simply let all the remaining players go. Surely there was more to it. Why go through all the trouble of kidnapping hundreds of people only to play one game and end things there? Whatever the group was, they were playing with desperation to begin with. That wasn’t the type of incentive that was just dropped; if anything, it was fed further. Letting the players go with just a hint of the money they could have had, there were bound to be large numbers of them who would be willing to come back to compete for the rest. The people running the games would be returning for the players willing to go again, and judging by the look that had been on Gi-hun’s face, he would be one of those players. If Jun-ho was correct in his theory, then all he needed to do was wait for the pickup to happen. He could follow after whoever took Gi-hun, and hopefully put a stop to all of this before it could properly continue. It was dangerous, incredibly so, but Jun-ho needed to do it. He needed to put an end to whatever the hell this was, needed to find In-ho and get him out of whatever horrid mess he had landed himself in.

It didn’t take long for Jun-ho to be proven correct. Just before midnight, Gi-hun exited his home. Jun-ho remained in the car with the lights off, watching as the man glanced around his surroundings carefully before he began to walk down the street. Jun-ho followed behind him, careful to stay far enough behind that he wouldn’t be seen or gather suspicion. Gi-hun walked several blocks before stopping at a bus stop in a quiet neighborhood, one with very few cars around. Jun-ho parked just around the corner, giving himself enough room to keep a constant visual on Gi-hun. He watched as the man checked his watch every few moments, before a large grey van pulled up in front of him, its driver an individual in a pink jumpsuit and a black mask with a white circle on the front. Gi-hun disappeared into the van, and it pulled away from the stop, Jun-ho following closely behind it. He was going to do this, no matter where it led, no matter the cost.

Jun-ho was so distracted by the task at hand, he didn’t even notice as the phone Gong Yoo had left behind began to vibrate within his pocket.

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} JUNCRUITER Prt 24

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft, sexual content •-

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

Jun-ho and In-ho had spent a summer with their samchon, when Jun-ho was sixteen and In-ho was thirty-two. Jun-ho’s eomma had thought it would be a good idea for the two boys to spend some time with a strong male figure, after their abeoji had left. The two occupied most of their time assisting their samchon with his fishing business, spending hours on the small fishing vessel. In-ho had loved it more than Jun-ho had expected him to. Jun-ho, on the other hand, had little interest in it all. He had tried, wanting to enjoy his time just as much as his hyung had been, but the rocking waves made him seasick, and the long hours drove him mad with boredom. He had found his interest near the end of June, in a boy he had met at a summer festival. His name was Sang-Ook, a tall, handsome boy, two years older than Jun-ho. He was spending his summer on the island before he began his military conscription. He was sweet and daring, brave in ways Jun-ho had yet to be. Jun-ho hadn’t been too sure when his admiration had begun to turn into infatuation, but it became abundantly clear once Sang-Ook kissed him underneath the pier late one night. Up until that point, Jun-ho hadn’t really understood the point of relationships. He had had no interest whatsoever in girls like his friends had; he really didn’t see the point. Kissing Sang-Ook made him understand it all at once, made him feel the countless things he had been missing for years. It was nice, so damn nice. The two formed a relationship shortly after that. They spent the cool summer nights exploring the island, stealing kisses and moments. It was new and exciting, and then it was ruined one morning. When Jun-ho’s samchon had discovered them on the beach just before sunrise, having accidentally fallen asleep in each other's embrace. His samchon had beaten him that morning; he might have killed him had it not been for In-ho, who had managed to eventually pull him off of Jun-ho. His hyung patched him up afterwards, in the bathroom of a small cafe on the boardwalk. “It’s okay,” he had promised Jun-ho. “It will all be okay, I’ve got you.”

They didn’t stay on the island for much longer after that, and Jun-ho never saw Sang-Ook again. He had lied to his eomma about where the bruises and cuts came from, and repressed the newfound emotions as best he could. He didn’t think it was worth the pain. He went through his conscription and then began at the academy, determined to become a detective like his hyung. There were a few times, during his training, when he indulged in his feelings. A few nights spent in the arms of another man, attending the academy. Jun-ho never allowed himself to stay, to face what might happen in the morning. No strings, no commitments, no heartache. He graduated and spent his time focused on other things. On work, on his hyung and assisting him in the process of proposing and later wedding planning. Then he got sick, and suddenly the idea of regret came sinking in. The idea that he was dying, and that so many years were spent trying to ignore such a large part of himself, was a heavy ache. Only, he didn’t die. His hyung had once again stepped in and saved him, as he had done countless times before. Jun-ho had sworn to himself that he would take the opportunity to actually be who he wanted, to try again.

He never got the chance.

In-ho’s wife, Seo-yeon had gotten sick shortly after Jun-ho had gotten better. Jun-ho’s focus, along with the focus of his family, had fallen solely on trying to find something they could do, some way they could help. Jun-ho had worked long, grueling hours to try and gather enough money to help his hyung, especially after In-ho’s job had been terminated. It hadn’t been enough; they had been too late. In-ho had lost his wife and their unborn child, and then he disappeared as well. Jun-ho was never the same after that. How could he be? He drowned himself in work, in searching for his brother, in the occasional hookup. The idea of actually putting himself out there, of allowing himself some happiness, well, that seemed entirely stupid now.

Until he met Gong Yoo.

He still wasn’t entirely sure what he had felt towards the man. Hatred in the beginning, maybe, but that never truly stayed for that long. Frustration, annoyance, fear mixed with excitement, Lust, so much lust. Then there was the happiness, the butterfly-like feeling that filled him during their last few encounters. Something akin to what he had felt with Sang-Ook all those years ago. It was nice, almost, in the fucked up kind of way everything seemed to be when it involved the man. That last morning, falling asleep in his arms, it was the closest thing to comfort Jun-ho had felt in a long time. Now it seemed like all of that had been a desperate delusion, and Jun-ho had been making a fool out of himself the entire time. It had all been nothing but a way to keep Jun-ho in line, that’s what Gong Yoo had told him. Maybe that had been clear all along, and Jun-ho had just been too stupid, too blind to see it. Even now, even after everything the man had said, the pain he had caused, Jun-ho missed him. It had only been a few days, and yet Jun-ho found himself carrying the phone Gong Yoo had left in his apartment with him everywhere, continuously checking it in hopes that the man would contact him. He didn’t. So, Jun-ho did what he did best, and drowned himself in work to try and distract himself. He took as many shifts as he could, days, nights, anything. When that didn’t prove enough to fully distract himself, he started researching the names on every single file that Gong Yoo had given him. It didn’t take him very long to realize that over half of the names belonged to men and women who didn’t actually exist. Yet another reminder of how foolish Jun-ho had allowed himself to be. A way to keep Jun-ho in line indeed. It seemed everything had just been some kind of ploy to keep him distracted.

Jun-ho approached the station early in the morning, having taken the metro to work that morning, another failed attempt to try and catch sight of Gong Yoo once more. He had been lost in his own world, consumed by his thoughts, until the sound of shouting broke him out of it. A tall, lanky man with long, shaggy hair stood in front of the station, yelling about some kind of phone number. He looked disheveled, panicked by something. Jun-ho watched him for a moment before carefully veering around him, entering the station through the front doors, and approaching the front desk.

“What was that about?” He questioned the officer sitting at the desk, glancing over his shoulder at the man outside before turning his gaze back to the desk. It was then that he noticed the card. It looked to be a simple business card, only instead of a name or company logo on the front, it was three shapes. A circle, a triangle, and a square. Jun-ho frowned as he picked the card up, flipping it over to find a number on the back. He had seen the card before; he was certain of that, but where?

“Something about being kidnapped and forced to play red light green light with hundreds of people? Guy claimed they killed the people who lost and then just let the rest of them go once the majority voted to leave.” The officer at the desk spoke up. “Had no idea where he was taken or who was doing it, but they offered billions of won if they played the games, I guess. I figured the guy was drunk, or high on something,” He explained. “You can have the card if you want it; the number just went to some poor woman’s phone.”

‘Odd,” Jun-ho mumbled as he slipped the card into his pocket.

“You’re telling me! These people and their stories keep getting crazier and crazier. They really expect us to believe this crap?” The officer asked with a small laugh, leaning back in his chair. “Of course, sir, I totally believe that there is a suited man playing ddakji in metro stations and convincing them into joining secretive death games. Let me get right into investigating that,” He then mocked sarcastically. Jun-ho froze, having just about turned away.

“What did you just say?” He questioned as he slowly turned his gaze back to the officer.

“What, the ddakji thing? Yeah, the guy claimed the reason he was kidnapped in the first place was because he played rounds of ddakji in the metro station with some man in a suit. Said he carried a suitcase full of cash, and offered him the business card,” The officer explained. Jun-ho was certain his heart was going to explode with the way it was pounding within his chest. No…no it couldn’t be.

“What was his name? The man who was just in here reporting all of this. What was his name?” he demanded. The officer raised a brow in confusion.

“I think it was Seong something…Gi-hun! That was it. Seong Gi-hun,” He answered. “Why?”

“Tell the new captain I’m sick,” Jun-ho instructed, his mind already racing. He had to get outside, had to see if he could track down the man before it was too late.

“But you’re right h-” The officer began

“Just do as you're told!” Jun-ho interjected sternly before rushing out of the door. He cursed loudly as he found the street empty. No sign of Mr. Seong anywhere. He must have run off in the little time Jun-ho had been speaking. Jun-ho pulled the card from his pocket, inspecting it over once more. He quickly took out his phone and dialed the number on the back. It was a long shot, but perhaps…

“We’re sorry, but this number is no longer in service.”

“Shit!” Jun-ho yelled, earning a few stares from people passing by. He didn’t care; all he could focus on was what the officer had said. A suited man in the metro playing ddakji…Gong Yoo. If Mr. Seong was telling the truth about that, then he must be telling the truth about the games as well. Which meant not only that Gong Yoo was directly involved with the murders of hundreds of individuals, but that In-ho was all well.

In-ho…

Jun-ho took off running about the street as fast as he possibly could. He had to get to his hyung's home

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} JUNCRUITER Prt 23

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft, sexual content •-

/////////////////////////////////

It was dark when Gong Yoo awoke, the bedroom silent aside from the soft breathing of the detective beside him. Apparently, sharing a bed meant all concepts of personal space went completely out the door. Jun-ho was practically lying on top of him, with one of his arms and legs sprawled over him and his face nuzzled into Gong Yoo’s neck. Gong Yoo tried his best to escape the grasp, but found himself frustratingly unable to do so. If anything, it only caused Jun-ho to tighten his grip. He groaned softly in frustration before pausing as he felt something pressing against his side. Oh…

“Dirty boy,” He muttered with a small smirk before checking his watch. He had about two hours to spare before In-ho would contact him to check in. Time he could use however he pleased, as long as he managed to get another recruitment in before In-ho called. He shifted as best he could against Jun-ho’s grasp, managing to move just enough that he could brush his hand against the detectives hardened cock. Jun-ho reacted almost immediately, whimpering in his sleep while he gently thrusted against Gong Yoo’s hand. Gong Yoo watched with a smirk at Jun-ho’s eyes fluttered open. A soft needy moan escaped the detective’s lips as he lifted his head to better look at Gong Yoo who only chuckled and squeezed his cock.

“Fuck,” Jun-ho moaned softly, shivering under the man’s touch.

“Hello to you too, pet,” Gong Yoo greeted with a taunting grin. “Such a n-“ He then began, but was quickly silenced by Jun-ho pressing his lips against his. It took Gong Yoo by surprise, giving Jun-ho the perfect opportunity to take control of the situation. He climbed fully on top of the recruiter, kissing him hungrily as he straddled him. Gong Yoo managed to snap out of his state a moment later, his hands finding Jun-ho’s hips. “Who gave you permission to do that?” He questioned once the kiss broke.

“I didn’t ask,” Jun-ho panted softly as his hands moved to unbuckle his pants. “Didn’t need to after you woke me up like that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have if you weren’t a needy little brat,” Gong Yoo countered. “What exactly is your game plan here, hm? I hate to break it to you, pet, but there’s not a chance in hell that you’re capable of topping,” he then taunted. Jun-ho shot him a small glare, his cheeks darkening with blush as he pushed down his pants and boxers. His cock sprang free, hard and already leaking precum. It was such a beautiful sight to Gong Yoo. “Oh, pet…” he mused.

