This Series Just Keeps Getting More And More Interesting. I’m Curious Of The Aftermath Now That Hongjoong

𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎

𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙳𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝙱𝚢 𝙿𝟷𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚢 "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚁𝚊 𝚝𝚊 𝚝𝚊 𝚝𝚊, 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗"

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚗 𝙰𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝙻𝚎𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎

𓆉 𝙿𝚒𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜: 𝙾𝚗𝚎

𓆉 𝙿𝚒𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜: 𝚃𝚠𝚘 𓆉 𝙿𝚒𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜: 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𓆉 𝙿𝚒𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜: 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 𓆉 𝙿𝚒𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜: 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎 𓆉 𝙿𝚒𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜: 𝚂𝚒𝚡 𓆉 𝙿𝚒𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙿𝚒𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜: 𝙴𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𓆉 𝙿𝚒𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜: 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎 𓆉 𝙿𝚒𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜: 𝚃𝚎𝚗

me typing out in every chapter that I hate any character that is just trying to ruin reader and hongjoong’s relationship isn’t enough…I need a weapon of massive destruction because what the fuck?!?

I’m not figuratively losing my mind. I am literally losing my mind. The more I read the worst it just gets like I need them to just talk and stop saying things to make things worse when you got three different people jumping to ruin your life.

I need reader and hongjoong to talk and make up, not just kiss or avoid cause I can’t. I already know that something else is gonna happen next chapter.

I enjoyed the chapter despite me losing my mind while reading it, keep up the amazing work! <3

Popular, Boy

☆09: The first heartbreak.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader

Genre: +18, smut, angst, slow burn, drama, dark academic, love triangle.

wc: 10k

Summary: Jealousy lingers, tension rises, and the distance grows. Words are left usnsaid, excuses pile up, emotions spiral pit of control, and one thing becomes clear...

Some things, once broken, can never be the same.

Warnings: Cursing, angst, insecurities, verbal fights, violence, Hongjoong being possessive, Seonghwa being an asshole, and Mike being Mike.

Series masterlist Taglist

☆08 ☆10: The first wound. Coming soon.

It’s been a week.

A week of Hongjoong treating you just the same. He still kisses you good morning when he sees you, still takes your hand in his like it belongs there, still calls you pretty in that soft, teasing tone that makes your stomach flutter.

And yet—

Every time you ask him to hang out after school, he gives you the same answer.

"I can't, I'm busy."

"Not today, maybe later."

"I'll make it up to you, pretty. I promise."

It’s starting to feel strange.

At first, you brushed it off. Hongjoong wasn’t the type to reject you. He’d always been eager to be around you, eager to do anything you wanted. But now, it’s been a whole week since you’ve spent any time alone after school.

And not just you—other people have noticed it too.

"Okay, what’s up with Hongjoong, babe?" Mindy asks as you walk down the hallway between classes.

You raise an eyebrow "What do you mean?"

Samantha gives you a look "He’s been all over you during school, but the second you ask him to do something after, he bails. That’s weird."

You tense, because that’s exactly what you’ve been thinking. But hearing someone else say it?

It makes your stomach twist.

"You don’t think…" Wooyoung hesitates beside you, lowering his voice "You don’t think the rumor is true, do you?"

You stop walking, slowly turn to face them.

"That’s ridiculous."

Sam shrugs "I mean… is it?"

Woo lifts his hands in surrender "We’re just saying, babydoll—if he really likes you, why does he keep avoiding you outside of school?"

Your grip on your bag tightens. Because you've been asking yourself the same thing.

If Hongjoong really just wanted to sleep with you and leave, then why does he still act like this?

Why does he still kiss you so sweetly?

Why does he still hold your hand like it means something?

Why does he still look at you like you’re the only thing that matters? And then avoid you the moment the bell rings?

You hate that this stupid rumor is getting to you. You hate that you’re even considering it.

But doubt has already settled into your chest like a cold, unwelcome weight. And you have a feeling it’s not going away anytime soon.

During lunch, you sit alone at your usual table, waiting for your friends and Hongjoong to join you after you skipped class.

The cafeteria is buzzing with noise when you feel someone slide into the seat beside you.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

You don’t need to look to know who it is.

Seonghwa.

You exhale sharply, eyes still glued to your untouched lunch.

"I'm fine."

"Well, you don’t look fine."

You finally turn your head to him. He’s giving you that soft, concerned expression—the one that used to mean something before you learned how easily he could lie through his teeth.

"I’m just tired, Hwa." You mutter.

Seonghwa hums, resting his chin on his palm "Is it because of Hongjoong?"

You tense "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

He chuckles, low and knowing "Come on, Clarke. People are talking. He’s all over you in school, but the moment you ask for his time, he disappears? That’s not normal."

You swallow the lump in your throat "He’s just busy."

Hwa tilts his head, studying you "And you believe that?"

A sharp breath escapes you "You know what, Park? You’re annoying as fuck."

He smirks "Maybe. But I’m also right."

You glare at him.

"You know," He continues, picking at a fry from your tray "For a second, I thought maybe that nerd really liked you. But now? I don’t know, doll. It kind of seems like he got what he wanted and dipped."

Your blood turns cold.

He leans in, voice just above a whisper "And if that’s the case… I hate to say it, baby, but you got played."

You shove your tray forward, standing so abruptly your chair screeches against the floor.

"Go fuck yourself, Seonghwa."

You don’t wait for his response before storming off.

But his words stick to you like poison.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The dining room is silent, except for the quiet clinking of silverware against porcelain plates. The long table is set perfectly, as always—white candles flickering, an expensive floral centerpiece in the middle, the warm glow of the chandelier above casting soft shadows across the polished wood.

You aren't really hungry.

Your mind is elsewhere, your appetite dulled by the same thought that’s been gnawing at you all day.

Hongjoong is avoiding you.

‘If he really likes you, why does he keep avoiding you outside of school?’

‘I hate to say it, babe, but you got played.’

Wooyoung’s and Seonghwa’s words echo in your mind like a curse, sinking into every doubt you tried to suppress.

"Sweetie," Your mother’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You look up, blinking, to find your mother watching you carefully over her wine glass "How’s Hongjoong?" She asks casually before taking a sip.

"He 's fine."

Your mother hums "He hasn’t come over in a while. I assumed you two were spending all your time together."

You force a smile "He’s just been busy."

At the other end of the table, Mike lets out a quiet chuckle.

Your entire body tenses, you don't have to look at him to feel the amusement radiating off of him.

"Busy?" Mike repeats, voice dripping with mockery "That’s an interesting choice of words."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

Mike leans back in his chair, spinning his wine glass between his fingers lazily.

"I don’t know. Just seems odd, doesn’t it?" He glances at their mother “Hongjoong’s been practically obsessed with you, and now, after finally getting what he wanted, he’s suddenly too busy?"

Your grip on her fork tightens.

Why the fuck is everyone saying the same?

Assuming that Hongjoong will leave you after getting what he wanted… but what did he get?

Your attention, designer clothes, your heart, sex?

What?

"Mike," Your father warns, but there’s no real weight to it. He’s curious, too.

Mike smirks, tilting his head as he looks at you "It makes me wonder—was it really about you, or just about what you could give him?"

Your chest tightens. You hate that his words hit a nerve because you agreed to help Hongjoong become popular.

You told him you’d make him into someone that people would admire, someone who belonged at the top.

But now—things were different.

Hongjoong wasn’t just someone you were molding anymore. You were starting something real.

At least… you thought you were.

Mike watches you carefully, his smirk widening like he can see the doubt creeping into you.

"Don’t look so upset, YN. It’s nothing personal." He takes a slow sip of wine, then adds, "It’s just how people like him work."

You set the fork down with more force than necessary.

"People like him?"

He shrugs "Poor, desperate, climbers."

Your blood boils at the way he says it "Joong isn’t like that." You snap.

Mike raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your reaction.

"No?" He gestures toward you "Then why hasn’t he made time for you?"

You don't answer because you don't know. You want to believe that Hongjoong is just busy. That there’s an explanation for all of this.

But with Mike’s voice slithering into your head, twisting your insecurities like a knife, you feel something dangerous take root inside you…

Doubt.

✮ ⋆

The night air is crisp when you step onto the balcony outside your room. The estate’s vast garden stretches below, bathed in moonlight, but you barely notice.

Your mind is somewhere else.

Mike’s words still linger, pressing against your chest like a weight you can’t shake off.

You pull out your phone. Your thumb hovers over Hongjoong’s chat.

You want to ask. Where have you been? Why don’t you want to see me after school? But the words won’t come.

Instead, you type something simpler.

YN♡: Hey, are you awake?

It takes a minute before he replies.

Joongie♡: Yeah. What’s up, pretty?

You exhale. He answers your texts just as quickly as always. So why does it feel like something is wrong?

YN♡: I just wanted to talk with you.

A second later, your phone vibrates with an incoming call.

You hesitate—just for a moment—before answering.

“Hi, pretty.” Hongjoong’s voice is warm, soft. The way it always is when he talks to you.

You lean against the balcony railing, closing your eyes.

“Hi.”

“Why are you up so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

He chuckles “Touché.”

There’s a small pause, filled only by the sound of his breathing. Normally, you’d find it comforting. Tonight, it just makes the space between you feel bigger.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks.

You could ask. You should ask. But something stops you.

Because if he lies—if he feeds you some excuse—you’re not sure you can handle it.

So instead, you say, “Yeah. Just couldn’t sleep.”

Hongjoong hums not convinced “Want me to tell you a bedtime story?”

You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips “What are you, my personal audiobook now?”

“Hey, I’d make a great one,” He teases “You could fall asleep to the sound of my voice every night.”

Your smile falters. He says things like this so easily. Like nothing’s wrong.

Like he’s not avoiding you.

You grip the phone tighter “Joong.”

“Yes, pretty?”

You open your mouth. Then—A distant voice echoes through the speaker. A girl’s voice.

“Kim, can you help me?!”

Your heart stops, fingers tighten around the phone as you process what you just heard.

He isn’t home.

He isn’t alone.

Your mind spins. It’s late—why is there a girl with him this late? Where is he?

Hongjoong’s voice comes back, a little hurried “Uh—yeah, give me a sec! YN?” He says, like he’s waiting for you to say something.

But you force yourself to sound normal “You should go.”

There’s a pause “Are you sure?”

You swallow past the lump in your throat “Yeah. Goodnight, Hongjoong.”

“…Goodnight, pretty.”

You hang up before you can second-guess it.

Your phone drops to your side, knuckles white as you grip it.

For the first time since the rumor started, you feel something snap inside you.

And this time… you don't know if you can ignore it.

✮ ⋆

Hongjoong puts his phone beside him, exhaling as he leans against the counter. His conversation with you lingers in his mind, the edge in your voice making his stomach twist. He hates lying to you.

But what other choice does he have?

As he grabs a clean glass, Jina, his coworker, walks up to the counter, wiping down a tray. Her long brown hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, her uniform slightly adjusted to fit her style.

She glances over at him, eyes flicking to his phone resting on the counter.

For a brief moment, she pauses. Then, she leans in a little closer, noticing the wallpaper on his phone—an image of a gorgeous girl. This girl looks effortlessly perfect, radiating confidence and beauty, the kind of girl who seems out of place in Hongjoong's world.

Hongjoong’s worn-out, baggy clothes, glasses and his simple, grounded life don't compare to the polished, glamorous figure staring back from his screen.

Jina raises an eyebrow, has she seen that girl before or is she mistaking her for someone else?

She shrugs, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips "Who's that?" She asks casually, her voice light, but there's a hint of curiosity.

Hongjoong tenses slightly, not expecting her to notice and not wanting to share his private life.

“She 's YN.”

Jina tilts her head slightly, the smirk on her lips not fading.

"YN, huh?" She repeats, swirling the rag in her hands before tossing it onto the tray "Didn’t take you for the type to go for a girl like that."

Hongjoong frowns, glancing at her "Like what?"

She shrugs, turning to grab a fresh glass from the shelf, her movements slow, deliberate.

"You know…" Her voice is laced with something unreadable, something almost amused. "The kind of girl who looks like she belongs in a magazine. All dolled up, walking like the world owes her something. The kind of girl who—" She pauses, tapping her nails against the glass before giving him a quick, sideways glance "—doesn’t usually go for guys like you."

His jaw clenches. He shouldn’t let it get to him, but the way she says it, like it’s a fact written in stone, makes his chest tighten.

"You don’t know her."

Jina hums, as if considering that, before flashing him a small, knowing smile

"Maybe. But I know her type."

Hongjoong doesn’t answer. He doesn’t trust himself too. Because deep down, buried under everything, isn’t that the same doubt that’s been creeping into his own thoughts?

That you are too good, too untouchable, too far from his reality?

Hongjoong frowns, not liking her tone “She’s not like that.”

Jina laughs under her breath, shaking her head “Come on, Kim. Girls like her don’t go for guys like you unless they’re bored.”

His grip on the glass tightens, a flicker of irritation sparking in his chest.

“Again, you don’t know her.”

“Maybe not,” Jina says again, feigning innocence as she picks up another tray, wiping it down slowly “But I do know how girls like that work. They play with people, keep them around as long as it’s entertaining, then drop them the second they get tired. It’s all just a game to them.”

Hongjoong exhales sharply, shaking his head “YN isn’t like that,” He insists, but there’s a tightness in his throat, a sliver of doubt trying to creep in.

Jina shrugs, unbothered “Is your girlfriend or why are you defending her so much?” She asks, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Hongjoong hesitates before answering "Not exactly," He admits, trying to keep it vague. "We're... something."

She snorts softly, setting the tray down with a thud "Something? Sounds complicated."

He shrugs, pretending not to care "It's not."

Jina steps a little closer, leaning her hip against the counter beside him.

"Let me guess," She says, crossing her arms and eyeing him carefully "She likes the idea of you, but not the reality of you. You know, the type that wants the thrill of the ‘nerd having a crush over a pretty girl’ fantasy but would never actually stick around once the excitement fades."

Hongjoong's frown deepens, his grip tightening slightly on the glass.

"That's not true, Jina." He says, his voice firm, but there's a subtle crack in his confidence.

Jina chuckles softly, looking back at the wallpaper one more time.

"I don't know," She says, tapping her finger against the counter "But from the looks of it, seems like the kind of girl who wouldn’t stick around for long. And guys like you, working here every day, still stuck in the same routine while she’s off in her perfect little world... Doesn't exactly scream 'serious relationship,' does it?"

His jaw tightens, the sting of her words settling deep inside him.

"It's not like that."

"Mmm." She hums again, unconvinced "Whatever you say, Kim. But if I were you, I'd be careful. Girls like YN? They love the idea of being with someone different—until they don’t. And when they’re done playing? They move on like you never existed."

Hongjoong swallows hard, trying to push down the creeping doubt. He doesn't believe that about you. He knows you care about him. But the nagging thought, planted by Jina's words, continues to worm its way into his mind.

Noticing his silence, Jina gives him one last look, her eyes flicking back to his phone screen.

"Well," She adds with a knowing smile "It looks like she's the kind of girl who's way out of your league. The relationship between a girl like her and a guy like you—it's almost a joke."

Hongjoong feels a flush of heat rise to his cheeks, but he quickly forces a chuckle, pretending her words don't affect him.

"You don't even know her." He mutters, trying to deflect.

Jina just shrugs with a smirk "I don't need to know her. I can tell for the way she looks." She tosses the cloth she was holding onto the counter and stretches, clearly pleased with herself.

"Anyway, you should let me know if you ever get tired of being her little experiment."

But there’s something knowing in her eyes, something unreadable in her smirk as she steps away, leaving Hongjoong alone with his thoughts.

And for the first time in a long time, he feels unsettled.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The school hallways buzz with energy, students laughing, gossiping, moving in clusters between classes. Hongjoong walks through the crowd, hands shoved into his pockets, his backpack hanging off one shoulder.

He’s exhausted—his body still adjusting to the extra hours at work, the sleepless nights, the weight of hiding it all from you.

But then, he sees you. And his exhaustion is momentarily forgotten.

You’re leaning against your locker, laughing, your head tilted slightly back. The kind of laugh that makes your eyes shine, the kind that used to be reserved for only him. But it’s not him making you laugh.

It 's Park Seonghwa.

He’s standing close—too close. One hand resting on the locker beside your head, his body angled toward you with that effortless confidence, like he knows he belongs there.

He says something, and you roll your eyes, but there’s a smirk on your lips, the kind that invites more teasing.

Hongjoong watches as Seonghwa reaches out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch lingers, casual yet intimate.

Familiar.

His stomach tightens. Jina’s voice echoes in his mind: ‘The kind of girl who doesn’t usually go for guys like you.’

He clenches his fists.

This isn’t new. This is how things were before—before he became anything more than the nerd who followed you around like a lost puppy. Before he touched you, kissed you, had you beneath him, whispering his name like he was your whole world.

But looking at you now, he wonders if anything really changed.

Seonghwa grins, tilting his head as he murmurs something in your ear, his lips dangerously close to your skin. You swat his arm, laughing again, but you don’t push him away.

Hongjoong swallows hard, his throat dry.

Maybe Jina is right.

Maybe you are too good for him.

Maybe you’re just playing with him—like Seonghwa, like everyone else in your world does.

He forces himself to look away, to keep walking, to pretend he doesn’t care. But the doubt, the insecurity, the awful, twisting feeling in his chest—it stays.

He should walk away.

He should ignore the way Seonghwa leans into you, the way his hand casually lingers on your waist like it belongs there, the way you smirk at whatever teasing remark he just made.

But he can’t.

Because it’s you.

And you’re his now.

So instead of walking away, Hongjoong turns on his heel and heads straight for you.

Hwa notices him first. His smirk widens, eyes gleaming with something almost amused. He doesn’t move, doesn’t put any distance between you and him.

If anything, he shifts, just slightly—making sure Hongjoong sees exactly how close he is to you.

Hongjoong’s clenches his jaw “Hey, pretty.” His voice is casual, but there’s a possessive edge beneath it.

He slips his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. It’s a bold move—one he wouldn’t have dared to make before—but now?

Now, he needs to make sure Park Seonnghwa knows.

Your eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t pull away. Instead, a slow smile tugs at your lips as you glance up at him.

“Hey, Joong.”

Hongjoong presses a quick kiss to your temple, locking eyes with Seonghwa as he does it.

Hwa raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained “Well, well. Someone’s feeling brave today.”

You sigh, placing a hand on Hongjoong’s chest before this turns into something annoying.

“Stop it, Hwa.”

“What? I’m just saying.” Seonghwa tilts his head, pretending to examine Hongjoong “Didn’t know you had it in you, nerd. Guess I underestimated you.”

Hongjoong keeps his expression blank, but his grip on you tightens.

“Guess you did.”

For a moment, the tension lingers—Seonghwa’s smirk unwavering, Hongjoong standing his ground, you caught between the two of them.

And then Seonghwa just laughs. He claps Hongjoong’s shoulder like they’re best friends.

