Lovin’ The MW2 Characters So Much I Did A Little Comic Style Version Of Each One! 

‘Even if I have to sacrifice everything’.

CHAPTER 06 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

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----

You focused your gaze on the line in front of you as you await your turn. You felt your stomach grumble a bit, an indication that you were already hungry. You've been so caught up with what's happening in this hellhole that it didn't cross your mind that you needed food. You wished for the food to be good, something nutritious at least. If they were going to let you compete on these games, they might as well at least give you a fulfilling food to prepare you.

The guards hand you a gold, rectangular lunch box and a bottled water. You reached for it, turning your back from the guards as you made your way towards 456's group, who were sitting on the staircase near their self-assigned beds. You had a lot of questions on your mind, especially with why he approached you in the club, and about being the sole winner years ago. You thought it may be a bit bold and abrupt to ask such a traumatizing event, but your gut was telling you to at least ask, to know what was out there.

If he was indeed part of the games back then, he would probably know the next games.

"Ahjussi," you spoke up, earning a glance from 456. You seemed to have interrupted his conversation with player 390. You noticed 456 eyeing your patch, a small smile forming his lips as he saw the X patch. "Do you remember me?"

456, clearly confused, eyed you as if trying to remember you. 390 also shot you a confused look. "I'm sorry, miss. Do we know you?"

You ignored 390, feeling a bit of annoyance as you were talking to 456, not him. 456 seemed to soften his expression as he spoke, "Oh, have we met before?"

"You approached me in the club," you explained. "Then I found you here. Were you looking for something else?"

456 nodded, now remembering. "Ah, yeah I remember," he gave you a reassuring smile, somewhat apologetic. "I'm sorry about that, miss. I was looking for someone else at that time."

"Were you also picked up in the club by these... people?" You motioned your head towards the guards. He nodded, reluctantly meeting your gaze. Just as when you were about to speak again, you heard your stomach grumble.

456 and 390 seemed to hear it, as 390 moved himself and motioned for a space for you to sit. "Oh, you may as well eat with us, miss."

You gave 390 a bow, taking the space beside him. You fixed yourself up as you opened your lunchbox, seeing a good set of rice meal. This was the kind of meal your mother used to make for you back then, a small smile forming your lips as you remember it. At least, there was something comforting in this place, making you remember your mother.

"I don't know about you, but that 20 million wouldn't even cover my interest," 390 said, munching on his food. You noticed 456 staring into space, his expression dark as if he was thinking hard. He didn't bother opening his food. "If we play just one more game..."

"Jung-bae," 456 replied coldly. So, 390's name was Jung-bae, you figured. "Last time I was here, someone said the exact same thing. And in the end, the person died here."

You froze as you took a spoonful of your food to your mouth, slowly eyeing 456. You were correct, you figured only one person can win the total grand prize. There was no way you would make it out here alive.

"Help us then, sir," you looked up and saw Player 001, a crowd of players following him from behind. He kept his gaze to 456, his expression somewhat comforting yet... something. "I pressed the O button because of you. Honestly, I was so scared. I wanted to quit and leave, but you made me think maybe I could just play one more game."

As much as the darkness prevailed in this place, you knew to your gut that he was right. You knew deep inside you that 456 may have wanted to save everyone, stating that he was a winner back then and its consequences of being one. Though the fact that he survived may be a motivation for the others to complete and win the games. The system, not seemingly rigged, was a calculated and precise one.

"Sir," you spoke, the attention turning to you as they waited for you to continue. You felt each eye on you, making you a bit conscious but continued to speak. 456 looked at you, seemingly surprised. "You know which game is next, don't you?"

"That's right," Jung-bae said, putting his food down. "You're a previous winner, so you should know." He moved his face near 456, his question almost a whisper but still loud enough to hear. "What are we playing next?"

456 sighed softly. "The second game was Dalgona."

You heard the bed frame creak from your upper left, seeing a man who continued to eat on his lunch. He bent down a bit, earning the attention of the small crowd you were in. You saw his number, Player 388. "Dalgona? The sugar candy with a shape you can carve out?"

456 nodded. "That's right, we had to choose one of four shapes and carve it out."

You stayed silent as you continued to eat, enjoying the meal despite the commotion around you. You felt Jung-bae move as he positioned himself closer to 456. "Four shapes? Which was the easiest one?"

"Triangle."

"Which was the hardest one?"

"Umbrella."

"Umbrella?" You exclaimed, a bit of rice splashing from your mouth. You quickly covered your mouth, almost choking. You bowed to everyone and apologized. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. So I'm assuming the ones who picked umbrella had no little chance to survive?"

You grabbed your bottle of water as you coughed a bit, trying to calm yourself down. Then, 001 spoke up, the amusement in his expression evident. "Those unlucky bastards must have bitten the dust."

You saw 456 glare at 001 for a bit. You grimaced, thinking maybe 456 chose umbrella last time. You noticed 456 raise an eyebrow but looked away, sighing deeply.

"So, that means we should all just pick triangle," 388 said. "Everyone could probably pass the round."

Player 100 advanced in front, hushing the crowd. "If all 365 of us survive, the prize money won't go up at all. Then we'll have risked our lives again for nothing."

You looked at 100 in disbelief. You couldn't believe how he could think of such, so hungry for money. It added to more to your disgust when you hear the others agree, your thoughts being proven correct again on human greed.

"Listen," 100 whispered. "We should probably keep this information to ourselves. What do you say?" He looked at 001, as if waiting for him to agree. For a brief moment, you saw 001's eyes glance at you. It was so brief that you could miss it in the blink of an eye, but you knew he did.

