The Metal Gear Solid Legacy.

“We try to honor their deeds, even as their faces fade from our memory.”

CHAPTER 16 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

previous chapter | next chapter

WARNING: 18+ content ahead. Read at your own risk.

——

The dress fit like a second skin.

The silky fabric hugged your frame, every seam meticulously designed to highlight the slopes and curves of your body. Black as the midnight sea, the gown shimmered subtly beneath the dim, golden lights, catching on the angles of your hips as you shifted. The slit along your leg teased just enough bare skin to stir something dangerous in the air.

You traced your fingertips along the smooth material, feeling the delicate weight of it drape over you like liquid shadow. It felt expensive and… powerful. Like something meant for a woman who could command an entire room with a single glance.

You swallowed hard. This was not the version of yourself you once knew.

The past and present clashed inside you as you stared at your reflection. This wasn’t the same woman who had stepped into the games, trembling at the unknown. She had died the moment she was betrayed, died at the hands of the very man who had set all of this into motion.

And yet, here you were. In his world again.

The door behind you clicked open. Even without turning around, you could feel the shift in the air — the slow, burning warmth that accompanied his presence, filling every inch of the room like an intoxicating mist. The faint scent of cedarwood and smoke curled around you, familiar and unmistakably his.

In-ho didn’t speak right away. Instead, silence stretched between you that weighed. You could feel his gaze roaming over you, mapping every curve the dress accentuated.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

His voice was lower than usual, rough with something dark and restrained. A slow shiver trickled down your spine. You turned just enough to meet his gaze, and the sight of him sent something sharp and molten through your chest.

His eyes told you everything.

The intensity there made your breath catch — the dark, smoldering, filled with a hunger that had been starved for too long. He looked at you like a man standing on the edge, barely holding himself back from the fall.

“Is it too much?” You asked, feigning innocence.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but there was no amusement in it. Only something ravenous. “Too much?” His voice was a whisper of smoke. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, closing the distance between you inch by inch. 

Then, his fingers reached out, knuckles ghosting over the bare skin of your shoulder before tracing down the length of your arm. His touch was featherlight, but it burned, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Then, he tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to look at him fully.

“You look—“ his voice caught for a fraction of a second, the muscles in his jaw tightening as his thumb brushed over your lower lip. His eyes darkened, something flickering beneath them. “Dangerous.”

And then, without another word, he kissed you. It was deep and desperate, like he had been waiting years for this moment, like he was drowning and you were the only thing keeping him afloat.

His hands found your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric as he pulled you against him. Your bodies fit together seamlessly, your curves molding against the hard planes of his form as his lips moved against yours with bruising intensity. His was deep and consuming — each movement demanding and desperate, like he was trying to carve himself into your very soul.

Your fingers found the lapels of his coat, gripping the fabric as his tongue brushed against yours, drawing a quiet moan from your lips. He drank it in, pulling you impossibly closer. Your back hit the cool surface of the vanity as he pressed you against it, his lips never leaving yours, his fingers skimming down your spine.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he deepened it further, his tongue parting your lips, tasting you, drinking in the soft, shuddering sigh that escaped you. His hands slid down your waist, gripping you possessively, as though he feared you would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

The heat of his touch burned through the silk of your dress, his fingers trailing over the fabric before slipping beneath the slit at your thigh, skin meeting skin. Your body reacted instantly, a sharp gasp caught between your lips as his fingertips traced higher, teasing you.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and edged with need. “Bend over for me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. 

You barely had the chance to respond before he pulled away and turned you around, his strength effortless as he bent you over to the closest surface — the sleek marble counter of the vanity. The cool stone bit into the warmth of your arms as he settled between them, his hands roaming, mapping, owning every inch of exposed skin.

He lifted your dress up, only to find that you’ve gone commando. You heard him let out a deep sigh. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

“Then don’t make me wait any longer.”

A dangerous smirk plastered across In-ho’s lips as he unbuckled his belt, hearing his pants come down as he positioned himself to your entrance, already wet. “As you wish.”

He thrusts into you deep, earning a whimper from you. His hands squeezed your butt cheeks, each thrust corresponding with the sound of slaps as he felt you in, much to your pleasure. He gripped on your waist like a handle, lifting his other leg on a chair as he thrusts into you more, your breasts pressing against the surface as you moved.

You aligned yourself to him, giving it back, which earned a groan from him, stopping his thrusts as he let you work on him. You turned your head to him from behind, seeing his head up in the air as his eyes closed, savoring each pleasure as you continued to ride him from behind, biting your lip as you felt his shaft reach your cervix, hitting the right spots.

The heat was unbearable. The feeling of him inside you, the scent, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours — it was dizzying. And in that moment, nothing else existed. No past. No games. Just him and you, too focused on the pleasure building within these walls.

In-ho’s fingers dragged down to your cheeks, his breath hitching as he continued to thrust. His eyes devoured the sight of you, dark and smoldering with hunger as he met yours. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above your shoulder. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, pressing a slow, reverent kiss along the slope of your shoulders. “Every inch of you… mine.”

He bit his lip once more as you moaned, hearing your satisfaction which made him thrust harder. His other moved to your shoulder, hammering you further as he groaned.

