CHAPTER 04 - Once You Go In, There's No Turning Back (hwang In Ho X Reader)

for the very wonderful esteljune

feel like i want to play MGS once again

CHAPTER 18 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

previous chapter | next chapter

——

The weight of the silence between you was suffocating.

In-ho’s eyes were still locked on you, his gaze unreadable,  his body tense as if he were forcing himself to stay still. Then, his voice cut through the air.

“Since when?”

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into your palms. “I… I don’t know exactly. I started feeling different a few days ago, but I confirmed it last night.”

You noticed In-ho’s jaw tightened. You could feel his mind racing, trying to piece together everything at once, but then his gaze sharpened, something dark flickering in his eyes. “And how does Gi-hun know?”

“He… noticed,” you hesitated. “He’s been watching me. He figured it out before I could even say anything.”

In-ho let out a sharp breath, almost a bitter chuckle. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his entire body becoming rigid, like a man standing on the edge of a breaking dam,

You took a careful step toward him, reaching out as you wanted to close the space between you. “In-ho, please—“

But the moment, your fingertips barely brushed against his sleeve, he jerked away. Without a word, he turned on his heel and stormed towards the exit.

“In-ho!” You called out, moving after him as you followed him down the halls of the facility as he marched toward your private suite. “Please just stop — talk to me!”

But he didn’t even glance back.

Then, the moment he entered the suite, the tension snapped. You barely had time to step inside before he grabbed the first thing within reach — an empty glass on the kitchen counter — and hurled it across the room. The sharp sound of shattering glass echoed against the walls. You flinched, your breath hitching.

But, In-ho wasn’t done. His hands gripped at the edge of the counter, his breath heavy and erratic.

“Where is it?” His voice was low, shaking with barely contained frustration.

Your stomach twisted. “What?”

“The test,” he snapped, his eyes burning into yours. “Where the fuck is it?”

You couldn’t answer. Instead, you felt your body tremble, overwhelmed by the sheer force of emotions crashing over you. In-ho let out a ragged breath, his frustration boiling over as he grabbed a nearby lamp and sent it crashing to the floor. 

Tears welled in your eyes, your chest tightening painfully. “In-ho, stop!” Your voice cracked.

But he wasn’t listening. His hands tore through the room, opening drawers, and shoving things aside as he searched. You felt a sob build in your throat, raw and aching.

Then, he stopped.

Your breath hitched as you watched him reach for your robe, the one you had worn the night before. His hands searched through the fabric, his movements slowing and becoming eerily calm. Then, his fingers curled around something inside the pocket, pulling it out.

The pregnancy test.

The room fell into a deathly silence. You could hear nothing but the shallow rise and fall of your own breathing, the erratic thumping of your heart inside your chest. In-ho just stared at it, but he didn’t move or speak. He just stood there, staring at the little piece of plastic in his hands as if it held the weight of the entire world.

His lips parted, his voice barely above a whisper. “This is real?”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you nodded. His grip tightened around the test, his knuckles turning white. His shoulders trembled, his breath uneven.

You didn’t know what he was thinking. You weren’t sure if he was angry, if he was scared, or if he was mourning the life he had before this moment.

All you knew was that he was breaking in front of you.

In-ho’s grip on the pregnancy test trembled as his shoulders tensed, his breathing continued to be uneven and sharp.

But then, he broke down.

A shuddering breath escaped him, and before you could even react, his knees buckled slightly, forcing him to lean against the nearest wall for support. His fingers curled so tightly around the test that you thought he might break it in half. His head lowered, dark strands of hair falling over his eyes, but you could see the way his entire body trembled, the way his chest heaved as silent sobs wracked through him, the tears slipping down his face.

“I should have been the first know,” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I should have been the first to know about this.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done. His mind drifted farther until his voice was no longer meant for you, but for someone who no longer existed.

In-ho had been running late that day. The hospital corridors felt suffocating, the air sterile and thick with antiseptic. The doctor stood in front of him, a clipboard in hand, a carefully controlled expression on her face.