"We can't do that," 456 retorted, the crowd's silent cheers fading. "I'm telling you this to save everyone's lives. If it's confirmed that the next game is Dalgona, I'm going to tell everyone what I know."

100 only scoffed, turning his back to 456 and walked away, shaking his head in disbelief as he did so. You noticed 001's eyes fixed on 456, as if trying to see his next moves were. You can't help but look at him, his hair pushed down perfectly neat, his eyes holding an emotion you couldn't decipher, his posture composed, opposite to the other players in this room.

001 looked away, his chest heaved as if he took a deep breath. The other players grumbled as they followed 100. The area seemed to be less suffocating as it is, when you decided to speak up again. "What if the games have changed since you won, sir?"

456 shot you a look. In your peripheral vision, you saw 001 look at you. "What do you mean?"

"They said the players are given a new advantage where we could go home and share the accumulated prize money," you explained. "It's a new advantage. I'm assuming in the past game you were in, voting for the games to end will leave you with nothing, is that right?"

456 nodded. You looked at Jung-bae who seemed to consider your words. While 001 kept his eyes on you, listening intently as you analyze the situation.

"They could change the games this time, or every season if they do that," you continued. "We can't be sure that Dalgona would be next."

"She's right," Jung-bae said as he nodded. "They probably know that the previous winner is with us."

You nodded back in agreement. "They have our information, for sure. No one's going to walk out of here with that prize money when someone like you could easily give us information on the new games. In every game, there are rules. One that must be fair and equal for everyone."

You looked at 001, who seemed to be amused with your words, though you could see how he was trying to hide it. You didn't realize how both of you were staring at each other for a minute, only for him to look away and turn his gaze to 456. "May I ask you something?" He sat down near you, feeling your knees brush against his back. "Why did you come back to this place? You said you won and made it out. Then you must've received 45.6 billion." You thought he stopped there, but he continued again. "Did you spend it all?"

"That money doesn't belong to me," 456 said, his tone assertive. "It's blood money for the people who died here." He looked up and pointed at the piggy bank. "The same goes for the money up there."

You felt 001 move his body a bit as you moved your knees away a bit, giving him room to sit back. "It's not like you killed those people, and saving that money won't bring them back to life."

You thinned your lips, the feeling of empathy washing over you as you imagine the lives taken in this place. You were a bit taken aback when you see 456 moving his body near 001, who seemed to hold a tense look in his eyes, filled with frustration. "If you had pressed X, everyone here would've made it out alive."

001 paused, seemingly absorbing his words. You stared at him as he continued to speak, feeling the tension between the two. "That's right, I was the last person to press the O button. But there were more 182 people who chose to stay."

"And there were 182 other people who chose to leave," you muttered, earning a look from 001 in front of you. His eyes stared at you intently, sensing the darkness behind it. You almost regretted speaking, but you couldn't help but retort. As much as you agreed with him, you still held hope that O team would change their minds.

001 didn't seem fazed. In fact, he was able to choose his words carefully. "Let's say, I pressed X and we all left. Would everyone have been happy?" He stated, his tone commanding but determined to make a point. "Do you think if they ran into me later, they'd thank me for saving their lives and tell me they're happy now?" He tilted his head on to you, trying to get an answer from you. You only looked at him sternly, the tension now between the two of you. You clenched your jaw, feeling your heart beat faster through your chest.

Honestly, you didn't know what to say. You never lived a day in poverty, you never felt the need of being in debt nor having to borrow money so you could sustain your needs. If you think about it, you've been risking your life for nothing alongside the other players. You had no place in the game, what more of a purpose? You were simply there for the thrill of it, nothing less, and nothing more. You were set for life, only to throw yourself in this pathetic, deadly situation with the others.

Winning the prize money would grant you nothing. It would just make your bank account accumulate more fortune, but nothing in your life would change at all. You didn't want to admit it to them, but you also didn't want to lose the argument. If you were going to die at this place, you could at least make your stay memorable.

"All right," Jung-bae spoke up, enough to snap you away from your thoughts. "There's no point in placing blame now. You know the saying, a widow understands a widower best." Jung-bae chuckled uncomfortably, trying to somehow ease the tension. "Let's just focus on tomorrow's game okay? He has won all these games before. If we stick together, we'll have nothing to worry about."

"That's right, sirs," the man from your upper left dropped down, turning to face the three of you. "We have to stick together. I'll be with you all the way."

"Who are you?" Jung-bae asked, looking at Player 388.

"I'm Dae-ho. Kang Dae-ho," Dae-ho reached out his hand in attempt to shake Jung-bae's, only to be ignored by him.

You started to space out, still feeling the tension between you and 001. You felt your ego crush a bit, having to lose an argument with him. In all your life, especially in your marketing career, you dominated the industry. You were always ahead of everything, calculating every next move for your plans to work. You worked you way through sales, it's no wonder how your boss promoted you to a higher position, putting his trust into you as their company's percentage continuously goes up, thanks to your help.

001 only proceeded to eat his food, his gaze not leaving you. 456 and Jung-bae turned their attention to Dae-ho, who introduced himself as a former Marine. You stared into space but felt 001's eyes on you. At this point, you started to brace yourself for the next games. You didn't know who he was, what he was capable of. He may remind you of In-ho, but the In-ho you knew would never believe in such a statement that 001 said.

As you finished your food, you chugged on your bottled water. It was a fulfilling meal, at least. You laid back a bit, trying to savor the meal you just had. You almost daydreamed, hoping to get out of this place as soon as possible so you could enjoy more of the meal you just ate.

You jolted in surprise when you heard a loud thud on the ground, seeing 230 beat Myung-gi, along 124. They clearly had no manners, fighting in the middle of meal time. You wished for a guard to come in and stop the two, but they stood still with their guns, letting the commotion continue.