“You’re breathtaking,” his voice was filled with awe. “Every inch of you… so beautiful.”

He didn’t stop, much to your liking. You pulled him closer, your hands reaching for his waist taking it as a sign for him to go further. His breaths continued to hitch as he realized what you were doing, earning a moan from him.

“I need you,” he admitted, his voice raw, almost vulnerable. “More than anything. More than I should.”

“Then take me,” you whispered.

And he did.

“Fuck,” he groaned as his thrusts became harder and faster. “I’m cumming.”

“Please,” you whimpered. 

He thrusts one last time, his pace stopping as you felt him cum inside you. Your insides felt the warm juices he let out, much as your insides clenched as you reached your climax too. You let out one last moan before he pulled out, feeling your heart pound through your chest. 

The warmth of his body still lingered against yours, his breath slow and steady as he lay beside you, one arm lazily draped over your waist, as if afraid if you would slip away the moment he let go. 

After a few minutes, he began to move, sliding your dress down and fixing it. You stood up and straightened yourself, turning around and seeing him fix his pants, zipping it up as he buckled his belt once again. When he was done, his fingers traced mindlessly traced patterns along the curve of your hip, his touch featherlight yet possessive. You turned your head to meet his gaze, catching the way his dark eyes softened as he studied you. He looked almost… at peace. A rare sight for a man like him.

He held your hand as he led you out of the closet, stepping out of the bedroom as your eyes widened slightly. The living quarters were nothing like you remembered. The sterile, minimalist design had been completely transformed.

The living room now boasted deep leather furniture, dark marble accents, and walls lined with bookshelves filled with carefully selected literature. The kitchen had been expanded, outfitted with sleek, top-of-the-line appliances, and an elegant dining area stood just beyond it. There was even a glass bar stocked with premium whiskey and aged wines.

Your fingers trailed along the polished black marble countertop, taking in the sheer luxury of it all. This wasn’t just a place to stay — it was a place of power.

“I take it you like it?”

You turned to find In-ho standing behind you, fully dressed in his signature black attire, a subtle smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“This wasn’t here before,” you said, your voice carrying a note of suspicion.

“That’s because it wasn’t. This is the overseer’s private residence,” his eyes glimmered with warmth. “Our private residence.”

You managed to make a small smile, though you couldn’t deny his words settled over you like a weight. Before you could say anything, In-ho motioned for you to follow him, leading you to the elevator down to the management area.

For hours, In-ho guided you through the intricacies of your new role, showing you each room of the organization. He taught you the protocols, the meticulous rules that governed the games, the chain of command, and the delicate balance of power that had to be maintained.

He walked you through security measures, how to control the masked men, how to issue commands with precision, and how to wield fear without the need to raise your voice. And most importantly, he taught you how to make the hard choices.

“The games are not just about entertainment,” he explained as you stood in front of a large screen displaying various surveillance feeds. “They are about control. Order. Equality. Without structure, the world falls into chaos.”

His voice was calm and methodical, but you could sense the weight behind his words — the years he had spent becoming what he was now. You listened carefully, absorbing everything, but deep down, you wondered if you would ever be able to see it the way he did.

After what felt like an eternity, In-ho finally motioned for you to follow him again. “There’s one last thing I need to show you.”

He led you down a long hallway, stopping in front of a set of heavy double doors. You held on to your mask, feeling the heat behind it. Without a word, he pushed them open, revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond.

At the center stood a tall figure, dressed in a sleek black uniform, a mask covering his face, the one you’ve seen before — the mask of the Frontman. The figure turned slightly at your approach, his stance relaxed yet authoritative. Then, he spoke, his voice carrying an eerie familiarity.

“Took you long enough,” he said.

You stiffened. Something about the way he said it, the tone, the cadence. Your breath hitched as he slowly lifted his hands, pulling the mask away. 

And there, standing before you, was someone you never expected to see again.

“Surprised?”

You couldn’t speak as your mind raced, trying to process what you were seeing, but no explanation made sense. 

How?

Why?

What the hell happened to him?

You turned to In-ho, searching for answers, but he simply watched you with quiet intensity, as if waiting for your reaction.

“I have to admit,” the frontman murmured, his voice almost taunting. “I never thought I’d see you here.”

“Gi-hun,” you started, stepping forward, but his expression darkened.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he cut in, his tone sharp enough to make you pause. “Not when you’ve made your choice.”

The weight of everything —  your past, the games, the choices you had made — came crashing down on you all at once. You had been ready to embrace your new role.

But now? You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

Your fingers twitched slightly at your sides, though whether it was from unease or the remnants of last night’s indulgence, you weren’t sure. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier.

Gi-hun stood before you, no longer the man you once knew. His hair was still the same, yet he had grown slightly, falling messily around his face. The tired desperation you last saw in his eyes had been replaced by something sharper, something calculated.

A man molded by survival. A man who had seen the truth and had chosen to become part of it.

Your throat was dry, but you forced yourself to speak. “How?”

Gi-hun’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but not quite a sneer. “You mean how I became the frontman?” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, as if amused by the irony of it all. “You already know the answer.”

Your gaze flickered to In-ho, who remained quiet, his expression unreadable. Gi-hun followed your glance and chuckled. “Of course, he hasn’t told you everything, has he?”

