Baby, I'll Go To War For You🥀;

The green tracksuit was itchy. And I mean itchy. The way the yarn unraveled and scratched against your skin made your spine shiver.

It clung to your skin like regret, and that wasn’t even the worst part. It was the constant surveillance. The suffocating fear. The fact that if anyone found out who you really were, you’d be dead long before the next game started.

You weren’t here by choice. Well, Not really. The higher-ups sent you in without backup, without support, and sure as hell without permission to fail. You were here to uncover what was happening behind the scenes. To get names. Evidence. Anything.

But you weren’t alone.

You caught him watching you during the first game. Not in a creepy way...more like... cautious recognition. The kind that made your stomach twist.

You saw Detective Hwang during meal time after red light green light. Everyone was too scared and anxious to take notice of you staring at the guard in the corner.

He was hovering over you, gun on your back. Perhaps he was...protecting you? Either way, you didn't feel protected. Not when you had hundreds of masked men pointing guns at you.

You remembered him from training seminars back in Busan. He had no idea you were part of the agency then. And you had no idea he’d be here now, dressed in that black mask and uniform, pretending like he belonged. Like he wasn’t walking the same knife’s edge you were.

You didn’t approach him. Not at first. Not until you went to the bathroom during lights out, when the power flickered, and you murmured just loud enough for only him to hear, “You shouldn’t be here.”

He flinched.

Paused.

Then, without turning his head, he whispered back, “Neither should you, you're a player for fucks sake. You can die.” His voice was low, practically from the gut.

You froze, jaw semi clenched. "I can take care of myself." You muttered through your teeth. "You take care of yourself,"

With that said, you walked back into the main hall to continue the deadly games.

However, that was just the beginning of your silent alliance. You started seeing him more. You didn't know how you could detect him, but you did. You always knew.

You met in passing—bathroom corridors, back stairwells, sometimes in the lingj line if you dared. You didn’t have time for plans, just quick glances, subtle gestures. A finger twitch. A glance toward the cameras. A shake of the head that said, Not now.

During the second game, when you almost got shot for having a slight crack in your star, he was the one who pulled the trigger on another contestant to keep suspicion off you.

Later that night, you cornered him in the storage room that was located near the bathroom.

“I didn’t need your help,” you hissed, voice low, teeth clenched.

“You’re welcome,” he said flatly, before pulling off his mask just enough for you to see his eyes. “You slip up again, you’re dead. And if you blow my cover, so am I.”

“Guess we’re both on the same countdown then,” you muttered.

He stared at you for a long time before leaning in. “Just… stay alive.”

That night was the worst.

The riot started. Screams. Blood. Bodies everywhere.

You were on the floor, using a metal tray as a pathetic shield when a hand yanked you behind one of the bunks.

Jun-Ho.

How the hell did he get here? It was dark, but surely people had seen the pink uniform on him.

He pressed you flat to the floor, arm shielding your head, the warmth of his body grounding you as chaos erupted around you.

Your breath hitched. You hadn’t felt this close to anyone in months.

“You good?” he asked, lips near your ear.

“No,” you breathed. “But I’ll live.”

When the lights came back on, his hand stayed wrapped around yours for a beat too long. He glanced at you before running to the front and putting on his act of the pink guards again.

It all unraveled when the Front Man started getting suspicious. He was watching the guards too closely. You noticed the change.

And Jun-Ho noticed you noticing.

You met one last time in the bathroom. His mask was off since he was washing his face with the water from the sink.

“They’re onto me,” he said quietly, voice tight with urgency. “I need to get out. Tonight.”

“What about me?” you asked, trying not to sound scared.

He hesitated. His eyes scanned your face like he was memorizing it. “You make it out of this alive. That’s your job. Mine’s getting the evidence out.”

“You’ll die,” you whispered. “You don’t have to play the hero.”

He gave a soft, bitter laugh. “Neither do you. But here we are.”

Then, without warning, he kissed you.

Quick. Desperate. Like it was the only moment he’d have—and he wanted to leave something behind.

“I’ll find you,” he said as he pulled away. “If I survive this.” He didn't sound so confident as he put back on his mask.

And just like that, he disappeared into the dark corridor.

.・。.・゜✭・

It’s been two days. In other words, two games. Tug of war, and marbles.

Two long, empty days since Jun-Ho vanished.

You haven’t seen him in the halls. Haven’t caught the flicker of his eyes behind a mask. Haven’t heard his voice in the low hum of night. And now… the silence is beginning to scream. It became too loud.