You saw 001 stand up as he brushed Jung-bae and Dae-ho aside, speaking up. "Boys, what are you doing in the middle of mealtime?" He walked towards 230, whose name you heard was Thanos. "No fights during mealtime. There are elders present. Mind your manners."

You looked intently to 001. For a tensed situation as this, his posture remained composed. He looked at Thanos sternly as he continued to speak. "And two against one? Aren't you embarrassed?"

Thanos faced him, eyeing him from up and down as if trying to size him up. He started to walk up to 001, as 124 followed. "You're lecturing me when you ended up in this shithole too?" Thanos scoffed. "Dude, stop running your mouth and take care of your own damn kids."

You could see 001's fist clench, staring darkly to Thanos. Though he didn't flinch as Thanos moved crudely, trying to distract him. 001 tilted his head. "What did you just say?"

Thanos moved closer to 001, eyeing him. "I said save the lecture for your own damn kids."

In just a snap, you let out a gasp as you see 001 grab Thanos by the neck, earning a grunt from him. 124 marched to 001, only to be kicked in the leg by him and kicked him away, leaving 124 groan to the ground.

Thanos seemed to let go from 001's grip, attempting to advance towards 001 to place his fist on to him, only for 001 to duck and punch Thanos on his stomach, earning a groan from him. Thanos raised his hand up but 001 relentlessly twists his arm, his bones cracking as he fell to the ground. 001, seemingly unfazed, kicked him some more.

Thanos stayed on the ground as 001 grabbed his neck, gripping it with his other fist in the air. You stood up, catching more sight of the commotion. You watched as 001's eyes darkened, as if he could break Thanos in a snap. "I'm sorry...." Thanos choked. "Please..."

You noticed 001 charge his fist, then his eyes darted on you, his other hand still gripping Thanos' throat. Your eyes widened, your heart about to burst to your chest. You couldn't but feel shivers down your spine, wondering why he was looking at you as 001 did so. Was he threatening you? Was he trying to prove a point?

One thing's for sure - you didn't want to be on the other end of his hand. There was something dangerous to this man, something deeper than what you see from him right now.

"Let me go..." Thanos begged, his voice starting to strain. 001's eyes slowly softened, letting his grip go, his eyes still on you.

You looked away, not wanting to meet his gaze anymore. You heard the sound of claps and people cheering, but you didn't join them. If anything, you felt your life was in danger. Not because of the games, but how 001 was invested in you, or what seemed to be.

"Ahjussi," you approached 456. "Will it be okay to join your group?"

456 nodded, immediately motioning a space on the bed near him. "Yes, yes. Also," 456 sighed softly. "Call me Gi-hun."

"Gi-hun," you said, a small smile forming your lips. "Thank you. I'm Y/N."

Gi-hun returned your smile, letting you take over the space for you to make yourself comfortable. You heard 001's footsteps approaching, purposely averting your gaze. If there's anything, you needed to survive in this place, so steering clear of 001 could somehow help you.

Yet you couldn't deny the charm he had. As much as you wanted to distance yourself from him, he held his gaze to you that was mixed with curiosity and... longing. Deep inside you, you enjoy the thrill of it, wanting to know more about 001. He reminded you of In-ho, the way he carries himself around the place.

You tucked yourself under the blanket as you notice the other players fixing their beds. In a few hours, lights would be out.

----

"Honey, I'm sorry..." You heard Jung-bae say, his voice drooling as he slept.

You couldn't sleep. Sure, your eyes were closed but you just couldn't fall asleep. You tried counting sheeps, the alphabet, from 1 to 100, but your senses stayed awake.

The lights in dorm were dimmed, the piggy bank with its money shone its light to the room, giving it a warm touch to the room. The lights for X and O shone through the ground. In a few minutes, the lights would be out. Though you wanted to sleep, but your mind didn't want to.

You figured it was just the tension filled in the room as everyone settled on their beds, trying to get some sleep. While some players still chatted with each other, exchanging names and getting to know each other's backstories. You sighed as you heard some of them, hearing how some decided to play to pay for their child's treatment, gambling addiction, got scammed, didn't get their investment back, and so many more. Your heart felt heavy as you listened to their stories, clutching your chest as a sign of empathy.

You heard footsteps approaching near you. You were at the top of the bunk bed, with Gi-hun down you. You looked down for a bit and saw 001, looking at Gi-hun, his face softened this time.

"Excuse me," 001 said, his voice low. "If you're still up, can we have a little talk?"

You felt movement at the bottom, sensing Gi-hun to sit right up. 001 sat on the staircase near Gi-hun. "Sure," you hear Gi-hun say.

You laid back down, trying not to get caught to eavesdrop. You closed your eyes, trying to catch some sleep, but you couldn't help but hear them. "I think I was out of line before. I'd like to apologize," 001 said, his tone soft and sincere this time. "I'm sorry."

"No, that's okay," Gi-hun replied, as if reassuring the latter. "I laid all the blame on you. I was out of line."

You thinned your lips, realizing how Gi-hun could be so nice. As much as you didn't want to trust people in this place, you can't help but feel a sense of trust and hope for Gi-hun. Though for 001, you were still on guard, in case something happens. You couldn't trust someone who could easily grab someone by the throat, almost killing them.

You heard 001 take a deep breath, sighing heavily. This time, his voice held a strain, his vulnerability showing. "My wife is very sick. She has acute cirrhosis. She needs a liver transplant."

You felt your heart drop a bit, kind of hating yourself for it. An unfamiliar feeling washed over you, your emotions debating as it confused you, wondering why you felt this way.