Gi-hun took another step closer, and this time, there was no mistaking the anger beneath his gaze. “Do you know what I realized after the rebellion?” His voice was quieter now, but no less intense. “That there is no ‘winning’ in the games. Not really.”

You swallowed.

“I tried,” he continued, his jaw tightening. “I tried to fight back, to take them down. But you don’t fight something like this without becoming a part of it. And when I had the choice…” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I took it.” He looked up at you then, truly looked at you, and there was something almost resigned in his gaze. “Just like you did.”

You clenched your fists. “I didn’t—“

“But you did,” he interrupted. “You let him find you. You let him bring you back here.”

Your stomach twisted again, but before you could say anything, In-ho finally spoke. “She didn’t come back to be questioned,” his voice was calm, but there was an undeniable edge to it. “She came back to take her place.”

Gi-hun scoffed. “Her place?” He turned back to you, tilting his head slightly. “So, tell me, is that what this is? Have you decided to become part of the machine too?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Gi-hun stepped even closer, his voice dropping. “Tell me, when they made their offer, did they promise you power? Control? A way to make sure the games run fairly?” His mouth twitched. “Or did he tell you it was the only way to survive?”

You clenched your jaw. “I don’t expect you to understand,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “Not yet.”

Gi-hun exhaled sharply through his nose, his smile humorless. “No,” he murmured. “I suppose I don’t.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with too many unspoken things. Then, just as you thought the conversation was over, Gi-hun leaned in slightly, his next words barely above a whisper. 

“When the time comes, and they ask you to prove your loyalty, what will you do?”

A chill ran down your spine. You knew exactly what he was asking.

And you didn’t have an answer. 

Not yet.

The silence between you and Gi-hun stretched long enough that the weight of it settled deep in your bones. He was waiting —  waiting for an answer you weren’t sure you could give.

You felt In-ho’s presence beside you, steady and unwavering. Yet there was something almost expectant in the way he stood, as if he was waiting to see what you would say,

Your fingers twitched at your sides, realizing that Gi-hun was right. The games had no winners — only survivors. And here you stood, standing in the space between the two men who had survived alongside you — one who had risen to control it, and the other who had surrendered himself to it.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you finally said, your voice even.

Gi-hun let out a soft breath, almost in disbelief. “I suppose you don’t,” his eyes then flickered over to In-ho. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t regret this.”

The threat in his voice was subtle, but it was there. In-ho shifted slightly, just enough of his shoulder to brush against yours — a silent reminder of where you stood. “Are you done?” He asked, his tone calm but firm.

Gi-hun held his gaze for a long moment before exhaling sharply. He stepped back, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the invisible tension. “For now.”

Then, without another word, he turned away, striding toward the door. You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until it closed behind him. The silence left in his wake was thick and suffocating.

You felt In-ho’s gaze on you before you turned to meet it. “You don’t have to let him get inside your head,” he murmured.

You felt a lump in your throat. “He’s not wrong though.”

In-ho’s jaw tightened, but he paused for a while. Instead, he reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours with quiet uncertainty. “You made your choice,” he said. “Now, you see it through.”

You weren’t sure if that was meant to reassure or warn you.

——

The following weeks were grueling yet fulfilling. 

In-ho wasted no time in thrusting you into the depths of the organization, stripping away any illusion that this was anything less than a meticulously crafted empire. You learned the structure, the power dynamics, and the unspoken rules that dictated every move behind the curtains. And more than anything, you learned how to become something else entirely.

In-ho didn’t go easy on you. If anything, he was harsher than you expected, demanding precision, discipline, and complete detachment. Yet he was like that during the day, but completely different when the training was over. You understood that he needed to do it.

Still, you played your part well. It became your nature — the way you stood, the way you spoke, the way you carried yourself. The mask you wore became seamless, indistinguishable from the person you once were. This was the life you accepted, the life they had given you. You were at the top — you just had to figure out how long you can survive it.

The new season of the game came by quickly. This time, it had a new set of rules, and new players. The games had changed, and so did the players. This time, it was less cruel, but enough to make a person inside the game to go crazy and desperate. All in the test of human greed and the true unraveling of human nature — just like how you saw it in the past game you were in.

Gi-hun stood before you, his face unreadable, the mask of the Frontman now absent but its presence still lingering in the air between you. He had taken In-ho’s old position, and in a cruel twist of fate, you had taken his place as someone trapped within the very system he had once tried to dismantle.

And then, there was In-ho — calm, composed, the ever-calculating overseer. His expression betrayed nothing, but you knew him well enough to recognize the quiet weight behind his silence.

“You’re late,” In-ho said evenly, stepping forward near In-ho with measured grace. “The new games are already being prepared.”

Gi-hun smirked. “I’m not here for the games.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. Then why was he here?

In-ho watched him carefully. “Then what do you want?”

Gi-hun exhaled slowly, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You know exactly what I want, In-ho.”

He turned his gaze to you and something flickered in his expression. Your grip on your own mask tightened. “You can’t expect me to believe you came all the way back here just to see me.”

Gi-hun’s smirk faltered slightly, but he didn’t deny it. Yet you wondered why was he invested in you, why you were his… target. You were gone for six months — what could you have possibly done? Was it because you chose to hide? Did you ruin the rebellion?