“Shut up and let me ride you,” Jun-ho huffed softly, tugging at Gong Yoo’s pants with a hunger in his eyes. Gong Yoo chuckled and gave in, lifting his hips slightly so Jun-ho could pulls his pants and and free his hardening cock. 

“So bold,” He teased, suppressing a shiver as Jun-ho grasped onto his cock, stroking it until he was fully hard. “I wonder how long that will last,” He added. Jun-ho only bit his lip, positioning Gong Yoo’s cock against his entrance. Gong Yoo gritted his teeth slightly, holding back a moan as Jun-ho slowly sank down onto him. The detective fit so perfectly around Gong Yoo, tight enough to make it incredibly hard to stay composed. Sex before Jun-ho had been mediocre at best, something Gong Yoo hadn’t had much of a need for. Relationships were out of the question for his line of work, and the occasional hookup he did have never proved to be anything worth further pursuit. He had no interest in reconnecting, and most of his little encounters ended up fearing him in the end anyway. But then there was Jun-ho, who challenged everything Gong Yoo had thought before. He thought about it more than he would ever dare admit, the look of the detective underneath him, the desperation on his face, and laced into his moans. It was like he was a drug, a shameful vice that Gong Yoo couldn’t quite kick. He had tried once, after that morning in Jun-ho’s apartment. He had left the complex, cursing himself for ever daring to allow a slip, for losing control and indulging further than he should. He swore that he would never return, that he would watch the detective from afar and never allow himself to slip again. He lasted three weeks before he couldn’t take it anymore, not that the detective helped with any of it. Watching Jun-ho lose his mind, pleasuring himself, and moaning Gong Yoo’s name in his sleep. It left Gong Yoo wanting more, so much more. Which in turn led to him becoming sloppy, to being caught, and even then, he couldn’t stop himself. Jun-ho was ruining him, stripping him bit by bit of the carefully crafted mask he had built over countless years. It was maddening, in both the best and worst way possible.

“Fuck,” Jun-ho’s strained voice rung out as he began to move. The pace was slow, sensual, and so unlike anything Gong Yoo would usually prefer. He wanted rough, the brutality that would leave Jun-ho screaming by the end. Soft and sweet was never Gong Yoo’s style, yet any thought of taking control and changing things was immediately quelled the moment Jun-ho pressed his lips against his once more. Those damn lips were quickly becoming a weakness, a weapon Jun-ho could use against him, and Gong Yoo was certain the damn detective knew it. He squeezed Jun-ho’s hips as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past the detective’s lips to explore. Jun-ho moaned eagerly, the noise alone enough to make Gong Yoo’s cock twtch. A soft moan escaped his own lips as Jun-ho sped up, his heat squeezing Gong Yoo’s cock. He was going to cum, much sooner than he wanted too. He growled softly and began to move his hips, thrusting up into Jun-ho each time the detective moved down on him. He snaked one of his hands down, wrapping it around Jun-ho’s leaking cock and beginning to stroke at the same pace as his thrusts. He wasn’t about to lose himself before Jun-ho did, not if he had any say in it.

“Come on pet, be a good boy and let me see you cum,” He encouraged once more kiss broke, panting softly as he quickened his strokes. Jun-ho gasped and moaned loudly, tilting his head back as he bounced a little faster, his cock twitching and leaking.

“Faster,” The detective pleaded. “Please, so close,” He whined. Gong Yoo grunted softly and complied, thrusting a little harder into Jun-ho while continuing to speed up his strokes. It wasn’t long after that that the detective was crying out, moaning Gong Yoo’s name as he came hard against his hand while his heat tightened around Gong Yoo like a vice.

“Fuck!” Gong Yoo swore before he could stop himself from doing so, reaching his tipping point almost immediately. A moan escaped his lips and he buried himself deep inside of Jun-ho, cumming just as hard as the detective had.

“Gong Yoo!” Jun-ho whimpered, shaking slightly as Gong Yoo filled him. Gong Yoo forced him to still, holding him down until he fully finished before allowing the detective to slowly climb off of him. Jun-ho panted as he collapsed beside him. For a moment, neither man spoke, both taking time to catch their breaths. Eventually, Jun-ho rolled onto his side to face Gong Yoo. “What are we?” He questioned. Gong Yoo raised a brow, the question forming a small pit in his stomach.

“What do you mean?” He asked. It was a pointless question, he knew exactly what the detective was referring to, 

“What are we, you and me? What is this?” Jun-ho asked, his voice softer than before, with a tinge of nervousness laced within it. Gong Yoo bit the inside of his cheek, ignoring the wave of emotions building up within him. 

“Nothing,” He answered stiffly as he sat up, keeping his gaze fixed ahead of him instead of on the detective. “We are nothing, this is nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Jun-ho argued softly as he sat up as well. “Answer the question properly, you can’t say that whatever this is is nothing. If it were nothing you would have ended it after the storeroom in the metro station,” He then countered. Gong Yoo felt frustration rising within him, overpowering the rest of the emotions he was certain he didn’t need. The truth was that he wasn’t sure anymore. That he had been certain in the beginning that this little entanglement was nothing but a game, a way to get some form of advantage over In-ho, but with each day that passed he was becoming less and less sure. Part of him cared for Jun-ho, a part that was growing and growing each day. It frightened Gong Yoo, something he wasn’t used to. So, he masked fear with anger. 

“What do you expect me to say?” He snapped, finally facing the detective. “That this is some form of a relationship? Do you want me to lie to you and tell you that I care for you? That I want to be with you?” He questioned, swallowing the guilt that came when he saw the pain flash across Jun-ho’s eyes.

“I…no,” The detective answered as he drew back a bit. “I just-“ 

“You just what?” Gong Yoo questioned with a raised brow. The words were spilling out before he could fully process them, his heart thundering within his chest. “This is nothing but a way to keep you in line, it has been from the start. Something to distract you, and was it ever so damn easy to do so, I had you eating out of the palm of my hand” He hissed. “If you actually believed that any of this was genuine, or had the chance of becoming something more, your even more foolish and pathetic than I originally thought!” He then finished, his breathing more ragged. Jun-ho was completely silent, staring at him with disbelief and pain swimming in his eyes. It was enough to replace Gong Yoo’s anger with guilt in just a matter of seconds. He wanted to take it back, but didn’t dare actually do so. Instead he climbed out of the bed and pulled up his pants, fixing his belt before making his way towards the door. He paused for a moment just before the doorway. mind screamed at him to turn back, to do something, anything, but he didn’t. Instead he simply sighed before continuing on, exiting the bedroom and leaving the apartment all together.

Gong Yoo walked out of the apartment complex and entered his car, sitting there in silent for a moment. He managed to force his breaths to even out, taking a moment to fully compose himself both physically and mentally before he drove to the nearest metro station. He walked the platforms over and over again, attempting to drown all other feelings away in his work. He searched for possible victims, eventually managing to finally turn his entire focus onto the task. It was shortly after that that he found him. A man that sat alone on one of the platform benches, looking absolutely defeated. He had clearly lost a fight recently, the bruises on his face most likely coming from the brutal hands of lone sharks. Gong Yoo took out his phone and snapped a picture of the man from afar, sending it to the workers so that they could gather the necessary information needed for recruitment to the games. Once he had what he needed, Gong Yoo smirked, straightening out his suit before approaching the man. He was tall, lanky too. Dressed in grey jeans and a pink shirt, with a grey suit jacket overtop and a blue hat on top of his long shaggy hair.

Seong Gi-hun. He would work perfectly.

Gong Yoo put on his usually charming smile and approached, taking a seat beside the man and resting his briefcase in between the two of them.

“Hello, sir. Can I talk to you?”

[definitely-not-mothman]

Both Arms Cradle Me Now: Hwang Brothers One-shot

In-ho was content with it just being himself, preferred it even. Maybe there was a time when he was younger where he had wished and hoped for a namdongsaeng or yeosonsaeng, but that was before he realized what his family was.

A mess.

In-ho’s eomma had died just shortly after his eleventh birthday. She had been hit by a vehicle while out on a walk. The official report deemed it a tragic accident, though In-ho wouldn’t have been surprised if it hadn’t been. His eomma was tired, burned out from years and years of emotional abuse from In-ho’s abeoji, alongside his infidelity. Maybe she couldn’t take it anymore, or perhaps it really had been an accident. Either way, it left In-ho alone with a man he despised. He remained alone with his father for about three years, and during that period, he spent as much time out of the house as possible. He joined after-school clubs, spent hours at the library studying, he even started looking for jobs so he was ready to apply the moment he turned fifteen. Anything to be away from his abeoji.

Then Park Mal-soon came into the picture. She was sweet enough, a secretary for a high-class law firm in Seoul. She and In-ho’s abeoji got married fairly quickly, and she did her best to serve as an eomma figure. In-ho appreciated her, he did, but he knew it wasn’t going to last. Nothing ever really lasted when it came to his family. His abeoji would ruin Mal-soon like he ruined every other woman he came across, and things would soon go back to how they were.

Only, it didn’t end that way. Not really.

His abeoji had ruined things, as In-ho had expected. However, what In-ho wasn’t expecting was for his abeoji to abandon him into the care of a newly pregnant Mal-soon. One day he was there, the next he was gone, and In-ho never saw him again. To her credit, Mal-soon took it all in stride. She treated In-ho like he had been hers all along, and not just some stranger dumped onto her by an awful man. It was nice, having home-cooked meals and someone to worry about him coming home each night. She let him be a teenager. Let him go out, not because he was frightened of being at home, but because he wanted to enjoy himself and experience life. The months passed faster than he had expected.

They had just returned from the store when it happened. In-ho had run back out to the car to grab the last few bags for Mal-soon. When he returned to the kitchen, he found her hunched over one of the counters, a puddle of water at her feet.

Shit.

In-ho dropped the bags almost immediately, rushing to Mal-soon’s side and helping her up. His mind was already racing.

“It’s the baby, right? Your water broke?” He questioned as he guided her over to the couch. He had no idea what he was doing, what he should be doing.

“Yes,” Mal-soon panted, her face lined with pain. Right, having a baby was incredibly painful. “In-ho, there’s a bag packed with everything I’ll need. It’s in the nursery. Can you grab it?” She requested. In-ho nodded, making sure she was seated before he quickly rose to his feet and bolted up the stairs to the nursery. He found the bag resting on top of the rocking chair he had only just managed to put together for Mal-soon a day prior. In-ho swiped the bag and took off back downstairs.

“Got it!” He called as he reached the living room. He found Mal-soon leaning back against the couch, her eyes closed and lips pursed as she clutched her stomach with one hand and gripped her cellphone with the other. “Why don’t I make the call? You focus on breathing,” In-ho suggested, setting down the bag and gently taking the phone from Mal-soon’s hand once she allowed it. He already knew who he was supposed to call, typing in Mal-soon’s eomma’s number before hitting call and putting it on speakerphone.

“Hello?” The stern voice of Park Ha-yoon answered after the first few rings.

“It’s In-ho,” In-ho spoke up quickly. “The baby is coming,” He informed.

“Right now?” Ha-yoon questioned, sounding skeptical. In-ho gritted his teeth slightly. Of course, she would question him. In-ho could tell her the sky was blue, and she’d had to go out and check for herself. She didn’t like him, didn’t trust him, and she made that abundantly clear each time she spoke to him. “Are you certain? Did my ttal tell you this or are you just guessing?”

“Eomma, enough!” Mal-soon snapped through strained breaths. “Respect what he is saying, or I will find another way to the hospital,” she threatened. In-ho felt a pang of admiration for her defense, relieved that she never once let it slide.

“Nonsense, my ttal,” Ha-yoon said, her tone immediately softening to a sickly sweet one that was clearly forced. “Your abeoji and I will be there in a few minutes,” She said.