"But when she was going through the tests, we found out she was pregnant," 001 paused, his voice cracking. You couldn't help but peek, turning your head over and saw tears forming in his eyes. "The doctor suggested a termination, but she won't listen. Says she'll give birth even if it kills her."

You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to make sense of his story. You remember the story, seemingly familiar to you.

No, it can't be.

"You see, my wife is stubborn. I've never been able to change her mind about anything. We were struggling to find a donor, and her condition was getting worse," 001 paused for a bit before continuing. "I borrowed as much money as I could, but it still wasn't enough. I was desperate. Then, one of my oldest vendors heard about my situation and offered to help. So, I borrowed money from them. But people saw it as a bribe, and I got fired from my job."

"His wife passed due to a liver failure, or something like that," Jun-ho said, as you opened your mouth in shock. "She was pregnant, noona. Hyung took on a bribe in exchange for his wife's liver transplant, but by the time he came back, she was already gone."

"Where did he go?" You asked Jun-ho, who averted your gaze, his eyes sternly looking into space.

He took a while to answer, his eyes fixed away from you. You put your hand to your mouth, shocked on what you just knew about In-ho. In-ho, who always put others first before himself, the one who saved and comforted you whenever you scratched your knee as you ran down the street, the one who gave you a paper ring.

You looked through your wallet and grabbed the paper ring inserted along your cards, seeing In-ho's handwriting as you unfolded it. There it wrote, "Always and in all ways."

"Always and in all ways," you muttered under your breath. You sat up abruptly, hearing the bed creak a bit. Your eyes widened, your breath hitching as you slowly piece things together, one-by-one.

"I had devoted my entire youth to it. These games were my last hope. I get it. I know what you were trying to say, Mr. 456. What that money represents. But I... I really need that money, even if it's blood money. I need that money..."

A tear fell to your cheek, your heart beating fast as you slowly look down, seeing the man down there as his lips trembled, breaking down.

"...to save my wife and our child," he looked up, staring at the piggy bank. He pressed his lips together, trying to hold his tears back. Then, he looked down, seeing the tears flow to his cheek.

You sniffed, wiping your tears away. Though it was bittersweet to feel happy knowing that you've found In-ho here. You weren't sure if he remembered you, but you hope that even in the slightest, he would. And you were going to make sure of that.

"In-ho..." you whispered, yet you noticed his face slowly looking up to you, his eyes shocked. You wanted to go down there and hold him in your arms. You wanted to tell him you were back for good, and that you're never leaving again.

He heard you. He wouldn't be looking up to you if he didn't. Yet his stare fixed on you, as if he didn't know what to feel. You couldn't tell what his eyes told you, but one thing's for sure, he was surprised. You only gave him a smile and a little wave. You laid back down, turning on the other side as you feel the sleep catching on to you, finally closing your eyes.

Although you couldn't help but see some loopholes in his story. His wife already passed, why was he talking to her in present tense? Something seemed to be going on, as if he had to keep a certain facade. You thought of all the possibilities, but you were too blinded with the happiness that you remembered In-ho, excited for the next day to come.

----

A/N: And sooo, here it is! I'm trying to update as fast as I can so you guys wouldn't wait for too long. I understand the feeling of having to wait a few days before the next chapter comes haha. I'm also thinking of creating a playlist for this series since I listen to music as I write, some of them are based on some songs 😄 Let me know if you want me to create a playlist for this series and I'll have it ready in the next few days. 😅 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 on the next chapter! ✨

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TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001  (p.s. if i forget to tag you, please let me know)

it's 2am in where i live and a video game page decided to post a compilation of the saddest deaths in video game history

one of it consisted of soap mactavish's death yES I AM UGLY CRYING DONT TOUCH ME

CHAPTER 15 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

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

——

The alley was silent, save for the slow dripping of water from a rusted pipe. The flickering neon sign of a half-abandoned pawn shop painted streaks of red across the pavement, casting an eerie glow over the lifeless body slumped against the grimy brick wall.

In-ho crouched down, his gloved fingers skimming the bloodstained fabric of the recruiter’s coat. The wound was deep —  clean but ruthless. The work of someone who knew what they were doing. Someone driven by more than just desperation.

Someone like you.

His jaw tightened. Even in the dim light, he could make out the faint smudges of shoe prints leading away from the scene. The fight hadn’t been long. The recruiter never had a chance. 

In-ho pulled out his phone, pressing it to his ear. “Clean it up,” he ordered, his voice cold and detached. “No traces.”

A curt response from the other end was received, then the line went dead. He pocketed the phone and straightened, his gaze sweeping the empty alleyway. The city was restless tonight— the streets hummed with distant car horns, the murmurs of late-night wanderers. But the shadows told him what he needed to know.

You were close, as if you were a ghost slipping through the cracks of the city, moving unseen, leaving only a trail of destruction in your wake.

He stepped out of the alley, his sharp eyes scanning the streets. Then, he saw her.

Jun-hee.

She stepped out of a nearby gas station’s convenience store, her figure framed against the glow of the automatic doors. She looked exhausted, dark circles smudging beneath her eyes, her hair slightly unkempt. But what caught his attention was the small bundle in her arms, wrapped in soft yellow fabric.

A baby.

His chest tightened. He lingered in the shadows, unseen as she adjusted the child in her arms, murmuring something softly before disappearing into the night. She thinks he was dead, and for the first time in years, that was an advantage.

In-ho remained in the shadows as he turned back to his car, slipping behind the wheel as he started the engine. He didn’t have time for her. He had more important things to find.

You.

The city stretched out before him, endless roads weaving like veins through the darkness. He drove without direction, relying on something deeper than logic — instinct and memory. He took long roads, passed by streets you used to walk, and places you used to go when you wanted to disappear. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, pulse steady but tense.