You keep your head down, but your mind is somewhere else. Wondering if the ocean swallowed him already. If they found his body. If they tortured him first.

If they’re watching you now, too.

You almost slip, twice.

The first time is during a meal, when you stare too long at one of the masked guards, searching for something familiar in the way he stands. The second was in the main hall, when you jolt awake from a dream where Jun-Ho’s hand slipped out of yours, blood on both of your palms.

You wake up in a cold sweat.

You need to move. If he’s alive, he’s out there. And if not…

You’ll finish what you both started.

Later that night, you slip out of your bed and ask for the bathroom to get in the vents, wanting to go toward the lower levels.

You’ve memorized the path: kitchen...storage...hidden hall behind the laundry chute. It’s dangerous. Reckless. But you don’t care. You’ve got a burner USB drive in your waistband and a plan forming.

But you freeze when you see a guard standing right in front of the incinerator doors.

He turns slightly.

Not to attack. Not to speak. Just a slow, precise movement.

And then his hand brushes his hip.

Once.

And twice.

Your breath catches.

It’s your signal.

Jun-Ho.

You follow him into the narrow corridor where the cameras glitch every seven minutes—just like he told you. The moment the metal door swings shut behind you, he rips off his mask and pulls you against him.

You don’t kiss. You collapse into him.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper into his chest. “I thought you were dead.”

“Almost,” he mutters, voice low and hoarse. “Got out through the waste chute. Hid on the rocks for two days. Swam around the cliff. I couldn’t risk contact until the shift schedule changed.”

You look up at him, your hand brushing the bruise on his cheek. “You’re bleeding.”

“You should see the other guy,” he says, and for a second, the corner of his lip twitches like he might smile. But it fades just as fast. “They’re onto us. You were right.”

Your heart stutters. “Do they know about me?”

“No,” he says, “but they will. And soon.”

You nod slowly, already forming the next plan in your head.

“Come with me,” he says, breath quickening. “Tonight. There’s a boat I stashed with the coast guard’s gear. I can get us both out.”

You pause.

“Jun-Ho… I have evidence. The names. The footage. You get me out now, it dies with us.”

His jaw clenches. “I’m not letting you die in here.”

“Then help me finish this. One more game. I just need to get to the final.”

His voice is gravel and desperation. “And what if you don’t?”

You step closer. “Then you get out anyway. You release what you have. You burn them down.”

A long silence stretches between you. Finally, he nods, but just once.

“Alright. One more game, and then the final. But you don’t go dark on me again, understood?”

You smirk faintly, even as your eyes sting. “Same to you, detective.”

And for one moment, beneath the buzz of death and chaos, you kiss him. Soft. Slow. Like it might be the last time.

Because it might be.

.・゜゜・

It’s the last game.

The arena smells like rain and concrete and blood long dried.

Your body’s wrecked. You haven’t slept. Haven’t eaten much. There’s a gash above your eyebrow and bruises blooming across your ribs. But you made it. Barely.

The Front Man’s voice cuts through the still air.

“Final round. One winner.”

You stare at your opponent. He’s desperate. Shaking. You recognize the look in his eyes—you’ve had it too. Except he’s here for money.

You’re here to end this.

You hold back just enough during the fight. Let him believe he's winning. But you’ve trained for worse. And when he lunges, you sidestep, grab his arm, and slam him into the wet ground.

One move. One scream. One broken neck.

Silence.

You gasped, strapping back as rain trickles down your arms. You looked away from disgust when you saw blood pooling around your opponents lifeless body. You almost gagged.

You’re announced as the winner. Applause thunders from unseen speakers. Blood pools around your shoes.

And then, just before the guards approach, you reach into the lining of your suit and flick the tiny switch on the transmitter hidden in your sleeve.

“Jun-Ho, do you copy?” you whisper, barely moving your lips. “I’m in.”

Static.

Then his voice was heard.

"Copy. Boat’s in position. We’ve got less than 15 minutes.”

You’re escorted into the winner’s lounge. Fancy meal. Gold trim. Surveillance everywhere.

You fake compliance. Nod politely. Eat the steak for a second time, not that you mind. But under the table, you’re inserting the USB drive into a hidden panel beneath the seat cushion, a blind spot Jun-Ho mapped out from a stolen blueprint.

You press record, your hands shaking

Suddenly, the door clicks. And the Front Man walks in.

“Congratulations,” he says coolly, mask glinting under the lights. “You played well.” his voice is deep, similar to Jun-Ho's

You force a smile. “Just lucky, I guess.”

He tilts his head. “Funny thing… your background check came back clean. Too clean.”