“Good, please hurry,” Mal-soon panted before gesturing for In-ho to end the call. In-ho did so immediately, slipping the phone into the bag for her. He made sure she was alright before going to clean up the kitchen, putting away the groceries so they wouldn’t spoil, and mopping up the puddle on the floor. By the time he had finished, Ha-yoon and Mal-soon’s abeoji Hyun-ki entered the house.

“Oh, my sweet ttal, today is the day!” Ha-yoon greeted with an excited smile. She ignored In-ho completely, moving around him in order to take to Mal-soon’s side and help her up off the couch. In-ho ignored her just the same, picking up the go bag and handing it to Hyun-ki, who took it with a polite nod. He was a very reserved man, but he at least treated In-ho with respect.

“Everything should be in there,” He said softly, “I’m sure I can find a way to bring anything that might have been forgotten.”

“That won’t be necessary, we have it all handled,” Ha-yoon said with a hint of venom, her focus still on Mal-soon. In-ho only nodded stiffly in return, taking a step back from it all. Ha-yoon helped Mal-soon to the door, Hyun-ki following after to aid with whatever he needed to. Mal-soon, however, paused before they could get her out the door. She looked back at In-ho, who remained near the entryway of the living room, her gaze softening.

“In-ho, are you coming?” She questioned. In-ho felt a tinge of surprise, not expecting her to have wanted him with her.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. There’s limited space is it is,” Ha-yoon spoke up in mock worry, though her intentions were clear. She didn’t want In-ho here.

“He is a part of this gajok, this will be his dongsaeng,” Mal-soon argued, leaving no room for argument. “If he wishes to come, he can,” She stated firmly before looking to In-ho. “Would you like to come to the hospital with us?” She questioned. In-ho hesitated, unsure of what he really wanted. Eventually, he gave a slow nod, keeping his gaze on Mal-soon rather than the disapproving galre Ha-yoon was giving him.

“Yes, please,” He answered softly. Mal-soon nodded with a soft smile before continuing her journey out the door. In-ho followed behind the family quietly, both excited and nervous for what was to come. His dongsaeng. He was about to become either a hyung or an oppa. There was going to be a little one around him now from the day he eventually left home, someone who was going to look up to In-ho and need him. That sounded nice, didn’t it? And for once, his abeoji wasn’t going to be there to mess everything up. This baby would have a chance at a normal life with a loving family. Everything In-ho never got the chance to have.

In-ho climbed into the back of the car, sitting beside Hyun-ki while Ha-yoon drove and Mal-soon sat passenger. Things moved very quickly after that. They arrived at the hospital and rushed to the maternity floor, where Mal-soon was asked a million different questions. They were given a room where Mal-soon would stay for a couple of days after the birth, so that she could settle well and the nurses could watch over both her and the baby. It wasn’t long after they got settled within the room that Mal-soon had progressed enough to be taken to the delivery room. Ha-yoon went with her, while In-ho waited in the hall with Hyun-ki. It all felt so very strange; he wasn’t exactly sure what to do. He sat for a bit, then paced up and down the hall, then sat some more. Eventually, Hyun-ki suggested they go down to the cafeteria to get something to eat.

“How does it feel? Are you excited?” Hyun-ki asked in an attempt to make conversation as they sat at one of the tables, eating cold cut sandwiches. In-ho wasn’t sure if the man actually cared or not, but the fact that he was trying felt nice.

“I guess so,” In-ho answered after washing down some of the slightly soggy sandwich with a small sip of water. “It’s a little weird, isn’t it? By the time he or she enters pre-kingergarten, I’ll be entering college, or completing my conscription,” He then said with a small shrug.

“That may be true,” Hyun-ki said with a hum. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t be a part of his or her life. That kid is going to adore you, no matter the age difference. That’s just how these things work.”

“You think so?” In-ho questioned.

“I do,” Hyun-ki said with a nod. “Some people are built for this kind of thing, you’re one of them,” He said with a hint of a smile. In-ho returned the smile.

“Thank you,” He said softly before going back to his sandwich. They ate in comfortable silence after that, slowly finishing their sandwiches and drinks before heading back upstairs. Ha-yoon was waiting for them outside of Mal-soon’s room, her arms crossed. The baby must have arrived while the two of them had been downstairs.

“There you are,” She hissed, glaring at In-ho. “Where have you been? She’s been waiting for you for the past ten minutes!”

“I misplaced my keys. In-ho was helping me find them,” Hyun-ki lied, much to In-ho’s relief. Ha-yeon huffed but nodded, unable to argue with that.

“Fine, fine, just get in there,” She muttered, stepping out of the way of the door. In-ho hesitated before nodding. He stepped forward and slowly pushed open the door. He stepped inside to find Mal-soon lying in the bed, dressing in a hospital gown and gently craddling a little white bundle in her arms. She looked exhausted, yet so overjoyed at the same time.

“In-ho,” She greeted with a smile upon seeing him, quickly ushering him closer. “Come meet your namdongsaeng,” She encouraged.

His namdongsaeng, In-ho, had a namdongsaeng.

He approached the bed slowly, staring down at the little boy swaddled in the white fluffy blanket. He looked so tiny, so adorable with the little blue hat that rested on his head.

“Would you like to hold him?” Mal-soon questioned softly. In-ho hesitated before nodding, sitting down carefully on the side of the bed. “Careful to support his head,” Mal-soon reminded as she gently transferred the baby into In-ho’s arms. In-ho nodded, ensuring he did so while he stared down at his namdongsaeng in complete awe. The baby squirmed slightly in his arms, his little brown eyes fluttering open. He stared up at In-ho silently, and in that moment, In-ho swore he could feel his heart melt.

“He’s so small,” He whispered, worried that anything above that would frighten the baby. Mal-soon chuckled and nodded.

“He likes you,” She declared with a smile, causing In-ho to look up at her in surprise.

“How can you be so sure?” He questioned.

“He cried anytime my eomma or the nurses tried to hold him. With you, he is so calm,” Mal-soon explained with an amused hum.

“He’s calm,” In-ho mumbled, looking back down at the baby. He gently ran one of his fingers against his little cheek, nearly gasping as the action earned a tiny smile. Any hesitation he had before went right out the window. Nothing that came before mattered. This was his namdongsaeng, the little boy In-ho was determined he would spend the rest of his life protecting. Nothing would ever happen to him, not if In-ho could help it. He’d keep him safe.

“What is his name?” He asked Mal-soon, unable to pull his gaze away from the baby.

“I thought Jun-ho would be nice. Hwang Jun-ho,” Mal-soon answered.

“Jun-ho,” In-ho repeated, a small smile tugging at his lips. He watched in awe as the baby reached a little hand up, grasping tightly onto In-ho’s finger. “Yes, Jun-ho sounds perfect,” He agreed with a nod, holding him a little closer. “Hello, Jun-ho,” He greeted softly. “My name is In-ho, I’m your hyung,” He cooed. “Do you know what that means? It means I’ll always be there for you.”

Always.

No matter what.

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} Juncruiter Prt 22

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft, •-

//////////////////////

“Yee-Joon requested nearly two weeks' leave because of you.”

Gong Yoo chuckled softly at the semi-annoyed words that left Jun-ho’s lips. The detective leaned against the back of Gong Yoo’s car, reading over the fake reports Gong Yoo had created to keep him from actually discovering anything regarding the games or his brother. They stood in an abandoned lot, somewhere out of view of any cameras and away from anywhere In-ho might search.

“Clearly, he isn’t built for police work,” Gong Yoo replied simply as he drew in a drag from his cigarette. He glanced over Jun-ho’s concentrated yet exhausted expression, and couldn’t help but smirk. He had done it on purpose, calling the detective the moment he got off a night shift. The hope was that Jun-ho would be too exhausted to properly question anything.

“You knocked him out, tied him up, and threw him into a cramped closet,” Jun-ho argued, shooting Gong Yoo a small glare as he looked up from the fake files.

“In my defense, he wasn’t supposed to be there; I had specifically requested you and only you. Kwon decided he had to disobey orders and send the other one with you,” Gong Yoo pointed out, allowing Jun-ho to swipe the cigarette from his fingers and take a couple of drags.

“Did you do something to him?” Jun-ho asked after a moment, hesitating as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask in the first place. “I haven’t seen him all week.”

“Who, Kwon?” Gong Yoo questioned with a raised brow. He kept his expression schooled, though the question absolutely delighted him. He had dealt with Kwon. As it turned out, the Police Captain was quite terrible at playing Yut Nori. Then again, perhaps that was the result of the blood loss, but really, what was Gong Yoo supposed to have done? He had forgotten the Yut Sticks, and Kwon’s fingers had been such a lovely replacement… “No, he’s not worth my time. Nor is that my type of business.”

“Right…” Jun-ho trailed off, handing back the cigarette before turning his focus to the files once more. “This is your type of business,” He muttered. “It’s…not what I was expecting, to be honest.”

“That’s because you’ve been trained to see the worst in everything,” Gong Yoo answered with a shrug. “Tell me, what were you expecting? Murder? Some kind of cult?” He teased

“I don’t know, maybe? I mean, I walked in on you assaulting a homeless individual while in possession of a briefcase full of money,” Jun-ho pointed out. “Explain this to me again,” He then requested. Gong Yoo grinned and gave a small shrug, leaning against the car.

“We find people down on their luck, the ones completely out of options, and we offer to fix their troubles. We pay off their debts, ensure their families are looked after, whatever they need. In turn, they come and work for us for a set time depending on what they owe,” He explained. 

“And this work entails?” Jun-ho questioned as he searched through the files. Most of them were entirely fake people that Gong Yoo had created, pages detailing so-called workers that didn’t actually exist.

“The unsavory things people with options wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole,” Gong Yoo answered simply. “Most are sold out to our investors; they work as servants or are used for whatever special skills they possess.”

“This just sounds like human trafficking to me,” Jun-ho mumbled with a wary sigh. Gong Yoo had to hide a smirk; if only the detective could know that it was actually so much worse than that.

“If that’s how you wish to see it, but we do have moral standards. None of are clients are ever to be put in danger of any kind, we work very hard to ensure that,” He explained.

“And the island?” Jun-ho questioned.

“It’s where we work out of, clients are all brought there to begin with,” Gong Yoo explained. Jun-ho sighed softly, yawning as he ran his fingers through his hair before nodding slowly. 

“I guess…that could make sense? I don’t know,” He mumbled before yawning again. “Why the Ddjaki?”

“We need to find the right people somehow,” Gong Yoo answered with a smirk. “If they’re desperate enough to let a complete stranger slap them around for money, they’re desperate enough to take our offer.”

“And In-ho?”

“Your hyung joined the operation years ago, to try and pay for his wife’s treatment,” Gong Yoo explained, watching as Jun-ho tensed. For some reason it wasn’t as amusing as he had thought it might be, in fact Gong Yoo almost felt a pang of guilt. Almost. “But he joined too late, and in his grief, he chose to stay. Eventually, he was offered a more…hands-on position, and he took it. I don’t quite know where he ended up after that point, but I know your precious hyung works to ensure each client is well looked after,” He lied smoothly. It seemed to work well enough. The detective was still somewhat on edge, but he didn’t look as unconvinced as before.

“Okay…okay, but you’ll help me find him?” Jun-ho asked softly.

“I will,” Gong Yoo promised before he leaned against Jun–ho from behind, wrapping his arms around the detective’s waist. He then brushed his lips against the back of the detective’s ear, knowing it would distract him just enough to get him to do whatever Gong Yoo wanted. “Come now, pet. I think you’ve had enough for today. You need sleep,” He hummed softly. Jun-ho shivered before breaking out into another yawn, begrudgingly nodding. 

“I know,” He admitted. “But I’m also starving, I can’t eat during the nightshifts.”

“Then go get something to eat,” Gong Yoo chuckled, pulling the detective a little tighter against him.

“Come with me,” Jun-ho requested. Gong Yoo found himself freezing, taken aback by the request. 

“Absolutely not, pet,” He denied. “That’s not what this is,” He then added. Though really, at this point, he wasn’t entirely sure of the extent of what this entailed. Jun-ho leaned back against him, his head resting on Gong Yoo’s shoulder as he met his gaze. An almost pouting look on his overtired face.