He knew you were running. But he also knew you were getting tired.

It wasn’t until he turned onto a quieter street, past dimly lit clubs and bars, that he found you. The bar was a rundown hole-in-the-wall. It was the kind of place that reeked of spilled alcohol, cigarette smoke, and bad decisions. Through the rain-streaked windshield, he saw you. Your head was thrown back, half-empty glass in hand, body slumped against the counter in a drunken mess. Even from the car, he recognized that recklessness, the barely contained fire burning in your veins.

In-ho sighed, pushing the door open. Your figure stilled recklessness, your posture feral like a wounded animal ready to lash out at anything that came too close. Your chair had been knocked over, glass shattered to the floor. Two men held you back, gripping your arms as you thrashed, trying to break free. The bartender looked wary, unsure whether to intervene.

“Let go of me!” Your voice was sharp, slurred but venomous.

“Calm down, lady,” one of the men sneered. “before you do something you regret.”

The moment your eyes met In-ho’s, something in it shifted. The rage, the fire— it was still there. But now, it burned with something else. The entire bar fell silent as in-ho stepped forward.

“Let her go,” he ordered. His voice was calm and cold — but final.

The two men hesitated, their grips tightening as they looked him up and down, sizing him up. In-ho rolled his eyes, pulling out a stack of cash, tossing it onto the counter.

“For the damages.”

The bartender’s eyes widened, nodding quickly before the two men finally released you, muttering curses under their breath as they backed away. In-ho stepped closer as your body wavered, your legs unsteady from the alcohol, and before you could fall, his hand caught your arm, steading you.

You flinched, your breath hitching at the touch. You managed to give him a glare despite your legs wobbling. “Let me go.”

He didn’t.

Instead, he guided you towards the exit, his grip firm but careful. The night air was cold against your flushed skin, and you sucked in a breath, trying to gather whatever scraps of sobriety you had left. But before you could twist free from his grasp, he opened the car door and ushered you inside. 

“In-ho,” you murmured, his name falling from your lips like an accusation, more like a plea.

He didn’t answer. He simply closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. You slumped against the seat, eyes hazy, fists clenching at the leather beneath you. As he started the engine, he spared you a glance. “Let’s go.”

The tires rolled over wet pavement, the city lights blurring into streaks of color as he drove. And for the first time in six months, you weren’t running.

The hum of the car engine filled the silence between you, a low vibration that barely reached the surface of your awareness. Your head lolled against the window, the cool glass pressing into your burning skin. You were drunk — far beyond your usual limit — but the fight, the chaos, and the exhaustion had drained what little resistance you had left.

And then there was In-ho.

Sitting there, hands steady on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Not saying a word. Not asking you anything. Just existing beside you, like he had been pulled from some distant memory and placed into the present.

The weight of it settled over your shoulder.

Six months of running, of hiding, of fighting against the inevitability of his presence in your life. Six months of trying to forget him, only to realize that forgetting was impossible. He had burned himself into your bones, branded himself into the very structure of your being, and no amount of running could erase him.

The streetlights outside passed in soft glows, streaks of golden light washing over his face in fleeting moments. You watched him through heavy lids, tracing the sharp cut of his jaw, the shadows beneath his eyes, the way his lips pressed together in a firm line.

He had aged. Not in years, but in burdens. And maybe, just maybe, you were part of that weight.

A bitter chuckle slipped past your lips before you could stop it. In-ho’s gaze flicked toward you for the briefest second, sharp and assessing, before returning to the road. You tilted your head back against the seat, staring up at the car’s ceiling as the alcohol in your system dulled your inhibitions, loosening your tongue.

“You know…” Your voice slurred, thick with exhaustion and liquor. “I thought about killing you too.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he didn’t react.

You laughed, hollow and tired. “I did. I planned it in my head. What I would say and how I would do it. What I would feel when it was over,” you turned your head, meeting his gaze with half-lidded eyes. “But the problem is…”

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat.

The problem was that you couldn’t.

Because despite everything, despite the betrayal, the pain, the war that raged inside you every time you thought of him —  he was still him. The boy who had once picked daisies for you, who gave you the paper ring, who memorized the constellations just so he could tell you stories about the stars, the one who taught you games, who had always found you, no matter how far you ran.

Your breath hitched, your vision blurring. Not from the alcohol, but from something much deeper, much more dangerous.

Your voice broke when you whispered, “I missed you.”

The words landed like a gunshot.

In-ho’s hands clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles going white. His breath faltered just for a moment, but it was enough. Enough for you to know that it hit him, that he had missed you too.

But he didn’t say anything. He just kept driving, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

You let out a soft sigh, a weary exhale as the weight of the night, the exhaustion, the emotions swirled into something too heavy to hold. Your body sagged against the seat, and before you could fight it, your eyelids drifted shut.

The last thing you felt was the car slowing, the warmth of the heater brushing over your skin, and the lingering presence of him. He was silent, unmovable, but he was there.

——

The weight of consciousness settled slowly, like a fog lifting from the shore. Your head throbbed with the unmistakable ache of a hangover, your body sluggish and warm beneath the silk sheets. A familiar scent lingered in the air — clean, crisp, and laced with something deeper, something that made your stomach twist before you even dared to open your eyes.

The air was thick with the distant hum of the ocean, waves crashing in a rhythmic lull. Then it hit you. The room, the sensation, the unsettling deja vu crawling up your spine.

You were back on the island. 

Your eyes shot open, darting across the dimly lit room. The sleek black walls, the opulent yet sterile furnishings, the single glass of water resting on the bedside table. The weight of reality settled in your chest, heavier than the remnants of alcohol in your system. You swallowed, throat parched, reaching for the water with an unsteady hand. The cool liquid did little to ease the heat rising beneath your skin.

