josies-eden

[josies-eden]

“You must stay.”

(Possessive?)Hwang In-ho x (fem)reader

~{ A oneshot where you were caught trying to escape during S2 after the cliffhanger. The Frontman, or In-ho, didn’t want you killed, so he had you subdued instead. Brought to him.}~

~{ ((A/N)) I know that there’s already a player 047, but just negate him. I chose my lucky numbers for this :3)) }~

♪♪ ~{Obstacle 2 - Interpol}~ ♪♪

~{No Y/N mention}~

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Coughing out the dust, you crawled through the vent, a loose screw with slash marks in it led you here. Someone must have attempted to leave in a past game, but you had definitely made it further along. The vents were banging around you loudly as you crawled, although you tried to stay as quiet as possible. Occasionally you came across vent openings beneath you, seeing guards and pink walls, along with a dark room with screens. Knees and elbows aching, you could only wish to find an exit.

Crawling along further, you saw into the mingle game. It made you want to throw up and cry at the same time. The dizzying lights, the crack of the poor man’s neck, and the sticky blood in the humid room. It was such a horrible experience. Tears pricking at your eyes, you scurried away, hoping to wash the memory of that from your mind.

Eventually though, you started an incline in the vents. Seemingly going up yet another level in this massive complex. You couldn’t remember how many inclines and declines have been at your knees but it was getting exhausting. You wondered how Gi-hun and Hyun-ju were holding up. You wondered if they knew you were gone yet. You wondered about Jung-bae and Young-il. About how they had moved on, how they were to never grace your eyes again. Trying to remove those thoughts and stay focused on your mission, you treaded forward, palms red and knees scratched.

On a turn left instead of right, you froze. A guard was standing outside the vent you were in, covering opened, and gun aimed inside. Scrambling the opposite way, your other exit was blocked too. The predicament bringing sweat to your palms, causing the dust to stick and cake. You felt like a deer in headlights.

Disgusting and horrified. It wasn’t long before you were surrendering, knowing that they’d just chase you through the vents.

A deafening shot rang out from your right, and the last thing you saw was the guard on the left reaching in to drag you out.

“Player 047 eliminated.”

In-ho stood, the freezing room housing no sound but clicks of the arcade machine shaped terminals. But when the announcement rang out, and your beautiful face cleared from the screen before him, he knew what happened. His radio went off, the head of security calling him to floor 6 to see the contestant. The man huffed to himself a sigh of relief and exited. Only thing heard were the clacks of his dress shoes.

When In-ho was under ‘Young-il,’ he had one mission. To interfere with Gi-hun, and to watch him suffer. He got what he wished for, but another thing was distracting him.

You.

You looked so pure to his old eyes. Wet lashes shining from tears, round cheeks and angel soft hair. You were near Gi-hun’s group, chatting with 390. It seemed the man was trying to cheer you up. Saying things like “What’s a pretty face like you doing here.” And “It’ll be alright.”. When In-ho approached, he was enamored. Shy face, trying to shrink into your track suit behind Jung-bae. He never thought you’d be brave enough to try and escape like this. The man thought about you day in and day out after that. His dreams were filled with your beautiful eyes. Angel like voice filling every one of his waking thoughts. He was enthralled with your perfection.

He dragged you into every room with him during mingle. Even though that snap of bone brought tears to your eyes, you knew it was for your shared survival. It was still horrifying seeing him work so strategically while killing, like the sweet man had done it thousands of times before. He helped you keep your focus during the pentalathon, even though you were on a different team, he was cheering you on. His eyes were always on you, and his words were always on your mind. He shared his food with you at every meal, and when there was gimbap, he hid his fork up your sleeve for extra protection.

In-ho was captivated. You reminded him too much of his late wife. The curve of your jaw, the hopeful look in your eyes, the way you picked at your nails. It was like she was back again. Every little detail and habit. And he was not about to let that go. When the rebellion started, he told you, “Under no conditions, are you to follow us.” And you obeyed. The man sighed, knowing that his ‘death’ would break you, but he had a plan to get you back. That was moot now, for your little escape plan interfered with his.

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Pain surged through your veins, shooting your tired mind awake. You massaged your neck, where most of the soreness originated from. Feeling ambitious, you press your fingers at the centre of your neck, and let out a low groan. Those bastards didn’t kill you. They want to torture you instead.