“Please?” He pleaded softly. Gong Yoo wanted to disagree, to tell him know. He had had no intention to get attached, to take part in such medial things, and yet…

“Fine,” He grumbled. “Fine, let’s go,” He sighed, pulling away from the detective. He circled the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. Jun-ho was quick the follow, climbing into the passenger seat.

“Thank you,” Jun-ho yawned, before pressing a gentle kiss against Gong Yoo’s cheek. It was such a simple gesture, and yet it left Gong Yoo reeling. Years of dealing with the games and everything they entailed, but it was a simple kiss on the cheek from a detective he wasn’t supposed to be involved with that finally left him speechless. He could only manage a stiff nod, clutching tightly to the steering wheel with one hand as he put the car into drive, slowly pulling out of the lot while Jun-ho sat beside him, oblivious to what he had just managed to accomplish.

“Where am I going?” Gong Yoo finally managed to muster after a few minutes of driving around aimlessly.

“I don’t know, pick somewhere,” Jun-ho answered softly as he curled up slightly into the seat, his eyes fluttering closed. “Tell me about yourself,” he mumbled.

“And why would I do that?” Gong Yoo questioned as he glanced over at the detective who simply gave a half-hearted shrug.

“I know nothing about you other than your name, give me something,” He answered softly. Gong Yoo sighed, turning his attention back to the road. He contemplated the rejection for a moment before giving in.

“Fine, I’ll give you one thing,” He answered. “What do you want to know?” He then questioned. Jun-ho was silent for a moment, either thinking hard about his answer or trying to get his exhausted mind to exactly work, Gong Yoo wasn’t sure which one.

“What’s your favorite food?” He eventually asked. 

“What?” Gong Yoo asked in disbelief. “Out of all the questions you could have possibly asked me, about who I am or why I do the things that I do, you ask what my favourite food is?” He questioned. The idea was absolutely baffling to him. “Is this because you’re hungry?”

“Just answer the damn question,” Jun-ho simply yawned in response. “What is it?” He asked. Gong Yoo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I suppose it’s Mandoo,” He eventually answered. Jun-ho hummed in response, a small smile tugging at his lips as if he had managed to accomplish something. “You’re insufferable,” Gong Yoo muttered under his breath before spotting a cafe about a block ahead. He pulled up in front of it and put the car into park. “Alright then, here we are. This better be quick,” He stated, glancing to Jun-ho who remained silent in his seat. His eyes were still closed, his head slumped over and leaning against his should. The little shit was sleeping. Gong Yoo groaned softly, nudging the detective’s side though to no avail. Jun-ho was out cold. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Gong Yoo grumbled, sighing as he leaned back in his seat. “Complete waste of my time,” He sighed to himself. Though, somehow he couldn’t bring himself to actually be upset at the detective, not really.

Gong Yoo could have simply left Jun-ho on the walkway in front of the cafe, or dropped him off in front of his apartment and left. Normally he would have, he had no care of what happened to the people around him. Yet, even as the thoughts entered his mind, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to. Not this time. Instead, he managed to carry the detective all the way up to his apartment. Not that it was very difficult. Jun-ho was light, almost concerningly so. Gong Yoo would have to order him more groceries, and ensure that the damn detective actually ate them.

“Never again,” Gong Yoo grumbled to himself as he finished Jun-ho’s keys out of his pocket. It didn’t help that Jun-ho was clinging to him like a child, making the task of unlocking the door harder than it needed to be. He eventually managed, carrying Jun-ho into the apartment and kicking the door shut. He made his way to the bedroom, dropping Jun-ho down onto the bed with a sigh. The movement was enough to momentarily wake the detective, who let out a soft whine as he shifted to get comfortable. 

“Stay,” Jun-ho mumbled, the word just barley coherent. Gong Yoo froze for a moment, staring down at the detective.

“Absolutely not,” He eventually denied with a shake of his head. He couldn’t stay, he shouldn’t. But then Jun-ho’s half-lidded eyes met his, and a pout pulled at his pretty little lips. How the hell was Gong Yoo supposed to say no to that? More importantly, when did he lose the ability to do so? “Fine,” He sighed

“Thank you,” Jun-ho mumbled, shifting over so Gong Yoo could join him. Gong Yoo groaned softly but gave in, slipping out of his suit jacket before climbing into the bed. Jun-ho latched onto him almost immediately, wrapping his arms around Gong Yoo and resting his head on Gong Yoo’s chest.

“Not a word of this to anyone, or I’ll make you regret it,” Gong Yoo threatened half-heartedly. He then hesitated before resting an arm around Jun-ho. The detective only hummed in response, his eyes fluttering closed once more before his breathing slowly evened out. Gong Yoo sighed softly before allowing his eyes to slowly close as well

A few hours of sleep couldn’t hurt, could it?

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} Juncruiter Prt. 21

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft, sexual content •-

//////////////////////

Jun-ho woke up on his knees, his hands suspended high above his head by rope. His mind was fuzzy, and for a moment, he worried he might have gone blind until he realized it was a blindfold that shrouded his vision. He racked his brain, trying to remember what had happened. Arriving at the house with Yee-Joon, greeting the woman, being drugged, and then…

“You bastard,” He groaned as he put the pieces together. He wasn’t at all surprised when he heard Gong Yoo’s familiar laughter fill the room.

“Hello to you too, pet,” He greeted with a hum. Jun-ho could hear his footsteps approaching, circling him slowly.

“You drugged me!” Jun-ho hissed as he tried to get up, though without his hands, it was far more difficult than expected.

“You’re surprised?” Gong Yoo questioned with a chuckle. “Here I thought you knew me by now.”

“You could have just broken into my apartment again like last time,” Jun-ho argued, shivering slightly as Gong Yoo’s hand grasped onto his chin, tilting his head up.

“And where is the fun in that, pet? I need to keep you on your toes,” He answered with a hum, squeezing the sides of Jun-ho’s jaw. 

“By concocting an entire false police report, breaking into someone else's home, and recruiting some drunk tourist to lure me here?” Jun-ho questioned. “Not to mention incapacitating me and my partner...where the hell is Yee-Joon?”

“Exactly,” Gong Yoo agreed in a cheerful tone. “As for your little partner, he’s fine. Tied up in the upstairs closet, where he won’t be able to disrupt us,” He then answered. “And, before you ask, the girl is also alive. Roaming the streets somewhere, most likely too intoxicated to remember what happened.”

“That…that is at least a little reassuring,” Jun-ho sighed softly. “But I’m still not happy about any of this,” He then declared with a small huff. Gong Yoo chuckled before letting go of Jun-ho’s chin, instead digging his fingers into the detective’s hair and giving a sharp tug. Jun-ho moaned immediately, blushing as he was forced forward. 

“Well then,” Gong Yoo began, tightening his grip as he leaned down to whisper into Jun-ho’s ear. “It’s a damn good thing that I don’t give a fuck what you feel or want in this moment.”

“Fuck,” Jun-ho whimpered softly, the threat enough to alway have him shivering and leaning into the man’s touch. Gong Yoo showed no hesitation, swiftly unclasping Jun-ho’s belt before yanking his pants and boxers down.

“Your mindless little actions cost me a lot, pet,” Gong Yoo hissed softly into Jun-ho’s ear as he wrapped his hand around the detective’s rapidly hardening cock. “You’re almost more trouble than you’re worth. I think it’s about time I teach you a lesson, remind you where you belong.”

“Please,” Jun-ho pleaded, the thought of it sounded so damn good, especially after being away from the man for so long.

“Shh, begging isn’t going to do you any good,” Gong Yoo shushed. “You have no say, pet. I decide what you get and when you get it,” He then stated, before sliding something cold and hard along the shaft of Jun-ho’s cock. The detective gasped and shivered, struggling against his restraints.

“What the hell is that?” He whimpered softly as Gong Yoo let go of him, leaving the device around his cock.

“A lovely little ring that will prevent you from cumming before I allow you to do so,” Gong Yoo answered smugly. “Since you’ve struggled with waiting in the past,” Jun-ho moaned loudly at the idea, hips already arching up slightly from the mere thought.

“Bastard,” He whined before gasping as Gong Yoo delivered a sharp slap against his ass. He moaned loudly, his cock throbbing as he nearly fell forwards, with the rope around his wrists being the only thing to catch him. Gong Yoo delivered another harsh slap, drawing out a cry from the detective. The intense pain and pleasure blurred together.

“You lost me three weeks of work with your recklessness,” Gong Yoo hissed as he ran his fingers against Jun-ho’s stinging skin. “That’s twenty-one days you’re going to need to make up for.”

“Please,” Jun-ho whimpered. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t what I’m looking for, pet,” Gong Yoo stated before giving another slap. One…two…three…four…five…on and on until he reached twenty-one, until Jun-ho was nothing but a mess of sobs and whimpers. It was too much, and yet still not enough for the detective. His skin was hot and ached, his mind spinning while his cock throbbed, and yet he wanted more.

“Gong Yoo,” He whimpered as he felt the man pull away.

“Shh,” Gong Yoo hushed. Jun-ho could hear him move in front of him. He pressed something cold against Jun-ho’s parted lips, a coin of sorts. “We’re going to play a game,” The businessman stated, before the ring around Jun-ho’s cock began to vibrate. Jun-ho gasped, yelling out as his entire body jolted from the sudden intense stimulation.

“Fuck!” He cried out, his head slumping forward as his breathing grew more ragged.

“Heads or tails, pet?” Gong Yoo asked, sadistic amusement clear in his tone. For a moment, Jun-ho struggled to comprehend what he was saying, his mind too clouded by everything.

“What?” He managed to gasp out in between whimpers, unable to keep himself still. He leaned further into Gong Yoo’s touch, hips thrusting and searching for any form of relief.

“Heads or tails?” Gong Yoo repeated as he pressed the coin down harder against the detective’s lips.

“Tails,” Jun-ho panted, earning a chuckle in response.

“How very fitting,” Gong Yoo teased as he pulled the coin away. “Here’s how this is going to work, pet. I’m going to flip the coin, and it will decide how this will all play out. If it’s tails, I will allow you to cum. If it’s heads, only I will be able to do so. Do you understand?” He questioned.

“That’s not fair,” Jun-ho whimpered in between soft moans. “I can’t see the coin. You can easily cheat.” Gong Yoo chuckled, his fingers running through Jun-ho’s hair.

“Exactly,” He agreed, giving a playful tug before letting go. “Let’s begin,” he then declared with a taunting edge. Jun-ho could hear the sound of the coin flipping, followed by Gong Yoo catching it. He already knew what the result would be, yet Gong Yoo still felt the need to rub it in his face. “Well, would you look at that? Heads,” He hummed.

“You asshole,” Jun-ho managed to his, before crying out as the vibrations intensified. “FUCK!”

“You’ll never learn, will you?” Gong Yoo tsked. “I think we’ll put that mouth of yours to good use first,” He then decided. Jun-ho could only moan loudly, desperation and need consuming him, and yet there was nothing he could do about it. The sound of a belt unclasping briefly hit the detective’s ears, before Gong Yoo was grasping him tightly by the back of his head.

“Please,” Jun-ho gave in immediately, opening his mouth eagerly for the man. Gong Yoo chuckled softly, tightening his grip before slamming his hard cock deep into Jun-ho’s mouth. The detective gagged almost immediately, but it didn’t deter Gong Yoo. He set a fast pace, pulling Jun-ho into each thrust. Jun-ho moaned eagerly, struggling to keep up but loving it all the same. He took it all eagerly, running his tongue along Gong Yoo’s shaft.

“That’s it, just like that, Fucking take it,” Gong Yoo hissed as he sped up. Tears pricked Jun-ho’s eyes as he continued to suck eagerly, his own body so close to the edge yet unable to reach it. He moaned desperately as Gong Yoo came without warning, nearly choking as the man’s hot seed spilled down his throat. Gong Yoo kept going, thrusting until Jun-ho was forced to swallow every last drop. It was only then that he pulled out, leaving Jun-ho gasping for air and shaking.