The three of you stood in a delicate balance, a triangle of power where no one truly had the upper hand. Gi-hun had the experience of a player — the raw survival instincts of someone who had clawed his way out of hell and returned stronger. While In-ho had the control, the authority, the understanding of the system. The calculated mind of a man who had long abandoned morality for necessity.

And you? You were the variable. The piece neither of them could fully control that made you the most dangerous of them all.

“Whatever your reason is, Gi-hun,” you said carefully, stepping closer. “It doesn’t change the fact that you put yourself back in their hands. You think they’ll let you walk out of this a second time?”

Gi-hun chuckled, much to your surprise as he shook his head. “You think I care?”

That caught you off guard, knowing he meant it. Gi-hun had nothing to lose and that made him a threat to both you and In-ho. The silence stretched between the three of you, a cold realization settling over the room. 

This wasn’t just about the games anymore. This was about control — none of you were willing to give it up.

You and In-ho stood in the control room, overseeing the first round unfold through a wall of monitors. The massive, sterile space was silent, except for the occasional flicker of radio chatter and the quiet hum of the surveillance equipment.  Below, the contestants — new players, all wide-eyed and trembling — were led into the first game. The tension in the air was thick enough to suffocate. You watched them shift nervously on their feet, eyes darting around the colossal playground. They didn’t know yet or understand.

Then, the crack of gunfire came. The first round of eliminations. Bodies collapsed like ragdolls, blood soaking into the sand. The screams echoed against the walls of the arena. You remained impassive, even as In-ho glanced at you from behind his mask. This was your first official trial as an Overseer. Would you flinch? Would you hesitate?

But you didn’t. You simply stepped forward, your gaze fixed on the screen. The moment of hesitation in your chest had passed. As the game continued, you excused yourself from the control room. In-ho let you go without a word, his trust in you silent but absolute. 

Your heels clicked against the pristine white floors as you made your way down the winding halls of the facility, your long cat flowing behind you. The organization had spared no expense in making sure the island remained impenetrable, a well-oiled machine that would continue to devour the desperate and the damned.

You tried to ignore the slight dizziness that washed over you as you walked, the strange wave of nausea that had crept up on you over the past few days. Brushing it off, you steadied yourself with a hand against the wall, forcing yourself to breathe evenly. It was nothing — just the stress and exhaustion. Nothing more. 

Eventually, your path led you to the lower levels — the organ harvesting room.

The air was thick with the stench of chemicals and decay. Metal tables were lined with bodies, each corpse stripped and gutted with surgical precision. The underground trade had continued, a secret that the organization pretended not to notice.

You stepped forward, weaving through the dimly lit space, and then you heard a sound. A wet, grotesque noise. A sickening squelch of movement.

Your stomach turned before your brain even fully processed what you were seeing.

A guard — one of the masked enforcers. He was hunched over a lifeless body, his gloved hands gripping at cold flesh, his breath ragged and frenzied. The corpse beneath him was unmoving, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. The guard didn’t even notice you at first, too lost in whatever twisted pleasure he was indulging in.

You felt the rage, pure seething rage coiled inside you, dark and boiling. The guard barely had time to turn his head before your pistol was drawn, the barrel pressed against the back of his skull. “Disgusting fuck,” you hissed.

He didn’t even have time to beg.

The gunshot rang out, deafening in the enclosed space. His body slumped forward, his own blood staining the lifeless flesh beneath him. You didn’t move for a long moment, your grip tight around the handle of your gun. Your heart was pounding — not out of feat or shock. Just out of unfiltered disgust.

Slowly, you exhaled and stepped back, holstering your weapon. The other guards in the room had frozen, staring at you in stunned silence. None of them dared to move.

“Dispose of this trash,” you ordered coldly, nodding toward the body of the disgraced guard. “And if I catch any of you doing the same…” You let the threat linger, your voice sharp as a blade. “You’ll wish I killed you this easily.”

The guards scrambled to obey, dragging the corpse away with frantic urgency. You lingered for a moment longer, staring down at the mess of bodies, the grotesque remnants of human lives reduced to nothing more than profit.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and left the room, but that nausea returned, a sharp tug in your gut. You barely made it to the nearest empty hallway before doubling over, your breaths shallow.

You swallowed hard. No, it couldn’t be. You refused to entertain the thought, the possibility. Not now. Not here.

But deep down, you already knew. You had felt it lingering in the back of your mind for days. You pressed a hand to your stomach, fingers trembling slightly. You were showing signs — signs you couldn’t ignore forever. But now, you pushed the thought away, straightened yourself, and walked back into the shadows.