There were soft sheets beneath you, contrary to the rough ones of the dormitory, and you dared to open your eyes. It burned, but subsided quickly as you took in the world around you. Black geometrical walls, warm, golden light bouncing off certain parts. It was rich and fancy. But you looked down at yourself in comparison. The black comforter messily strewn out next to you. But there you were, alive. Seeing your body still dressed in that sweat soaked and bloody track suit made you want to throw up. Especially since it was clashing against these clean, fresh sheets.

The room was freezing cold, shivering from the low temp, wispy cool air surrounding you. Pulling up the blanket helped in no way, as you continued to shake. The dust from the vents still glued to your skin, a cold sweat awoke to loosen it. At this point, you didn’t care that the mess of your tracksuit and skin got on the sheets, it was one small way to get back at the people who made this stupid game. You shivered under the blanket, curling into yourself. Your knees being brought to your chest hit something plastic between your ankles, making you whimper at the slight sting.

An ankle monitor.

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In-ho heard your small noises from his sleek, leather chair, sipping his whiskey fresh out of the decanter. Sighing to himself, he set his crystal glass down with a clink before making his way to the locked door you hid behind. He made sure his mask was on, and opened the door. The man could hear the sad whimpering fleeting your lungs when he opened up to see you.

A little bunny, burrowing away in fear. You looked so helpless, so fragile. When you looked at him, In-ho could feel the terror rushing through your body. Didn’t you know this was for the best? For your own safety?

“Good morning.” In-ho started, approaching the little mound in the bed. “How are you feeling? Are you hungry?” He asked, modulator vibrating his neck as he spoke. You would figure out eventually who he was, but now was not the time. Oh how he just wanted to pounce onto you, show you that you’re his; but the more logical side of his brain held him back. One step at a time, he told himself.

You refused to acknowledge what he said, trembling in his pinning gaze. But feeling the twists of your stomach, you frowned. Shyly, you nodded.

“Now that you’re awake,” In-ho, or ‘The Frontman’ began; “In the bathroom right here is a pair of clean clothes and a shower. Please freshen up. Your food will be ready by the time you are dressed.” You looked at where he pointed, hidden in the geometric layout of the wall was a small, golden handle. The man before you nodded and left, allowing you privacy.

What…. The fuck. That man. Your captor. The room, the voice, the robe? What the fuck was going on. Were you still at the games? What the hell was all of that? You were horrified that he was going to come take you to a room worse than the one you laid in. Fearing something may happen if you didn’t obey his orders, you opened the bathroom door.

The countertops were sleek, gold gilded black granite with a golden faceted sink. The floors were solid hardwood and the whole room smelled like comfort. warm cinnamon and cranberry. As much as you hated it, it was comforting. There was a clean, folded pair of baby yellow silk pajamas on the counter, with a black towel alongside them.

Eventually peeling the disgusting clothes off, you threw them down the black laundry chute in the wall, listening to it thump down the vents, just as you did however long ago. Starting the water, it hissed at the perfect pressure, warming up slowly. You took the time to look at yourself in the mirror. Slick with sweat, covered in dust and dirt. Scars, scratches and gashes down every few inches of flesh. Your skin was pale and malnourished, heavy bags beneath your dull eyes, their usual bright life drained. It felt so gross looking in the mirror. A husk. But you had to clear your mind of it. The bath was calling.

In-ho was flipping an egg as he heard the shower start. Happily sighing. He knew from his infiltration time as ‘Young-il’ that you enjoyed eggs, he even gave you his early on with breakfast during the games; which were to end in a day. The man could only hope that you’d accustomed to your new life. Even though you had only been conscious for less than an hour. He plated your egg, starting to slice some fresh fruits as the rice steamed. There was a pot of jigae cooking slow next to him, preparing to give you a feast. You deserved to be treated like an angel, that’s what you were to him.

As he was transferring all of the fresh food to the bar in the kitchen, he overheard the shower shutting off. A few bangs of cabinets sounded through the walls, and he knew you were probably searching for the first aid kit. You were pretty badly hurt from mingle and red light green light, so he thought to go help.

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Knocking at the door awoke you from your trance. Underwear, bra and pants were on as you tried to fix yourself up. Whimpering as you padded towards the door to peek out, the same man who greeted you earlier stood. Without permission, he opened the door the rest of the way, letting himself in. He gestured for you to come over, holding sterile items from the kit.