“Holy shit,” Jun-ho managed to pant, whimpering in both relief and disappointment as the vibrations from the ring stopped. “Please,” he begged. “Please let me cum.”

“That’s not up to me,” Gong Yoo answered, his voice strained slightly from his release. “Shall we play again?” He then taunted. Jun-ho could only whimper in response, listening to Gong Yoo flip the coin again.

“How unfortunate for you, pet,” Gong Yoo mused as Jun-ho felt him lean over him, his hot breath brushing against the detective’s ear. “Its heads,” he stated. Jun-ho couldn’t muster much of a response before the ropes keeping his wrists suspended were suddenly cut, sending him crashing down to the floor with a yelp. Gong Yoo simply stepped behind him, gripping the back of his head and forcing him back onto his knees. “Who do you belong to?” He questioned as he trailed his fingers down Jun-ho’s spine, stopping just shy of the detective’s entrance.

“You,” Jun-ho moaned, this time without hesitation. “I belong to you,”

“Good pet,” Gong Yoo praised before slipping two fingers inside of Jun-ho, stretching him out while he leaned down to kiss along the detective’s sensitive neck. 

“Please,” Jun-ho pleaded, his body shaking from the denied release he so desperately needed. ���Gong Yoo, please. I won’t ever do it again. I’ll be so good, I promise. Just please take this damn thing!” He begged. 

“Not yet,” Gong Yoo hissed, nipping at Jun-ho’s skin as he withdrew his fingers, instead pressing his cock against the detective’s entrance. Jun-ho moaned loudly, eagerly pressing against the man.

“Gong Yoo, p-“ Jun-ho was cut off by Gong Yoo thrusting into him harshly, a loud cry escaping his lips as the man immediately set a brutal pace. Gong Yoo had never been gentle with him before, but this was far more brutal than any other time. Each thrust was harsh and intense, drawing out loud and broken moans from the detective. “Gong Yoo!”

“So fucking tight,” Gong Yoo groaned softly, using his grip on Jun-ho’s hair to pull him into each thrust. “Such a perfect slut, made just for this.” Jun-ho could only moan in response, trying his best to keep up with the man’s harsh pace. He was so close, it hurt. Desperately needing to let go but unable to. It was driving him mad. 

“Need it,” He moaned

“Keep whining like that and I’ll never give it to you,” Gong Yoo threatened. “Don’t make me gag you,” he then added as his cock slammed against Jun-ho’s prostate. 

“Fuck!” Jun-ho yelled, moaning loudly as he felt himself tighten around the man. “Oh, fuck!” He moaned.

“Going to cum,” Gong Yoo hissed as he tugged on Jun-ho’s hair. “Going to fill your pretty little ass.”

“Yes!” Jun-ho moaned eagerly, his body shaking as Gong Yoo hit his prostate each time. It only took a few more thrusts before Gong Yoo fulfilled his process, slamming deep inside of him before cumming hard. “GONG YOO!” he screamed.

“That’s it pet,” Gong Yoo praised with a low moan. “Fucking take it all,” he panted, forcing Jun-ho to remain still as he filled him. Jun-ho could only whimper and moan, losing himself to the sensations while his cock twitched and throbbed.

“Please,” He practically sobbed, his voice quivering. “Too much, please I can’t take anymore,” he begged desperately.

“One more round, you can take it,” Gong Yoo denied, though his voice had softened out a bit. He slowly pulled out of Jun-ho, hand moving from his hair to the blindfold, pulling it off with a simple tug. Jun-ho whimpered, allowing Gong Yoo to push down onto the floor, positioning him on his back and hovering over him. His hair was disheveled, a dark lustful look in his eyes with hints of what might have been adoration, of something more than just primal want. It was in that exact moment that Jun-ho realized that he needed the man, that he wanted to see that look every damn day from now on. The sex was so good, but fuck he wanted more, wanted all of it. 

“I can take it,” he agreed softly with a nod, shivering slightly as he wrapped his shaking legs around Gong Yoo’s waist. 

“Good boy,” Gong Yoo praised with a smirk, lining his cock up with Jun-ho’s entrance once more. He thrusted inside of him, still not quite gentle, but better than before. He still kept a fast pace, drawing needy moans from the detective with a grin. Jun-ho’s hands were still bound together, but he still managed to loop his arms over Gong Yoo, pulling him down so he could crash his lips against him. Gong Yoo tensed for a moment before kissing Jun-ho back with an intensity that matches his thrusts. He sped up, gripping tightly onto Jun-ho’s hips and pulling him into each thrust. Jun-ho moaned and deepened the kiss, his needy and leaking cock pressing up against Gong Yoo’s stomach. Gong Yoo moaned softly, thrusting a few more times before pulling Jun-ho tightly against him and cumming deep inside of him one last time. 

“Yes!” Jun-ho moaned as he broke the kiss, whimpered as Gong Yoo filled him to the brim once more. 

“Good fucking pet,” Gong Yoo groaned, taking a moment to catch his breath before he slowly pulled out. Jun-hon whimpered at the sensation, cum leaking out of him.

“Please,” he pleaded softly.

“I know,” Gong Yoo hummed with a small smirk, slowly sliding the ring off of Jun-ho’s cock. He then leaned down, lifting Jun-ho’s hips up just enough that he could wrap his lips around his cock.

“Oh, fuck!” Jun-ho yelled, moaning at the top of his lungs as he quickly lost himself to the sensation. Gong Yoo’s mouth felt like heaven, his tongue swiping against Jun-ho’s leaking tip in a way that made Jun-ho see stars. “G-Gonna cum!” He cried. Gong Yoo only hummed in encouragement, speeding up his movements. Jun-ho let out a broken scream as the knot in his stomach finally broke, his hips arching as he came hard into Gong Yoo’s mouth. His orgasm was so incredibly tense, he was certain he had never experienced such a thing before. Gong Yoo worked him through it, drawing out every second as he swallowed everything Jun-ho gave him, until there was nothing left. “F-Fuck,” he whimpered, collapsing back against the floor. Gong Yoo chuckled as he pulled off of him, wiping his lips with his sleeve.

“Good pet, so good for me,” he praised as he got up. He gave Jun-ho a few moments to come down from his high before helping him up to his feet. “As much as I would love to do that all over again, we can’t have people thinking you’re missing,” He stated, helping him redress. Jun-ho was shaky on his feet, his legs feeling like jello as Gong Yoo aided him with his belt. He had no idea how he was going to walk out of the house, let alone return to work, 

“You couldn’t have done this near the end of my shift?” He asked softly 

“Absolutely not,” Gong Yoo chuckled. “Go get that partner of yours and get going.”

“When will I see you again?” Jun-ho asked. 

“Next week, as I promised,” Gong Yoo answered. “Now get going, before I change my mind and keep you here,” he then treated, Jun-ho smiled slightly and nodded, before wincing as he managed to take a few steps.

“Goodbye, Gong Yoo,” he said softly

“Goodbye…Jun-ho.”

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} Juncruiter Prt. 20

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft, sexual content •-

////////////////////

Jun-ho returned to work four days later, begrudgingly so. Maybe he would have felt better if he had gotten a few more days of rest, but he could no longer take his eomma’s constant fretting over him. He loved the woman to death, but sometimes her fierce overprotectiveness could be too much. The detective was almost pleased when he entered the station, that is, until he was almost immediately called into Kwon’s office.

“How are you feeling, Jun-ho? Are you alright?” Kwon questioned, an almost worried expression upon his face as Jun-ho sat down across from him. Jun-ho clenched his fists at his side, wanting nothing more than to let out all of his anger. When he didn’t answer, Kwon spoke up again. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“He wasn’t the one who did,” Jun-ho muttered bitterly, knowing exactly who Kwon was referring to. “You, however…” He trailed off, watching as Kwon’s eyes widened and a look of dread spread across his features. “I know what you did, I saw the report.”

“Jun-ho…” Kwon began, his voice strained. “It was all entirely out of my control.”

“You called for immediate dismissal,” Jun-ho argued, his gaze hardened as he glared up at the man. “That money wasn’t a bribe, you damn well knew that, and yet you still took the opportunity to ruin In-ho’s career. My Hyung trusted you, and you betrayed him! Not only that, but then you lied to our family for years!” He snapped, voice rising as his anger threatened to boil over. “His wife and child died because they couldn’t afford the treatment in time! That blood is on your hands!”

“Jun-ho, there are rules that must be obeyed!” Kwon countered. “We are not above the law!”

“Aren’t we?” Jun-ho hissed, rising from his seat. Kwon paled, staring up at the detective as he struggled to find his words.

“Whatever that man told you, it isn’t true,” He stammered. Jun-ho scoffed softly before shaking his head, stepping back from the desk.

“Gong Yoo didn’t tell me anything; he didn’t have to. Security feeds magically disappearing, hundreds of missing persons cases being dropped or covered up with little to no actual investigation,” He answered. “Look me in the eyes right now and tell me something isn’t going on, and that you don’t have a part in whatever it is,” He then ordered as he kept his gaze fixed on Kwon. The Captain shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze immediately slipping down to the desk.

“Jun-ho…”

“You’re a coward,” Jun-ho interjected coldly. “A pathetic excuse of a man. I looked up to you for years, now I see what a massive waste of time that was,” he hissed, surprising even himself slightly with his words. Perhaps Gong Yoo was rubbing off on him. Part of him wondered if that was a good thing. “I think we’re done here,” he stated as he stepped back, opening the door to his office.

“Jun-ho, you have to drop this, step back,” Kwon called after him. “This is well above you and I, you’re going to get yourself killed!” Jun-ho paused at the door, contemplating the man’s words for a moment before shrugging. 

“I think I’d prefer death over ending up like you anyway,” he stated before heading off towards his office, ignoring the pounding within his chest. He could hear Kwon calling after him, but he paid the man no mind, instead turning his focus to the tasks at hand. Three weeks of absence meant he had a lot to catch up on, after all.

“There you are,” Yee-Joon, one of Jun-ho’s fellow detectives, called as Jun-ho reached his office, the younger man having been waiting outside for him. “You were gone for some time; you had us worried there.”

“I had a few family matters I had to deal with,” Jun-ho answered with a small shrug, giving him a polite smile. Yee-Joon raised a brow, grinning slightly.

“Family matters, is that it?” He questioned. “Are you sure that it had nothing to do with that man you were in here with? The handsome one, with the suit. You two seemed awfully close,” He then teased. Jun-ho let out a soft groan, giving Yee-Joon a half-hearted glare.

“No, it has nothing to do with him,”  He stated firmly with a small sigh. “Why are you here? If not just to mess with me.”

“Kwon requested that the two of us take this case,” Yee-Joon explained, holding out a file for Jun-ho to take. “A young woman reported a break-in and an assault in her home in the Seodaemun-gu district. She requested you and me specifically.” Jun-ho frowned and read over the file carefully. There wasn’t much to go on: an address and a vague account of a masked man breaking into her home. He had knocked her out, tied her to her bed, and made her watch as he stole from her. He took nothing of financial value, instead focusing on the sentimental items she owned. Either pocketing them or breaking them, depending on how loud she screamed. 

“She requested us specifically?” Jun-ho questioned as he read over the woman’s name. He didn’t recognize it, not in the slightest. Yet she certainly seemed to know him.

“That’s what Kwon said,” Yee-Joon answered with a shrug. Jun-ho sighed softly and nodded, handing Yee-Joon back the file.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go then,” He agreed. “You have everything you need?” He then asked. Yee-Joon nodded before following Jun-ho down to the parking garage. 

“So, who was he?” Yee-Joon questioned as they pulled out of the parking garage. “The man you were with.”

“We’re not talking about this right now,” Jun-ho denied with a small sigh, though he doubted he would actually be able to convince the younger man to shut up.

“Why not? I think it’s important to know my partners' associates, especially one that comfortable putting his hands on you in front of all your fellow officers,” Yee-Joon taunted with a smirk. “Must be a very special friend.”

“Yee-Joon,” Jun-ho warned with a glare, clutching on a little tighter to the steering wheel as he felt his cheeks heating up slightly.