——

previous chapter | next chapter

A/N: I'm debating on whether I'll end this series for only 20 chapters or extend it for more. 🤔 More ideas come into my mind whenever I finish writing so we'll see how this goes. 👀 Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged in the next chapter! ✨

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples @fries11 @follows-the-life-ahead @goingmerry69 @plague-cure @theredvelvetbitch @cherryheairt @ggsrlla123 @alliyah-ll  (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)

/cries about call of duty characters on a regular basis

Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 3

Ok I know it’s a generic shooter, blah blah same game same guns blah blah blah, I’m just into the story behind the modern warfare games. The 3rd one breaks my heart though… I want to see what happens to Captain Price!! I would have love to see a news bulletin like “News Anchor: Breaking News. World Renowned Terrorist Vladimir Makarov has been killed…” And they would go on to say that one survivor, Captain Price, was found seriously wounded and is believed to be the one that killed Makarov. I want Price to be praised as a Hero!!! After everything he has done and been through, he deserves the Victorian Cross or something!!! It killed me inside seeing the picture of Ghost, Soap, Price and Sandman at the very end. Agh I am just ranting about an old game nobody probably even cares about.

your favorite crime. (Hwang In-Ho x Reader)

Plot: Given the age gap, you and In-ho had a lot of differences but one thing's for sure - you love each other so much it's destroying the both of you. As the relationship progresses, the fights progresses as well. In your last fight, you break up with In-ho. After two months of no contact, you and In-ho meet again in a local bar. But, he's with someone else this time.

Tags: angst, you and in-ho break up, in-ho finds someone new but still has feelings for you, on-off relationships, age gap, violence

>> Masterlist

"God fucking dammit!"

You slammed the door to your apartment then went on to your knees, letting out the tears you were holding in from earlier.

He was unfair. SO UNFAIR. Sure, he spoiled you with a lot of things to make up for his absence. You wanted new shoes? He would wire over some money and send it directly to your bank account, or he would go out of his way to buy it and give it to you as a surprise. You wanted a new bag? He would give it to you in an instant, even those that needed to be shipped for a few days. You craved for something? He would either deliver it for you, cook for you, or just wire some money to your bank account for you to buy whenever he was busy.

That was the problem. He was always busy.

You've been singing at bars for awhile, something to start off with your music career. You've always been musically inclined as you learned a bunch of instruments since high school. You sang, played the drums, bass, guitar, piano - name it. It was fulfilling to be able to go out of your comfort zone, thanks to In-Ho who motivated you to start singing again.

But what happens if the one who motivates you couldn't even at least watch your show, at least once?

You respected his choice of continuing and working for the games. Despite you not being exposed to the games, you understood the concept of it. You shared ideals with In-ho, at least there was something similar between the two of you despite the age gap.

But what you couldn't understand was how he constantly missed watching your shows. Couldn't he at least spare a little of his time to support you? He argued that he overslept, the games were all he had to work on as he had to come up with new games or at least rotate the gameplays, he was tired, and he was still supporting you from afar even if he wasn't physically present.

You sniffed, wiping the tears away from your face. You proceeded to go to the bathroom to at least try and fix yourself up. As you looked at your reflection in the mirror, you couldn't help but miss the person you were before meeting In-ho. This person you're currently looking at, whose mascara and eyeliner were all over your eyes, your lipstick smudged - you vowed to never let a man make you look like this, or even put you in this state.

You sighed, opening the faucet to splash some water on your face, letting sadness take over as you replay the memory of you breaking up with In-ho.

"Y/N," In-ho said, touching a part of your shoulder trying to calm you down. Though he failed, as it made you angrier - knowing damn well what he was about to say again.

"I'm tired of your goddamn excuses," you said as you swatted his hand away from you. He looked at his hand as if he couldn't process the way you acted. He kept his stare at his hand, his jaw clenching. You knew he didn't like it when you become physically violent, or even just a tinge of pushing him away. But right now, you didn't care. You were mad. "What's your excuse this time? You overslept? Been working all night? Tired? You support me in other ways instead by buying me stuff? Treating me outside after my show to 'make up' for your absence? What, In-ho?!"

He glanced at you, his eyes becoming dark as he slowly looked to your eyes. You knew what his look meant - he was becoming angry too. If you had anger issues, he had it worse.

You were taken aback as he grabbed the glass of whiskey on the countertop and slammed it to the floor, its shards spreading around the floor. You didn't flinch, but you felt a glass graze at your leg. With your anger, you couldn't feel the pain yet. It was gonna sting for sure, but you were too angry to care.

But then he started coming towards you, his hand aimed at your neck. His grip wasn't tight enough to choke you, but he had that look in his eyes that if you triggered him once more, he wouldn't hesitate to grip it harder. You held his arm, gripping it with your nails as you tried to get away from him, but he was too strong.

His breath hitched as he continued to look at you with darkness in his eyes. He started to speak up, "You're ungrateful." His jaw clenched while tears started to dwell upon your eyes, but you held them back. "You think I love missing your shows? You think I don't try to at least watch one of them? As much as I want to give you a time, you know damn well that I couldn't. The demands of the games were so high, and it's not my fault that you schedule your shows whenever the games start!" His grip tightened more, this time, making you breathless.

"Then you could've at least made time!" You shouted as you removed his hand successfully, touching your neck. His hands felt like it was imprinted on you, not realizing how he gripped it tighter before letting you go. You coughed, collapsing to the floor as you tried to catch your breath. You felt your legs shake out of anger, feeling the sting of pain from the graze you had earlier. In-ho seemed to notice as your fingers went on to the wound, blood imprinting on your fingers. "If you think this could be fixed with sex, then you're not in luck. I'm done with you."