“We ran more tests,” the doctor said. “And… there’s something else we need to inform you of.”

His stomach twisted. “What is it?”

“She’s pregnant.”

The words crashed over him, stunning him into silence. He felt his heart stutter, his mind scrambling to process and understand it. 

His wife. His love.

But the doctor’s expression remained grim. The weight of reality hit him before she even said the next words. “She didn’t want you to know… yet,” the doctor admitted softly. “She wanted to tell you herself, but… she didn’t get the chance.”

His breath caught in his throat, knowing she didn’t get the chance because she was already sick and slipping away. The time he had left with her was already running out.

In-ho’s breath hitched as he returned to the present, to the cold walls of the Overseer’s suite, to the woman standing before him — the one carrying his child now. 

But it wasn’t his wife this time.

It was you.

The one who had kept this from him. The one who had told Gi-hun before telling him.

“Why… why did I have to hear it from him?” In-ho’s voice cracked, raw with pain as the ache in his chest was unbearable. “Why did you let him figure it out first?”

You understood his pain. You understood why this hurt him so much. But that didn’t mean you weren’t angry.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, your own emotions bubbling to the surface. “That’s what you’re worried about?” Your voice shook, not from sadness, but from pure, simmering rage. “That you weren’t the first to know?”

In-ho flinched.

“You haven’t even asked how I feel, In-ho!” You took a step forward, your anger now burning hot in your veins. “You haven’t asked if I’m okay, if I’m scared, if I—“ your voice cracked, but you pushed forward. “All you care about is that someone else found out before you.”

His eyes widened, guilt washing over his face. “That’s not what I meant—“

“Then what did you mean?” You cut him off, your heart pounding against your ribs. “Because right now, it sounds like you’re more concerned about your own pain than what I’m going through!”

The words hit him like a bullet. He opened his mouth then closed it. For the first time, he had nothing to say. Your breath was heavy, your hands trembling from the sheer weight of your emotions.

In-ho reached for you, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

But you took a step back.

Your voice wavered, but the fire in your eyes didn’t dim. “Do you even hear yourself, In-ho?” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze despite the tightness in your throat. “Do you know how much it hurts to see you care more about when you found out than what this actually means for us?”

You noticed his jaw clenched, but you continued to speak, stepping back as the weight of everything crushed down on your chest.

“If you don’t want this child, just say it.”

In-ho’s entire body stiffened.

“I can live with that,” you continued, your voice thick with emotion. “I can raise this child on my own.”

Frustration bled into his expression, his brows furrowing deeply. “That’s not fair.”

“Now you want to talk about fairness?” You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “You know what’s unfair? It’s unfair that I had to go through this alone because I was scared of how you’d react. It’s unfair that instead of asking if I was okay, you made it about yourself. It’s unfair that I had to hear you break down over the fact that someone else figured it out before you rather than you asking me how I felt about carrying your child.”

In-ho rand a hand through his har, his frustration bubbling over. “You don’t get it, Y/N.”

“No, I do,” you said, your eyes burning as you stared at him. “And maybe that’s the problem.”

A heavy silence fell between you. 

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, you asked the question that had been clawing at your chest for so long. 

“Do you see her when you look at me?”

In-ho stared at you, his breath hitching.

“Is that why you chose me?” Your voice trembled, but you forced yourself to keep going. “Because I remind you of her? Because I happened to walk into your life at the right time? Because I gave you something to hold on to?”

His eyes darkened with hurt. “That’s not—“

“Then prove me wrong.”

He stepped forward, his hands twitching as if he wanted to reach for you. “You’re not her,” his voice was low and insistent. “You never were.”

“Then love me for who I am, not because I remind you of someone you lost.”

“I do,” he said immediately, desperation clinging to every syllable. 

But you didn’t buy it. Your heart ached, your mind spinning, your emotions raw and exposed. And then, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room.

You didn’t stop when In-ho called your name, even when you heard the sound of something slamming behind you, his own frustration boiling over. 

You just kept walking because, at that moment, you weren’t sure if you could bear to look at him anymore.