“What? I’m just saying…” Yee-Joon said with a laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with it, you know? Having that type of friend. Men are doing it all the time these days,” He teased. “You could simply tell me, I wouldn’t judge.”

“I’m not coming out to you while we’re on the way to speak to an assault victim,” Jun-ho scoffed, though there was little malice behind it. Yee-Joon grinned and raised a brow as he leaned back in his seat.

“But you do admit you have the need to come out eventually?” He questioned before yelping as Jun-ho slammed on the brakes to stop for a yellow light that he absolutely could have made. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry, but you’re so easy to mess with. It’s honestly adorable.”

“Don’t call me adorable,” Jun-ho protested in annoyance, already more than tired of the conversation. He wasn’t about to discuss his relationship with Gong Yoo amongst his colleagues. Was there even anything to discuss in the first place? It wasn’t as if they were dating. Jun-ho doubted Gong Yoo was the type for that kind of bulshit, and Jun-ho wasn’t interested in maintaining a relationship with the businessman. Wasn’t that right?

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that name only reserved for your seobang?” Yee-Joon asked.

“Yee-Joon!” Jun-ho snapped, white knuckling the steering wheel as he glared at the other detective, who couldn’t help but laugh.

“Alright! I’m done, for real this time,” Yee-Joon snickered, instead opening the case file and turning his focus to it. “The house should be the last one on this block, big fancy brick one,” He instructed. Jun-ho nodded and pulled up in front of the house, glancing it over carefully with a frown.

“I know this place. Didn’t the original owners abandon it and move to America?” He questioned as he slowly got out of the car. “The Sohn’s, wasn’t it?”

“I think so,” Yee-Joon agreed as he looked over the file. “According to the report, it was Sohn Hae-won who was attacked. Maybe she returned home to gather some of their things?” He then suggested. Jun-ho considered the option as he approached the front gate alongside Yee-Joon.

“Maybe,” He conceded. “But be cautious either way, just in case,” he then warned as they pushed open the gate and walked up to the front door. Jun-ho glanced over the porch carefully, taking in every detail he could as he reached out and rang the doorbell. Within just a few moments, the door swung open to reveal a woman who certainly was not the matriarch of the Sohn family. Before them was a tall and thin caucasian woman with disheveled blonde hair and an eager albeit lopsided smile.

“Oh my god, you must be the detective! Or, detectives? I wasn’t aware there was going to be two of you,” She greeted cheerfully, practically bouncing as she spoke. Jun-ho frowned and shared a glance with Yee-Joon, with both men being rather taken aback. “Come in, come in!” The woman encouraged enthusiastically as she stepped back to allow the two detectives room to enter the house. “My grandmother is just in the living room.”

“What exactly is the game plan here?” Yee-Joon whispered as he carefully stepped into the house. Jun-ho followed after him, keeping a careful eye on the woman.

“Proceed with caution, we’re out of here the moment the situation calls for it,” Jun-ho instructed quietly as he took the lead, following as the women led the two of them further into the house. “Ma’am, you said your grandmother was in the living room? Would we be correct to assume you are speaking about Mrs. Sohn?” He then questioned. 

“Who?” The woman questioned with a confused frown as she turned back to face the detectives. “Oh, I don’t know. That’s just what Mr. Fancypants here told me to tell you,” she then admitted with a nonchalant shrug. “Hey, does this mean I won the game?” She questioned, appearing to look not at either detective, but at someone behind them. Jun-ho felt his blood run cold, his chest tightening as he realized they had both just been played for fools. He heard a gasp from behind him, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground hard

“Yee-Joon!” He called, though, before he could fully turn around, something pricked him in the neck. He gasped, wincing as he felt something being injected into his body. Whatever it was took effect almost immediately, the room around him beginning to spin and melt. He groaned, stumbling into the wall beside him and sliding down it. His head slumped down onto his shoulder before someone grasped him by the chin, forcing him to look up. His eyes couldn’t focus, leaving the person in front of him to exist only as a blurry mass. Jun-ho whimpered softly and attempted to pull away, but it was no use.

“Shh,” The person soothed, their voice echoed and hard to comprehend. “You’ll be alright, pet.”

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} Juncruiter Prt. 19

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft, sexual content •-

////////////////////

“Hello, little detective.”

Jun-ho was awake in seconds, jolting up as he clutched the phone tightly against his ear. His heart pounded within his chest as he took a moment to find his words. 

“Why…Why are you calling?” He stammered, his overtired mind already racing to try and come up with a game plan. Anger, relief, and confusion swirled within him at an intensity that he wasn’t in the right mind to properly deal with.

“Come now, is that really how you’re going to greet me?” Gong Yoo teased. “And here I thought we were actually getting somewhere, what with your little bedroom confession,” He teased. Jun-ho groaned, running his hand over his face.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” He muttered as he clutched the phone a little tighter.

“I wanted to hear that pretty little voice of yours,” Gong Yoo answered with a hum. “I missed you,” he said, his voice a sickly sweet taunt. 

“Bullshit,” Jun-ho scoffered softly. He could hear Gong Yoo chuckle, alongside the sound of distant traffic. The bastard probably had him on speakerphone, watching him from the cameras while speaking with him. “Where are you?” He questioned, “Are…Are you coming here?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Gong Yoo questioned. “For me to come over there and pick up where we left off? Fuck you senselsss, until you have no choice but to actually sleep,” He taunted. “But I don’t think you’re very deserving of such things, are you? Not after the stunt you pulled,” 

“The stunt I pulled?” Jun-ho asked with a small huff of annoyance. Of course, the smug bastard would try to find a way to blame everything on Jun-ho, as if he weren’t the one who had done everything he could to manipulate this fucked up little situationship since the very beginning. “Cut the crap, Gong Yoo. You’ve been in control of this all since the very beginning.”

“Careful, pet.” Gong Yoo warned, a dangerous edge to his words. “You’re becoming far too bold. Do I need to teach you a lesson?” He threatened. Jun-ho paused. He could feel his cheeks heat up while his heart skipped a beat. The things Gong Yoo could do to him…No, no. Jun-ho was supposed to be angry; that was what he needed to be, or he was certain he was going to lose his mind.

“Where’s my hyung?” He questioned, forcing himself to change the subject. Gong Yoo was silent for a moment before giving an annoyed sigh.

“He’s fine. He’s alive,” He answered stiffly. Jun-ho clutched his fist at his side, sick and tired of the vague answers.

“I asked where he was,” He snapped through gritted teeth, glaring around the room. If only he could figure out where those damn cameras were.”Answer the question, Gong Yoo. Where the hell is In-ho?”

“I don’t know where he is, I’m not permitted to know such things,” Gong Yoo answered, anger clear in his tone.

“Bulshit,” Jun-ho argued. “He mentioned something about you returning to the island. Is that where he is?”

“I don’t know where he is,” Gong Yoo repeated, his voice a little colder yet somehow calmer. It only made Jun-ho’s anger boil over.

“Stop lying to me!” He snapped. “You heartless bastard, please,” He then found himself pleading, his exhaustion quickly taking over. He slumped back in the bed, tears spilling from his eyes as he clung to the phone like a lifeline. “Please,” He begged.

“Oh, pet,” Gong Yoo hummed, a hint of satisfaction in his tone that Jun-ho was just barely able to pick up on. “I already told you the truth, I don’t know,” He stated. “But I could help you, would you like that?”

“Yes,” Jun-ho answered immediately. Gong Yoo chuckled softly, humming as if contemplating. Jun-ho knew full well the man was just trying to torture him, but it was working. He could feel his heart racing at the thought of Gong Yoo disagreeing, especially when he knew that bastard absolutely could.

“You were just being such a brat,” Gong Yoo answered. “And really, you don’t deserve any form of reward after what you did.”

“Please,” Jun-ho pleaded. “Please, I need this.”

“You need this?” Gong Yoo questioned with a taunting edge.

“I need you,” Jun-ho reiterated. “Please, I need you. Need you with me,” He begged, his voice breaking as he did so. The line was silent for a moment, leaving Jun-ho to simply lie there, attempting to fight back his tears as he desperately awaited Gong Yoo’s answer. “Gong Yoo, *please*. I can’t do it without you.”

“That’s correct, pet. You can’t, not without me. Look at you, pathetic little detective, you can’t do anything without me. You need me.”

“Yes,” Jun-ho agreed mindlessly. Though really, even if he was in a more sound state of mind, would he have disagreed? “Yes, please.”

“Good boy,” Gong Yoo praised with a hum. “We’ll start next week.”

“Next week?” Jun-ho questioned, disappointment sparking in his mind. He didn’t want to wait another whole week; he was going crazy enough as it was. 

“Next week,” Gong Yoo confirmed. “Don’t get ungrateful now, pet. Really, this is more than you deserve at the moment,” He warned. “Besides, I have many different plans for the next few days,” He then added, voice dipping down into a low tease. Jun-ho felt himself shiver, even in his overtired state, his mind was quick to consider the implications of Gong Yoo’s statement.

“When?” He asked, his voice strained as his cheeks reddened with blush as his cock began to harden.

“Where’s the fun in telling you that?” Gong Yoo teased with a chuckle. “It’ll be a surprise when you least expect it. How does that sound?”

“That’s not fair,” Jun-ho protested weakly as he shifted under the blankets, his pyjama pants suddenly very uncomfortable.

“It’s not supposed to be fair, pet. This isn’t to reward you, I already told you you don’t deserve that,” Gong Yoo taunted. “I’m going to make you regret every little disobedient decision you made,” He then added, drawing a small whine from Jun-ho’s lips. “I’m going to make you scream so damn loud, pet.”

“Gong Yoo,” Jun-ho whimpered softly, earning a small laugh from the man.

“So needy. You haven’t touched yourself at all this past month, have you? Haven’t cummed since you rode me like a desperate little slut in your office,” Gong Yoo taunted, drawing another whimper from Jun-ho. “Blanket off, pet. Let me see how desperate you are,” He instructed. Jun-ho obeyed with very little thought, kicking off the blankets to reveal his clothed cock straining against his pyjama bottoms. “Touch yourself, pet.”

“Fuck,” Jun-ho whimpered. He didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly pushed down his pants and boxers, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock with a low moan. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself as quickly as possible, but he knew full well that wasn’t what Gong Yoo wanted to see. Instead, he began to stroke himself at a slow but steady pace, allowing soft whimpers to escape his parted lips.

“That’s it, pet. Just like that,” Gong Yoo praised. Jun-ho let out a low moan as he began to thrust up into his hand, imagining it was Gong Yoo’s instead. Better yet, his thoughts traveled the the idea of Gong Yoo’s mouth, of how could it would feel to have the man’s lips around his cock.

“Gong Yoo,” Jun-ho moaned, desperately attempting to keep quiet as he sped up. The last thing he needed was to be walked in on.

 “You can do better than that, pet. Give me a good show,” Gong Yoo instructed. “Put those pretty fingers to use.”

“Yes,” Jun-ho whimpered, the idea sounding like heaven at that moment. He put the call on speakerphone before setting it down beside him. He then squeezed his already leaking cock, speeding up further while he brought his now free hand down to tease his entrance. He didn’t bother with lube, slipping three fingers inside raw. “Oh fuck,” He moaned desperatly, arching his hips as he toyed and stretched himself.

“Such a pretty sight,” Gong Yoo hummed. “Are you going to cum like that, pet? Spill all over yourself for me?” 

“Yes,” Jun-ho whimpered with a desperate nod. He was close, so damn close. His eyes fluttered closed as he drew closer and closer to the edge, his cock throbbing and leaking while his entrance tightened around his fingers. He just needed a little more “What are you doing right now?” He managed to question,

“Why, pet?” Gong Yoo teased. “Would it make you cum if I told you I was sitting in the back seat of the car, stroking my cock while watching you lose your mind over the thought of me?” He questioned. Jun-ho couldn’t answer, and he didn’t need to; his actions were more than enough to prove Gong Yoo right. He gasped, tilting his head into the pillow to muffle his scream as he came hard, coating his stomach and the bedsheets with his hot and sticky seed. 