“Relax, man. I’m just messing with you.” He glances at you, his grin turning softer, more genuine “She’s all yours… for now.”

Hongjoong stiffens at the last part, but before he can say anything, Seonghwa winks at you and strolls away, hands in his pockets like he owns the damn hallway.

You sigh “You’re so easy to tease, babe.”

He ignores that “You let him touch you too much.”

You smirk “Are you jealous, Joongie?”

He scoffs, pulling you closer “I don’t like when other guys act like that with you.”

Your heart skips a beat.

Fuck.

Before you can respond, a movement catches Hongjoong’s eye. Across the hallway, standing by the lockers, Dann watches.

She looks away quickly, but not before he catches the sadness flickering across her face. She’s not smirking, not plotting, not whispering to anyone. Just standing there, staring at him like she’s watching something slip away.

Hongjoong swallows hard, guilt stirring in his chest.

But then you pull him back to you, your fingers playing with the collar of his blazer like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and just like that—he forgets all about Dann.

He watches as you tilt your head up, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

“Are you jealous, Joongie?”

He should deny it. Act unbothered. Pretend Seonghwa’s hands on you didn’t make his blood boil.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist and leans in so his lips are just a breath away from yours.

“You’re mine, pretty.” He murmurs.

And then—he kisses you.

It’s not rushed or desperate, but there’s something firm about it, something that makes it clear to everyone watching that this isn’t just a game to him.

That you aren’t just some passing thrill like the stupid rumor says.

You hum against his lips, smiling as you kiss him back, your arms looping lazily around his neck.

And across the hallway, Dann watches.

Watches as you melt into him.

Watches as Hongjoong—her Joong, the one who used to only care about being popular, about her opinion, about their stupid, nerdy friendship—acts like nothing else matters except you.

Her hands curl into fists. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until the kiss ends and you laugh, pushing Hongjoong away playfully.

That’s when she looks down.

That’s when she finally walks away.

✮ ⋆

Later, at lunch. You poke at your salad, not really eating, watching Hongjoong as he scrolls through his phone between bites.

You should be enjoying this.

A week ago, you wouldn’t have even imagined having him beside you like this—sitting so close, stealing bites from your plate, his knee brushing against yours under the table.

But something feels… off.

Because you’re always with him—except when it matters.

You exhale, setting your fork down “Wanna do something after school?”

Hongjoong barely looks up “Can’t.”

You frown “Again?”

“I’ll make it up to you, pretty,” He says, flashing that sweet, nerdy smile that used to make you melt “Promise.”

You roll your eyes, unimpressed “That’s what you said yesterday.”

Hongjoong falters “I—”

“And the day before that, and last week.” You add, tilting your head.

He swallows, clearly guilty, but still, he doesn’t explain.

Just like always.

You huff, pushing your tray aside “Forget it.”

And this time, he doesn’t have a response.

Because you both know—this isn’t just about today.

This is becoming a routine.

And you’re starting to hate it.

✮ ⋆

That afternoon your house is rarely quiet.

Too quiet.

It’s late, and you’re curled up on the living room couch, a book in your hands—one Hongjoong recommended to you weeks ago. You never planned on reading it, but now that he’s been too busy to spend time with you, you find yourself clinging to the little things that remind you of him.

Mike is here too, sitting in one of the armchairs across from you, flipping through a book of his own. For a moment, there’s peace and not the constant bickering—just the soft rustle of pages turning.

Then, it shatters.

"Darling."

Your father’s sharp voice cuts through the air. You tense, lowering the book just as he strides into the room, his phone in hand. There’s something about the way he looks at you—cold, expectant, already disappointed—that makes your stomach tighten.

"You mind explaining this?" He holds up his phone "I just received a notification that you spent five hundred thousand dollars this month, again."

Your grip on the book tightens. Your heart pounds, but your face remains unreadable. You already know what this is about.

The money you sent to someone.

But you can’t tell him that.

So, you lie. Easily. Effortlessly.

"Clothes," You say, flipping a page in your book like this conversation is beneath you "I bought some pretty things."

Your father exhales sharply, his irritation evident. "YN—"

"I am YN Clarke, am I not?" You interrupt, looking up at him with a slow, sharp smile "It would be a disgrace if I didn't spend money like one."

Your father clenches his jaw "And I'm not complaining about you spending money, just try to use it for other purposes instead of buying clothes, you already have so many, Darling and—"

"Do I have to ask permission to spend it now?" You cut in, voice smooth but icy.

Your father glares at you. Then exhales, shaking his head like you’re hopeless. Like you’re not even worth the effort.

"You act just like your mother," He mutters under his breath.

And then—

Laughter.

Slow, cruel, mocking.

Mike leans against the couch, watching with amusement.

"That’s an insult to Mother," He says, a smirk curling his lips "At least she knows when to keep her mouth shut."

Your blood runs cold.

“Mike.” Your father warns him.

You can feel Mike’s eyes on you, waiting for a reaction.

But you won’t give him one.

Not now. Not ever.

So you lean back, pick up your book again, and turn the page like nothing ever happened.

But inside?

Inside, you are burning.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You stare at your phone, fingers gripping it tightly.

No message. No call. Nothing.

Hongjoong hadn't shown up at school. Again.

The first time, he had at least texted you. But today? Silence.

You tried to ignore it. Pretend it didn’t bother you. But as the hours dragged on and your messages remained unread, irritation started brewing into something heavier—something that felt a lot like doubt.

By the time school ended, you had already made up your mind.

You got into your car and drove straight to his house.

Hongjoong was still asleep when the loud, persistent knocking dragged him out of unconsciousness.

He groans, rubbing his eyes as he reaches for his phone—only to realize it’s dead. The knocking comes again, more insistent this time.

Dragging himself out of bed, still half-dazed, he stumbles toward the door and cracks it open.

Then, he freezes.

You stand there, arms crossed, looking every bit like a queen ready to tear someone apart.

“Pretty?” His voice is groggy, confused.

You push past him into the house without waiting for an invitation.

“So you are alive,” You say flatly, glancing around the dimly lit room before turning to face him “Great. Now tell me why the hell you didn’t show up at school or bother to text me.”

Hongjoong runs a hand through his messy hair, still processing everything.

“My phone died,” He mutters “I— I was just really tired. I didn’t mean to—”

You scoff, cutting him off “Tired? That’s your excuse?”

He blinks “I mean… yeah?”

You let out a sharp laugh “Right. You were so tired that you just forgot I existed?”

His frown deepens “YN, it’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like?” You snap, stepping closer “Because lately, all you do is act sweet one second and avoid me the next.”

Hongjoong exhales, already feeling the weight of this conversation pressing down on him.

“I’m not avoiding you.”

You arch a brow “Then why haven’t we hung out in weeks? Why do you always say no when I ask you to do something? And why didn’t you at least tell me you weren’t coming to school today?”

Hongjoong clenches his jaw. He knows you are right. But the truth—the fact that he is drowning under stress, exhaustion, and the pressure of keeping his job a secret—feels too heavy to explain.

“I just have… a lot going on.” He mutters.

You fold your arms tighter “Oh, so you do have time for something. Just not for me.”

“That’s not fair, pretty…” He says, frustration creeping into his tone.

“Isn’t it?” Your voice is sharper now, hurt lacing every word “Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell looks like I was just some game to you.”

Hongjoong’s breath hitches “What?”

“Was that the plan all along? Get close to me, let me make you popular, and then just… pull away once you get what you wanted?”

His stomach twists “You don’t actually believe that rumor.”

“Then tell me what I’m supposed to believe, Hongjoong! Because I stood up for you. I risked my reputation for you. And now, when I finally feel like we are something, you start acting like this!”

He inhales sharply, his patience thinning “YN, not everything is about you!”

Silence.

The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Your expression barely changes, but he sees the way your fingers twitch, the way your lips pressed together—like you had just been slapped.

You let out a bitter laugh “Right.”

Hongjoong steps forward “I didn’t mean it like that, pretty. I just—”

“No, you’re right,” You cut him off, voice eerily calm “It’s not about me. Because if it were, you’d actually trust me enough to tell me what’s going on instead of shutting me out.”

He opened his mouth, but no words came.

Because you are right.

You shake your head, taking a step back “You know what? Forget it. I’m done begging for your time.”

Hongjoong panics, reaching for your wrist “Pretty, wait—”

You yank your arm away “Don’t.”

And for the first time, you are the one walking away. You don’t slam the door when you leave, you don’t need to.

The silence you leave behind is loud enough.

When you close your car door, you grab your cell phone and open the group chat with your close friends.

YN: Let's go to our club.

YN: Take whoever you want.

✮ ⋆

The music pulses through the club, a deep, rhythmic beat that vibrates through your bones. Neon lights flash in erratic patterns, casting the room in a kaleidoscope of colors.

You tilt your head back, allowing the intoxicating energy of the night to drown out the anger and frustration that had been eating at you all day.

Screw Hongjoong. Screw everything.

You sip your drink, the alcohol warming your throat as you lean against the plush VIP lounge. Wooyoung had come through, bringing some of his friends, including Seonghwa, who sits comfortably beside you, his usual smirk firmly in place.

“You look like you need this, babydoll.” Wooyoung says, nudging your side with a grin “Forget about that idiot for a night.”

You exhale sharply, taking another sip before raising your glass in mock celebration.

“Here’s to forgetting.”

The night wore on, and the drinks kept flowing. At some point, someone passed around a joint of weed, and without thinking, you took a hit of weed.

The world softened around the edges, the beats of the music sinking deeper into your bloodstream. You laughed, tilting your head back, your body loose, your worries fading.

Seonghwa watches you carefully from the corner of his eye, sipping his drink with calculated patience.

Then, as you giggle and lean into Wooyoung’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded, he pulls out his phone. With the quick flick of his fingers, he captured a short video—You laughing, pupils blown, and the telltale smoke curling from your lips. The joint is very visible to guess what it is about.

Perfect.

Discreetly, he sent the video to Dann, along with a simple message.

P.S: Show this to Mike. He’ll know what to do.

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Hwa sat back, watching as you swayed to the music, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing just outside your high.

Tonight was only the beginning.

✮ ⋆

As you stumble into the mansion, the world around you feels hazy, a lingering effect of the alcohol and whatever else you had consumed at the club. Your heels click unevenly against the polished marble floor, your head spinning slightly as you make your way up the grand staircase.

It’s late. Very late. The entire house is silent, draped in shadows. You don't even bother being quiet—your parents never wait up for you, and the staff know better than to question your comings and goings.

But the moment you push open your bedroom door, you freeze.

A figure is already inside, lounging in the chair by the vanity, bathed in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

Mike.

Your breath catches, stomach twisting into a knot. He’s sitting with one leg crossed over the other, his fingers lazily rolling a heavy silver ring around his knuckles. His face is unreadable, but the air in the room is thick—too thick.

You swallow hard “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he slowly lifts his phone, tilting the screen toward you. It takes a second for your vision to focus. But when it does, ice rushes through your veins.

A video. A familiar setting. The club.

You.

High out of your mind, swaying with Wooyoung and Mindy, laughing recklessly. Then the shot moves, revealing the moment you leaned back against a couch, head tipping back as you took a slow drag from a joint of weed someone had handed you.

Fuck, this is bad. Really bad.

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Mike finally speaks, his voice deceptively calm “Tell me, YN.” He tilts his head slightly, eyes dark and unreadable “Do you think our parents would be proud to see their little daughter doing this?”

Your jaw clenches, your hands curling into fists “That’s none of your business.”

Mike exhales a soft chuckle, shaking his head “Oh, but it is. Because your mess becomes my mess.” He stands, taking slow, measured steps toward you.

“You’re already a failure for our family, and now this?” He gestures to the phone “How do you think they’d react if they saw their little girl ruining her reputation like this?”

You lift your chin, masking the flicker of fear in your chest.

“Like you care about my reputation.”

His smirk drops “You’re spiraling, YN.” His voice is sharper now, colder “All because of that pathetic little loser you latched onto. And look at you now—coming home looking like trash, acting like some cheap whore.”

You flinch, your nails digging into your palms “Shut up.”

But Mike isn’t finished. He steps closer, towering over her, his presence suffocating.

“You think you can just do whatever you want? That you can embarrass this family without consequences?”

“I said shut the fuck up, Mike.”

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him “Or what?” His voice is dangerously low.

You glare at him, your body trembling with rage “Or I’ll—”

You don't get to finish.

The slap comes fast and brutal.

A sharp crack echoes through the room as your head snaps to the side. Pain explodes through your cheek, your vision blurring for a second. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth as your lip splits open, but it’s the dull, radiating ache in your cheek that stuns you.

Your breath shudders.

The rings. His heavy rings had cut deeper this time, the force of the blow enough to bruise instantly.

For a moment, silence blankets the room. You stare at the floor, breath ragged, your entire body stiff.

Mike exhales slowly, shaking out his hand as if the hit had been a mere inconvenience.

“Maybe that’ll knock some sense into you.”

You don’t move. Don’t speak. Don't let him see how much it hurts.

Because if you do, he wins.

After a moment, Mike scoffs “Fix yourself up.” He turns, walking toward the door “And stay in line, YN. You’re a fucking Clarke.”

With that, he leaves.

The door clicks shut.

Only then you allow yourself to breathe.

A shaky inhale. A trembling exhale.

Your fingers reach up, touching the stinging skin of your cheek.

And then—you laugh.

Soft.

Hollow.

Because if you don't laugh, you might start crying.

And you refuse to cry for him.

Not anymore.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The morning sun filters through your window, casting golden streaks across your sheets. You blink groggily, your head pounding from the remnants of last night. But it isn’t the hangover that makes you hesitate to move.

It 's the pain.

Your cheek throbs, the bruise deepening overnight. The gash on your lip is dry, cracked, and stings when you shift your mouth even slightly.

For a moment, you just lie there, staring at the ceiling.

You should stay in bed. Hide. Avoid everyone.

But you have an important exam today.

With a slow, careful movement, you push yourself up and drag yourself to the vanity. The moment you see your reflection, your stomach twists.

The bruise has settled into an ugly shade of deep purple and blue along your cheekbone, and the cut on your lip is impossible to ignore.

You swallow, your fingers tighten into fists before you reach for your makeup.

You layer on foundation, pressing it into the bruised skin despite the pain. But no matter how much you apply, the discoloration peeks through.

Frustrated, you grab a small adhesive bandage and place it over the worst part of your cheek, disguising it as a minor scrape. Your lip, however, is trickier. You settle for a dark shade of lipstick—anything to draw attention away from the damage.

Dressed immaculately as always, you grab your bag, sunglasses and head for the door.

Skipping breakfast is easy. Avoiding your parents? Even easier.

No one stops you as you leave.

The moment you step onto campus, all eyes are on you.

You walk with usual confidence, head high, stride controlled. But you can feel it—the way whispers ripple through the hall as students glance at the bandage on your cheek even under the sunglasses, at the way you don't quite meet anyone’s eyes.

Your friends rush to you the second you reach your locker.

"Babe, what the hell happened?" Mindy is the first to speak, her eyes wide with concern.

"Doll, did you get into a fight or something?" Another friend chimes in.

You force a small chuckle, flipping your hair over your shoulder.

"Relax, it's nothing. I tripped on the stairs at home. Hit my face on the railing like an idiot."

Some of them seem to accept it.

But Mindy doesn’t.

Her sharp eyes flick over your face, lingering on the bruise beneath the makeup, the tightness in her expression.

You know that look. Mindy isn’t buying it.

Still, she doesn’t press—not here, not in front of the others.

"Well, whoever built your staircase should be sued," Mindy jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

You force another laugh "Right? I should’ve gotten a warning sign."

The conversation moves on, shifting to gossip, plans for the weekend, anything but you. But Mindy stays close, watching you.

And from across the hall—so does Hongjoong.

He hadn’t expected to see you today after yesterday.

After your fight.

After you left, looking at him like he had broken something between them.

But here you are. And something is wrong.

Even from a distance, he can tell.

You’re quieter, your movements more controlled than usual, like you’re holding something in. And the moment he notices the bandage on your cheek, his stomach twists.

What happened to you?

Was it because of yesterday’s fight?

Did someone—

His jaw clenches, his fingers curling into fists.

He wants to go to you. Ask. Demand answers. But after everything that happened, after the things they said to each other, he hesitates.

He’s the last person you want to see right now.

So he stays where he is, watching as you disappear down the hall with your friends. Watching, and worrying.

During lunch, the room is buzzing with its usual chaotic energy, the clatter of trays and chatter filling the air. You sit at the far end of the table, Mindy by your side, but she can tell you’re not really there.

Your eyes stay trained on the empty space in front of you, your fork poking listlessly at the food.

Mindy is the one to notice him first. Hongjoong stands a few feet away, looking like he's about to approach, but frozen by the tension in the air. He shifts from foot to foot, glancing between you and your friend, obviously unsure of what to do.

Your gaze flicks to him, but you quickly look away, jaw tightening. You’re not in the mood for this, not today.

Hongjoong takes a few tentative steps forward "Hey," He starts, his voice almost too soft, like he’s testing the waters "I... I just wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened yesterday."

You don't meet his eyes. Instead, you pick at your food, pretending to be absorbed in it, but the tension around you is palpable.

He steps closer, a mix of concern and regret pulling at his features "I didn’t mean to hurt you. Whatever I said... I didn’t mean it." His voice cracks slightly on the last word, the guilt obvious "I just—"

"You don’t get it, do you?" You cut him off, voice sharp, though it trembles at the edges. Your hands fist into the napkin on your lap "You can apologize all you want, but nothing will change and you know it."

Your eyes flick to him, but it’s fleeting. You can’t bring yourself to look at him for long.

Mindy watches the exchange with a raised brow, her own discomfort starting to show. She leans in.

"Maybe we should just go...?"

Before Hongjoong can respond, you stand up abruptly, pushing the chair back with a sharp scrape.

"Get lost, nerd." You mutter, voice quiet but resolute.

Without another word, you grab your bag and start walking toward the door. Mindy follows closely behind, glancing at him with a small shake of her head, a silent apology.

Hongjoong watches them leave, his heart sinking. His fingers curl into fists, frustration and confusion surging through him. But you are already out of reach, disappearing down the hallway toward the bathroom.

The bathroom door swings shut behind them with a soft thud, and you lean against the sink, hands gripping the edge. Mindy follows you in, glancing around briefly before her eyes settle on you.

"Okay, babe. Spill it," Mindy demands, arms crossed "What the hell happened between you two?”

You sigh, a deep exhale that feels like it comes from the very core of you. You look at her reflection in the mirror.

"We had a fight yesterday." You pause, fingers running over the bandage on your cheek "I’m tired of this routine.."

Mindy raises an eyebrow "I thought you were already dating.”

You press your lips together, your gaze flicking to the floor "We’re not… at least not yet.”

Mindy softens, her arms uncrossing as she approaches you "Babe—"

“Don't want to talk about it.” You cut her off as you search for your lipstick in your purse.