——

The next few days felt as if the air between you and In-ho had become suffocating, weighed down by everything left unsaid. You fell into an unspoken rhythm of avoidance — one that neither of you openly acknowledged, yet both of you adhered to. 

In the control room, you made sure to keep your focus on the screens, never lingering too long in the same space as him. If he walked in, you found an excuse to leave. If he spoke, you kept your replies clipped and professional, just enough to acknowledge his words without offering anything more.

During meetings, you sat across from him instead of beside him. Whenever he directed questions at you, you answered without looking at him directly. The once seamless coordination between the two of you now felt forced and fragmented.

You had been seeing the facility’s medical team more often — not because you wanted to, but because In-ho had made it happen. You overheard the rders he gave to the guards, low and firm.

“Make sure she gets regular checkups.”

The first time you caught wind of it, irritation burned in your chest. He wouldn’t talk to you, wouldn’t ask how you were feeling, but he was ensuring that you were being monitored.

You could have refused, but you knew better. The guards had their orders and there was no point in arguing with them. So, you endured it. You let the doctors examine you, take your vitals, and run tests — all while resentment simmered beneath your skin.

The nights were even worse. You’ve been sleeping on the couch, much to In-ho’s dismay.

The first night you did it, he stood by the bedroom door, watching you with an unreadable expression. He didn’t say anything or didn’t order you back into bed. But you saw the flicker of something in his eyes, something along the lines of hurt and frustration.

After that, it became a routine.

Every night, you would curl up on the couch and In-ho would hesitate. You could feel his gaze on you, heavy with things he wanted to say but never did. More than once, he lingered in the doorway, debating whether to wake you or at least sit with you. But you always made sure to finish your tasks early, retreating to the couch before he had a chance to do anything. 

The small gestures didn’t stop though. You started to notice the little things.

A warm blanket draped over you when you woke up. Your favorite tea was placed near your work station everyday. A chair subtly pulled out for you before meetings. A selection of nutritious meals appeared on your desk, all tailored for pregnancy.

In-ho never mentioned them or even took credit. But you knew. Yet each time, you dismissed it. 

Because kindness wasn’t what you needed from him right now.

Then one night, everything shifted. You had been working late, caught up in monitoring the latest developments in the games. By the time you finished, exhaustion clung to your limbs like a heavy fog. You made your way back to the private suite, your steps slow, your mind clouded with fatigue. When you pushed open the door, you froze.

In-ho was already there, but he wasn’t in the bedroom.

He was on the couch, his long frame stretched out, one arm draped over his eyes. His breaths were steady and deep, indicating the quiet rhythm of sleep.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him already falling asleep there. For a moment, you just stood there, taking it in. It wasn’t like him to fall asleep outside of bed. He was always composed and controlled. Yet here he was, exhaustion pulling him under in the very place you had chosen to isolate yourself.

And for the first time in days, you wondered if this hurt him just as much as it hurt you.

——

The phone rang twice before a quiet click sounded on the end. Gi-hun leaned against the desk in his private quarters, staring at the closed door as he lowered his voice.

“It’s me.”

A beat of silence. Then, the voice came through, hushed but sharp. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?”

Gi-hun smirked dryly. “I could say the same to you. You’re the one still breathing in their walls.”

A sharp exhale can be heard on the other line. “I don’t have a choice.”

“No,” Gi-hun agreed. “You don’t.” 

The silence between them was thick, stretching over the static hum of the secure line they had managed to establish. A stolen moment in the middle of a war they had yet to declare.

“What do you have for me?”

Gi-hun hesitated. Then, in a voice lower than before, he finally spoke. “She’s pregnant.”

“What?!”

“You heard me,” Gi-hun leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. “He already knows. Things are going to change. We can use this.”

“You’re not going to use her as leverage.”

“I don’t plan to,” Gi-hun muttered. “But you and I both know she complicates things.”

“Gi-hun—“

“Listen,” Gi-hun cut him off, his voice sharp. “I’m not heartless. I’m not going to put her in harm’s way. But don’t act like this doesn’t change everything,” he paused for a moment, then continued. “She’s carrying his child. That’s a weakness whether he admits it or not.”