“Gong Yoo!” He moaned desperately into the pillow, stroking himself through his orgasm in a desperate attempt to draw it out. His mind felt fuzzy as the intense pleasure finally began to fade. Slowly, his let go of his cock and withdrew his fingers, panting as he collapsed against the now sticky sheets.

“That’s it, pet, so good for me,” Gong Yoo praised, his voice strained ever slightly. “Fuck,” he then swore, followed by a soft groan. Jun-ho whimpered at the thought, picturing Gong Yoo cumming all over the leather seats of whatever vehicle he was in. 

“Need to see you soon,” Jum-ho managed to mumble, his limbs heavy while he struggled to keep himself conscious.

“I know, pet,” Gong Yoo chuckled softly in between soft pants. “You’ll see me soon enough, be patient,” He instructed with a hum, clearly trying to compose himself. Jun-ho nodded weakly, already beginning to drift off to sleep.

“Night,” He mumbled weakly.

“Goodnight, pet,” Gong Yoo chuckled. “I do hope you enjoyed that, I can’t promise I’ll allow you to cum again anytime soon.”

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} Juncruiter Prt. 18

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft, sexual content •-

/////////

Gong Yoo had been kept in the cell for nearly three weeks, with little food and water being provided at random times throughout the day. He paced the room, came up with games in his mind, or ways he was going to kill Captain Kwon. Most of the time, however, his thoughts were on Jun-ho, the little thorn in his side. Sure, Gong Yoo’s carelessness was just as much to blame for him facing In-ho’s wrath, but it was much easier to blame the detective.

He hadn’t expected the door of the cell to open as soon as it did, having assumed In-ho would keep him in there for at least a full month, if not more. However, it wasn’t In-ho that stepped into the room; it was Il-nam. The old man glanced over Gong Yoo as he sat on the small bed, giving a small sigh of disappointment.

“You and In-ho, you fight like children,” He stated with a shake of his head, stepping further into the room. “Though I must admit, I am almost impressed by your audacity,” He mused. Gong Yoo glanced over him carefully, keeping his expression neutral. If Hwang In-ho was hard to read, Oh Il-nam was damn near impossible. The man could tear a person down both physically and mentally with ease, all while wearing a convincing smile. 

“In-ho overreacts, I could have done far worse,” Gong Yoo said with a careful edge, slowly standing up. In-ho had been right; the old man was ill. Much thinner than the last time Gong Yoo saw him, frailer. Still, Gong Yoo didn’t dare allow that to cloud his judgment or respect for the man.

“Exactly,” Il-nam agreed with a nod. “You could have, but you didn’t. Why do you think that is?” He then questioned. Gong Yoo frowned slightly, knowing exactly what the man was getting at.

“It has not affected my work, sir. The detective means nothing to me,” He assured. It was the truth, wasn’t it? Jun-ho was just a toy to play with. Something to break just because Gong Yoo could, because it meant he had something he could hold over In-ho’s head. Yet, in the past week, he couldn’t get the detective out of his mind. The sound of his voice, his whimpers and moans. The feeling of his tight heat around Gong Yoo. Not only that, but the feeling of him beside him. That night in the hotel room, after Jun-ho had fallen asleep, the detective had cuddled up against Gong Yoo. It was something so frustratingly domestic, and yet it almost felt nice, like something Gong Yoo could get used to.

“For your sake, Gong Yoo. I hope what you say is true,” Il-nam said with a small sigh. “You know, I chose you because of your ruthlessness. I would hate to see you lose that,” He then hummed, an undercurrent of a threat behind his words.

“You have nothing to worry about, sir,” Gong Yoo promised with a stiff nod. Il-nam glanced him over with a scrutinizing gaze, no doubt looking for any hint of hesitance. When he found none, he nodded.

“Then I see no reason why you cannot return to your duties,” He stated. “Go get cleaned up and then begin with the recruitment process, yes? No more distractions,” He instructed as he made his way back to the doorway

“Yes, sir,” Gong Yoo agreed, bowing in respect. Though even in that moment, he knew he was lying through his teeth. “No more distractions.”

“Good,” Il-nam hummed, before pausing just before the doorway. He glanced back at Gong Yoo, a calm expression upon his face. “Ensure you keep to that, or else I’m afraid the young detective will have to meet a rather…unfortunate end,” He threatened calmly. “The last thing I need is for you and In-ho to be falling behind because of the brat,” He added before exiting the room, leaving Gong Yoo to process the implications. Gong Yoo took in a small breath, running his fingers through his hair before exiting the room as well. He made his way down the multicoloured halls towards where his living space resided. He needed a shower, desperately so. He could worry about everything else afterwards. Though he couldn’t shake Il-nam’s threat from his mind, even as he entered the apartment-like space and made his way to the washroom. The idea of losing the detective was not one Gong Yoo wanted to consider, not now that he had grown attached. Had he grown attached?  He hated how all of it was making him feel. He wasn’t supposed to be losing himself over such foolish things. 

Gong Yoo showered and dressed in a clean suit before packing his usual to-go bag, trying to clear his thoughts as he did so. He often did recruitment for a week at a time, gathering as many players as he could within the seven days before returning to the island. It spaced things out nicely in the end, and there was no rushing to get four hundred and fifty-six players together by the next game. Upon getting his bag and heading for the door, Gong Yoo spotted his phone lying on the table by the door. He paused and grabbed it, unlocking it and searching through it to ensure In-ho hadn’t messed with it. Nothing was missing, and Gong Yoo was entirely glad that he had hidden the camera feeds behind a fake clock app. He couldn’t stop himself from checking in on the detective, even despite everything. 

Jun-ho was nothing short of an absolute mess. Gong Yoo had expected that, though perhaps not as bad as one. The detective was sitting on his living room floor, surrounded by papers and coffee mugs, scrolling through his laptop. He was most likely looking over cases and files, searching for his brother. It was clear the detective wasn’t taking care of himself, which drew an annoyed huff from Gong Yoo. That certainly wouldn’t do, not at all. Gong Yoo pocketed the phone and exited the apartment, heading down to the ground level where the ferry was waiting at the docks. His car was still at the police station; he’d have to go back and get that. Right now, it appeared the limo was there to drop him off in Seoul. He tossed his bag on the seat across from him as he climbed inside, sitting down and taking out his phone. He immediately dialed the number for Captain Kwon, having it memorized after years of working with the station.

“Hello?” The police captain answered, a clear nervous edge to his tone.

“Hello, Kwon,” Gong Yoo greeted, leaning back in the smooth leather seat. “Here you are still alive, would you like to stay this way for a little while longer?” He questioned with a small smirk. 

“I…yes, sir,” The captain quickly responded with a stammer.

“Good, then I need a favour,” Gong Yoo hummed. “You are going to contact Hwang Jun-ho’s mother and tell her that you are oh so worried about him and would like her to go check on him.” He then instructed

“I…what did you do to him?” Kwon asked softly, his voice strained with worry.

“Nothing yet,” Gong Yoo reassured with a roll of his eyes, “I might change that if you don’t do as I ask.” He then threatened, though there was no truth behind it.

“I’ll take care of it, right away,” Kwon quickly answered, the threat clearly working. 

“Good, then you have earned yourself another couple of days,” Gong Yoo stated before ending the call. He then pulled up an online shopping page for the grocery store nearest to Jun-ho’s apartment. He dropped about 500,000 won on fresh groceries for Jun-ho, alongside anything else he thought the detective might need. He didn’t even bother to try and convince himself that it wasn’t because he cared; at this point, he was beginning to accept that he did.

By the time the ferry arrived on the mainland, the groceries had been delivered to Jun-ho’s apartment, and the detective’s mother was looking after him. Gong Yoo watched on the camera feed as Jun-ho shuffled into his bedroom and climbed into his bed. He couldn’t help from typing in the detective’s number, even despite the danger. As long as he was truly careful and didn’t allow himself to be distracted from his work, it would be fine. He wouldn’t allow anything to happen to the detective, not at this point.

He clicked call and brought the phone up to his ear, smirking as he heard the detective’s exhausted voice answer.

“Hello?” Jun-ho mumbled.

“Hello, little detective.” 

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} Juncruiter Prt 17

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, rough draft •-

/////////

Three weeks. Three weeks had passed since Jun-ho had answered the damn phone call. He hadn’t returned to work since, and hadn’t done much besides searching for In-ho. He had done this once before, back when his brother had first disappeared. He had shut out the rest of the world, ignoring everything but his desperate search. He had come up with nothing then, and continued to come up with nothing now. The only difference was that Jun-ho had a lead now, proof that In-ho was alive, yet he couldn’t find anything besides that. He had kept Gong Yoo’s phone, but was unable to access anything from it. The damn thing was wiped the moment Jun-ho managed to crack the pincode. They had seen him coming, of course, they had. Gong Yoo most likely had tipped him off, because why wouldn’t he? It wasn’t as if Jun-ho had seen or heard from him in the past three weeks either. The fact that Jun-ho had actually begun to miss the bastard was something he kept desperately trying to push out of his mind.

Hak-Kun had tried to contact him numerous times. He called, texted, and even showed up at Jun-ho’s apartment a few times, but Jun-ho never answered. The last thing he wanted was to face anything, but he especially wanted nothing to do with Hak-hun. He was the one who tore Jun-ho’s family apart, and that was something the detective would never be able to forgive.

Jun-ho lay on his living room floor, trying to will his brain to keep working. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept, and even when he did sleep, it wasn’t more than an hour or so. He was running on lukewarm coffee alone, and he was certain his body was trying to shut down. He felt stiff, sore every time he moved. His stomach ached with hunger, and his eyes were swollen from both tears and exhaustion. Despite all of this, he was still lost within his own mind.. He didn’t even process the sound of the door opening. It wasn’t until his mother’s voice called out that Jun-ho was brought back to reality. 

“Jun-ho?” Her soft, worried voice rang throughout the apartment. She came into view soon after, staring down at Jun-ho with a concerned gaze. “Oh, my adeul,” She sighed, kneeling down to help Jun-ho sit up.

“Eomma?” Jun-ho mumbled, wincing slightly as he moved, his muscles aching in protest. “What are you doing here?”

“Your Captain called me. He was concerned for you, now I can see why,” His mother said as she moved to gently cup his face in her hands. “My adeul, what’s going on?” 

“He can be concerned all he wants, I want nothing to do with that man,” Jun-ho huffed softly, before his gaze softened and he leaned ever so slightly into his mother’s touch. “Eomma, I spoke to him. He’s alive,” He then said. He didn’t need to say In-ho’s name for his mother to know what he was talking about. Her gaze softened before she pulled Jun-ho into a tight embrace.

“Jun-ho,” She sighed softly, gently running her fingers through Jun-ho’s hair. “If…If you’re Hyung wishes to come home, he will. You cannot be wasting yourself away searching for him.”

“He wouldn’t have just left us,” Jun-ho mumbled with a shake of his head. “He’s in trouble, eomma. I know he is,” He then said as he pulled away, forcing himself to stand up. He grabbed his laptop off the floor, which sat alongside scattered papers and coffee cups. “If I could just find him, I could help him. I could bring him home.”

“You can’t do anything in the state you’re in now,” His mother pointed out as she stood up. She took the laptop away and put it down on the couch before looking back at Jun-ho. “Do you truly believe your hyung would want you to be doing this to yourself?” She asked softly. Jun-ho paused, sighing before running his fingers over his tired eyes.

“I…no,” He admitted. In-ho had always been adamant that Jun-ho put himself first, that he took care of himself. Jun-ho had always tended to push his own needs aside. He had done the same back when he had been ill, ignoring his symptoms in favour of not bothering anyone. In-ho had been the one to convince him to seek out medical attention, and then gave up his own kidney just to ensure Jun-ho would live. “No, he wouldn’t.” He sighed softly, his fingertips absentmindedly running over the place where his scar sat, a constant reminder of the favour In-ho had done him. A favour Jun-ho wouldn’t return when In-ho’s wife had grown ill shortly afterwards. 

“No,” His mother confirmed. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go shower, and then get rid of that mess,” She instructed firmly, gesturing to the stubble upon Jun-ho’s face. “Then you’re going to eat an actual meal before getting some sleep.”