Then, the sound of water ceased. The bathroom door clicked open, steam rolling out in thick tendrils, curling into the room like ghosts of the past. Then, In-ho stepped out.

Fresh from the shower, his damp hair clung to his forehead, his expression unreadable, controlled as ever. A dark robe hung loosely over his broad shoulders, barely tied, revealing the lean muscles of his chest, the sharp lines of his collarbones. Water droplets traced slow, lazy paths down his skin, disappearing beneath the fabric that barely clung to his waist.

Your breath hitched. You should have been furious, should have screamed, thrown the glass against the wall, demanded why he had brought you back here of all places. But instead, you sat frozen, pulse hammering against your ribs, fingers gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles turned white.

He didn’t speak at first. He simply stood here, watching you, his dark eyes scanning every inch of you, reading you as easily as he always had. And despite everything — the pain, betrayal, the war waging inside your heart — your body betrayed you.

You hated how easy it was for him to affect you. How, even now, after everything, he still had this power over you. 

“In-ho…” your voice was hoarse, weak, a plea you didn’t mean to make.

He exhaled slowly, stepping forward. The air between you crackled, charged with something dangerous, something inevitable.

“You sad you missed me,” his voice was low and steady, but there was something else laced in it — something raw. “Do you still?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, to spit venom, to remind him of everything he had done. But the words never came. Because he was already there, standing over you, one knee pressing into the mattress as he leaned closer. The heat of his body seared into your skin, even through the thin sheets separating you.

In-ho’s hand found your jaw, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, and you trembled, but not from fear.

“You should hate me,” he murmured, and for the first time in a long time, there was something vulnerable in his expression. “Tell me you do.”

You didn’t.

And when he kissed you, you let him.

The moment his lips met yours, something inside you snapped. Anger, longing, grief, and something deeper — all of it collided as you reached for him, pulling down onto the bed. His robe slipped from his shoulders, pooling around his waist, exposing more of him to your hungry, desperate hands.

This wasn’t about forgiveness. It wasn’t about fixing what had been broken. 

It was about claiming what was left.

And neither of you held back.

His hands roamed around your body as his tongue battled yours, fighting for dominance. His grip was tight, but not enough to hurt you. Though you felt his tongue licking your teeth, earning a moan from you as motioned his body on top of you. He slid your shorts down along with your underwear, pulling away from you to look at the view in front of him as you removed your shirt off, his eyes darkening with lust as he removed your bra.

He spread your legs apart, revealing your wet entrance. He looked into your eyes once more, his eyes asking for consent. You gave him a nod before he pulled himself down, his face down your wetness as he grabbed your legs, putting them over his shoulder, squeezing it. You held your breath and looked up, ready for what was coming next.

His tongue swirled around your clit, much to your pleasure. You couldn’t help but let out a moan, much to his liking as he worked his tongue faster. He entered into you with his tongue, sending more pleasure down your spine, gripping the sheets as you cried. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer against him as his tongue continued, feeling your insides clench.

“In-ho…” You moaned out. “I’m close.”

Just when you were about to, he stopped, earning a whimper from you as he pulled away, looking at you intently as he leaned forward. “I’m not done.”

His lips crashed against yours once again, desperate and hungry, swallowing the soft gasp that escaped you. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, the solid heat of his body pressing into yours. You melted into the kiss, fingers tangling in his damp hair, the scent of clean soap and something distinctly him flooding your senses.

His hands roamed your body like he was relearning every inch of you, like he had spent every second of your absence memorizing what it felt like to hold you. A broken sound escaped your lips as his mouth traced fire down your neck, nipping and soothing, eliciting shivers that curled deep into your stomach. His name slipped past your lips in a breathless plea, and it was all he needed to hear.

In-ho answered with touch, with heat, with devotion. Each movement was reverent, slow yet burning with a passion that threatened to consume you both whole. He slid his bathrobe away, not letting go of you as he bulged his shaft down to your entrance, your wetness making it easy for him to enter. His manhood fit perfectly onto you, his movement careful at first as you adjusted.

His thrusts were slow at first, but you were too impatient. You clung your fingernails to his back, leaning your head forward as you whispered to his ear, “Faster.”

And with that, he thrusted faster. Harder. You felt your breasts jiggle as he noticed, cupping one breast with his hand as he continued to thrust into you and held your waist as if it was a handle. You closed your eyes, feeling the sensation of pleasure around your body only for him to grab your jaw, much to your surprise. “Look at me.”

You didn’t waste time. You open them, locking your eyes with his as you see him look at you with lust all over his face, his breath hitching with low moans. He trusted harder, enough to feel your cervix as he let out a groan, like an animal ready to shed its beast.

“Fuck,” he groaned, continuing his thrust. “You feel so good, baby.” He leaned forward again to kiss you, his tongue battling for dominance as you whimpered through his mouth, much to his pleasure.

He worshipped you, whispered your name like a prayer as if you were something sacred, something he had lost and was afraid to lose again. You felt his grip on your waist tighten, feeling his pulse down much faster this time. You could also feel your insides clench once more as you moaned louder, holding back your climax.

In-ho seemed to sense this as he circled your clit with his finger which made your back arched. “Cum for me.”

The smell of sex and sweat filled the air as you let out a whimper, with In-ho continuing to look at you with lust, biting his lip as you came, but that didn’t stop his thrust into you. Your legs shivered, feeling your insides come with pleasure, the sensitivity of your clit unbearable.