Another exhale can be heard on the other line as Gi-hun sensed the conflict in it. “I need you to swear to me, Gi-hun. No matter what happens, you don’t kill her.”

Gi-hun closed his eyes. “I swear.”

“They’ve increased security in the lower sectors. I think In-ho knows something is off. We need to move carefully.”

“I know,” Gi-hun’s grip tightened around the phone. “We need proof. Something undeniable. When we strike, it has to be final.”

“Then we wait.”

Gi-hun nodded to himself. “We wait.”

----

The city was suffocating. After months of breathing in the sterile, artificial air of the island, stepping back onto the grimy, bustling streets of Seoul felt almost foreign. The neon lights blurred through the car’s tinted windows, the chatter of pedestrians muffled by the hum of traffic.

Gi-hun sat in the backseat, his gloved fingers gripping the mask resting on his lap.  He hated it, but it got him here. It got him past the organization’s watchful eyes long enough to set things in motion.

The car came to a stop in front of a dimly lit alleyway. He exhaled slowly, reaching for the handle, stepping out into the cold night air. 

Jun-ho was waiting. He was dressed in civilian clothees, the detective lingered near the entrance of an abandoned shop, his cap pulled low over his eyes. The moment he saw Gi-hun, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Thought you were dead,” Jun-ho muttered.

“Thought you were smarter than that,” Gi-hun shot back, stepping closer. His voice was quieter now. “We don’t have much time.”

Jun-ho leaned in, trying to listen.

Gi-hun took a deep breath. “I have a plan.”

Jun-ho raised a brow. “A plan?”

“I need you on the island,” Gi-hun said. “Inside. Getting evidence.”

Jun-ho’s jaw tightened. “You want me to go back? Are you out of your mind?”

“You were there once,” Gi-hun pushed. “You know how things work. I can get you in. But this time, you’re not sneaking around blind.” He leaned in slightly. “This time, we do it right.”

Jun-ho crossed his arms, skepticism clear in his sharp gaze. “And what’s your role in this? You’re their damn Frontman now.”

Gi-hun’s stomach twisted at the title. “I’m playing the long game,” he admitted. “I take orders. I follow protocol. I act like I belong.” He exhaled sharply. “And I wait for the moment we can tear them down from the inside.”

Silence stretched between them as Jun-ho searched his face, looking for any sign of hesitation. “You sure you’re not just becoming one of them?” He finally asked, voice laced with warning.

Gi-hun’s blood ran cold. He knew he wasn’t and he couldn’t. 

But before he could answer, Jun-ho sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “You already have a way to get me in, don’t you?”

Gi-hun nodded.

“Fine,” Jun-ho muttered. “Let’s do this.”

The island was just as Jun-ho remembered as he stood stiffly in the corner of a dimly lit locker room, adjusting the red jumpsuit over his body. The mask in his hands felt heavier than before.

He glanced at the reflective surface of his mask, a hollow, empty shape staring back at him. He was one of them now. Gi-hun stood beside him, already back in his Frontman uniform, the dark mask covering his face.

“This is your only chance,” Gi-hun murmured lowly. “Get what you need. Photos. Documents. Recordings. Anything.”

Jun-ho nodded once, slipping the mask over his face. They stepped into the facility’s endless halls as they made their first step into their plan — taking it all down.

——

previous chapter | next chapter

A/N: What did you think about the turn of events of this series? I'm very excited to see where this series is going. Now, I'm already plotting the epilogue as I've finished drafting the remaining chapters. Please 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 @voxslays @thebluehair23 @coruja12345 @alliyah-ll @spiritualgirly444 (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)

“this is for soap”

i need this man in ways that is concerning to feminism SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE FOR HIM IM WAITING PATIENTLY😭😭

Modern Warfare 2 - The Gulag

petals of white, cover fields flowing in grieving tears.

ship in a nutshell lmao

"On your feet soldier, we are leaving!"

“These are the things I will pass on. That’s what I live for.”