Mindy chews on her lip for a moment before nodding, though the uncertainty in her expression doesn’t fade.

"Okay, then let me remind you that you’re a terrible liar, babe.” She changes the topic and internally you appreciate it.

You roll your eyes, fixing your lipstick in the mirror “Excuse me?”

Mindy folds her arms “The stairs, YN? Really?”

Fuck, you thought she wouldn’t say anything about it.

You click your lipstick shut “It’s the truth.”

“Bullshit. I know you more than anyone.” Mindy steps closer, voice lower, serious “Tell me what really happened.”

You hesitate. Just for a second.

But you can’t tell her, so you do what you do best.

You smirk, tossing your lipstick into your bag “Why are you so dramatic, babe? I told you, I tripped.”

Mindy doesn’t look away “Was it Mike?”

Just for a second. You freeze.

But Mindy catches it, and for the first time, you feel something dangerous creeping up your throat. Not anger. Not annoyance.

Something far worse.

Something close to tears.

So you swallow it down, just like you always do.

You smile, perfect and unbothered “Of course not.”

And you walk out before Mindy can say another word.

✮ ⋆

The rest of the day is a blur. You move through the halls like a ghost, your usual presence dimmed. People notice, but no one dares to question you beyond whispers.

By the time the final bell rings, you feel exhausted—not just physically, but mentally. You don't want to go home. Don’t want to face Mike. Don’t want to face your parents and worry them with your wounds.

So, instead, you linger.

You head to the rooftop, where few people ever go at this hour. The cool breeze feels good against your burning skin, and for a moment, you close your eyes, letting yourself breathe.

But you aren't alone for long.

Footsteps.

Slow. Measured.

You know who it is before you even turn around.

Seonghwa.

Of course.

“Skipping your driver today?” He teases, coming to stand beside you.

You don't respond. You just watch the sky, waiting for him to leave.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he studies you—the bandage, the quietness.

“You look like shit.”

“Charming,” You mutter.

Hwa leans against the railing, crossing his arms “What happened?”

“Tripped.”

“Try again.”

You glare at him “Not in the mood, Seonghwa.”

He hums, unconvinced “I’ll take a wild guess. Mike?”

Your grip tightens on the railing.

Seonghwa watches, eyes sharp “You know, if you need help—”

“I don’t.”

A beat of silence.

“Fine.” Hwa sighs dramatically “But at least make it worth my time. If you’re going to suffer, at least be entertaining about it.”

You scoff, shaking your head “You’re sick.”

“You love it.”

For a second, they stand there, neither speaking.

Then Seonghwa says “Come out with us tonight.”

You look at him.

You consider saying no. You should say no. But the idea of drinking, forgetting—even for a few hours—is too tempting.

So you nod.

And Seonghwa grins “Good girl.”

✮ ⋆

Wooyoung is not in the mood for this conversation.

He's sitting in the cafeteria, scrolling through his phone, pretending he’s not listening to Seonghwa ramble beside him.

The tension in their circle has been suffocating ever since the rumor and little Hongjoong avoiding you—he knows everyone feels it.

And now, of course, Seonghwa is trying to stir the pot.

Woo sighs, setting his phone down "No."

Hwa blinks, then lets out a short laugh, like Wooyoung just said something ridiculous.

"No?"

"Yeah. No," Wooyoung repeats, leaning back in his seat "Why the hell would I invite Hongjoong?"

Park smirks "Because it’ll be fun."

"It won’t be fun for YN."

"And?" Hwa tilts his head, as if that is irrelevant "Come on, Wooyoung. They’re not even fighting, they’re just—what’s the word? Avoiding each other. So let’s fix it."

Woo gives him a dry look "Since when do you fix things?"

Seonghwa grins "Since it benefits me."

Wooyoung knows this is a bad idea. He knows it in his bones. You are already in a bad place, and dragging Hongjoong into a club—with Seonghwa there? That’s just asking for more drama.

And yet, Seonghwa is persistent.

"Think about it," Hwa says, lazily stirring his drink with a straw "The nerd has been acting weird, hasn’t he? The whole disappearing act after school? The tension with YN?" He pauses, letting it sink in before adding, "A night out could be very interesting."

Woo exhales through his nose, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Hongjoong doesn’t even go to clubs," Wooyoung argues.

Hwa shrugs "That’s what you’re for."

Woo groans. He rubs his temple, already regretting everything.

"You owe me one," Seonghwa reminds him, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Wooyoung swears under his breath "Fine, but if YN gets pissed, you're taking the blame."

Seonghwa just laughs, slapping his back "Relax, Jung. What’s the worst that could happen?"

Wooyoung gives him a flat look, and Seonghwa just winks.

And that is how you know shit is about to go down.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The club is already packed when they arrive.

Music pulses through the air, bass shaking the floor beneath their feet. Neon lights flash overhead, bathing the crowd in shifting shades of red, blue, and violet.

The smell of alcohol, perfume, and sweat lingers in the air, a dizzying mix that makes everything feel a little more reckless.

You step inside first, dressed to kill. Your usual effortless confidence is back in full force, like armor you wear to keep the world at bay. You ignore the way people turn to stare—some in admiration, some in jealousy.

Tonight, you don't want to think about Mike.

You don't want to think about the bruises hidden under your makeup.

You don't want to think about Hongjoong.

You just want to forget.

And for the first few minutes, you do.

Your friends pull you onto the dance floor, and for a while, everything is a blur of movement, music, and laughter. San and Mingi keep close, making sure you don't get too lost in the chaos, but actually you don't mind.

Then Seonghwa shows up at your side, sliding an arm around your waist.

“You look dangerous tonight, baby.” He murmurs into her ear, voice rich with amusement.

You smirk, tossing your hair over your shoulder “Always.”

Hwa’s lips curl into a knowing grin “Then let’s dance.”

Meanwhile Hongjoong hadn't planned to be here. He had ignored Wooyoung's first few messages inviting him out, but when he found out that you were going, something inside him told him to show up.

And now, standing near the bar, his jaw clenched as he watches you, he realizes how much of a mistake this was. He is there, regretting his life choices.

He knew he shouldn’t have come.

The second he stepped into the club, he felt like an outsider—like he didn’t belong in this world. The music is too loud, the lights too disorienting. He’s never liked clubs. Never liked the forced energy of it all.

But here he is.

And the reason for that is standing in the middle of the dance floor, looking like a fucking dream.

You.

His stomach tightens at the sight of you—his girl, glowing under the flashing lights, swaying to the music like you were made for it. But you’re not alone.

Park Seonghwa is with you.

And he’s touching you.

Hongjoong’s jaw clenches.

You don’t push him away, you don’t even seem bothered by it. Instead, you tilt your head back, laughing at something Seonghwa says, eyes half-lidded, lips parted just enough to make something ugly coil in Hongjoong’s chest.

He doesn’t know what the hell he’s feeling, but it’s not good.

Something dark. Something possessive.

He forces himself to look away, gripping the drink Mindy shoved into his hand. He takes a sip, barely registering the taste.

"Didn’t think this was your scene, Joong." Mindy remarks, appearing beside him.

Hongjoong exhales slowly, forcing himself to relax "It’s not."

Samantha hums "Then why are you here?"

He doesn’t answer, but they know why.

And that is when shit gets worse.

Because Seonghwa, the bastard that he is, suddenly turns his head, meeting Hongjoong’s gaze across the club.

And he smirks. A slow, taunting smirk.

Then, keeping his eyes on Hongjoong, Hwa leans in closer to you, whispering something in your ear. His hand slides down your back, fingers teasing the hem of your mini dress.

Hongjoong’s grip tightens around his glass.

He’s going to fucking kill him.

✮ ⋆

You aren't drunk—not yet—but there’s a pleasant warmth buzzing in your veins, making it easier to laugh at Seonghwa’s jokes, to let his hand rest on your waist, to let yourself forget about the weight in your chest.

Because when you drink, you don't think.

And right now, you don't want to think about Hongjoong.

But apparently, the universe has other plans.

Because when you tilt your head back to sip your drink, your eyes flicker across the crowd—

And there he is. Standing a few feet away, stiff as a board, his jaw clenched so tight you can see the tension from here.

And worse—he’s staring right at you.

What is he doing here?

You exhale sharply, dragging a hand through your hair, trying to push down the irritation bubbling up. But before you can even decide what to do, Hongjoong is already moving.

Straight towards you.

Seonghwa notices first, of course. His lips curl into a slow smirk, clearly enjoying this, because he lives for chaos.

“Ah, the nerd finally made it,” He muses, taking a lazy sip of his drink “Took you long enough.”

You tense as Hongjoong stops in front of you, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—his eyes are dark, stormy, swirling with something you can’t quite name.

“Get your hands off her.”

His voice isn’t loud, but it cuts through the music, the air between them suddenly thick with tension.

You blink... The fuck?

Seonghwa chuckles, clearly amused, but he doesn’t move his hand from your waist.

“Relax, man. We’re just talking.”

“That’s not what it looks like.” Hongjoong’s fists curl at his sides, and his voice drops lower “I said, get your hands off her.”

The possessiveness in his tone sends a shiver down your spine—because Hongjoong has never spoken like this before. Never had this sharp edge to him.

Hwa tilts his head, looking far too entertained “And if I don’t?”

You groan, already tired of this “Both of you, stop it.”

You push Seonghwa’s hand away yourself, stepping between them before this escalates further.

“What the hell is your problem, Hongjoong?”

“My problem?” He scoffs, his frustration finally boiling over “Are you serious, YN? You’ve been all over him all night!”

You cross your arms “Oh, so now you care what I do after ignoring me for weeks?”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh “Really? Because every time I ask you to hang out, you have some excuse. Every single time.”

Hongjoong clenches his jaw, shifting uncomfortably. He wants to tell her the truth—about his job, about why he’s been avoiding her after school—but something holds him back.

And then—Seonghwa just has to add fuel to the fire “Maybe he just doesn’t want to spend time with you, baby.”

You stiffen, and Hongjoong snaps.

His glare cuts straight to the tallest “You don’t get to talk about us like you know anything.”

Seonghwa shrugs, smirking “I don’t need to. It’s obvious, isn’t it? One minute, YN’s your whole world, and the next? You’re running away.” He clicks his tongue “I’d be pissed too, if I were her.”

Hongjoong turns back to you, desperate now, he softly grabs your wrist.

"Come with me."

"What the hell—"

"Now." He snaps, dragging you out of the packed dance floor and into a dimly lit hallway near the bathrooms.

You yank your arm away once they stop "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

“I’m not running away, It’s not like that, pretty.”

You shake your head “Then what is it like, Kim? Because I’m sick of feeling like I don’t matter to you the second school ends.”

“You do matter to me,” He insists, his hands twitching like he wants to reach for you, but something stops him “I just—”

“Just what?”

And then—he blurts it out “I’m not the one all over another guy, YN.”

The words are bitter, sharp, dripping with jealousy.

You inhale sharply, eyes widening.

Hongjoong’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his emotions a mess—anger, jealousy, frustration, all tangled up.

Your lips part, but for once—you don't know what to say.

And for a moment, you just stand there.

Staring at each other.

Two stubborn storms on the verge of collision.

And neither of you willing to back down.

His words linger between you, and it stings in a way you weren't expecting.

Because he 's wrong.

And yet, you can’t deny that Seonghwa complicates things.

“Well,” You muses, swirling the drink in your hand like this is just another game to you “If you’re so bothered, why don’t you do something about it, nerd?”

He knows you are playing with him right now, but Hongjoong—Hongjoong is already on edge, already fueled by emotions he doesn’t know how to handle, and your words only push him further.

And before you can stop him, he does something about it.

He grabs your waist, pulling you to him—not rough, not aggressive, but firm.

It’s possessive.

And before you can process it his lips are on yours.

It’s not careful. Not gentle.

It’s desperate.

It’s frustration, jealousy, and something deeper, something neither of you have put into words yet.

And the worst part?

You melt into it.

Because for all of Hongjoong’s insecurities, for all of his awkwardness, he kisses you like he means it.

Like he needs you.

Like you’re his and his alone.

And for a brief, dizzying moment, you let yourself believe it.

When you break apart, Hongjoong’s breathing is uneven, his grip on your waist still lingering.

And that’s when reality crashes back in.

Because this kiss doesn’t fix anything.

It doesn’t erase the distance between you.

Or the secrets he’s still keeping.

And the realization twists something ugly inside of you.

You push him away slightly, your frustration boiling over “I don’t get you, Hongjoong,” You bite out, taking a step closer, your eyes narrowing “You act like you care, like you want to be with me, but when it actually matters—when I need you, when I want to be with you—you push me away!”

Hongjoong opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off, your voice rising.

“Why don’t you just admit it, huh?” You sneer. “You fuck with me because you know I’m popular, right? You just want that—to be seen with the girl everyone knows—so you can brag about it to your friends and tell them you’re the one who’s got me.”

His expression falters, and for a moment, you think you see a flicker of guilt or disbelief in his eyes.

But you don’t care.

“You don’t actually give a damn about me, do you?” You spit out “You just want the status, the validation. I’m just another trophy to you.”

Hongjoong’s face hardens, his hands curling into fists "YN, stop."

You let out a bitter laugh "Why? Because you don’t want to hear the truth?"

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his expression.

"That’s not the truth," He says, his voice lower now, more controlled "You think I care about that? About popularity? I told you that day at the amusement park, I did it just because I want to be with you. I don’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks—I just want you."

You shake your head, crossing your arms "Bullshit."

"It’s not bullshit," Hongjoong steps closer, eyes locked onto yours "I like you, YN. I really like you. And I don’t care if you’re popular or if the whole school hates you—I’d still feel the same way."

You swallow hard, but the ache in your chest doesn’t go away. His words sound good.

Too good.

"If that’s true," You murmur, looking away, "Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

Hongjoong looks pained, like he wants to tell you something but can’t.

"It’s not like that, I—"

"Then what is it like?" You demand, voice cracking "Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re only with me when it’s convenient for you."

"I would do anything for you. Anything, YN. But you won’t even let me prove it."

You inhale sharply, feeling your resolve shake for just a second. But then you remember the countless times he’s avoided you, dodged your calls, made excuses.

And you shake your head "I don’t believe you."

His face drops "YN…"

"No," You cut him off, stepping back "If you really meant that, you wouldn’t keep making me feel like I’m not enough."

Hongjoong stares at you, chest rising and falling like he’s struggling to find the right words, but whatever he wants to say—it’s too late.

Because you’re already turning around, walking away before he can break your heart even more.

He stands there, watching you disappear into the flashing lights and the haze of smoke, feeling you slip even further away.

And just a few feet away, hidden among the crowd—From the shadows, Seonghwa leans against the wall, watching the entire exchange with an amused smirk.

Everything is going exactly as planned.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Taglist: @m0onchild-98 @domfikeluva @l0vjoongie @mrskill2 @stayatinykatsy @badbitch69420sworld @lunaryoongie @certifiedmoa @jilxxasu @alliecoady98 @maidens-world @Lemonkait00 @yulsr @justconniez @luvvvash @zaynsfl4m3s @nkryuki @boomzen @silenttrxxs @blue5ummer @khaskl08 @unbroken-shadows @vnxlla @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @milliesupremexx @xh01bri @a-atiny_niawoo @winterstuf @domfikeluva @lezleeferguson-120 @beabatiny @yothangie @lover-of-fics @mingipessego @Ycuhugi @posseup @0407files @cheolright @yeorisanaxox @innocygnet @a-tiny-thing @sannieily @maplelilly05 @ddeonugu @niaee @yunhogrippers

So, this is what you meant when you said their powers are going to be explained next chapter. Now I’m assuming it’s only ateez that has powers unless somehow other groups have them.

This definitely is a twist I wasn’t expecting i’m very excited to see what happens. <3

| 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 | Chapter Two

Mafia!Ot8!Ateez x female!reader

Summary: After losing everything through gambling, your father's debts to the Ateez Mafia have resulted in you becoming their property. With no other family left, you are now at the mercy of these dangerous criminals due to your father's reckless actions.

Warnings: mxm relationship, death, murder, mentions of being burned at the stake, tragic backstory, violence.

WC: 2k

Amazing Help: @potatomountain

AU: Mafia/?

Nets: @othersideoutlawsnetwork

Tags: Tags: @xomakara @jedi-dreea @beabatiny @ateezaddict24 @spenceatiny18 @18fernanda @prodsh00ky @evercodeee @yizhou-time @smally97 @eshia-16 @daniela-f-uwu @peachyy-joonie @butterfliesinthenightsky @dassmyname @unlikelysublimekryptonite @dollinno @stay-tiny-things @joongscheese @misskarynie @monstacheol @yeosangcutie0615 @mariaa @pinuspot @amphiroxx @kitten4sannie tags to be continued.

A/N: This series isn’t what you thought it’d be huh? Hehehe

Taglist Link

500 years ago, Kim Hongjoong stumbled upon a dirty and old shrine. Bruised, bloody, and broken.

He begged the silent deity for help, tears cascading down his nearly broken jaw. A miracle he could still talk. His broken fingers dropped all of the coins he had to offer onto the shrine. He continued to beg for help and prayed to the God but he got no answer.

His body could no longer sustain his energy and he collapsed onto the wet ground. Hongjoong knew this was the end and he didn’t want to die like this.

Hongjoong let out one more scream before the light faded and he passed out from his injuries. No longer able to stay present.

To die for loving the wrong person. He would never change it, even if this was his death.

The deity appeared out of thin air and stared down at the almost corpse on his sacred ground. He couldn’t help but shake his head.

“Humans and their violence. Wake up, boy. I will not have you die on my holy shrine.” The deity pressed two fingers to Hongjoong’s head and he awoke with a gasp for air.

“You..Thank you.” Hongjoong tried to sit up but his ribs and other miscellaneous injuries screamed at him to stop. How he is still alive is baffling. The deity thought of him as a fighter for surviving this long with the extent of his injuries.

“Why have you come to my shrine, why do you seek my help, human?”

“Because I don’t want to die. I need to live for Seonghwa, but his family won’t let me see him anymore. They’re the reason I’m like this. They tried to kill me but I got away.” Hongjoong was able to sit up with the help of the deity, who only frowned at his words.

“Love? That’s a strong reason to fight for your life.” He admired that. A lot. He missed his love life.

“Do you want revenge, human?”

“What? I- I..yes. I do. I shouldn’t be tortured or killed for loving another man.” Hongjoong truly loves Park Seonghwa of the noble Park family. He hated Seonghwa’s face and screams when he was getting the shit beaten from him.

Hongjoong hated the Park family for trying to kill him in front of his lover. He wanted them dead. He wanted to steal away Hwa and live in the mountains away from the rest of this cruel humanity.

“Very well. I can feel your anger, human. I will grant you your revenge but it comes at a cost.” The deity crossed his arms before speaking once again, “You must take my powers and my status. You will be a God instead. Only then I’ll finally be free of this torture of living forever.”