"What did you say?" He asked sternly, his fists clenching as his eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm done with you, In-ho," you finally stood up, looked at him in the eye as you did so. Your legs were still shaking, but you managed to walk to the door. You gave him a last glance, enough to tell him that you were leaving his life for good. "I'm fucking done with you."

His face hardened as you blurted out those words, his heart beating through his chest harder than ever. While on the other side of the door, you continued to walk away with tears streaming down your face. You hoped to at least hear the door open and for him to chase you and say that he was going to make up for his absence.

The door stayed still, unopened. Instead, you heard the door locked from the inside.

----

It's been two months since you've heard about In-ho. You and him didn't contact each other at all after the fight. Though last month, you noticed the salesman on the subway again, playing ddakji with a random person. You only looked at them for a bit, to which the salesman immediately noticed. He gave you a small wave, unbeknownst to the man he was playing with who was awfully paying attention to the game. Probably someone who's in bad debt that he was too focused on playing the game. The man had hand imprints on his face, knowing damn well that the salesman was winning.

You only gave the salesman a small nod. You didn't like being associated with anyone who's closely related to In-ho. He nodded back and focused his attention to the man he was playing with.

You've been doing fine for awhile. Though you didn't date anyone after In-ho. It's not because you couldn't find someone else, but you didn't have the energy to "market" yourself to other people. Even dating apps didn't work for you. You didn't like starting over again, having to tell your favorite color, food, or whatnot to someone else again. It was too tiring. You accepted the fact that you're gonna live alone for the rest of your life.

But you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't think about In-ho sometimes. You wondered how he was doing, or if there was anything new about the games. He may have not had time for you that much, but you always made sure to at least give yours for him. You would listen as to how he carefully crafts the new games, or how he rotates the games for more thrill. Which angered you more, thinking how unfair that you were giving all of your time to him but he couldn't at least give you his. Sure, he spoiled you with anything materialistic - he made sure that you get all the latest trends, but you wanted more of his time. Maybe it was your way of telling him that you loved him for him, not for his money. Time was all you wanted, yet for a man who had everything, he couldn't give you at least that.

You sighed on the balcony of your apartment, enjoying a nice cup of tea and enjoying the cold breeze outside. Despite you and In-ho's differences, you still missed the bastard dearly. You missed how his fingers touched your skin, touching your back in circles that made you fall asleep better. You were battling insomnia, and you couldn't help but feel that In-ho was the reason you were sleeping peacefully at night. Even though he missed your shows, he was always present after. It made you think if you were ungrateful, but it didn't matter. He still didn't come to your shows to at least show support.

You went back inside your room and decided to look for an outfit to wear outside. When you find yourself thinking about In-ho, you drag yourself to the bar where you two both first met. You don't expect to see him there, knowing damn well he didn't have the time to do so. You knew yourself that it was impossible for him to come there. Hell, he probably doesn't remember that it's where you both first met.

You hailed a taxi cab on the way to the bar. The bar was packed, but you knew the owner so he would just save you a seat on the bar counter. You entered the bar and was met by the smell of alcohol around, people conversing with each other, and the sound of glasses clinking with each other. You went over the counter, ordered your favorite whiskey, preferably on the rocks.

"You alone tonight?" The bartender asked, pouring you a glass of whiskey as she put the ice.

You gave her a small smile. "Yep. No more plus ones."

She chuckled. "I hear you." You gave her a nod and raised the glass to her, thanking her as your drank it in full. She whistled, pouring you another drink. "Someone's getting wasted tonight, huh?"

"You could say that," you chuckled, staring at your glass being poured. The bartender said something, but you couldn't decipher it that much. You were too blinded with the hurt, with the thought of In-ho, and with the emptiness you've been feeling for the past few days.

You looked at the seat beside you, remembering how In-ho looked as he sat beside you. Back then, he didn't realize you were there as he was in too much of deep thought. You were also sitting right where you are, finding no hope in the world as you drink your sadness away. You wished for a family to look after you, a friend to turn to for comfort, or just be with someone. You've always been financially stable and independent. You never knew who your parents were, all you know is they disappeared all of a sudden and never came back. You never approached people first, but with In-ho, you gathered confidence to talk to him. He didn't acknowledge you that much then, completely ignoring you whenever you talk to him.

What he didn't know is that him ignoring you was better as you were used to not talking to a lot of people that much. It didn't feel like talking to a brick wall, but he became more of an outlet for your feelings. It became a tradition for you to go to this bar every night, drinking your sadness away, talking to In-ho (or at least, speaking to him), then going home drunk. You wouldn't know exactly how you got home safe, but knowing you made it to your apartment is enough assurance for you already that you made it safely.

As for In-ho, as much as he doesn't speak to you that much, he still listened. Your voice became a white noise for his thoughts, but he remembered every detail. Suddenly, he found himself coming to the bar every night just to listen to you. He found you amusing but interesting. He couldn't complete his night without you, and he enjoyed every single time you blabbered to him about stuff. Sometimes when the alcohol starts to get on you, you slur at your words. The moment you do that, he knew it's time for you to go home. You may not know how you get home safely, but at least to him, he knew to take care of you. He was the reason you've been going home safe, unbeknownst to you how you taught him the way back to your apartment as he drove at dawn, while you laying on the passenger seat as the alcohol took over you.