“Come on over. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to help.” He said in a flat tone. Something about it you could briefly recognize. The way he spoke, the way he carried himself. It was familiar. You couldn’t tell because of his identity concealers, but you knew this person. You obliged, feeling a little more comfortable, still uneasy because you couldn’t put your finger on who this man was. He gestured for you to sit on the counter.

You sat as he raised your arms, cleaning your wounds, dressing them with his gentle hands. He was too familiar, and you looked to the mask, trying to see through the mesh eyeholes to see the man you knew. You were broken from your staring when he lifted a pant leg, and started disinfecting a large gash. Tears filled your eyes from the stinging pain, and you held back a whimper. The man in front of you put his free hand on your back, rubbing in comforting circles. This was all too familiar. He wrapped your calf before backing off.

“You are all taken care of. Finish up and meet me just outside your room.” With your hair brushed and your shirt on, your took one last look at the ankle monitor before passing out to the door. The man stood there, his gaze focusing down to you as soon as you blessed his vision. “Follow me.”

Padding down the hallway, there were a few similar doors to your own, and the exact same geometric walls. It was a beautifully designed suite, but a cage is still a cage, no matter how pretty. He led you past a massive screen to a bar with a plate of seaming food and a bowl of fresh made jigae. Upon seeing this feast, your body caved and you realized just how hungry you were.

“You were only out for a day… I had my guards use special tranq darts just for you.” The man spoke at the opposite side of the bar from you, chuckling slightly to himself. He listed his mask slightly and ate bits of his own food. You scarfed down every last bite, grain and drop of your meal, leaving cleaned out dishes and you feeling full. “You don’t need to eat quickly, you will always have hot food available. No matter what.” The man before you spoke, his modulator being one of the last things keeping you from figuring out.

“Why….? Why me?” You croak, throat shot from the day without water and the tranq drying your throat. The masked man turned, grabbing you a crystal glass of ice water.

“I’ve seen you. I liked you. I’ve saved you. You are an angel.” He said, cut straight to his point. Behind the mask, In-ho wanted to spill out apology after apology. For not sweeping you out of the games earlier, for not protecting you enough, for not shielding your eyes and ears from the horrors of this place. Those heavenly eyes looked upon him, analyzing every single inch of his body. His mask. He felt as she could read every segment of his cells. And only she could do that. His late wife, god rest her soul, couldn’t make him feel like that. His angel blessed him with another. To keep him company. And he would not let this blessing slip through the holes of the game.

“Who are you?” You broke the frontman’s trance this time, and behind the mask, he stared.

“I’m guessing you have a clue, hm?” He teased, getting closer to see the fine details on your angelic face.

“I know you….” You said so quietly, it was practically to yourself. You analyzed closer, you could see the slight shape of eyes beneath the mask’s holes. The light giving you hints of this man. The sunken eyes, half lidded and calculating.

“Let me take you somewhere else.” Stopping your train of thought completely, leaving you on a blank. “Follow.” He commanded, leaving the kitchen in fast footsteps. You grabbed your crystal glass of water as the frontman led you to his screen, flicking on his prized jazz set. “Sit.” He gestured to the chair. You sat, the leather envelopes your skin comfortably and he hands you a throw blanket. A few clicks from behind you and now the massive screen was on. The games.

“What did you do to Young-il…. Jung-bae… what happened?!” You say, curling your knees to your chest as the screen showed the remaining players in the dormitory.

“Do you want me to show or tell you.”

“Show me…. I saw enough in the games…. I think- I think I can handle it…”

“Very well.”

The screen before you flicked to Jung-bae and Gi-hun captured before the man behind you. He went on a short speech about Gi-hun’s hero route. Before blowing out sweet Jung-bae’s heart. Eyes wide as Gi-hun sobbed over his best friend’s death, tears slipped down your face too. And In-ho saw those beautiful lashed eyes, plump blushed cheeks and your angel soft hair again.

“What about Young-il?” You whimpered, clutching yourself close.

In-ho debated for a moment. “He’s…. He died outside of camera view.” He walked further to your left, in your peripheral. “He lives on as someone else.” Now it was your chance to debate yourself. You wanted to sit and sob, or jump up and tear his mask off.