Hongjoong was confused, “Wait, you’re willing just to give up everything? For me?”

“Believe it or not, I was once in love just like you. I was born a God, they were born a human. It was agony watching them die and I’m ready to be with them. But you must take it from me.” The deity held out his hand, a glow emitting from it. It was so inviting.

Hongjoong furrowed his eyebrows before quickly grasping the deity's hand. A scream emitted from their longs as the power was transferred to Hongjoong.

Nothing else was said as the deity faded into nothing but dust.

Hongjoong could feel the power coursing within him. Each wound and broken bone was immediately healed and he felt a strange sense of longing. He knew it was for his lover down in the village. He could only hope he was still alive and not locked up in a cell by his family. Or worse, being forced to marry someone very fast.

Hongjoong didn’t care. He was going to kill them alone and take Seonghwa away with him.

One quick flash and he was standing in front of the Park residence. The guards screamed at him and ran towards him to finish the job they tried to do earlier. They failed and were flung to opposite sides. Hongjoong made them disappear as if they never existed and marched his way in, blasting the doors open with just an open palm.

Screams were heard from inside. Good. They should be scared.

“You! How are you still alive!” It was Seonghwa’s father. No matter, he was swiped against a wall with a flick of a wrist.

“Peasant.” Hongjoong spat at the man’s now broken body.

Seonghwa’s mother screamed in absolute horror, “Geo-“ Dead. Hongjoong broke her spine with yet another gesture.

Seonghwa’s older brother ran out to be by his dead parents and to fight Hongjoong. It was pointless. Hongjoong killed him too. Nothing was going to stop him from finding his lover.

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong called out as he stepped over multiple corpses. He ripped his bloodied hanbok and threw the pieces to the ground, they were pointless.

He couldn’t find Seonghwa anywhere. Fuck. They must’ve locked him up. That angered him much further. Hongjoong left the residence ablaze once he stepped out of the threshold. Villagers who saw the massacre stayed out of Hongjoong’s way. Now terrified of the man.

A good choice.

The new deity made his way to the village's cells. Once he gets his man, this whole town will be gone. He wasn’t going to leave anyone alive. Not after they all sat around and let Hongjoong and Seonghwa be separated.

With the cells in site, the guards were slaughtered and he burst open the gates, each criminal ran out of their cells in fear but Seonghwa remained. He knew his lover came back for him. He didn’t care how.

Seonghwa was just happy Hongjoong was alive.

“Hongjoong!” The noble ran out of his cell and into Hongjoong’s arms, “How are you alive?”

His lover only laughed, “I’ll tell you later, for now we must leave this place. We don’t belong here.” Hongjoong kissed Seonghwa with such fever that he refused to separate for several moments.

They left the village hand in hand. Hongjoong didn’t even bother to look back when he set everything ablaze, leaving nothing to save itself. He got his revenge and much more. Nothing was going to separate them ever again. Ever.

-

Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa, both now immortals, faced the earth and its challenges together. They hid in the mountains away from the humans to maintain their happiness and peace. Hongjoong had gave Seonghwa powers to protect himself. Powers that matched their invisible tie to each other. He honed abilities from the planet. Elemental.

Seonghwa maintained a garden that he took care of with his new powers. The animals in the forest kept him company when Hongjoong had to leave to Deity Overworld, now that he’s a god.

One day, Seonghwa heard a blood curdling scream and chanting coming down the mountain. Hongjoong was gone so that couldn’t be him.

Seonghwa set down the white rabbit in his lap and marched down the hill, carefully treading.

Once he made it past the clearing, he found a big man strung up to a post, men and women surrounding it with torches. Seonghwa knew what it was immediately. A witch trial.

Humans are so cruel to anything different.

Just as they were about to light him aflame, Seonghwa cleared his throat, “I suggest you let him down or there will be consequences. I don’t take innocent bloodshed lightly.”

The people whipped their heads toward the newfound voice, “Excuse me? How dare you threaten us. Are you a witch too?” A man poked Seonghwa’s chest with a pitchfork.

He didn’t like that. Without moving, the ground swallows the man whole, “Anyone want to go next?”

The humans screamed in fear and ran away, not wanting to die.

The man on the post had been crying, thankful to be saved. Why did he have to be scorned for practicing a non harmful craft?

“It’s okay, I’ve got you now.” Seonghwa cut the ropes that held the man high, “Careful.” He caught him as he fell, “What’s your name? I’m Seonghwa.” A beautiful smile stretched his cheeks as he kept the man warm.

“Yunho. Jeong Yunho. Thank you for saving me. I’m forever in your debt.” Yunho’s large hands grasped Seonghwa’s in desperation, “I don’t know how to even begin to thank you.”

Seonghwa shook his head, “You don’t need to. What the humans are doing is harmful. You don’t deserve to die, Yunho. Come with me. I’ve got somewhere to keep you safe.”

-

“Um, Seonghwa, who is this?” Hongjoong appeared from a mist into the living room, confusion smeared on his features.

Yunho jumped, nearly screaming in his spot, still jumpy from earlier.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Seonghwa was quick to comfort the big man, “This is Yunho, he was about to be burned at the stake for witchcraft..I just couldn’t let that happen.”

Hongjoong melted at his words. One of the many reasons he fell for Seonghwa. His selflessness and care for others beside himself.

“I see, well, make sure he has somewhere to stay warm and rest. I’m sure it was stressful.” Hongjoong smiled and walked to his bedroom, exhausted from traveling between worlds.

Yunho smiled to himself and held the blanket close to his body, “You two are very kind. Thank you for the hospitality.”

“So, tell me, Yunho. Do you have anyone?” Seonghwa carefully sat beside Yunho, caution on his features.

“Ah, no. I don’t. It’s just me. I suppose that’s why it was so easy for me to be found by those villagers.” He could never return to his home. Not if he wanted to live.

“Well, I have a proposition for you then, Mr. Yunho, how would you like to live forever without having to worry about being burned alive?” Seonghwa offered with such nonchalance.

Yunho was in shock. What was he saying?

“Huh?”

“Look, Hongjoong and I are immortal. Hongjoong is a god and he gave me immortality to be with him forever. I want to give you that now. I know you could use it for the good in your heart.” The former noble was serious in every sense, “Of course, I’d have to talk to Hongjoong but I want to give you that offer.”

“I just thought you were also a witch honestly.” Yunho laughed.

“Well, no, but still.” Seonghwa stood back up, “I’ll let you think about it but I’m going to go speak to Hongjoong about this.”

-

“You’re an immortal now, how do you feel, Yunho?” Seonghwa grinned, Hongjoong’s arm around his waist.

The new immortal couldn’t help but cry as fire emitted from his palms, “I..I’m so happy.” Of course the fire was a bonus. Now he could make everyone pay that tried to burn him alive.

“Be careful with that ability, Yunho, I know what you’re thinking. I can hear everything. If you do not tread my warnings carefully, I can take it all from you without breaking a sweat. So don’t test me.” Hongjoong was stern but he knew Yunho wouldn’t break his trust. It was like he had a golden retriever that followed his every demand and order.

After all, this was just the beginning of a big tale to come.

“I will, thank you, Hongjoong.”

The three men would continue to live in harmony for decades. In peace and tranquillity. They never had to worry about another human trying to kill them and Hongjoong helped Yunho and Seonghwa hone their abilities. He was going to shape them into beasts. A small army if you will.

Nothing was going to stop him from being who he was meant to be.

They lived their lives on a pirate ship that sailed the ocean, that Hongjoong had stolen, becoming the new feared pirate crew for years to come.

He had to grow this team and he had to use the abilities he was given.

Yunho made them a fourth member. A living doll but with a human body. His name is Kang Yeosang and he’s another immortal. His abilities are unknown as he’s still getting accustomed to being a living doll. Made from dark magic.

Again, this was only the beginning for this forming team.

They’re only going to get stronger.

ARE YOU READY TO FUCKING DIE, MIKE? IT’S REVENGE TIME BABY! HAHAHAHA I’VE BEEN WAITIN' FOR THIS ONE TURN IT UP!

Popular, Boy

☆11: The first truth.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader

Genre: +18, smut, slow burn, angst, drama, love triangle.

wc: 7,5k

Summary: Apologies are given, but not in the way they should be. Old wounds linger, new alliances form, and the first steps towards something bigger are set in motion.

But as the tension rise, one thing becomes clear... this game is only just beginning.

Warnings: Cursing, power dynamics, manipulation, slight physical violence.

Series masterlist. Join the Taglist

☆10 ☆12: The first warning. Coming soon.

The staff stands in a rigid line in the grand hall of the Clarke mansion, their hands clasped in front of them, their gazes lowered but attentive.

The tension in the air is palpable, thick and unspoken. The echoes of last night’s violence still linger in the minds of every person standing there.

Dann’s mother shifts uncomfortably beside her daughter, her fingers tightening around the hem of her apron.

Dann, for once, isn’t fidgeting, isn’t sneaking glances at her phone or zoning out. She’s watching, truly watching, in a way she never has before.

Mike stands before them, dressed sharply as ever, exuding the effortless charm and authority that has always made people trust him despite the cruelty that lurks beneath.

His parents flank him—his father’s expression serious, his mother’s carefully curated into something that resembles concern.

“First of all,” Mike begins, his voice smooth, practiced, “I want to personally apologize for what you all witnessed days ago.” He pauses, his eyes scanning the crowd as if searching for sincerity within himself.

“My behavior was… unacceptable. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I regret that it happened in front of all of you.”

His mother nods approvingly beside him. His father remains impassive.

“It was a private family matter,” He continues, “And I assure you, YN and I have already spoken. She has forgiven me, and we are moving forward as a family.”

Dann’s stomach twists.

Liar. He hasn’t spoken to you. No one has.

“She understands, as I hope you all do, that moments of anger don’t define us,” Mike adds, his lips pressing into something that resembles a remorseful smile. “I’m not proud of how I acted, but I promise it will never happen again.”

There’s silence. Heavy. Expectant.

The staff doesn’t react, but they don’t need to—this isn’t about them believing Mike. This is about them accepting what they are being told to believe.

His father steps forward now, clearing his throat “We deeply appreciate all the work you do for this household. Your loyalty does not go unnoticed, and we want to express our gratitude for your discretion regarding the incident.”

A butler steps in, carrying a sleek tray, and within seconds, small black boxes are placed into the hands of each staff member.

Dann stares at the one in her mother’s hands.

It’s sickening. The Clarke family’s cycle of silence and bribery in its purest form.

Her mother hesitates, looking around nervously before murmuring, “Sir, this isn’t necessary…”

Your mother offers a practiced smile “Of course it is. You all work so hard, and we insist.”

Dann’s mother swallows, clutching the box tightly. Around them, the other staff members murmur quiet thanks, some with forced smiles, others merely nodding, understanding there is no choice in this.

Dann glances up at Mike, who catches her staring. He smirks just slightly, eyes gleaming with something dangerous, something knowing.

And for the first time, the weight of what she’s been a part of settles like a stone in her stomach. She lowers her gaze before anyone sees the regret forming there.

Because it’s too late for regrets now.

✮ ⋆

You’re quieter than usual, but it isn’t something peaceful. It’s the kind of silence that lingers after something terrible has happened, the kind that no one dares to break.

You sit on your soft bed, your body aching, the faint pressure of Mike’s hands still lingering on your throat. The dim lighting casts long shadows, and the scent of expensive perfume does little to soothe the heaviness in the air.

Your parents stand before you, poised as ever, their expressions carefully composed—concern etched into their faces just enough to seem believable, but not enough to be real.

Your father speaks first, his voice low and measured “Darling, what happened… was unfortunate.”

Unfortunate.

That’s the word they use when something inconvenient happens. When an investment fails, when a business deal doesn’t go through, when their son nearly strangles their daughter in front of an entire household.

Your mother sighs, sitting beside you, reaching out to grab your hand “You know how Mike gets. He has always struggled with controlling his emotions.”

Your lips curl bitterly “So that makes it okay?”

Your father narrows his eyes slightly, but his tone remains calm “No one is saying that. But you must understand, people like us don’t air our dirty laundry for the world to see. This is a family matter, and it must remain that way.”

You scoff, shifting in your bed despite the pain that flares up in your ribs “So you want me to pretend it didn’t happen? To protect him?”

“We are protecting you, sweetie.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh “Right. Because you care so much.”

Your mother sighs again, as if you are the one being difficult “Sweetheart, the world is cruel. You know that. Do you really want people gossiping about this? Do you want to ruin Mike’s future over a misunderstanding?”

Your fingers tighten around the fabric of the blankets “Misunderstanding?” Your voice is sharp, disbelief laced in every syllable. “He punched me. He choked me. In front of everyone. What exactly was misunderstood?”

Your father’s expression darkens, the mask of concern slipping just a fraction.

“Lower your voice.”

You bite your tongue, swallowing down the fury bubbling inside you. Your mother smooths your hair back, her tone soothing yet distant.

“Sweetie, we know you’re upset. But we also know that you’re strong. This family needs you to be composed, to move forward. And Mike… he regrets his actions.”

Your body goes rigid at the blatant lie. Mike never regrets anything.

Your father clears his throat, as if the conversation is now settled “We thought you might like this.”

A sleek black box is placed in your lap, the brand embossed in gold. Expensive. Extravagant.

Meaningless.

You don't even need to open it to know what it is.

Another gift.

Another bandage for wounds they refuse to acknowledge. you lift your gaze, meeting their expectant eyes. They wait for gratitude, for acceptance.

So you do. You smile, it’s slow, and void of warmth.

“Thank you,” You say, voice as smooth as silk, fingers brushing over the box as if you actually care.

They relax, satisfied. And in that moment, you make a silent vow.

You won’t forget. You won’t forgive.

And you sure as hell won’t let this go.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

During the week, Wooyoung hadn’t a real plan when he walked into the café, just the vague idea of seeing if the girl from the picture was really there.

The bell jingles softly as he steps inside, and he takes a casual glance around, pretending to look at the menu.

And then he sees them.

Little Hongjoong and that girl.

Hongjoong is sitting at one of the corner tables, wearing a simple work apron, speaking to the girl from the photo. She laughs at something he says before walking away to take another order.

Wooyoung narrows his eyes and strides over to Hongjoong’s table, plopping into the chair across from him.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Woo asks bluntly.

Hongjoong startled, then sighs when he realizes who it is “Woo? What are you—”

“No, no, don’t ‘Woo’ me,” He cuts him off, crossing his arms “Why are you here? And why the fuck is there a picture of you hugging that girl going around?”

Hongjoong rubs the back of his neck, looking exhausted “I work here, and what do you mean a picture of me is going around?”

Wooyoung blinks “...Excuse me?”

“I work here,” He repeats, voice quieter “I didn’t want anyone to know.”

Woo stares at him, then lets out a short, disbelieving laugh “Are you kidding me? You’ve been acting weird as hell, blowing YN off, and it turns out you’ve just been—what? Making lattes?”

Hongjoong exhales “My dad lost his job. I needed to help out. I didn’t tell YN because… I didn’t want her to think less of me.”

Wooyoung runs a hand down his face “Little Hongjoong…. Seriously?”

He avoids his gaze.

Shaking his head, Wooyoung pulls out his phone “Yeah, well, I’m telling her.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widens “Wooyoung, don’t—”

“Too late.” Wooyoung hits send a quick message to you, then smirks “She deserves to know the truth. And you need to stop being a dumbass.”

He groans, slumping in his seat “I hate you.”

Wooyoung just grins “You will love me after this, Joong.”

✮ ⋆

The soft glow of the screen illuminates your face as you lay in bed, your thumb hovering over the keyboard.

It has been a long, exhausting week—one filled with endless frustration, whispered conspiracies between Mindy and Wooyoung, and the dull ache of bruises that still hadn’t fully faded.

And then there, there is the message you were waiting for.

Brat Woo: Babydoll.

Brat Woo: False alarm, little Hongjoong is clean, and that slut works in that cafe, Hongjoong does too.

Bratty Woo: You should talk to him.

You have been fuming, pacing, and second-guessing yourself over and over.

But now, with Woo’s confirmation that the girl in the picture is nothing more than a coworker and that Hongjoong has been working in secret, your anger has simmered down to something else—something more dangerous.

Doubt.

Had you misjudged him? Had you let your paranoia and pain push you into believing the worst?

But then again, why had he kept all of this from you? Why hadn’t he shown up to your date? Why was he so distant after everything you had been through?

Taking a deep breath, you type Hongjoong a quick message.

YN♡: We need to talk.

The message is sent instantly, and you don't have to wait long for Hongjoong to arrive at your home.

✮ ⋆

Hongjoong stands at the front gates of your house, his heart hammering in his chest. The towering mansion, which once felt like an unattainable dream, now looms over him with an unfamiliar, suffocating presence.

The moment the gates open, he strides inside, his breath heavy with anticipation.

A maid opens the door, offering him a polite smile "Welcome, Miss YN is waiting for you in her room."

He barely nods before hurrying past her, his pulse quickening with every step. It’s been a week—a week without seeing you, without hearing your voice.

A week of torment, uncertainty, and the gnawing ache of missing you.

When he reaches your door, he hesitates for just a second before knocking "YN… it’s me, Hongjoong."

A beat of silence. Then, a quiet but firm, “Come in.”

He pushes the door open, and there you are.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, your gaze unreadable. But his eyes immediately drop to the bruises—faint marks on your throat, a cut on your lower lip, a fading bruise on your cheek.

His stomach twists.

"What happened to you, pretty?"

His voice is sharp with concern as he steps forward, instinctively reaching for you, but you tilt your chin up defiantly, stopping him in his tracks.

"Explain yourself first," You say coolly, eyes locking onto his "Depending on your answers, I’ll decide if I even want to keep listening to you."

He clenches his jaw, hands curling into fists at his sides "YN—"

"No," You cut him off "You ignored me for weeks. You left me sitting alone at that restaurant like a fool. You ghosted me after we fucked. And then…" You pull out your phone, swipe through it, and hold up the screen in his face "Seonghwa sent me this."

Hongjoong frowns at the image—a picture of him and Jina at the café, her arms wrapped around him in what looks like an intimate moment. His brows furrow.

The fuck? Is this the picture Wooyoung mentioned?

"Wait—what? When was this taken?"

You scoff, lowering your phone "So you don’t even know."

"No, I don’t—”

“Seonghwa sent it to me the same day as our date. Funny, huh?” Your bitter laugh stings more than a slap "You ditched me for this slut? Really, Kim?"

Hongjoong exhales slowly, his mind racing to piece things together. And then it clicks.

That night. The last-minute call. The way time slipped through his fingers.

“Pretty, it’s not what you think.”

You arch a brow in mock amusement “No?”

“No,” He says firmly, stepping closer, his voice steady despite the storm inside him “Let me explain from the beginning.”

He sits beside you, carefully, as if afraid you’ll push him away.

“That night, when we… When we slept together, I went home and found out my dad lost his job. Without his income, my family will struggle. So I did what I had to do—I found a part-time job at a café. That’s why I kept telling you I was busy after school.”