“Yes, eomma,” Jun-ho sighed with a small nod, knowing full well if he didn’t go willingly, his mother would simply force him to do it anyway. He shuffled down to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The sight of himself in the mirror almost made him wince; he really did look like a mess. His hair was unkept, dark bags hung under his eyes, and stubble lined his face, and it wasn’t as if he had changed his clothes recently. He groaned softly, slowly stripping before stepping into the shower. The hot water felt like heaven on his skin, luring him into a temporary sense of comfort. He stayed there as long as he could, taking his time to wash his hair and body. He didn’t step out of the shower until long after the water had run cold, and even then, he was slow to get dressed in clean pyjamas and shave. Begrudgingly, he finished and stepped into his bedroom to dispose of his dirty clothes. He paused just past the doorway, glancing around the room carefully. He hadn’t entered his room since the night he went to the hotel. Something about knowing that Gong Yoo has a visual on him had only fueled his anger over the past three weeks. 

Jun-ho should have known, or maybe he did and had just been allowing his emotions to cloud his judgment. Gong Yoo had admitted that night in his apartment that he had known where In-ho was. Why hadn’t Jun-ho acted then? Why hadn’t he interrogated him further? Why had he continued to give in time and time again? His mind traveled back to that morning on the balcony, to what Gong Yoo had said. Maybe he had been right, maybe Jun-ho was just looking to be broken. Maybe he was searching for the pain, for someone to treat him like something other than fragile glass. Gong Yoo had been the first person in a long time to do that, perhaps that why was Jun-ho gave in so damn quickly, why he still found himself unable to pull away even now. 

“Are you watching me?” He called out softly as he glanced around the room while placing his laundry in the basket. He felt ridiculous, knowing full well he wouldn’t get an answer. “You were right. I don’t hate you, as much as I really fucking want to,” He admitted softly. “But I hate what you’re doing to me,” He then mumbled. “Was this your plan all along? Make me reliant on you, isolate me from my work, and torture me with the idea of my hyung?” 

“Jun-ho!” His mother's voice called, breaking him from his little rant. Jun-ho sighed before running his fingers through his damp hair.

“Coming eomma!” He called, glancing around the room one last time before heading back to the main living area. The entire place smelled absolutely amazing, the familiar sent of his mother’s cooking reminding Jun-ho just how hungry he was.”You bought groceries?” He questioned, a small pang of guilt hitting him as he joined his mother in the kitchen. She was in the middle of pouring Sundubu jjigae into bowls.

“No, I assume one of your colleagues did, they were sitting outside of your door when I arrived.” His mother said with a soft hum. Jun-ho frowned but slowly nodded, unsure who would have gone out of their way to pick him up food. He would have to ask around when he inevitably returned to work.

“Here, let me,” He said softly as he took the hot bowls from his mother, carrying them over to the able. “You’ve done enough already.”

“I’m your eomma, that’s my job,” His mother simply replied as she joined him at the table. “Now eat up, you’ve gotten far too skinny,” She then instructed. Jun-ho didn’t need to be told twice, sitting down and quickly digging into the soup. It tasted like liquid gold, more than enough to help soothe the ache of hunger.

“Eomma I-” He began, only to be cut off by a sharp and stern glance from his mother.

“Not a word, eat and then straight to bed. We can discuss everything else in the morning,” She stated firmly. Jun-ho let out a small, almost grateful sigh as he slowly nodded and went back to eating. It was a comfort, knowing she would be there in the morning. He was glad he always kept the spare room ready for her, just in case. It wasn’t exactly rare for her to stay with him whenever either of them was having a rough go around.

“Thank you,” He said softly once he finished eating, bowing his head in thanks. His mother smiled, though concern was still clear in her gaze. She got up and crossed over to him, pressing a gentle kiss against the top of his temple.

“Off you go, I don’t want to see you out of that room until at least mid-morning. Do you understand me?” She questioned. Jun-ho couldn’t help but chuckle softly, offering her a weak smile.

“Yes, eomma,” He said with a small yawn. He kissed her cheek before getting up and making his way back to his bedroom. The idea of sleep sounded so alluring right now, especially now that he had a warm meal in him. He yawned as he turned off his lights and placed his phone on its charger before crawling into bed. He curled up in the blankets, allowing his eyes to flutter closed. He was just about to drift off when his damn phone began to ring. A low groan escaped his lips as he reached out blindly, keeping his eyes closed as he managed to grab the damn thing and answer it.

“Hello?” He yawned, voice slurred with exhaustion.

“Hello, little detective.”

[definitely-not-mothman]

{-You're Not Coming Home-} Juncruiter Prt. 16

-• TW: Blood, violence, Salesman needs a warning of his own, swearing, sexual content, rough draft •-

——————///

Gong Yoo woke up strapped down to a chair, with a blindfold fastened tightly over his eyes. The irony was not lost on him. He could feel another presence in the room. Judging by the faint clink of a glass, he assumed it was In-ho. He hardly ever saw the man without a glass of whiskey. Then again, everyone on the island had their own destructive vices. 

“Is this really necessary?” Gong Yoo spoke up. He didn’t struggle or try to free himself from the restraints; he wouldn’t give In-ho the satisfaction. “This seems over the top, even for you. Jun-ho wasn’t hurt; nothing happened. So he got his hands on the phone, it’s not as if he could connect it to anything. Nothing has changed.”

“Are you aware that all Seoul Stations have cameras?” In-ho questioned, his voice eerily calm. Gong Yoo paused, confusion sparking within him. Where the hell was the man going with this?

“Of course I am,” He answered. “But that doesn’t matter. We have complete control over all of the footage concerning the recruitment process.”

“Exactly, meaning I have access to any and all of the footage,” In-ho agreed. Gong Yoo could hear the man’s footsteps approaching, but he wasn’t phased. He had already covered his tracks earlier on, erasing the footage from the night he had first met Jun-ho for this specific reason. He had no reason to worry, so he thought.

“And why should this matter in this moment?” Gong Yoo questioned.

“Because I’ve ensured copies are made of each day's worth of footage, just in case,” In-ho stated, his voice calm but cold. Well, shit. 

“Smart thinking,” Gong Yoo praised nonchalantly, never one to admit guilt. “Always ahead of the game, aren’t you. I-” He was cut off by a sharp slap across his face, the action surprising but not enough to break him. Instead, he simply chuckled and flexed his jaw. “Touchy, are we?”

“He was completely fine, was he? A few bruises, that was it?” In-ho hissed. Gong Yoo felt the man grasp tightly onto his chin, forcing his head back. “You nearly killed him!” 

“That was before I figured out who he was.” Gong Yoo argued calmly

“And yet you still left him battered and bleeding on the floor, and then lied to me about it,” In-ho countered as his grip tightened. “But you did so much more, didn’t you?” He then questioned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gong Yoo denied, trying to gauge how much In-ho knew.

“Seoul Stations aren’t the only places with cameras,” In-ho dared as he let go of Gong Yoo, though Gong Yoo could feel the man circling him. “Many public places do. Such as the main entrance and halls of Jun-ho’s apartment complex, or the goddamn lobby and elevators of a hotel,” He then said, his voice dipping down into a menacing tone. That was enough to make Gong Yoo tense, if only slightly. He had foolishly allowed himself to be careless regarding his and Jun-ho’s little rendezvous. 

“I didn’t do anything he didn’t want me to,” He stated boldly, a small smirk tugging at his lips as his thoughts strayed to the detective. “Your little brother isn’t as innocent as you think, " he added. The comment earned him another slap, this one much harder than the one before. It was enough to knock him over, the chair tipping and sending Gong Yoo crashing to the floor. It drew a small groan from Gong Yoo, pain pulsating from his cheek and brow. Pain that only increased as In-ho pressed his boot down against his head, keeping him trapped against the floor. “In-ho,” He protested, keeping his voice level. “Il-nam would n-”

“Il-nam is too ill to intervene,” In-ho hissed, adding more pressure against Gong Yoo’s skull. “He is dying; he has more important things to worry about than his pathetic excuse for a recruiter.”

“I’m the pathetic one?” Gong Yoo scoffed with a wince. “You’re the one losing your mind over a single man. A brother you abandoned in the first place,” He pointed out. “And don’t give me that I didn’t have a choice bulshit, you could have refused this position and you didn’t.”

“Enough!” In-ho snapped. He removed his foot from Gong Yoo’s head, only to deliver a harsh kick to his side. Gong Yoo gasped, recoiling from the pain. The restraints and the chair kept him from moving too much, keeping him trapped there.

“Bastard,” He wheezed. The fucker had probably cracked a couple of his ribs.

“You know nothing,” In-ho stated, fury clear within his voice as he kicked Gong Yoo onto his back. Gong Yoo winced, both from the movement and the chair now digging uncomfortably into his back. Still, he didn’t stop; he didn’t know how to. 

“Don’t I? You forget I was a guard when your games took place. I saw everything,” He managed to laugh. “The things you went through, the horrible things you did. You won, you could have taken your family and distanced yourself as far away from the games as you possibly could, but you didn’t. You came back, and you broke your family in the process. That’s your fault.” 

“I said enough,” In-ho hissed. Gong Yoo felt him kneel, his rough hand grasping around his throat. “You think you’re so damn smart, but you’ve only ever learned what I or Il-nam have wanted you to,” He explained coldly. “You know nothing of what occurred after my games were through, what was done to me.”

“Oh, please,” Gong Yoo scoffed. “What, you were beaten up a bit? Treated poorly? Spare me the sob story,” He then taunted. In-ho tightened his grip around Gong Yoo’s throat, slowly cutting off his air supply. Gong Yoo did his best to stay composed, though he couldn’t stop the small, strained gasps from escaping his lips. 

“I could just get rid of you,” In-ho muttered, his voice eerily calm as little black spots began to cloud Gong Yoo’s vision, not that that was much of a change from the lack of sight the blindfold provided. “Il-nam couldn’t do much worse to me than he already has,” He then added. Gong Yoo could no longer speak at this point, but he fought to keep his body still, not wanting In-ho to get any glimpse of the building panic Gong Yoo felt. He could no longer breathe, his heart pounding in his chest as a lightheadedness washed over him. For a moment, he was certain this was it, that he was about to die. Then, the sound of a door opening reached his ears. In-ho let go of his throat, and Gong Yoo let out an audible gasp as he tried to regain his breath. 

“Sir,” A voice spoke up, one of the guards most likely.

“Take him to one of the holding rooms,” In-ho. “I want two guards outside the door at all times.”

“Yes, sir,” The guard answered before Gong Yoo had several pairs of hands untying him from the chair.

“Really? You’re going to lock me up?” Gong Yoo huffed as he managed to regain the ability to speak. “This is dramatic, even for you,” He hissed softly. In-ho never answered him; instead, Gong Yoo was dragged out of the room and down the halls of the facility. He struggled against the grasp of the guards, trying to free himself. He didn’t get far, weakened from his injuries and the leftover gas still in his system. It wasn’t long until he was thrown into a room, the door slamming shut behind him. He lay there on the floor for a moment, trying to compose himself before he managed to force himself into a sitting position. Freeing his hands was much easier now that the chair was out of the way. As soon as the ropes slipped from his wrists, he yanked the blindfold off his face and began to untie the rest of the ropes from his legs. He then glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings. There was very little lighting, a single dying bulb fixed on the ceiling. The walls were a faded pink, and the floor was cold concrete. The only things within the room were a small bed with a sagging mattress and a toilet. The room itself was freezing. He was going to kill In-ho the next time he saw In-ho.

Gong Yoo winced as he managed to push himself up off the floor, his side aching in pain. He shuffled over to the bed and took a seat, gritting his teeth slightly. His mind was already concocting countless devious plans regarding getting his revenge on the older Hwang brother. Then again, there was also Jun-ho to worry about. The little detective had been the cause of this all. If he hadn’t been so nosy, Gong Yoo would have been fine.

“Oh, pet,” Gong Yoo muttered under his breath as he leaned against the cold wall. “Just wait until I get my hands on you,” He hummed, a weak yet sadistic smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll ensure you’ll never be the same again.”