But he already did the latter. Your Young-il stood there beside you. Modulator gone, covering gone, eyes sunken further and hair slicked. This wasn’t your Young-il anymore. This wasn’t the kind man who gave you his food, who cheered for you, gave you comfort at night, and most importantly, saved your life. This was just a husk of that man. You wanted to hug him for some semblance of the past comfort he gave, but at the same time you stared, shocked at his actions. Jung-bae didn’t deserve that.

“I want to go home.” You sobbed out, unable to react to anything else.

“No.” He growled, hand placed on your nape, his thumb rubbing soft, comforting circles. Time completely contradicting his soft actions. “You must stay. You are my angel. Remember? You cannot leave me. I’m not letting something so pure leave my grasp again.”

You continued sobbing, confused by your own feelings, all you knew was these two drastically different men in one body. But you knew the loving, caring man more than this seemingly vile one. Giving into part of yourself, you turned, launching yourself into his arms, wailing.

“It’s okay, angel… come one, let’s go to bed. It’s been a hard day.” He said, you moan an agreement into his neck, muffled by the rough fabric of his robe. His hand on your back, he escorted you to the place you started the day. (Or night..?) “Stay. i will get changed. Get comfortable.” He ordered, sitting you onto the bed. You got under the new covers. He must’ve had someone replace them while you were eating. But he returned a few moments later. Turning down the chandelier’s light to a very dim glow, he laid down next to you.

“I will explain everything in the morning. Get some sleep, angel.” ‘Young-il’ said, scooting close to you, warming your back. It was like the night after the pentalathon; ‘Young-il’ held you, the soft glow of the piggy bank illuminating your faces as you shared comfort.

It felt almost as if you were back to that night.

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~{A/N - Yay!!! Another one :3 I saw you guys enjoyed the first fic I wrote so I wrote another :3 I posted these on AO3 too!!!}~

[josies-eden]

Come to bed, Jagi.

~{A oneshot where you are In-Ho’s wife, you didn’t end up passing away, but the baby did. You had a liver transplant. But In-Ho was already in the games to pay off the medical bills. He was offered the position of Frontman. You both take to the island 1 month a year. Reader is pregnant again, and In-Ho is horrified to let you roam the complex. You are 6 months along.}~

♪♪ ~{Jupiter ~ Flower Face}~ ♪♪

~{No mention of Y/N}~

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“Go back to your quarters. Frontman’s orders.” The head security officer growled. Blocking you from exiting the main control room. The square on his face seemingly taunting you as you pouted. The bed you and your husband shared had been cold and empty for days. You were sick of it. The screen in the suite had only shown the games, nothing else, only short glimpses of your In-ho.

“I don’t care. I want to see my husband.” You speak, anger present in your tone as you weave around him to the screens. You knew something was happening, you could hear faint gunshots from your shared suite. You caressed your stomach, feeling light kicking from the little girl. Your frustration must have made her upset too, judging by her constant kicking. Peering through the several different cameras upon the monitor, you spot him, and the baby’s kicking subsides.

Lost in the purple maze outside the very room you stood, you saw your sweet husband, with two others. He signaled them forward and looked towards the camera. A blank, but authoritative expression gracing his face. Butterflies arising in your chest at his smooth features blessing your eyes once more. He moved forward before you heard a few deafening gunshots nearby. Flipping through the cameras, he had just dropped his radio; but you could hear him over the other guards walkie’s.

“Wrap things up.” His voice husky from barking orders for this ‘rebellion’. You sighed in relief, hearing footsteps towards the control room door. Two guards held his frontman suit, prepared for his entry, but you stood only for him. And after a few seconds of rocking yourself in the cold room, holding your stomach for comfort, you heard the hissing of door opening. Meeting his eyes, he looked shocked and concerned.

“What are you doing down here? You should be up in bed, Jagi.” He questioned worriedly, slipping his leather gloves on, holding your face.

“I missed you… So did she…” You whine, holding your stomach more exaggeratedly. A little kick was felt, as In-ho sighed, placing his hand upon your exposed stomach.

“Please, Jagi- Go back to our room. I’ll be back in 20. I promise.” Slipping into his pants and shoes, not bothering to take off his track outfit, just throwing the rest over. The head of security handed him his mask, as he slipped on his jacket. You whine, sweat beading down your face and neck from frustration and anxiety. The liquid seeping into the pink button up sitting over your swollen belly. “For me-“ He pecked your cheek before donning his mask.