Your heart spikes.

“Dead parents, no next of kin, no digital footprint before 2017. Makes me wonder…”

You stand slowly, fists clenched. “Maybe I’m just nobody.”

“No one’s nobody,” he says, stepping closer. “Especially not someone who flinched when my guards mentioned the word ‘detective.’”

Shit.

You don’t even have time to speak before the guards barge in.

“Take her,” the Front Man says.

But then, gunfire.

A crash.

A loud bang as the back wall explodes open.

Jun-Ho bursts through the smoke, dressed in black, face smeared with blood and seawater, gun raised and eyes blazing.

“Step away from her.”

The guards react too slow. He shoots one in the leg, kicks the weapon from another’s hand, and tosses you a spare pistol.

You catch it without hesitation.

“Took you long enough,” you growl. “Missed me?” he quips. “Like a bullet to the head.” you scoffed, grabbing his arm and dashing out the guarded room.

In a couple minutes, you make it to the tunnel. The boat. The sea.

And just as you collapse in the back of the vessel, adrenaline fading, you finally look at him.

He’s breathing hard. Shaking.

But he’s here.

You lean in and press your forehead to his. “We did it.” He exhales. “No. You did.” You laugh, staring at him. "Oh shut up-"

With a small smirk, he kisses you like the war’s over. Like you both survived something no one else ever could. Like he’d do it all again if it meant finding you on the other side.

When you reach the main land, your quick to get the files leaked, and the games exposed.

Police are quick with the arrests, headlines, and whistleblowers.

However, there's still people loose so you’re forced into hiding, and so is Jun-Ho.

But at night, when the world is quiet, and you lie beside him in that small apartment by the sea… you know one thing for certain.

You didn’t just survive.

You won.

The hideout is silent except for the rain.

It hits the windows in soft taps, the kind that used to lull you to sleep. But not tonight. Tonight, you're restless—awake in a worn-out T-shirt, pacing quietly in the dim kitchen as the smell of sea salt lingers on your skin.

Behind you, Jun-Ho leans against the doorway, watching.

“You’re still up,” he murmurs, voice gravelly from sleep.

“So are you,” you reply without turning.

He crosses the space between you slowly, like a hunter who already knows his prey won’t run.

“You did it, you know,” he says quietly, brushing his knuckles against your wrist. “Exposed them. Saved lives.”

You shake your head. “I didn’t save anyone. I just survived. And I killed innocent people..." You whispered.

He tilts your chin toward him. “That’s enough. For now.”

You hate how easily he reads you. How quickly you melt under his gaze. But you don’t pull away, not when he steps closer, not when his fingers curl gently under the hem of your shirt.

“Jun-Ho…” you whisper.

He silences you with a soft kiss.

Not rushed. Not hungry. Just… warm.

The kind that says you’re safe now.

Later, you’re tangled in bedsheets and tension.

His hand trails slowly down your spine. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong anymore.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “You saying I’m weak?”

“I’m saying,” he murmurs, lips brushing your collarbone, “you can fall apart with me. Just this once.”

Your fingers find the waistband of his sweatpants.

“You offering to help with that?”

He smirks against your skin. “I’m a detective. It’s my job to solve problems.”

You roll on top of him, your thighs straddling his hips as the rain thickens outside.

“Then you’d better start investigating,” you whisper, bending down to kiss him again—deeper, slower.

And when his hands slide up your thighs, your breath catches and your body arches into him.

He pulls away, reaching out and gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw. "I want this to be a place of comfort and joy for you," he murmured. "A place where you feel safe and loved."

His inner personality shone through in the tenderness of his touch, the sincerity of his words. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I want to make you happy. In every way possible."

You give a soft smile, pressing yet another kiss to his lips. His heart raced as you kissed him, your lips soft and eager against his. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as he deepened the kiss. In that moment, everything else faded away the grandeur of the room, the unusual circumstances of your relationship, the cold exterior he usually wore. There was only you, and the warmth and passion that ignited between you.

As the kiss ended, Jun-Ho rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in soft pants. "Love, " he murmured, his voice filled with wonder and desire. "You undo me. In the best possible way."

He trailed his fingers down your spine, his touch gentle and exploring. "Stay with me tonight and maybe forever..." he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck. "Let me show you the depths of my affection, the heights of my passion. Let me love you, completely and utterly."

You blinked slowly. Was... Was this his confession?

"About time you confessed you loved me..." You whisper breathlessly, his lingering lips on your neck.