You stare at him, your expression unreadable. Then, you scoff, shaking your head.

“What a fucking joke.” His stomach sinks “So, you’re telling me that stupid rumor was false?”

“Completely.”

"And why didn't you tell me?" You snap, hitting his arm "I could have helped, and tell my parents to give your father a job or something! None of this drama would have happened!"

Hongjoong lets you hit him, knowing he deserves it "I know, but I didn’t want to burden you. You already had enough going on with Mike."

“You’re an idiot, Hongjoong! I thought the worst!” Another smack lands on his arm, and he barely flinches.

"I didn’t show up to our date because Jina called me at the last minute. She said it was something urgent, and it wouldn’t take long. But when I finally checked the time, I realized you were already gone.” He swallows hard “I meant to explain. But I was a coward—I didn’t know how.”

You study him, your gaze softening just a fraction “And the picture?”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair “I don’t know. But I swear, there’s nothing between me and Jina. She’s just my coworker.”

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. Then, Hongjoong reaches for your hand hesitantly, voice softening.

"Pretty, please believe me. I never wanted this to happen."

You let out a slow exhale, your shoulders slumping "Fine. But I still have a lot of questions."

Hongjoong nods, relief washing over him. Then, his gaze darkens as he looks at your bruises again. He gently cups your cheek, his thumb ghosting over the cut on your lip.

"Now… tell me what happened to you."

You hesitate. Then, in a quiet voice, you tell him.

“Mike.”

He stiffens, his grip tightening ever so slightly “Mike? Why?”

You swallow, looking away "It’s not the first time. He’s always had a problem controlling his anger. Whenever we argued, or I did something he didn’t like, he used to slap me. But this time… it was different. Since he came back, he’s been making my life hell, and I don’t know why."

Hongjoong inhales sharply, his hands clenching into fists "Why didn’t you tell me?" His voice is tight, laced with something dark—rage, guilt, protectiveness.

"Because he scares me," You whisper. This is the first time you admit being scared of Mike.

You look… small, fragile.

Broken.

Hongjoong doesn’t think. He just moves. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close, pressing his chin to the top of your head.

“I’m so sorry, pretty,” He murmurs, his heart aching at the quiet, shuddering breaths against his chest.

You stay like that for a long moment, wrapped in silence, until you speak again.

"He’s been acting weird. Like, he knows things that are private among my friends.”

“What do you mean?”

You pull back slightly “I don't know why, but he suddenly knew about you and our relationship, also the night I went to the club, someone sent Mike a video of me smoking.”

Hongjoong frowns “Someone recorded you?”

You nod “But only my close friends were there. Wooyoung and Mindy would never do something like that. That leaves Seonghwa, San, Mingi, and Samantha.”

He exhales sharply “Seonghwa. It has to be him.”

“But we made a truce. We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

Hongjoong shakes his head “I don’t trust him, pretty.”

You hesitate, thinking “But even if he recorded it… how did Mike get it? They know each other because of our families, but they’re not close.”

Silence. Until one name suddenly clicks into place.

“…Dann.”

Hongjoong frowns “Why her?”

You straighten, your mind racing “Mindy told me that Seonghwa talked with her at the party, something that is really rare. Also Dann gave you the wrong address, and maybe—maybe she even started the rumor about us at school.”

The realization settles between you like a ticking bomb.

“We need to find out the truth.”

You nod, determination hardening your features “We do. Also, I can ask my dad If he has a job for your dad, I don't want you to work in that cafeteria with that bitch.”

Hongjoong chuckles “Fine, thank you, pretty.”

And with that, your heart feels more at ease knowing the truth, knowing that he is with you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

It had been two weeks since the day Mike had left bruises on your skin, and the sick feeling of helplessness in your gut.

It’s been two weeks since you went to school, refusing to let everyone see you in that state.

As always, your parents refused to acknowledge the real issue.

You sit in your room, staring at the velvet box fanned out on your desk. It’s always the same cycle.

You would get hurt, and your parents would throw money at the problem, expecting you to accept it with gratitude.

Maybe you would have, once upon a time. But not anymore. Not after everything.

You aren’t going to let them buy your silence this time. If they think a luxurious car would make you forget that their golden son had left marks on your skin, they are dead wrong.

If anything, this is the perfect opportunity.

You’re going to take their gift, but instead of numbing yourself in paradise, you would use it to take the first step in exposing Mike for what he really is.

Bringing him down from his pedestal is’t going to be easy. Your parents are blind to his flaws, and the rest of the world worships him. But you have something they don’t.

You have the truth, and you have Hanhah.

Your fingers brush against your phone as you pull up a text conversation. It 's one of many. Over these four years, you had kept in touch with Hannah, sending her money every month to help with the baby.

A baby that Mike had abandoned, a baby who would be turning four soon.

You scroll through the latest messages, lingering on a photo Hannah had sent a few days ago. A little girl with big, round eyes and wisps of dark hair smiled up at the camera, completely oblivious to the world she had been born into.

The sight of her made your chest tighten.

You can feel it in your bones—this is the way to finally shatter Mike’s perfect image. Your parents can’t ignore this. They wouldn’t be able to excuse him once they knew the truth.

But you need to be smart. If you are going to do this, you can’t do it alone.

That’s where Hongjoong, Mindy, and Wooyoung came in.

You grab your phone and fire off a quick message to the group chat you have with them.

YN♡: Meet me at the cafe tonight. No excuses.

You know they would come. They always do. And once they are here, you would tell them everything.

And about Seonghwa and Dann—because you have a feeling that whatever is going on with Mike, those two aren’t far behind.

By the time it is over, you would make sure Mike’s untouchable image is nothing but dust.

✮ ⋆

“You want to tell your parents about Hannah?” Mindy finally says, her brows furrowed “Are you sure about this, babe?”

“I have to,” You respond, voice steady “I can’t let him keep getting away with everything.”

Wooyoung lets out a low whistle “And how exactly are you planning to do that? I mean, your parents are obsessed with Mike. Even if you show them proof, they might cover it up.”

You exhale sharply, already expecting this “That’s why I need more than just the truth—I need to make it so public they can’t ignore it.”

Mindy tilts her head “When are you planning to tell them?”

“If Seonghwa and Dann are involved in this, I need to deal with them first… Then with Mike.”

“You really think they’re working with Mike?” Wooyoung asks.

“It makes too much sense. Mike knew things he had no way of knowing. The video of me smoking, the rumors about Joong, the fake address Dann gave him… someone was feeding him information.”

Mindy taps a manicured finger against her knee “So what’s the plan?”

You lean forward “First, I’ll talk to Hannah. Maybe ask her for a DNA test or something that will make my parents believe me.” You meet Hongjoong’s gaze “You will come with me.”

“Me? I don't even know who she is.”

“You don't need to know her, I just need some support.”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding “Okay.”

You then turn to Wooyoung and Mindy “As for you two… I need you to say something false about me and Joong, make sure Seonghwa listens. Only like that can we know if Hwa and Dann are working with Mike.”

Woo grins, cracking his knuckles “You want dirt? I’ll get you dirt, babydoll.”

Mindy smirks “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

You lean back, exhaling. The plan is in motion. Now, all they have to do is execute it perfectly.

The night air is crisp as you step out of the café, your mind already racing with what needs to be done next. The plan is fragile—it has to be executed perfectly, or everything could backfire.

Hongjoong walks beside you, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his gaze flickering toward you every few seconds.

“Are you sure you want me there?” He asks. “I mean… Hannah might not even want to see me.”

You inhale deeply, steadying yourself “She won’t care about you, Joong. She’ll care about what I have to say.”

He doesn’t argue, but you can tell he’s uneasy. Maybe it’s because he still doesn’t know everything.

“We’re meeting her tomorrow,” You continue. “She doesn’t know why yet, but she agreed.”

He nods, but you can feel the tension radiating off of him. He wants to ask more. Maybe about this woman, maybe about what you have in mind.

But you don’t give him the chance. Because right now, there’s something more pressing.

Wooyoung and Mindy walk a few steps ahead, already whispering between themselves, likely crafting the perfect lie to spread.

They need to bait Seonghwa. It has to be something good—something that hurts.

“So what should we say?” Mindy asks, glancing back at you. “Something mild or something explosive?”

“Explosive,” You say without hesitation. “Something that makes me look weak. Hwa will eat it up.”

Wooyoung grins “How about we say that you and little Hongjoong broke up?”

Hongjoong tenses beside you. You glance at him but don’t react “Not enough… We need something that will make Hwa really want Mike to know.”

Mindy taps her chin, pretending to think. “How about this—Hongjoong is using you to get popularity and status, you know about it but you’re still with him, done.”

Hongjoong exhales sharply through his nose “That’s messed up.”

“That’s perfect,” You correct.

Mindy shrugs “If we’re going to do this, we might as well make it believable.”

“Just make sure Seonghwa hears it, and if you can, make sure to see if he interacts with Dann.” You remind them. “If it gets back to Mike too quickly, he and Dann will be suspicious.”

Wooyoung throws an arm around Mindy’s shoulders “Oh, don’t worry, babydoll. By the time we’re done, Seonghwa will be begging Dann to tell Mike.”

The four of you reach the parking lot, where your cars are waiting. For a moment, you let the night sink in, let the weight of what you’re about to do settle on your shoulders.

This is it.

The first move.

Tomorrow, you will see Hannah.

Tomorrow, everything will change.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The drive to Hannah’s apartment is quiet.

Hongjoong grips the steering wheel, eyes flickering toward you every so often, but he doesn’t speak.

You know he has questions—a lot of them—but you aren’t ready to answer.

Not yet.

The known streets fade the further you go, the streets narrowing, the polished luxury of your world giving way to something simpler, something real.

The buildings are smaller, older, stacked closely together. There’s no security at the entrance, no valet, no extravagance. Just a plain apartment complex with rusted railings and dimly lit hallways.

Hongjoong pulls into a spot and cuts the engine. He exhales, rubbing a hand over your thigh.

“Are you sure about this?”

You don’t hesitate “Yes.”

He studies you for a moment, like he’s trying to see past the walls you’ve built. Then, with a slow nod, he pushes open his door.

Holding hands, you two walk towards the little building. The stairs creak beneath your heels as you ascend to the third floor. Apartment 3B.

You don’t knock right away. Your fingers hover over the door for a second too long.

He notices “Pretty?”

Before you can second-guess yourself, you knock. A few moments later, the door swings open.

Hannah stands there, barefoot, dressed in simple lounge clothes. No makeup, no carefully styled hair, just Hana.

She blinks in surprise when she sees Hongjoong beside you, but her expression quickly hardens.

“You brought company,” She says flatly.

You exhale “Can we come in?”

Hannah hesitates. Then, without a word, she steps aside.

The apartment is small but warm. Lived in. A couch with a few toys scattered around, a tiny dining table with an open laptop, the faint scent of baby powder and vanilla lingering in the air.

And then—

“Auntie!”

A small blur of motion comes rushing toward you. Tiny arms wrap around your legs, a little giggle filling the space.

Hongjoong freezes beside you.

You crouch down, smoothing a hand over the little girl’s soft, dark curls “Hi, baby.”

She beams at you, big round eyes shining with pure joy “Did you bring me a present?”

Your chest tightens “I’ll bring one next time, I promise.”

She giggles again, then turns her attention to Hongjoong, tilting her head curiously.

“Who’s that?”

Joong is pale, not believing what he is seeing.

You stand, brushing imaginary dust from your clothes “This is my friend, Hongjoong.”

The little girl stares at him for a moment, “Do you like cookies?”

He blinks “Uh… yeah?”

The little girl grins “Then you can stay.”

And with that, she toddles off toward the couch, already forgetting about him.

Hanhah watches the whole exchange with guarded eyes “You didn’t tell him, did you?” She finally says.

Hongjoong shifts beside you, eyes darting between the two of you “Tell me what?”

You inhale sharply, turning to face him fully. “Joong… this is Hanhah’s daughter.”

His brows furrow “Okay…?”

You swallow, your voice steady but heavy “She’s Mike’s daughter.”

The words drop like a bomb in the small apartment.

Hongjoong’s entire body goes stiff. His eyes widen, darting back to the little girl, who is now occupied with a stuffed bear on the couch. Slowly, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle that shouldn’t exist, he turns back to you.

“YN,” He says carefully, voice lower now, “What the hell are you talking about?”

You clench your jaw “Exactly what I said.”

Hannah crosses her arms, looking at him like she’s daring him to say something stupid.

“You didn’t think Mike was actually perfect, did you?”

Hongjoong swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing “He—he has a kid?”

“With me,” Hanhah confirms. “And he threatened to ruin my life if I ever told anyone.”

He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair “Jesus Christ, pretty.”

You shift closer to him, lowering your voice “Now do you see why I need to do this?”

Joong exhales sharply, glancing at the little girl again. His expression shifts, something unreadable flickering across his face. And then, he nods.

“I’m in,” He says. “Whatever you need, I’m in.”

For the first time that night, you breathe a little easier.

Because this is just the beginning.

✮ ⋆

The air feels heavy with unspoken words as you and Hongjoong sit at the small, worn-out table across from Hannah.

The little girl, still distracted by her stuffed bear, giggles every now and then, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the room.

Hongjoong, still processing, doesn’t look at you, but he holds your hand in his. His eyes are fixed on the little girl, his mind likely racing with questions.

"You’re telling me Mike doesn’t know she’s alive?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper, the disbelief in it palpable.

Hannah’s gaze darkens "No. He thinks I had an abortion. That’s what he told me to do. He threatened me, said if I didn’t… he’d ruin my life. He was so sure of it. He made me believe it was the only option." Her voice cracks slightly, but she steadies herself.

“But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t end her life just because Mike didn’t want the world to know about her."

The words land like a punch, and Hongjoong recoils slightly, the reality of the situation sinking in.

"That’s why you’ve been—" He gestures vaguely toward her daughter, still oblivious to the weight of their conversation. "You’ve been keeping her a secret all these years?"

She nods, her face hardening as she looks down at her daughter "I’ve had to. For her safety. For my sanity. I couldn't risk Mike finding out she was alive. Not after everything he said." She pauses, her fingers brushing over the baby’s small hand. “I’ve kept in contact with YN, because… because someone had to know the truth.”

You feel a pang of guilt in your chest, the weight of what you’ve been hiding from everyone—the truth that no one, especially Mike, could ever learn.

You’ve helped her for years, sending money for the baby, but the lies have built walls between you and your family.

It was always supposed to stay secret. But now, you need to bring it all into the light. And you need to do it carefully.

You turn to Hongjoong, your voice low “Mike doesn’t know she’s alive. And he can’t. He will never find out, not from me. And I’ve never let anyone get close to her… until now.”

His eyes flicker with understanding, the pieces finally coming together "So... we’re not just exposing Mike’s secrets, we’re exposing his lies too."

You nod, the weight of the plan growing heavier “Exactly.”

Hannah sits in silence for a moment, as if weighing something in her mind.

“I know this is going to be dangerous for all of us. I’ve lived in fear of Mike finding out. But I can’t hide anymore. This girl deserves to know the truth.”

You exhale, your heart racing “I won’t let him keep his image. Not anymore.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong says finally, his voice steady. “But you know this is going to take more than just telling your parents, right? We need evidence. Something undeniable.”

You nod again “That’s why we need a DNA test. Hannah, you’re going to have to agree to it. It’s the only way we can prove it. If we can show them she is his, there’s no way they’ll be able to cover it up.”

She hesitates, you see the fear flash across her face “If I do this... will it be enough? Will your parents believe it?”

“I hope so,” You say firmly. “And once they know—once we have that proof—they’ll have no choice but to acknowledge him for who he really is. No more pretending.”

Hongjoong watches you for a beat, his eyes softening just slightly “We’ll do this together. But we have to be careful. One wrong move and it’s over.”

Hannah stands up, wiping her palms on her pants, clearly anxious but resolved.

“Okay. I’ll do it. For her. For her future.”

The little girl looks up at the three of you, her big, innocent eyes wide.

“Are we gonna tell Daddy soon?”

Your breath catches in your throat. The innocence in her voice makes everything feel so much heavier.

“We’ll tell him when the time is right,” You say, forcing a smile. “When he’s ready to hear it.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

While you and Hongjoon talk with Hannah, Mindy and Wooyoung sit casually in the school cafeteria, their voices just loud enough to be overheard.

Woo, always the playful one, dramatically leans in closer to Mindy, whispering just loud enough for nearby ears to catch pieces of their conversation.

“You heard about Hongjoong, right?” Wooyoung says, shaking his head with exaggerated concern. “Babydoll’s been buying him stuff. Like, a lot of stuff.”

Mindy gasps, playing along “No way. So the rumors are true? He’s just using her?”

Woo sighs, rubbing his temples “I don’t want to believe it, but even YN’s starting to realize it. She told me she’s thinking about ending things. She’s just waiting for the right moment.”

Seonghwa, sitting at a nearby table with other students, doesn’t react outwardly, but Mindy catches the way his fingers still over his phone.

She knows he’s listening. Mindy lowers her voice just a bit, making it seem like she doesn’t want to be overheard.

“That’s not all. Hongjoong’s been acting super secretive. I heard he’s meeting up with someone outside of school. A girl.”

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow “A girl? Who?”

Mindy shrugs, keeping it vague “I don’t know yet, but I’m sure it’s not YN.”

A beat of silence. Then Seonghwa stands, casually stretching before walking off—phone in hand.

Mindy and Wooyoung exchange a look. Hook, line, and sinker.

If Seonghwa really is working with Dann, it won’t be long before this ‘information’ reaches Mike.

✮ ⋆

Dann moves through the crowded hallway, her arms wrapped tightly around her books as she heads toward the library.

She’s been keeping her head down lately, avoiding unnecessary conversations—especially with Mike and Seonghwa.

After what happened to you, after seeing Mike’s violence firsthand, something in her feels wrong.

Maybe this has gone too far.

But Seonghwa doesn’t give her a choice.

“Dann.”

His voice cuts through the noise, smooth and controlled, but she knows him well enough to hear the edge beneath it. She stops mid-step, squeezing her eyes shut for a brief second before turning around.

Seonghwa leans casually against the lockers, arms crossed, looking her up and down with that usual amused smirk. But there’s something else in his expression—something sharp.

“We need to talk.”

Dann swallows “I have class.”

“It can wait.” He pushes off the lockers and steps closer, lowering his voice. “I heard something you’re gonna love.”

She forces herself to look bored “I doubt that.”

Hwa chuckles, shaking his head “You really should be more curious, Dann. You and I both know Mike would want to hear this.”

Her stomach twists “I don’t—”

“The nerd is using YN.”

Dann freezes. Seonghwa watches her carefully, letting the words settle in before continuing.

“Wooyoung and Mindy said it. Apparently, Hongjoong’s only with her for popularity. And get this—she knows it. She’s staying with him anyway.”