“Be careful please.” You said to him, as he turned away. Nodding, In-ho signaled the head to take you, and you groaned to yourself. You knew damn well it wouldn’t be 20 minutes. He would come back and sit in front of the wall of screens, making sure everything was in place while you lie in the cold bed once more. As the guard escorted you back to the room, you heard one final gunshot.

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It had been 2 hours. You knew he was watching those damned screens. Tempted, you pull yourself up from the black, leather loveseat in front of the TV with a huff to go get your husband. Slipping on a pair of outdoor slippers, and grabbing his jacket. You step into the elevator at the back of the black hallway and descend.

When the elevator doors slid open, In-ho was just where you thought he was, watching the screen intently. The man he had told you he was monitoring was there. Gi-hun, you remembered. He was sobbing and rocking himself in his bed, his friends who were left surrounding and comforting him. With a sigh, you walk to your husband.

“Come back, dear. It’s been longer than you said.” You mumbled, putting your hand on his shoulder and laying your head upon it. The rough fabric grounding you. He paid no mind, only wrapping his arm around your waist as he continued to observe. “He’s not going anywhere, everyone’s on high alert, yeah?”

In-ho let out an anxious sigh, turning his head slightly to look at you. “Yes… I’m afraid he will try again, though.”

“He has to grieve. He won’t try again tonight. Please, let’s just go. I miss you.” Pleading with him, your hormones high thanks to the baby. Tears prick at your eyes from the emotions. You tug slightly at his jacket as his resolve crumbles. Grumbling, he pulls out his talkie.

“Keep watch all night. I’ve got business.” He turns it off, turning with you in tow to the elevator. “Let’s go, dear.” Arriving back at the suite, you were all over him. Kissing his face, hugging him and whispering sweet words to him while dragging him to the bathroom. Starting the tap, you helped undress your husband.

Each scar was traced softly by fingers. Bullet wounds, knife marks, and more. He unbuttoned the pink pajama shirt you wore, admiring your bloated pregnant belly, caressing it. He kissed your forehead before you both sank into the warm water. “I missed you too, Jagi.” In-ho spoke softly behind you, kissing the back of your head. You lay back, kissing his cheek as he grabs a soap bottle and a cloth.

“You’ve been busy- no, hun.” You order, taking the items from him, pouring and lathering soap onto the cloth. Cleaning him, he doesn’t take the smitten look off his face, eyes locked onto your focused being. You carefully cleaned him, cautious around his sensitive scars. When you finished, you started washing his hair. You were putting spikes into it, making yourself giggle, and making him look at you with a happy, but annoyed face.

He took his turn next, calloused hands roaming softly as he cleaned. He lathered you head gently, and let your conditioner sit. Turning around, you cuddled into him, the smell of cinnamon and roses filling the foggy room. Short little lines were babbled between the two of you as he rinsed the conditioner from your hair, and stood from the bath with a groan. You sat there as the water drained, watching your husband wrap himself in a towel. Eventually he stands you up, and wraps you in a towel.

The two of you finish your nightly routines, relishing these beginning moments of being with each other once more. You dress in airy clothes and stare at yourself, your sweet In-ho behind you, making your shared bed. You look at yourself tired eyes, swollen ankles and large stomach. Little did you know, In-ho was looking at you with the most love ridden eyes. Admiring every curve and bend, especially with your pregnancy. He found you exceptionally attractive.

“Come to bed, Jagi.” He asks, making your ears perk at his voice. His pupils basically being hearts, with them floating above his head too. You oblige, lying next to him, and he brought you both under. Immediately he was hugging you so close, you thought you would merge into him, to become one. “I missed you so much. I didn’t want to leave you here alone.” He admitted, holding you close, stroking your hair and stomach. “I was so worried someone would get you during that rebellion.” He whispered, seemingly to himself. Burrowing into his chest, you whine that it’s okay.

“I’m safe, I’m here. You’re here too. I think it’s time to sleep though.” You say, slightly muffled. He chuckles. “It will keep you distracted.” You say, slightly drifting out. “Goodnight, dear.”

“Goodnight, Jagi.”

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