A tear fell from your eye as your heart sank with the thought of In-ho. He was a man of few words, but still did a lot for you. The door opened and saw a man wearing a long black coat, his hands tucked in its pockets. His hair was slicked back with gel, a strand of hair down to his face. You thought it looked exactly like In-ho as you chuckled to yourself, looking away as you drank your glass, asking the bartender again to pour you another. You've been thinking about him too much, thinking you've been imagining things.

Wait, what?

You looked back to the door and looked intently at the man you saw earlier. You froze, feeling your heart drop with the realization hitting you that it was indeed In-ho.

God, you hated how good he looked.

In-ho looked through the crowd. You weren't in his line of vision, just glancing around. You were on the other side where the counter was. You looked to where he was staring and saw a stage set in front, with a microphone on stage with one stool chair. A guitar was placed on top of the chair, ready for anyone to play. It seemed like an open mic night is happening and would be starting anytime soon. You noticed In-ho looking there intently. Was he thinking of you? Did he remember you singing there?

You gathered the courage to approach him, fixing your coat as you stood. As you were about to take a step forward, In-ho looked back to the door and smiled.

Smiled.

At someone else.

He gave her a nod as a sign of greeting, his hands touching the back of another woman as he guided her to a table. You feel your body freeze, your hands running cold as you looked at how he held her. You saw how he sat properly, his back touching the chair as he talked to her.

He looked at her the same way he did to you. He touched her back just like he did to you. He took her to the bar where you two first met. The woman whispered something to him, which made him chuckle. His eyes were glued to the menu as the woman continued to talk to him, only giving her small glances.

You sat back on your chair, staring at their table. You couldn't believe your eyes. While it's true that the both of you haven't been in contact with each other for two months, but how can he see someone else already? Were you that easy to replace? You can feel your heart breaking into pieces as you realize how you begged for his time, while he easily gave it to someone else.

You drank your whiskey once more and asked for another pour. The stinging heat of the drink glided through your throat and felt your tears fall, your lips pressed as you sniffed.

"Good evening, ladies and gents," someone on the stage announced through the microphone. "Tonight, we're hosting an open mic night. Feel free to come here on stage if you'd like to sing. The guitar is here and free for you to use for the night. Please enjoy, everybody."

The host bowed before exiting the stage, earning small claps from the crowd. You glanced at In-ho again, who was now talking to the woman he was with. Normally, you would've confronted him right then and there, but you still had your dignity. You would rather break internally instead of making a scene with a random woman. She probably doesn't know, but still, she had your In-ho.

"Got something to sing?" The bartender spoke up as she wipes their bar equipments. You were a regular singer at the bar. You did it for free for the bar, as it was the first avenue that gave you a chance to sing. "You may want to sing your heart out. People are drunk already, they won't probably notice if you cry."

You gave out a small laugh. "Am I that transparent?"

"I poured your glass a few times already, I noticed it very much," she laughed and hovered her hand to the stage. "Go on. Sing your heart out."

In-ho, on the other hand, wasn't having a great time at all. He felt lonely, having no contact with you for over two months. As much as he wanted to contact you, he was scared that you wouldn't want to see him. You telling him that you were done with him was a constant reminder that he fucked up. He didn't mean to oversleep at times when you had your show, he was just simply tired. And when he sleeps, and even a short nap could take him hours. It was a bad habit of his, he knows, so he tries to make it up to you in ways that he can.

Though what he failed to realize is to meet you in ways that he needed to, and how you wanted to.

In-ho didn't know what occurred to him as to why he went on a date with this woman. He knew he was being more unfair knowing how you begged for his time then him giving his time for someone else freely. It was true that he never wanted to miss your shows. He became too invested and busy with the games that he failed to prioritize you at times. He couldn't talk to you when he travels to the island as signal was nowhere to be found in that area. He knew you understood that, but he also wished that he could give you more of his time.

And so, In-ho made a deal with Il-nam to at least give him more days off. He did so well for the games, serving it for years now. At this point, his mind was scattered. But all of it leads to you.

In-ho took his date here only for the fact that he wanted to remember you. Something he could still remember you. He wished so hard for his date to be you instead, finding you in others. But there was no one else like you. Hell, no one was as close as you. In-ho looks at his date's eyes, catching a glimpse of you in his mind. He knew he was just passing time in her arms, but would rather be in yours.

"Annyeong," a voice echoed to the room. In-ho froze, the familiar voice catching on to him. He immediately looked at the stage and saw you, holding a guitar as you continued to fix the microphone leveling it for yourself. "I'm Y/N. Tonight, I'll sing what my heart feels as I wish that someone in here catches of a glimpse of me in someone's eyes."

The crowd murmured with excitement, the environment becoming lively. Curiosity filled the room as they looked at you. The crowd claps for you, including In-ho's date who became invested on to what you were going to sing.

"That's a bold move," In-ho's date said, her eyes locked to the stage.

In-ho adjusts his seat, his eyes never leaving you. He picks up his glass of whiskey, turning the glass around. "It is."

You begin to strum your guitar, feeling lost to the tune as you let your feelings take over you. You closed your eyes, hearing its rhythm as the strings glided to your fingers.