Dann shifts uncomfortably, gripping her books tighter “So what? That’s their problem, not ours.”

Hwa’s smirk fades slightly “Are you forgetting who you’re working with? Mike needs to know this.”

Dann glances around, her pulse quickening “Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t get involved in this one.”

His eyes narrow, and just like that, his amusement vanishes. He steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“What’s wrong with you lately?”

“Nothing,” She lies, shifting her weight.

“You’re acting differently.”

“I just think—” She hesitates, wetting her lips. “I think Mike has enough reasons to hate her already. He doesn’t need this one either.”

Seonghwa scoffs, shaking his head “Of course he does. What’s better than proving she’s pathetic? That she’s weak?” He tilts his head, watching her carefully. “Unless you don’t want to be useful to him anymore?”

Dann clenches her jaw. She feels cornered, the guilt pressing down on her chest.

YN doesn’t deserve this.

But Seonghwa is watching her like a predator, waiting for any sign of weakness. If she refuses, he’ll start asking questions—questions that might lead back to her hesitations, her guilt. If Mike finds out she’s doubting him…

She exhales shakily, looking down at her shoes “Fine,” she mutters. “I’ll tell him.”

His smirk returns instantly “Good girl.”

She doesn’t move right away. Every fiber of her being screams at her to walk away, to stop this before it goes any further.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she pulls out her phone, her fingers trembling as she types a message to him.

Dann: We need to talk. It’s about YN and Hongjoong.

As she presses send, she feels sick.

She doesn’t notice the two figures watching from down the hall.

Wooyoung leans lazily against the lockers, arms crossed, his grin widening. “Babydoll was right.”

Mindy hums, inspecting her nails. “Honestly, I knew it since the day I saw her talking with Hwa at the party.”

Woo chuckles. “Well, he did what we needed him to do.”

Mindy smirks, flicking her gaze toward Dann “Now lets see if Dann tells Mike.”

Because once Mike hears this, things will really start falling apart.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The evening air is cool against your skin as you push open the balcony doors of your bedroom, stepping outside with a quiet sigh.

The city lights stretch far into the distance, twinkling against the dark sky.

Everything feels too much—Hannah, the baby, the truth you’re about to reveal. It’s all starting to feel real.

But then, there’s him.

Hongjoong stands a few feet away, leaning against the railing, his gaze distant. He’s been quiet since you got home, like he’s still trying to piece everything together.

You step beside him, resting your arms on the railing "You’re thinking too much," You murmur.

He huffs out a small laugh, shaking his head "Can you blame me?"

You tilt your head, watching him "What’s on your mind?"

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. "Hannah, the baby, Mike. You." He glances at you then, something unreadable in his expression. "This is a lot, pretty. I just… I don’t want you to go through this alone."

You blink at him, caught off guard.

He’s serious.

"You really mean that?" You ask softly.

Hongjoong turns fully toward you, his brows drawing together. "Of course I do. I—" He hesitates, like the words are caught in his throat. Then, with a deep breath, he presses on. "I care about you, YN. More than you think."

Your heart does something strange—tightens, twists, then swells. You don’t know what to say. No one has ever said that to you, not like this.

Not like they meant it.

So, instead of words, you step closer, your hands reaching out on instinct.

He doesn’t move as you slip your arms around his waist, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

He’s warm, steady, safe.

For a second, he’s frozen. Then, slowly, his arms come around you too, holding you just as tightly.

"You don’t have to do anything for me," You whisper. "Just… stay with me."

Hongjoong rests his chin on top of your head, his voice quiet but firm.

"I’m not going anywhere."

And for the first time in a long time, you believe it.

✮ ⋆

Your room is dimly lit, the golden glow from your bedside lamp casting soft shadows on the walls.

The silence is peaceful, interrupted only by the faint sound of pages flipping as Hongjoong sits on your bed, pretending to read a book but really just stealing glances at you.

You’re laying next to him, your head resting in his lap while you scroll over your social media.

He is about to say something when a sharp knock.

No. Not a knock. A demand interrupts him.

You freeze, and Hongjoong’s muscles tense. Then the door swings open without waiting for permission.

Mike steps inside, composed as ever, but there’s something in his eyes—something sharp, something dangerous.

You meet his gaze, already standing from your comfortable position.

"What the hell are you—"

"You’re pathetic," He cuts you off smoothly "And predictable." His gaze flickers to Hongjoong, and he lets out a small, humorless chuckle "I should have known he’d be here."

"What do you want, Mike?"

"You really are desperate, aren’t you?" His voice is low, full of quiet venom "So desperate for someone to want you that you’re letting this nerd use you. And what’s worse?" He tilts his head, lips curving into something cruel "You fucking know it."

You smile when you hear that. It was them.

"And where did you get that brilliant theory? Park Seonghwa?" A pause "Or Dann?"

Something flickers in Mike’s eyes. Park Seonghwa? What does Seonghwa have to do with this?

You scoff "Of course. You must be proud—controlling people like puppets, just like you always do."

Mike steps closer "And you’re any different?" His voice lowers "You lie to yourself every day, pretending you’re not just as pathetic as the rest of them. But deep down, you know the truth."

"You want to talk about truth?" Your heart pounds as you take a step forward, voice daring, reckless "What about Hannah then?"

The moment the name Hannah leaves your lips, the air in the room shifts. Mike stiffens, his entire body going rigid. The usual arrogance in his expression wavers—just for a second, but it’s there.

A crack. A weakness.

You see it, Hongjoong sees it.

And then, Mike moves.

The slap comes fast, too fast.

The sound of it rings through the room, a sickening crack as his palm connects with your cheek, whipping your head to the side.

The sting is instant, burning hot, your skin already throbbing. You gasp, stumbling back, your vision blurring for a split second.

But before you can process the pain—before you can even react—Hongjoong is already moving.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" The anger in his voice is like nothing you’ve ever heard before.

Hongjoong shoves Mike back, his entire body coiled with fury. The sharp contrast between his usual calm demeanor and the pure rage in his eyes is enough to make even Mike falter.

"You don’t get to do that," Hongjoong seethes, standing between you and your brother, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are white. "Not to her. Not to anyone."

Mike’s lips curl, his composure snapping back into place, but there’s an unmistakable flicker of irritation—maybe even surprise—at Hongjoong’s audacity.

"And what exactly do you think you’re doing?" Mike taunts, brushing off the shove like it was nothing. "You think you can protect her?" He scoffs. "You think she needs you?"

Hongjoong doesn’t flinch "She doesn’t need me," He admits, voice steady. "But I’m still here. And I won’t fucking stand by while you hurt her."

There’s something raw, undeniable in his words. You blink, still dazed from the slap, your hand hovering near your stinging cheek. Hongjoong turns slightly, eyes softening when they land on you.

"Are you okay, pretty?" His voice is lower now, gentle.

Something inside you twists.

Mike clicks his tongue in disgust "Pathetic," He mutters.

Hongjoong’s jaw clenches "Get the fuck out."

For the first time, Mike hesitates.

Hongjoong’s not just some quiet, desperate nerd anymore. He’s furious. Unshakable. And for once, Mike doesn’t have complete control over the situation.

"You’re making a mistake, nerd." Mike finally says, his voice cold, but there’s something else there too—annoyance, maybe even unease.

"Get. Out," Hongjoong repeats, this time his voice lower, quieter—but somehow deadlier.

Mike holds his gaze for a long moment before scoffing and turning toward the door. But before he leaves, he glances at you one last time.

"You think you’re playing some clever game, but you have no idea what you’re doing," He murmurs. "You’ll regret this, YN."

With that, he walks out, slamming the door behind him. The room is suffocatingly silent in the aftermath.

Hongjoong exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as he turns back to you. His fingers twitch, like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if he should.

"Pretty—"

"I’m fine," You cut him off, voice tight.

But you’re not fine.

You’re shaking. Your cheek burns. Your heart is racing. And then, without thinking, you step forward and wrap your arms around Hongjoong.

He melts immediately into the embrace, his arms coming around you protectively.

"I’ve got you," He murmurs into your hair. "I’m right here."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦! 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼 𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓆞 2 seater - @mingi-s-dimples yungi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Ateez After A Concert - @mingwrites ot8 x reader (scenarios) 𓆞 𓆞 Ateez reacting to Jongho being a “grown man” - @atinydise ot8 x reader (reactions) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Ateez Texts When You Went To Another Idol's Concert - @jjoongstar ot8 x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Between Two Hearts - @call-of-daydreams bf!sugar daddy!jongho x reader x bf!sugar daddy!mingi (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 [ 02.18 ] - @yizhou-time prince!hongjoong x princess!reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 12:30 - @atinyslittleworld idol!hongjoong x reader (timestamp) 𓆞 𓆞 After Hours - @jjoongstar bf!hongjoong x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Back Off, I'm Married! - @solaris-amethyst non-idol!hongjoong x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Both Pretty - @skzdust bf!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 A Day Of Sunshine - @mybelovedwoo non-idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Away With The Wind - @seongwars dragon rider!seonghwa x ex-dragon rider!reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Biggest Flex - @daceydeath mafia!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Bite Me [Part One] [Part Two] - @atzloverr bf!vampire!seonghwa x reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Cravings - @dancinglikebutterflywings husband!seonghwa x pregnant!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 3:11 pm - @twilightzoneletters bf!yunho x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 A Curve Ball From The Past - @kpopcafeeee baseball star!dad!yunho x mom!reader (series) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 All Of The Girls You Loved Before - @evandsolo bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Bookshop And Bourbon - @ja3hwa mafia!yunho x librarian!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Crave Me - @mingi-s-dimples bf!ceo!yunho x gf!model!reader (one-shot) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 A Lot Like Love - @melodyanqe1 prince!yeosang x florist!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 A Warm Heart - @jjoongstar statue!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Cubicles - @/aflairforthejaz non-idol!yeosang x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Cured - @acupoftaewithsomesuga doctor!yeosang x nurse!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Divination - @daemour crown prince!yeosang x maid!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 [3:00 PM] - @edenesth dad!san x mom!reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 23:11 - @iannmin idol!san x idol!reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 3:32 am - @/iannmin idol!san x idol!reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 A Smile From Me To You - @yourlocaljonghoe bf!san x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 By My Side - @iannmin non-idol!san x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 00:00 - @iannmin newlywed!mingi x pregnant!reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 B.A.S - @desirehorizon non-idol!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Brother - @hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf best friend's brother!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Dirty Little Secret | Our Dirty Little Secret - @xosannie sex worker!mingi x reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Everything I Could Ever Wish For! - @makeitmingi dad!idol!mingi x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 4:15pm - @daceydeath idol!wooyoung x reader (timestamp) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Best Friend's Girl - @dancinglikebutterflywings best friend!wooyoung x reader ft.san (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Celebratory Fuck - @wooyoungmybelovedhusband baseball player!wooyoung x cheerleader!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Change Up - @skrrts non-idol!wooyoung x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Colours Of You - @ae-cow non-idol!wooyoung x optometrists!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 12:31 am - @minghaoslatina idol!jongho x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Far Away - @melodyanqel dad!huband!idol!jongho x mom!non-idol!wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Jongho is jealous and Wooyoung is the cause because of course he is - @redzie02 bf!jongho x gn!reader ft. wooyoung (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 In My Head - @callmeagardengnome idol!jongho x music producer!bartender!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Phone Call - @sweetiesicheng bf!jongho x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 

𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎

𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙳𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝙱𝚢 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 "𝚁𝚞𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎"

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚗 𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕

𝙻𝚎𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎

𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙾𝚗𝚎

𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚃𝚠𝚘

𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚂𝚒𝚡 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙴𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚃𝚎𝚗

I need someone to hug reader i’m so serious

strangers by nature | iv

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.7K Warnings: a little angst, mental health care, hints of child abduction, mentions of death, mentions of infidelity

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a/n: being sick means more time to bust out content

You paced around your bedroom, restless energy driving each step as the anticipation of your upcoming therapy session settled over you. The faint glow of the laptop screen illuminated the room, the app open and waiting. The timer ticked down with an almost menacing rhythm as you adjusted the laptop, twisting it slightly left, then right, before stepping back to assess the angle.

Tired eyes stared back at you, dulled by sleepless nights, and the lines on your face seemed deeper, etched by the weight of too many burdens. No amount of hydrating could fix this.

The laptop chimed, signaling the start of the session. With a heavy sigh, you clicked "Join." The screen flickered, and soon the familiar face of your therapist, Jungah, came into view. 

“Y/N! How are you?” 

You hesitated, your eyes darting to the floor for a moment. “I’m...well, a lot has happened since our last session.”

Jungah nodded gently, her expression softening as she leaned in, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. “Tell me more,” she encouraged.

“Mingi was in an accident,” you said, the words feeling heavier as they left your mouth. “He’s…in a coma right now.”

“Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry to hear that. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now! How are you holding up?”

You nodded, the lump in your throat making it hard to respond. “I’m pretty overwhelmed. I got a dog though, which is great. But everything about the situation just feels so…complicated,” you admitted, your voice dropping slightly. 

“Part of me feels like I should be…devastated. And I am, in a way. I think just because we’ve always had such a difficult relationship.”

“It’s okay to feel all of those things. There’s no ‘right’ way to process something like this. What’s been the hardest part for you?”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing patterns on the edge of your desk as your thoughts churned.

“Probably the fact that it reminds me of when Hongjoong was in the hospital. During his battle with cancer.”

“Right, and we talked about that in our first session. What kind of feelings does this bring up for you?”

You swallowed hard, the words clawing their way out of you. 

“Guilt. I can’t believe I was in class when it happened,” you began, your voice already trembling. Your voice cracked, and you gripped the edge of the desk tightly. Your breath hitched, and you shook your head as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. 

“I should have been there,” you said, the words spilling out in a rush, your voice rising with emotion. “I should’ve skipped class, stayed by his side, done something. I thought I had more time, and then—then I didn’t.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. 

“He died alone. Alone. And I wasn’t there to tell him I loved him one last time, to hold his hand, to let him know he wasn’t alone.”

You pressed your palm against your chest, as if trying to steady the ache threatening to consume you.

“And now, with Mingi,” you continued, your words tumbling out in a rush. “We’ve never been close. But the thought of leaving him alone, of him waking up, o-or dying and not having anyone there, makes it feel like it’s happening all over again.”

Your voice broke completely, and a sob tore from your throat. You buried your face in your hands, fingers clutching at your temples as though trying to contain the flood of emotions pouring out. 

Mingi’s head shot up, his ears twitching as the sound of your broken sobs filled the room. Panic flashed in his eyes, and he scrambled to his feet, the urgency of your pain pulling him forward. He stumbled slightly, his small paws skidding on the floor in his haste, but he didn’t stop until he was in your lap.

With all the force his tiny body could muster, he pressed against you, nudging your hands, pawing at your chest—anything to pull you back from the edge. His movements were frantic, almost desperate, as if he could piece you back together with his touch.

No, no, no, don't cry.

“Why does this keep happening to me?” you choked out. You curled in on yourself, arms wrapping around your middle as if to contain the grief threatening to consume you whole. 

Mingi had never seen you like this. The weight of it crushed him—heavier than any argument you’d ever had, sharper than the harshest words exchanged in anger. 

He’d known about Hongjoong’s death in a detached, matter-of-fact way—something that had happened before your lives became entangled. But until now, it hadn’t occurred to him how deeply that loss had scarred you, how it marred your heart.

You weren’t just the person he’d been forced to marry, the one he’d spent so much energy resenting and clashing with. You were a whole person—someone who had loved, lost, and carried burdens he hadn’t even noticed.

“Y/N,” Jungah said softly, “take a deep breath with me. Just one. In through your nose...and out through your mouth.”

You tried to follow her lead, managing a shaky inhale, then exhaling in a stuttering gasp, fresh tears spilling down as you followed the motions.

“It’s not your fault,” Jungah said. “None of this is your fault—not Hongjoong’s passing, and not Mingi’s accident. You loved Hongjoong, and you’re doing everything you can for Mingi now. That’s what matters.”

“That’s the problem,” you said, your voice trembling. “I shouldn’t be the only one. His parents—” Your words caught, a wave of anger rising in your throat, hot and bitter, cutting you off mid-sentence.

“They wouldn’t even take turns staying with him at the hospital! I asked. But his mom brushed me off like it was nothing, like their son lying there broken didn’t matter.”

Jungah’s face softened with understanding, but you could see the anger flicker in her eyes. “That’s not on you, either. They’re the ones failing him, not you.”

“I just…I just can’t stand the thought of him being alone. Even after everything he’s done, after all the hurt—he doesn’t deserve that. No one does.”

Mingi’s heart clenched—not with guilt, but with a profound, almost overwhelming sense of gratitude. You were angry, hurt, and exhausted, yet you still stood up for him. You still wanted to be there for him, even after all the ways he’d hurt you, you stayed.

It struck him then–he had spent so much time fighting against your world, your pain, but had never truly tried to understand it.

“You’re right to be angry. They should be there for him, but they’re not, and that’s their shame to bear. You, on the other hand, have gone above and beyond. You’ve stayed. You’ve cared. And that says so much more about who you are.”

“I’m so tired,” you admitted. "I don’t even know if I’m doing this because I care or because I’m afraid of looking like a terrible person. I just want to do the right thing, but I don’t know what that is anymore.”

“Y/N,” she said gently, “it sounds like you’re carrying a lot and putting everyone else’s needs before your own. You know, it’s okay to prioritize yourself.”

“I know, I know.” You ran a shaky hand through your hair, “I don’t know what that looks like for me right now. I think I just care too much about people who’d never do the same for me. I feel…pathetic, honestly.” 

“I hear you,” Jungah said softly. “You’ve been through a lot, and it’s natural to question where you stand, especially when you give so much of yourself to others and don’t always get it back.”

Your gaze drifted down to Maro, his soft brown eyes watching you intently. As if sensing your turmoil, he nudged his head against your hand. You offered him a weak smile, gently scratching behind his ears. 

“But I need you to hear this, Y/N. You’re showing compassion, and there’s incredible strength in that. You’re standing up for someone who needs your care and your support, someone who may not even realize how much they need you right now.”

“Taking care of yourself isn’t a betrayal of those qualities, it’s a part of them. You deserve the same care you give to everyone else. You’re worthy of that, Y/N. You need to remember that.”

Jungah smiled softly as your therapy session came to a close. “We’ll keep working through this, step by step. For now, just think about what self-care might look like for you. You’ve been through so much, Y/N. Give yourself the grace you so readily give to others.”

“Thank you,” you sniffled, wiping at your eyes. 

With a shaky exhale, you gave her a small, grateful wave before reaching out to end the call. The screen went dark, and the silence of the room rushed in to fill the space where her voice had been.

For a moment, you just sat there, staring at the blank screen of your laptop. The tears welled up again, but this time they came slower, quieter, as if you were finally too tired to hold them back. You let out a long, trembling sigh before looking down at Maro, who was watching you intensely. 

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close as he nestled into your chest. “I’m sorry,” you murmured into his fur, your voice barely audible. 