And then, at last, he came into climax, pushing one last thrust onto you enough to reach your cervix, spilling all his cum inside as he let out a moan. His head was motioned upward, closing his eyes as you felt his juices inside you.

You both finally shattered, tangled together beneath the dim light of the room, pleasure washing over you in waves, you realized something else.

No matter how far you ran, how much you tried to fight it —  you would always find your way back to him.

Because despite everything, you belonged to him. And he was yours.

——

The room was silent except for the lingering echoes of your shared breaths, the warmth of his body still seeping into yours. In-ho collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, his skin damp with sweat and satisfaction. The space between you felt heavy — not with regret, nor with shame, but with something deeper, something raw and unspoken.

Your fingers ghosted over your stomach as you lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath. The heat of his presence was everywhere on your skin, in the sheets, in the very air you breathed. You turned your head to look at him, his profile sharp against the dim lighting of the room. His lips were parted, his expression unreadable as his chest slowly rose and fell.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. But then, the question, the one that had been burning inside you, finally escaped your lips.

“Why did you keep looking for me?”

In-ho didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, his fingers reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was softer than you expected, almost hesitant, as if he feared that you would slip away again if he wasn’t careful.

“Because you were never meant to disappear,” he murmured, his voice deep and quiet. His thumb traced along your jawline, a gesture so tender that it sent a shiver down your spine. “I thought I could move on. That you had made your choice, and I had to respect it. But everywhere I went, I saw you. I felt you. You haunted me, even when I tried to forget you.”

His eyes, dark and full of unspoken emotions, searched yours.

“I thought I had lost you forever,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t accept that. No matter where I looked, I always hoped I would find you waiting for me.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You had spent nights watching him from the shadows, knowing he had been looking for you, feeling that same pull but never daring to step forward. You had chosen exile and revenge. And yet, here you were, right where you had sworn never to return.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, until you finally whispered the question that had been haunting you since that day.

“Then why did you shoot me?”

In-ho’s body tensed beside you. His expression didn’t change, but you could see the way his fingers twitched slightly against the sheets.

“You could have killed me,” you continued, your voice barely above a breath. “You pulled the trigger, In-ho. Why?”

His jaw tightened. He exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering toward the ceiling before he finally turned back to you. “I had to,” he said, his voice controlled but laced with something deeper — regret and pain. “They wanted you dead.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t look away. 

“I made a deal,” he continued, his fingers brushing over your wrist, as if grounding himself in your presence. “They saw you as a threat. The only way to prove my loyalty was to eliminate that threat. If I had refused, someone else would have done it. And they wouldn’t have stopped at a single bullet.”

A chill ran down your spine. “So, you—“

“I didn’t kill you,” he said firmly. “I made sure of it. The shot was meant to take you down, nothing more. It was the only way to buy time, to convince them that you were no longer a problem.”

Your fingers curled into the sheets. “And what was I supposed to do? Just lay there and bleed while you carried on with your life?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I was always going to come for you.” His hand slid to your waist, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “They gave me a choice,” he murmured. “Kill you or offer you something more.”

Your heart pounded. “And what was that?”

In-ho exhaled. “A place by my side,” he admitted. “If you had stayed, if you had chosen it… you wouldn’t have had to run.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, though it held no humor. “So, that’s what this was all about,” you muttered. “They wanted me to play their game. And you,” you swallowed, searching his gaze. “You wanted me to accept it.”

In-ho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I wanted you to live,” he corrected. “I still do.”

The weight of his words settled between you, heavy and unshakable. Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then, In-ho sighed and sat up, pulling you with him. “Come,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed. “I want to show you something.”

You hesitated before following, your legs still weak from exhaustion. He led you to a door on the far side of the room, pushing it open. The dim glow of the overhead lights illuminated a walk-in closet, spacious and meticulously organized.

At first, it seemed like nothing out of the ordinary. There were racks of suits in sharp, expensive cuts, neatly pressed dress shirts, an array of polished shoes lining the shelves. Everything was cold and precise, just as you would expect from a man like In-ho.

But then, your eyes drifted to the opposite side of the closet. You let out a small gasp.

It was yours.

Your clothes, perfectly arranged, as if you had never left. Dresses, coats, shoes — all in the styles and colors you used to favor. There were accessories, neatly placed in velvet-lined drawers. Even your perfume, the one scent you had stopped wearing long ago, rested on a mirrored tray as if waiting for you to pick it up again.

You took a shaky step forward, reaching out to touch the fabric of a coat you recognized from years ago. It wasn’t just new clothing, there were things from your past, things you had left behind. Trinkets, personal belongings, reminders of a life you had abandoned.

You turned to In-ho, your hands trembling at your sides. “What… what is this?” You asked.

He stood there, watching you with an expression that was impossible to read. His dark eyes flickered with anticipation. Finally, he spoke. “The organization was impressed,” he said, his voice even and deliberate. “Six months, and no one could find you. Not the recruiters. Not even me.” He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “You made yourself a ghost, slipping through cracks, killing off our men, leaving no trace but whispers in the streets. Do you know how rare that is?”

“They don’t see it as a threat?” You asked cautiously.

“They did,” In-ho admitted, tilting his head slightly. “At first. But then, they saw something else.”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“They saw potential,” he said. “The kind that can’t be trained, can’t be forced. You survived the games. You survived me. And then you disappeared into the world like you were never here.” He let the weight of his words settled before he continued. “So, they decided to make you an offer.”

“What kind of offer?”

In-ho exhaled slowly before stepping forward, closer than before. His hands slipped into his pockets as he studied you, as if gauging your reaction before saying the next words. “They want you to join the upper ranks,” he said. “Not just as another piece in their game, but as one of the overseers.”