Jun-Ho's heart soared at your whispered words, a surge of joy and possessiveness washing over him. He pulled back slightly, his gaze locking with yours. The usual coldness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a warmth and intensity that stole your breath.

"I always have," he admitted, his voice low and husky. "You're mine.My lover, my everything. I'll cherish you, protect you, and love you with every fiber of my being."

He swept you up into his arms, laying you down, he began to undress you slowly, his touch reverent and adoring. "I'm going to worship every inch of you," he murmured, his lips trailing along your collarbone.

You flickered your eyes down, staring at his hair. You could feel his lips curve into a soft smile as he felt your gaze on him, your gentle whimper sending a shiver of desire down his spine. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with passion and affection. "You like my hair, don't you?" he murmured, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I'm glad. Because I love every inch of you, princess. Your hair, your eyes, your smile... I want to memorize every detail, every curve, every sound you make."

His hands continued their slow, sensual exploration of your body, his touch gentle yet firm. He trailed kisses along your jaw, down your neck, pausing to nip lightly at the sensitive skin where your neck met your shoulder. "Tell me what you like," he murmured against your skin. "Tell me how to please you."

"Slow, baby.. Slow..." You whisper, your breath in gasps. He nodded, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmured, "Slow. Of course, my love."

He took his time, his touches gentle and deliberate. He explored every inch of you, committing each curve and contour to memory. His lips followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of soft kisses in their wake. He took his time with your breasts, lavishing attention on each one until you were arching beneath him, your breath coming in soft pants.

As he continued his slow descent, he paused at the apex of your thighs. He looked up at you, his gaze intense and filled with love. "You're so beautiful, my love," he murmured, his breath warm against your most intimate place.

You whined, biting your lip and looking down at him. "Baby, I haven't washed up, you don't want to do that."

His eyes softened at your concern, a gentle smile playing on his lips. He pressed a tender kiss to your inner thigh, his gaze never leaving yours. "Shh, my love," he murmured. "I want all of you. Every part of you is perfect to me."

He leaned in, his breath warm against your folds. "Besides," he added, a hint of playfulness in his tone, "I rather like the idea of tasting you, just as you are. Unadulterated, and pure." He moaned out.

With that, he parted your folds with his fingers, his tongue delving deep into your core. He explored you slowly, savoring your unique flavor, your soft moans and whimpers. You gasp, your hands immediately grabbing into his hair to tug. You moaned softly, closing your eyes and pressing further into the large king sized bed.

He redoubled his efforts, his tongue swirling and stroking, his lips sucking gently on your most sensitive spot. The sounds of your pleasure filled the room, music to his ears.

He slid one hand up your body, cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he continued his sensual assault. He could feel you tensing, your breath coming in short gasps as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, my love," he murmured against your flesh, his voice vibrating through you.

You roll your hips to the point your clit rubbed on his nose. "Oh shit..." You moan, teasing your other nipple.

Jun-Ho's arousal spiked at the sight of you teasing your own nipples, your hips grinding against his face. He growled softly, the sound muffled by your folds as he redoubled his efforts. He sucked hard on your clit, his tongue flicking rapidly against the sensitive bud.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Take what you need. Use me. I'm yours."

He slid two fingers inside you, curling them upwards to stroke that sensitive spot deep within. His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing in tight circles as he pumped his fingers in and out of your wet heat. He could feel you tightening around him, your body tensing as you approached your peak.

"I'm gonna-" you gasp.

His heart pounded as he felt you teetering on the edge, your body trembling beneath his touch. "That's it, my love," he urged, his voice low and encouraging. "Come for me. Let me feel you shatter."

He sucked hard on your clit, his fingers pumping furiously as he pushed you over the edge. Your cries of ecstasy filled the room as your orgasm crashed over you in a squirt, your body convulsing with pleasure. Jun-Ho continued his ministrations, drawing out your release until you collapsed back onto the bed, spent and satisfied.

He crawled up your body, kissing and caressing you gently as he went.

He watched you bask in the aftermath of your pleasure. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

He settled beside you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. He trailed his fingers along your spine, his touch gentle and soothing. "I love you," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "More than I ever thought possible."

He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. "Sleep now, my love. I'll be here when you wake."

"Promise?"

He tightened his arms around you, his voice filled with sincerity and love. "Promise," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "I'll always be here for you. Always."

He settled back against the pillows, holding you close as he listened to your breathing even out. As sleep claimed you, Jun-Ho stayed awake, watching over you with a tenderness that surprised even him. He knew, in that moment, that he would move heaven and earth to keep you safe and happy.