Know that I loved you so bad I let you treat me like that I was your willing accomplice, honey And I watched as you fled the scene Doe-eyed as you buried me One heart broke, four hands bloody

You opened your eyes and saw In-ho, his eyes fixed on you. You looked at him intently as you carefully sang each line, pouring your heart out.

The things I did Just so I could call you mine

In-ho stiffened, remembering how much you put up with his shit for a long time. He hears his date saying something, but he deliberately ignores her. In his peripheral vision, he could see his date's smile falter.

The things you did Well, I hope I was your favorite crime

In-ho's job wasn't easy at all. Hell, it couldn't even be considered a real job. It's an actual crime, slaughtering countless lives as if he was the one who gave them life in the first place. You knowing about what he does make you an accomplice already. Still, you chose to be with him. Despite agreeing with the fact that it's wrong, the concept of running the games still made sense.

You used me as an alibi I crossed my heart as you crossed the line And I defended you to all my friends And now every time a siren sounds I wonder if you're around 'Cause you know I'd do it all again

A tear fell from your cheek, letting it flow freely as you continue to sing. In-ho still kept his gaze at you, but this time, his eyes softened. There was longing - something that both of you had for each other as you parted ways.

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do 'Cause I was going down, but I was doing it with you Yeah, everything we broke and all the trouble that we made But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

How bittersweet it was for him to finally watch you sing live. If only In-ho didn't have a date, and only you weren't broken because of him. If only he made more time. If only he could've been better.

Your voice broke as you sang, adding more emotion to the audience. They all watched you intently, but your eyes were only focused on In-ho.

Oh, look what we became....

You continued to strum your guitar and let your emotions take over you. As you finished the song, you looked at In-ho once again, his eyes still fixed on you. You saw him bit his lip as he looked down, his shoulders tense. You looked at the audience as they clapped, cheering for you. They asked for one more, but you politely declined, giving them a bow as you exited the stage. You could feel In-ho's eyes following you, but you hovered over to your seat fast as your glass of whiskey was waiting for you. You drank it with all your might, asking for a refill to the bartender once again.

You glanced at the door and saw the woman In-ho was with leaving. You looked back at In-ho's table, only for him to appear right beside you as you felt his coat brush against yours.

The two of you sat in silence once again right after the bartender finished pouring your drink. In-ho looked at you intently while you stared at your glass, turning it around as the ice clinked with each other along its whiskey.

Somehow, it felt comforting that he was right beside you. You gathered the courage to look up to him, and god, you wished you didn't.

His eyes were full of worry, as if he was on the brink of tears. He took a sip of his whiskey and placed it on the counter, not leaving his eyes on you. You felt his hands cup your face as you surrendered to his touch. You touch his hand as well, bringing it closer to your face as you took a deep breath, feeling more of his touch.

Without a second thought, his lips meet yours as his hands glided to your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your other hand held his arm, gripping on it as if you missed him.

You missed him so much, just as he did. Hell, he missed you more.

He broke away from the kiss, staring at your face as if memorizing it. He tucked your hair away from your face, "Y/N, I'm so sorry."

You pulled his collar and kissed him more, deepening the kiss. You felt him sniff, feeling a tear from his eye glide down your face. His hands were all over you, not caring if everyone sees the both of you.

"I love you."

----

A/N: This is my first fanfic of In-ho ever! I hope you guys like it. Also, I've been obsessed with writing fanfics based on songs, so feel free to request oneshots or series based on songs as someone who's a music lover. 🤗

>> REQUEST HERE

Soap Mactavish Is The New Frank Woods™

Phone wat r u smokin

Y O U  C A N ‘ T  K I L L  M E

CAPTAIN PRICE - CALL OF DUTY

Captain John Price, is a major character in the famous Call of Duty video-game series, and one of the games two main heroes, appearing as an experienced soldier, and a strong leader. The game shows him to be a British soldier who is somewhat compassionate, but can be ruthless at times.

He was well received by critics and fans alike, being listed as the 17th top video game characters of Guinness World Records.

Captain Price appeared in the very first Call of Duty game, an is one of only three characters that have appeared in all 3 ‘Modern Warfare’ games.

Also, in every game developed by Infinity Ward there has been a Captain Price. An I reckon he needs a girlfriend, an suggest Lara Croft the Tomb Raider. 

The character is based upon British S.A.S soldier John McAleese, who was involved in the 1980 Iranian Embassy siege and also co-hosted the television series SAS Survival Secrets in 2003.

The game version in World War 2 was voiced by Michael Gough, who played the butler Alfred in the first 4 Batman films. However in modern settings, Captain John Price is voiced by another English actor Billy Murray.

“The healthy human mind doesn’t wake up in the morning thinking this is its last day on Earth. But I think that’s a luxury, not a curse. To know you’re close to the end is a kind of freedom. Good time to take… inventory. Outgunned. Outnumbered. Out of our minds. On a suicide mission. But the sands and rocks here stained with thousands of years of warfare… they will remember us. For this. Because out of all our vast array of nightmares, this is the one we choose for ourselves. We go forward like a breath exhaled from the Earth. With vigor in our hearts and one goal in sight: We. Will. Kill him”

— Captain Price

Metal Gear Solid Moodboards (1/?) | Kazuhira “Kaz” Miller

“You’ve only got two options. Heaven, or Hell.”