You didn’t even know exactly what you were apologizing for—maybe for being angry, for feeling conflicted, for not having all the answers. But Mingi didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, he nuzzled closer, his way of silently telling you he understood, that he saw the pain you were carrying.

He could feel it all—the storm raging inside you. The guilt, the exhaustion, the anger. He was someone who had hurt you, who had failed you in ways he couldn’t begin to measure. Yet here you were, holding him as if he was still worth fighting for.

You were fighting—for him, for yourself, for the hope that things could be different. And though he didn’t know if he deserved it, Mingi silently willed you to keep going. Somehow, in the stillness, he realized something…you were his reason to fight, too.

⋆

The café was quiet when you arrived, the gentle hum of conversations and the clinking of silverware blending into a soft, comforting din. Near the window, Mrs. Kim sat in the warm glow of sunlight, quietly leafing through a stack of sheet music while humming along to the notes.

“Y/N!” she greeted, her face lighting up as she caught sight of you. Rising from her seat, she pulled you into a gentle hug, her familiar warmth easing the lingering tension in your shoulders. Her gaze dropped, and her expression softened when she noticed the small figure nestled at your feet.

“And who is this?” The corners of her mouth lifted into a smile.

“This is Maro,” you replied, scooping him up into your arms. His ears perked up at the sound of his name, his curious eyes darting toward Mrs. Kim. 

“I hope it’s okay that I brought him along.”

Mrs. Kim chuckled, her hand already reaching out toward him. “Of course it’s okay,” she said warmly, her fingers brushing against his soft fur as she gently scratched behind his ears. Maro leaned into her touch, his fluffy tail wagging slightly.

“It’s nice to have some extra company.”

You sat down, and Maro settled under the table as the server came by to take your order. Hongjoong’s mother watched you for a moment, her gaze warm but thoughtful, as if she was piecing something together. 

“You seem…tired,” she noted softly. 

You let out a dry chuckle, brushing a hand through your hair. “When you’re married to the most narcissistic family on the planet, it kind of comes with the territory,” you replied with a wry smile, the humor in your words unable to mask the weariness behind them.

Mingi let out a quiet huff, his ears flicking back as he gave you a sidelong glance from his position under the table. His frown was subtle but noticeable, a clear sign that he didn’t entirely agree with your assessment of his family—even if he couldn’t voice his objections.

“Marriage can be… complicated,” she said gently, lifting her mug to her lips, “but it’s in those challenges that we often discover who we really are.”

Mrs. Kim folded her hands over the sheet music, her gaze warm yet thoughtful. “It’s also about finding ways to grow together. It’s often the small, quiet decisions to stay and try that matter most, even when it feels impossible.”

She paused before adding, “I know the Songs can be…intense. But people like that are mirrors. They reflect parts of yourself—your strengths, weaknesses, and fears. Facing those reflections isn’t easy, but it can lead to unexpected growth.”

“I just wish it didn’t feel like a constant fight. Like I’m always proving something—to them, to myself, to Mingi.”

“Proving yourself is exhausting. But maybe, without realizing it, you’re showing them how to fight for something worth keeping.” Mrs. Kim’s voice was gentle, her words lingering in the air before she added, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, before I forget…”

She slid the stack of sheet music into your hands, your breath caught as you scanned the pages, immediately recognizing Hongjoong’s handwriting—the chaotic, unruly script that mirrored the way his mind danced through ideas, always just a little ahead of itself.

“Jazz?” you murmured, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at your lips.

“Just a few of his hundreds of compositions he’d written over the years,” she explained, her own smile touched with sadness. “I thought…you might want to have them.”

You ran your fingers lightly over the pages, the notes and markings so distinctly him—bold, inventive, and just a touch wild. The ache in your chest swelled, but it was softened by the warmth of the memory.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “This means a lot.”

“He always wanted his music to be shared, to bring people joy. I think he’d be happy knowing you have these.”

Under the table, Mingi pawed at Mrs. Kim’s leg. It was a small, almost instinctive gesture, as if even in his canine form, he wanted to ease the weight of her sadness. Mrs. Kim’s gaze softened as she glanced down at him.

Mingi studied her closely, sensing the deep sadness she carried beneath her calm demeanor. It was an enduring grief for her son, one that seemed to seep into every word she spoke and every careful action she took. Yet, she never let it consume her. Instead, she channeled it into wisdom, offering others a sense of peace and understanding.

He couldn’t help but wonder if his own mother would ever be capable of finding those same emotions.

“You’re a sweet one, aren’t you?” she murmured, her voice low, almost as though she were speaking to herself.

“Thank you for keeping me company, dear.”

Mingi tilted his head, his small tail wagging slightly as he considered her words. People often avoided what they didn’t understand or couldn’t fix. And yet, here he was, a tiny puppy, silently promising her he wouldn’t be one of those people—at least, not today.

“Excuse me? Have you seen my daughter?” 

The frantic question cut through the murmur of the busy street. Mrs. Kim and Mingi turned in unison, her hand still resting on the leash as her gaze landed on the source of the voice. You looked up from adjusting your coat just in time to catch the woman’s anxious expression as she stopped abruptly, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, “My daughter, Yena, she’s...she’s gone! She was right beside me just a moment ago, and now I can’t find her. She’s five, wearing a pink jacket and yellow rain boots?”

Mrs. Kim’s eyes softened immediately, her expression one of concern. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. We haven’t seen her, but we’ll keep an eye out for her.” She turned to you for confirmation, and you nodded, already scanning the area.    

“Thank you, thank you,” she said, though her gaze was already shifting, searching the busy street.

“I turned around for a second and the next thing I knew, she’s gone!”

“No, don’t blame yourself,” Mrs. Kim said gently, her voice steady and soothing. “Children are naturally curious. Let’s focus on finding her now. Have you called the authorities?”

The woman nodded quickly, her hands trembling as she fumbled to show a picture of her daughter on her phone.

“Yes. This is her,” she said, holding her phone out for you to see.

Pictured was a bright-eyed little girl, with round cheeks, grinning widely as she clutched a stuffed rabbit nearly as big as she was. 

“Where did you last see her?” you asked, already forming a mental map of the area. 

“Just over there,” the woman said, her hand shaking as she pointed toward the park entrance.

“We were sitting by the benches under the oak tree, and I turned to grab her water bottle from my bag…” Her voice wavered, and she paused, her breaths growing shallow and erratic as the memory clearly consumed her.

“It’s okay,” you interjected gently, your tone steady and reassuring. You leaned in slightly, meeting her panicked gaze. 

“You’ve done the right thing by calling for help. We’ll keep an eye out for her and report anything we find to the authorities.”

The woman nodded shakily, clutching her phone as if it were a lifeline. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling under the weight of her fear.

You gave her a reassuring smile, though the heaviness in your chest lingered. 

With a quick nod, you and Mrs. Kim turned to make your way toward the park, leaving Yena’s mother behind to continue her frantic search.

“How unfortunate,” Mrs. Kim sighed after a moment, breaking the silence. She shook her head, her expression clouded with sympathy. 

“I can’t imagine what that woman is going through. Losing sight of your child, even for a second...it’s a nightmare no parent should ever have to endure.”

Mingi gave a small huff, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air. His steps quickened slightly, and you had to tighten your grip on the leash to keep him from pulling too far ahead.

She’s around here somewhere, his instincts told him as he sniffed the air again. Something about the situation—the mother’s panic and the child’s vulnerability, tugged at a deep place in his heart. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know Yena, she was small, defenseless, and alone. That was enough for Mingi to feel protective.

He remembered the times he’d been alone, in places where no one called his name or came looking for him. But Yena wouldn’t feel that loneliness, not if Mingi could help it. She needed someone, and he was determined to be that someone.

Whatever loneliness he’d known in his own life, he wouldn’t let a lost little girl feel it. Not while he could do something about it.

Mingi sniffed the air again, his movements growing more urgent. His ears twitched, his muscles tensed, and his posture shifted, radiating a focused energy that caught your attention. You noticed his change immediately, the way he stopped sniffing idly and started searching with intent.

“Maro?” Your grip on the leash tightened instinctively as he stepped forward, his nose brushing the ground before lifting to sniff the air again.

Mingi hesitated for a moment, his body rigid, as though confirming something only he could sense. Then, without warning, he surged forward, the leash pulling taut in your hands.

“Maro, wait!” you called, trying to hold him back, but his determination overpowered your grip. With a quick twist of his body, Mingi wriggled free of his harness. The loop fell to the ground with a soft thud, and in a flash, he was off.

“No!” you shouted, panic rising in your chest. You took off after him, your heart pounding as his barking grew louder, guiding you toward his destination.

He darted through the park, weaving between trees and darting past startled spectators, as though he were following a trail only he could detect. You struggled to keep up, adrenaline driving your steps as you sprinted after him.

"Go away!" Yena cried, her voice breaking as she snatched her arm away from the strange woman. Her wide, tear-filled eyes darted around the clearing, searching for an escape.

"I'm not a stranger," the woman said, her tone syrupy but strained, a smile tugging uncomfortably at the corners of her lips.

"I’m your mommy’s friend."

"My mommy said never to go with strangers!”

The woman crouched slightly, her smile tight and unnatural as her patience began to wear thin.

“I told you, I’m not a stranger,” she said, her voice growing sharper. Her eyes glinted with something cold as she glanced around the clearing. 

“You’ll be in trouble if you don’t listen to me, little girl. Do you want that?”

Before the woman could reach for her again, furious barking erupted from the trees. Mingi charged into the clearing, positioning himself between the girl and the woman, his growls low and menacing.

“Shoo!” she snapped, waving her hand at him as though he were a mere nuisance. “Get out of here, you little pest!”

But Mingi didn’t flinch. His growls deepened, his stance lowering as if ready to lunge if she dared to come closer. His determination seemed to fill the air, daring her to make a move.

“A puppy!” Yena gasped, her tears momentarily forgotten as she crouched slightly behind him.

“Maro!” you called, your voice sharp. He turned briefly, his tail wagging slightly at the sound of your voice, but he quickly refocused on the woman, his growls resuming.

The woman’s gaze darted between you and the dog, her jaw tightening. For a fleeting moment, her eyes locked with yours, and recognition flashed in her expression—a flicker of something dark and calculated. Her lips curled into a sneer before she turned and bolted, disappearing into the trees with a speed that left you stunned.

Mingi barked after her once, but then turned his attention back to Yena. Rising onto his hind legs, he nudged her gently as if urging her to sit. Once she did, he hopped into her lap without hesitation, his warm, furry body pressing against hers like a shield.

Yena gasped softly at the contact, her small hands instinctively clutching at his soft fur. She buried her fingers into his coat, the warmth and comfort he provided allowing her sobs to finally break free.

“Oh my god, Yena!” you gasped, dropping to your knees beside her. Your hands hovered for a moment, unsure whether to touch her or give her space. “Are you okay?”

Yena peeked up at you, her tear-streaked face still pressed against Mingi’s side.

“The bad lady’s gone?” she whispered, her voice fragile.

“She’s gone,” you assured her. You reached out, brushing a strand of her disheveled hair away from her face.

“Maro made sure of it. He scared her away.”

“He’s a good puppy,” she murmured shakily, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers stroked his back, and though her movements were timid, they carried a quiet gratitude.

Your hands fumbled for your phone, the adrenaline making your fingers clumsy. You swiped at the screen, barely managing to bring up Mrs. Kim’s number. Pressing the call button, you held the phone to your ear, your eyes scanning the tree line as if to ensure the woman wouldn’t reappear.

The phone rang once, then twice, before Mrs. Kim’s voice came through, steady but laced with worry.

“Did you find her?” she asked, her words hurried.

“Yes,” you said quickly, glancing down at Yena, who was still clutching Maro. “She’s here. She’s safe, but…” You hesitated, swallowing hard before continuing.

“Call the cops. I’ll stay here with her until they arrive.”

⋆

The faint sound of hurried footsteps reached your ears, and when you glanced toward the path, you saw Mrs. Kim, Yena’s mother, and two officers running toward you. 

“Yena!” she called, her voice cracking as she rushed forward.

“Mommy!” Yena cried, scrambling to her feet, still clutching Mingi. She stumbled toward her mother, who dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around her daughter tightly. Yena buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would have done if—” Her voice broke, and she hugged Yena even tighter.

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you!” she continued.

You shook your head gently, offering her a warm, reassuring smile. “There’s no need,” you said, your voice calm but earnest. “I’m just glad I was here to help. That’s all that matters.”

Mingi barked softly, as if echoing your sentiments. His tail wagged as he sat back at your feet, looking every bit the proud protector he was. Yena pulled back slightly from her mother’s embrace, wiping at her eyes with one hand while the other reached down to pet Mingi.

“The puppy saved me,” she said softly, her voice still shaky but filled with awe. “He scared the bad lady away.”

You crouched down to Mingi’s level, scratching behind his ears. “He’s the real hero here,” you said, glancing up at Mrs. Kim with a small smile.

“He knew something was wrong before I did.”

Mingi let out a happy huff, rolling onto his back to expose his belly, practically inviting Yena to join in the celebration. The little girl giggled through her tears, her small hands eagerly scratching his side.

Yena’s mother knelt beside her, her trembling hand reaching out hesitantly. Her fingers brushed over Mingi’s soft fur, and her lips quivered with emotion. 

“Thank you,” she whispered again, her voice cracking as she looked back at Yena. “Thank you both.”

“Ms…?” one of the officers interrupted gently, his notebook in hand.

“Choi,” you said, standing to face him. “Um, I’m Choi Y/N.”

“Do you mind providing a witness statement?”

“Of course,” you replied, taking a steadying breath. “I was walking my dog when I saw a woman with Yena,” you began.

“The woman claimed she was a friend of the mother, but something about her seemed…off. She got increasingly aggressive when Yena didn’t cooperate.”

The officer nodded, scribbling rapidly in his notepad. “Can you describe the woman?”

“She looked like she was her forties,” you said, replaying the scene in your mind. “Dark hair, pulled back tightly. She was wearing a black jacket and purple pants and seemed disheveled. When I caught up to Maro, she froze like a deer in the headlights and bolted into the trees.”

“Did you see which direction she ran?”

You nodded, pointing toward the dense tree line a few yards away. “That way. She moved fast, like she knew exactly where she was going.”

The officer glanced in the direction you indicated, then back at his notes with a heavy sigh. 

“We’ll search the area and alert nearby units to be on the lookout for someone matching her description. In the meantime, thank you for stepping in. Your dog’s instincts likely saved this little girl.”

As the officers wrapped up their investigation, you crouched down one last time to Yena’s level. Her wide eyes were still a little red from crying, but there was a sparkle of hope in them now. 

“You were so brave today. And you know what? Maro thinks you’re a hero, too.”

Yena’s lips curled into a shy smile as she reached out to pet his head. He leaned into her touch, his tail wagging lazily.

“Can I play with him again sometime?” 

“Anytime,” you promised. “You just let your mom know, and we’ll make it happen.”

With a final wave, you gave Mrs. Kim a quick hug, murmuring your thanks before sheepishly retrieving the sheet music you had almost forgotten. Clutching it tightly, you turned to leave, Mingi falling into step beside you.

The walk home was quieter now, the crisp night air carrying the faint rustle of leaves. Mingi trotted happily at your side, his leash loose, as if he understood the weight of the moment but chose not to linger on it. Instead, his steady presence offered you a quiet comfort, grounding you in the stillness of the night.

When you reached the penthouse, you slipped off your shoes, hung up Mingi’s leash, and set the sheet music on the music shelf. 

“Well, today was something else,” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck as you flopped onto the couch.

Before you could settle in, Mingi hopped up beside you, his fluffy tail wagging in a lazy rhythm. Without hesitation, he settled into your lap as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You chuckled softly, your fingers finding their way behind his ears, scratching gently in a spot you knew he loved.

“We make a pretty great team, huh?”

You leaned back into the cushions, your hand slipping from behind his ears to run through the soft fur along his back. Each stroke seemed to soothe not just him, but you as well. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” you murmured after a moment, your voice quieter now. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Mingi shifted slightly, resting his head against your chest as his eyes fluttered shut, lulled by the rhythm of your heartbeat. Accepting this new form hadn’t been easy; it challenged everything he thought he knew about himself. 

But moments like this, with your hand threading gently through his fur and your voice brimming with affection, chipped away at his doubts. The walls he had so carefully constructed around his heart crumbled, leaving him exposed to a truth he could no longer deny: the feelings growing within him, his feelings for you.

Mingi surrendered to the quiet realization that he no longer wanted to run from you or from the parts of himself he couldn’t face. You had shown him something he thought he’d lost; a capacity for care, compassion, and even love. 

And he wanted to show you that could become something more. 

But his peace was short-lived as your phone blared to life, interrupting his nap. Jiwoo’s name lit up the screen, and with a tired sigh, you swiped to answer, already bracing yourself for her shenanigans. 

That annoying woman!

“Y/N!” Jiwoo’s voice was bright and full of excitement. “I’ve found it. The place. It’s in Prague, and it’s everything you’ve been looking for—charming, historic, and in a perfect location!”

“Prague is a little far, don’t you think?”

“Exactly!” Jiwoo exclaimed, as if you’d just proved her point. “Far enough to get away from all these assholes!”

You chuckled softly, your fingers absentmindedly carding through Maro’s fur. He stirred slightly, letting out a soft sigh as he snuggled deeper against your chest. Jiwoo’s energy was infectious, even when you weren’t entirely on board with her ideas.

“Speaking of assholes,” she said, her tone dropping, “have you heard about Ahri?”

Your stomach dropped at the mention of her name. “What about her?” 

“So,” she started, drawing out the word, “Sara saw her the other night at The Z. And she wasn’t alone. She was looking way too cozy with that model guy. What’s his name? Mingyu or something. It’s kind of creepy that he and Mingi have similar sounding names.”

Mingi’s relationship with Ahri had always been a sore spot, a constant reminder that you had no place in his life. But hearing this made you feel something you couldn’t quite place—vindicated? Sad? Angry? Maybe all three.

“And get this—when Sara asked her about Mingi, she brushed it off. Like she wasn’t walking around a few weeks ago looking pretty banged up herself. I mean, can you believe it? While he’s in a coma?”

“Their relationship doesn’t concern me,” you replied, but your words felt hollow. 

“Not your business?” Jiwoo scoffed. “It’s disgusting, Y/N. I know you and Mingi have a complicated relationship–I get it. but he doesn’t deserve that. No one does. She’s out here living her best life while he’s fighting for his.”

Her outrage echoed your own feelings, but instead of comfort, it only heightened the discomfort twisting in your chest. Each mention of Ahri reminded you that this moment, where you were pouring your heart into caring for him, staying by his side when no one else would, was nothing more than a spell cast by some higher being.

Once the spell was broken, you'd return to your separate lives despite being bound to one another.