Your breath hitched. “The overseers,” you echoed, as if saying the words aloud would make them more real. 

“Yes.”

You searched his face for deception, but there was none. Just the cold, hard truth.

“You want me to accept it.”

In-ho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, fingers brushing against yours, a light touch that sent an unexpected shiver through your spine.

“You have nothing left out there,” he murmured. “You’ve been running for six months. And for what?” His thumb ghosted over your wrist, slow and deliberate. “You belong here.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “I belong nowhere,” you muttered.

“Then make this place yours,” he continued smoothly. “Take the power they’re offering you. No more running. No more hiding. No more being hunted.”

You swallowed hard, his words sinking into your skin like ink spreading through paper. 

For months, you had fought against this, against him, against the very thing he was offering you now. But you had seen the world outside. And all you found there was blood, loneliness, and an endless chase that led nowhere.

This was something else. This was control.

And so, after a long, heavy silence, you lifted your chin and met his gaze. Your lips parted, and the single word that left them sealed your fate. “Fine.”

For the first time in a long time, a ghost of smirk touched In-ho’s lips. “You won’t regret it,” he murmured.

You weren’t so sure about that. But it didn’t matter anymore.

Because once you go in, there’s no turning back.

——

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A/N: The more I write, the more ideas this series gives me. Expect more updates as I have the others drafted already, yay! 😅 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 (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)

Captain Price: “Right… What the hell kind of name is ‘Soap’ eh? How’d a muppet like you pass Selection?”

This belongs to you, sir.

John 'Soap' MacTavish aesthetic

Disclaimer: photos aint mine, only got 'em from pinterest

The end of Modern Warfare 2...

With Soap, with Price, with the pulling the knife out, with the on the run thing-

I just…

Must aquire Modern Warfare Three.

MUST. AQUIRE. NOW.

prologue - just another player. (hwang in-ho x reader)

masterlist | next chapter

A/N: I'm back! Yey! No more sad endings this time, I promise. 😅 Hope you'll like my new series!

----

The night fell in the games like a clenched fist. 

The low hum of the fluorescent lights buzzed inside Hwang In-ho’s skull, matching the stuttering beat of his heart. Blood, slick and sticky, pooled at his side where the jagged edge of a broken bedframe had ripped through his shirt and skin hours ago. He pressed his palm over the wound, more out of instinct than hope.

His wound wasn’t deep enough to kill him yet. But enough to slow him down. And in here, slowing down meant dying. 

The air reeked of sweat, fear, and iron. He leaned back against the freezing metal frame of his bunk, staring blankly across the dormitory where the others lay curled like dying insects, clutching stolen blankets, clutching each other if they had to.

His breathing stayed shallow. Any deeper and the pain would carve a new line through him. He barely noticed it now. Pain was just another part of the architecture—another brick in the wall he'd built around himself the moment he realized survival meant killing something inside.

His body screams to collapse. But he can't afford to listen.

Would it even matter if he survived?

The thought drifted through him, detached, like watching someone else drown through a pane of glass. If he died here, it would be easier. No debts. No shame curling in his gut like a parasite every time he thought about his wife sitting alone in a sterile hospital room.

He closed his eyes briefly, letting the numbness settle deeper. Hope was dangerous here. Softness was lethal. He had clawed and fought to stay alive through the first game, through the second, through the alliances and betrayals that had stripped everyone down to what they really were. And now?

Now he was just a body pressed into a corner, bleeding out slowly, wondering if the prize at the end was even real.

The blood slid down his side in slow rivulets. His fingers tightened reflexively, staunching it, but the strength was leaving him. He shifts, grimacing, dragging himself tighter into the shadow between two bunks. Just another faceless player trying not to die before morning.

Somewhere, a scuffle breaks out. A choked scream. The wet, final thud of a head hitting concrete. In-ho doesn't even flinch.

He can't afford to.

He wonders if this is how dying feels—not sudden, but slow. A gradual loosening from the world, like slipping under deep water where no one can hear you scream.

Maybe tomorrow, he would bleed out during the next game. Maybe he'd die here, alone in the dark.

Maybe, he thought distantly, it wouldn't be a bullet that took him out. Maybe it would be something stupid like an infection. Or bleeding out under the blank, indifferent gaze of a dozen pink-masked guards.

Guards who wouldn’t even flinch.

Guards who didn't see him as anything but a number.

Soft footsteps edged closer through the rows of battered bunk beds. He didn’t bother to open his eyes. If it was another player, they would slit his throat and be done with it. If it were a guard, maybe they would drag him out early. Spare him the indignity of dying like a stray dog in front of the others.

The footsteps stopped in front of him. A shadow falls across him as he squints up at you, someone with a mask and pink uniform blurring at the edges of his swimming vision. 

Your voice was low and close, like a secret pressed against his half-conscious mind. You knelt, against every protocol, and pressed something against his wound with pressure, making it firm and steady.

“If you live,” you whispered. “Don’t forget who you were before they made you fight.”

In-ho’s eyes snapped open, his hand brushing against yours as he tried to make sense of what was happening, on why the hell a guard was speaking to him in this manner. You immediately swat his hand away as you hurriedly tend to his wounds.

For the first time in days, Hwang In-ho felt something splinter deep inside the fortress he had sealed himself into. It wasn’t hope — more of the terrifying possibility that even if he lived, he might not be the same man who started the game. 

----

A/N: I'm so happy to be writing another series again! Squid Game started appearing in my FYP again (and yes, I've watched multiple edits of LBH again 😭). Anyway, we're like almost a month away from the new season of Squid Game, I'm so excited! 😆

As the saying goes... Don't forget to leave a comment in this prologue to be tagged on to the first chapter. :)

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Metal Gear Solid