“Anyway,” Jiwoo said, sensing your silence, “that’s just more reason to take the leap. Leave all this drama behind and protect your peace. Start over. You might actually find love too!”

You let out a dry laugh, though it wasn’t the least bit genuine. “Yeah, right. Love.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, and the thought of it, of someone loving you in the way you needed, in the way you’d always hoped felt almost impossible.

“I mean, if Czech men aren’t your thing, I know Park Seong—”

“My food’s here, bye!” you blurted out abruptly, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence. 

You rested your head back against the couch and closed your eyes for a moment, shifting Maro against you, his small body fitting so easily into the curve of your side. 

Who needs husbands when you have a dog? You couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Maro, with his unwavering loyalty and comforting little form, was all you needed right now. He didn’t ask anything of you—just your love and care in return. A love that came without expectations, without demands for answers or explanations.

With him, you could simply be.

Outside the towering penthouse, a figure lingered in the shadows, her frail frame swallowed by a dark jacket. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides, knuckles stark white, and her shoulders trembled with each shallow, uneven breath. Then, without a sound, she slipped into the darkness, leaving no trace behind.

But the chill that lingered in the air suggested she wouldn’t be gone for long.

<< iii | v >>

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@kyomiingi

mingi randomly telling reader facts oh I would fold and the painting 🥹🥹🥹🥹

strangers by nature | viii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.5K Warnings: fluff, mentions of infidelity

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“You’ll need extensive physical therapy,” Dr. Jang said, flipping through his chart the day Mingi was to be discharged. 

“Walking will be difficult at first. You’ll experience weakness, dizziness, and possibly some coordination issues.”

Mrs. Song let out a sharp breath, bringing a hand up to her mouth as if to stifle a gasp. Beside her, Mr. Song reached over and placed a firm, reassuring hand on her arm. They had known this was coming, yet hearing it aloud made it all the more real.

“We’ll have to make arrangements,” his mother replied. “Oh, if he’s going to struggle, we can have the physical therapist come to the house.”

“There’s no need,” Mingi rasped, glancing over at you. “Y/N can help me.”

The entire room fell silent.

Dr. Jang stopped mid-page, his eyes flickering up over his glasses. The nurse who had been taking discharge notes blinked so fast it was almost comical. Even Mr. Song, ever composed, arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“W-What? Me?” you stammered, pointing to yourself as if there had been some mistake.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like your help,” Mingi repeated, his voice steadier now, as if the decision had already been made in his mind. There was something almost… gentle in the way he looked at you.

You stared at him in disbelief. Mingi, the man who never wanted anything to do with you, was asking for your help? 

“Mingi, are you sure?”

Mrs. Song was still staring at him like he had grown a second head. “But you always—” She hesitated, searching for the right words. 

“You’ve never liked being…helped. You always insist on doing things yourself.”

Mingi exhaled, leaning back against the pillows, his fingers twitching slightly against the blanket. “I know,” he admitted. His voice was quiet, almost contemplative. 

“But things are different now.”

And for some reason, the way he said it made it feel like he wasn’t just talking about his injury.

You pulled up to the entrance, cutting the engine before stepping out to grab Mingi’s crutches from the backseat. By now, the visits were becoming routine, but each time, it still struck you as surreal.

You turned to him, holding out the crutches. “Do you need anything else? I can grab a wheelchair if you want.”

Mingi shook his head. “No thanks, I’ve got it.”

Then, to your complete and utter bewilderment, he smiled—small, unguarded, but warm in a way you’d never quite seen before. The sight of it sent a strange flutter through your chest, something unfamiliar yet not entirely unwelcome.

Before you could process it, his hand brushed against your arm, a brief touch that sent a gentle warmth trailing in its wake. His fingers lingered just long enough to make you wonder if it was intentional before he gave your arm a light squeeze—as if he were telling you he’d see you soon.

It was fleeting, gone too soon, but the feeling remained, leaving you gripping the car door handle as if it were the only thing keeping you steady.

Mingi had never smiled at you before. 

The whole drive home, you were lost in thought, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Confused didn’t even begin to cover it. Lately, everything about Mingi had been confusing.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. But then it became impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just the way he looked at you now—like he was seeing you for the first time, rather than through you. It was how he acted. How he hovered. 

He followed you around the penthouse like a puppy. If you turned around too quickly, he was there, standing just a few feet away. If you rounded a corner, you nearly crashed into him. It was like he was always waiting for something. 

Waiting for you.

You could almost see it—the imaginary puppy ears perking up, the wagging tail swishing behind him, hoping you’d notice that he was there. 

And as if that weren’t strange enough, he’d also become…talkative. Well, in his own way. Mingi had started initiating conversations with you through animal facts, seemingly random tidbits of knowledge he’d been holding in until they just slipped out. 

“Did you know that vampire bats share their food with other vampire bats?”

“What?” You blinked at him, holding your fork mid bite. 

“They, um…they regurgitate blood for bats that didn’t eat.” His voice was quiet and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if this was something you’d want to hear but hoped you might find it interesting.

You blinked at him, trying to decide if this was some kind of weird joke. But there was no teasing in his expression—just an earnest kind of hopefulness, like he wanted you to acknowledge his effort.

Like he wanted you to know he was trying.

“Oh…” You let out a small laugh, tilting your head at him. “Are you telling me I don’t eat enough?”

Mingi’s ears tinged pink as he gave a small, sheepish nod. 

“Kind of…” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. 

“I noticed that sometimes you skip meals when you’re busy or stressed.” His voice dropped slightly, almost as if he was embarrassed to say it aloud. 

“It’s not good for you.”

Another instance, you were humming to yourself as you sorted through the laundry, tossing a few shirts into the washing machine. The penthouse was quiet, save for the whir of the dryer running in the background. You reached for the basket when—

“Did you know that wombats poop in cubes?”

You yelped, throwing your laundry into the air as you spun around. Mingi stood just a few feet away, wide-eyed, his hands hovering awkwardly in front of him like he wasn’t sure whether to help or apologize.

“Mingi!” you gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled, shifting on his feet. “The sugar cubes you put in your tea reminded me of wombat poop for some reason.”

You shook your head as you stepped into the lift back to the penthouse. You weren’t sure how you felt about your husband’s newfound attitude. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful—Mingi had finally woken up, and that should have been enough. 

The moment you kicked off your shoes in the foyer, Mrs. Ha, the chef, scurried over, her eyes darting between you and the hallway like she was still in the habit of speaking cautiously.  

“Oh, Ms. Y/N!” she whispered urgently, clutching her apron. “How was he?”

You let out a sharp exhale, still trying to make sense of it yourself. “Weird,” you hissed, picking up your pace to match hers as you both hurried toward the kitchen.

“He smiled at me. And—” You hesitated for a second before lowering your voice. “He squeezed my arm.”

Mrs. Ha gasped so dramatically you thought she might faint. “No.” She shook her head as if refusing to believe it.

“I know,” you muttered, half-joking, but not really. “He used to pretend I didn't exist. Now he’s…” You trailed off, struggling to find the right word.

Warm? Inviting? Considerate?

It felt strange to say out loud, but stranger still that it might actually be true.

Mrs. Ha grabbed your wrist as if trying to steady herself, or maybe you. “Ms. Y/N,” she said gravely, “do you think he hit his head too hard?”

You swallowed, the thought lingering in your mind longer than it should. Mingi’s accident had been severe. He’d been unconscious for months and it was a miracle he woke up at all. 

And yet, this wasn’t just waking up. This was different. The Mingi you knew had been cold, distant, cruel even. He never touched you unless absolutely necessary, never smiled at you unless it was laced with sarcasm or condescension. But today?

Today, he’d looked at you like he actually saw you.

Could head trauma really alter someone’s personality that drastically? Had the accident shaken something loose inside him?

“Can you believe he asked me about plants?” Yohan scoffed, handing you a cup of tea as you stepped into the kitchen.

“Mingi and plants.” He shook his head in disbelief, leaning against the counter. “I can’t believe he’s actually considering keeping something alive besides himself.”

You snorted, though the humor was short-lived. The shift in Mingi’s behavior was too drastic, too unnatural. You took a sip of your tea, the warmth doing little to ease the uncertainty. This new Mingi was too good to be true, and you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mingi’s kindness, his warmth—it didn’t make sense. Not when he had spent so long resenting you.

“This morning, he casually mentioned that zebras can’t sleep alone,” you murmured, tapping your fingers against the cup. 

“Well he said he’s looking forward to dinner!” Mrs. Ha interjected. 

“Three months ago, he barely spoke to anyone, including Y/N and now he’s making conversation?” Yohan shook his head, placing a hand on his hip. 

“This is suspicious.”

No one wanted to say it out loud, but you all felt the same way. Mingi’s recovery wasn’t just physical. He was changing, bit by bit. And for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t for the worse.

⋆

“Your grip strength is starting to improve, as well as the mobility on your left side. Soon, you won’t need the crutches anymore,” Dr. Lim noted encouragingly.

Mingi exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he steadied himself. The session had been brutal, as they always were, but hearing that he was making progress gave him a small sense of victory.

“That’s it for today. We’ll see you next week.” The physical therapist gave him a nod of approval before turning away, already moving on to his next patient.

Mingi nodded, gripping his crutches tightly as he made his way toward the exit. Every movement still felt like an uphill battle. He had spent the last two months relearning how to move, how to function without feeling like his own body was working against him. The physical therapy sessions were grueling, pushing him to his limits, but he refused to back down.

The accident had nearly killed him. Three broken ribs, a fractured femur, and nerve damage. Though it wasn’t extensive, it was enough to remind him that no matter how much he pushed, there were still limits. 

And he hated that.

He hated the way his body trembled when he overexerted himself, the way his right arm sometimes felt too weak to grip things properly. He hated that he still struggled to get up without support, that simple tasks took twice the effort they used to. 

But he didn’t hate the way you anticipated his struggles before he could voice them. The way you reached for his arm before he could stumble, or placed things in a way that made it easier for him to access. And he didn’t hate how easily you entertained his ramblings, even when they were about the most mundane things.

For an hour and a half each week, he hated being away from you.

Because no matter how frustrating the setbacks were, no matter how exhausting the battle of recovery became, seeing you at the end of each session reminded him of his purpose and his promise to Hongjoong and Wooyoung. 

The thought of going home had him biting back a grin as he adjusted his crutches and made his way out of the rehabilitation center. He was already looking forward to sliding into the passenger seat beside you, exaggerating the difficulty of his new balance exercises and guessing what Mrs. Ha had whipped up today.

The anticipation carried him forward until it came to a screeching halt.

The moment he stepped into the rotunda, his fingers instinctively tightened around the crutches, his body going rigid. The hospital lobby was a blur of white coats and murmured conversations, but all he could focus on was the figure standing in front of him.

Ahri.

Her arms were crossed, her manicured nails tapping impatiently against her sleeve. She looked annoyed with her lips pressed into a thin line as her sharp gaze raked over him. 

The sight of her made something curdle in his stomach—something sharp, bitter, and unwelcome.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi asked flatly.

Ahri scoffed, stepping closer. “Are you seriously asking me that? You’ve been avoiding me ever since you woke up.”

“Maybe that should tell you something,” he muttered, but he already knew Ahri wouldn’t take the hint.

Ahri rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Mingi. Don’t act like this. We need to talk.”

“No,” he said simply, his grip tightening around the crutches until his knuckles turned white. 

“We really don’t.”

“You’re being dramatic. I was worried about you—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, his voice low, firm. 

Ahri’s mouth opened, then closed. For the first time, she looked uncertain, like she hadn’t expected him to be this direct. Her expression faltered for a split second, But then, just as quickly, she recovered, her lips curling into a sneer.

“So that’s how it is?” she scoffed. “You wake up and suddenly forget about us? Is it because you want to play house with her?”

Mingi’s jaw tensed but his silence spoke volumes.

“What’s wrong with that?” he replied quietly. 

That made her pause. Just for a second. But then she shook her head, scoffing again like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“Oh, give me a break,” she snapped. “You spent so long telling me how miserable you were, how you were trapped with her.” She let out a bitter laugh. 

“But now what? You wake up from a coma and suddenly, she’s the one you want? You told me you wished you’d never married her, that you never loved her.” 

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to something softer, something almost pleading as if she could still reach him. 

“Mingi, you told me I was the only thing that made you happy.”

And maybe, once, he had believed that.

Maybe, once, he had convinced himself that Ahri was the answer, the escape he craved, the proof that he was still alive, still capable of feeling something. But standing here now, after dying and coming back, after losing everything and being given a second chance, he saw it for what it truly was.

A mistake. A desperate attempt to outrun his own self-destruction.

But you—you had always been real. And this time, he wasn’t going to run.

This time, he was going to love you the way he should have all along.

“You weren’t,” he said steadily. “You never were.”

Ahri’s face twisted, something wounded flickering across her features before it morphed into anger. 

“Bullshit! If that were true, then why did you keep coming back to me?”

"You were there when it was easy, Ahri. When it was fun. But when I was lying in that hospital bed, barely clinging to life, you were nowhere to be found."

Ahri’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“And you know what? I don’t blame you,” Mingi said, tilting his head. 

“Because we were never real, were we? We were just two selfish people feeding off each other’s worst impulses.” He exhaled sharply, as if the weight of it all was finally lifting off his chest. 

“I don’t owe you anything.”

People turned, pausing in their tracks, stealing glances at the commotion, but Mingi could care less. Instead, he stepped past her without another glance, heading toward the one person who mattered—

You.

"You think you can just walk away from me?" Ahri's voice rose, sharp and unhinged. 

Mingi didn’t flinch. He didn’t react at all. 

And that set her off. 

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

Her lips curled, a smirk. "You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you?" She let out a breathless, almost manic laugh, her eyes glinting with something unhinged. 

"Especially when you fucked me on your wedding night!"

A murmur rippled through the gathering crowd. Gasps. A sharp intake of breath. Someone muttering under their breath. But Ahri was past caring. Her hands trembled at her sides, whether from rage or something deeper, something uglier, even she wasn’t sure.

“You threw her away like she was nothing. And now, you think you can just have her?”

Ahri let out a broken laugh, something desperate and wild. 

"She’s stronger than you ever gave her credit for." Ahri’s voice turned quiet, almost pitying.

“She doesn’t need you."

Mingi’s breath hitched, and for the first time since this entire confrontation began, doubt slithered in, coiling tight around his chest.

Because what if Ahri was right?

What if you never forgave him? What if everything he had done, all the cruel words, all the neglect, had built a wall so high between you that he’d never be able to climb over it?

He remembered the way you had looked at him when he was just a clumsy, oversized puppy, tail wagging, tongue lolling, no words to defend himself—only his actions. And still, still, you had cared for him. Fed him. Sheltered him. Loved him, even when you hadn’t known it was him.

Mingi clenched his jaw. He could fix this.

Because if he had been capable of love then, stripped of his pride and his excuses, then he was capable of love now. And he would prove it to you. No matter what it took.

He would not lose you.

"Ms. Jeong," a voice said smoothly, "I suggest you leave before you embarrass yourself any further."

Mingi tensed. He didn’t need to turn to know what he’d see—that infuriatingly calm expression, always so composed, so sure with his stupid face and stupid hair.

Seonghwa.

The hospital director's voice was calm, but the authority behind it was unmistakable. He stepped into Ahri’s path, yet the weight of his presence alone was enough to send a chill through the air.

Ahri whirled on him. "Stay out of this, Park Seonghwa!" she snapped. "This has nothing to do with you!"

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "You’re causing a disturbance in my hospital. That makes it my problem."

Her chest rose and fell with sharp, angry breaths, but Seonghwa remained unfazed.

"You’re humiliating yourself. If you don’t leave, I’ll have security escort you out."

Ahri’s lips parted, her eyes darting between Seonghwa and Mingi, as if searching for an opening—one last attempt to regain control of the situation. But Mingi had already turned his back, walking toward the exit. Toward you.

And you—you had just barely managed to keep your knees from buckling.

You had been standing just around the corner, heart in your throat, ears ringing with every word that had left Mingi’s mouth.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You didn’t have an answer for that. Not yet.

But Mingi, your husband, the same man who once treated your marriage like a prison sentence—was choosing you.

Your phone chimed, interrupting your conversation with Yohan and Mrs. Ha.

Pick up Mingi.

“Has it already been an hour and a half?” Yohan sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Mrs. Ha chuckled as she wiped her hands on her apron, already turning back to the half-prepped vegetables on the counter. 

“Time flies when you’re talking shit, I guess,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone.

Conversations like these had once been a source of relief, a safe space where you, Yohan, and Mrs. Ha could freely air out your frustrations about Mingi and his insufferable attitude. It had been cathartic, a necessary way to bond over shared grievances, particularly in the way he ignored Yohan’s presence, dismissed Mrs. Ha’s kindness, and, worst of all, the way he had treated you.

The usual satisfaction of venting was absent, replaced instead by something heavier. 

Guilt.

You weren’t sure why.

Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered now, softer, searching, as if trying to memorize every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. Like he was looking for something—hoping for something.

Or maybe it was the way he hesitated before speaking, as if he wanted to be understood but didn’t know how. As if he was afraid that one wrong step would send him tumbling right back into the version of himself you had every reason to despise.

And that’s what made your chest ache.

You sighed, grabbing your keys from the counter and with a quick farewell to Yohan and Mrs. Ha, you made your way down to the garage. The drive to the hospital was quiet, the high rises casting fleeting shadows as you navigated the city streets.

Your mind wandered. Mingi was still a mess of contradictions—still the person who had hurt you more than anyone else ever had. And yet, in the past two months, something had shifted. He’d been different.

You weren’t sure what that meant for you, if it meant anything at all.

Pulling into the hospital lot, you glanced at the time. You were early. With minutes to spare, you found yourself hesitating, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You could just wait here, let Mingi find his way out like always. 

But today, something in you wavered.

Maybe, just this once, you’d meet him halfway.

Sighing, you turned off the engine and walked into the hospital. The automatic doors parted soundlessly as you entered, the sterile scent of antiseptic and faint traces of coffee from the café wrapping around you. 

You weaved through the familiar hallways toward the rehabilitation center, past patients in wheelchairs and staff exchanging clipped instructions.

And then—

"You think you can just walk away from me?"

You stopped.

Ahri.

Her voice carried through the clinic, too loud, too reckless for a public space, but she didn’t seem to care.

A few steps ahead, just past a row of columns, Mingi stood—partially obscured, his broad shoulders stiff with tension. Ahri stood in front of him, heaving with anger, her expression twisted into something between fury and despair.

Your instincts told you to walk away before you were pulled into something you weren’t meant to witness. But your feet wouldn’t move. Instead, you ducked behind the corner, pressing yourself against the wall, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You sucked in a breath. That stopped Mingi and Ahri knew it. You peeked out just enough to catch the smirk curling at the edges of her lips and the cruel glint in her eyes.

"You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you? You fucked me on your wedding night!"

The words slammed into you, knocking the air from your lungs. You had known what you were getting into when your parents arranged your marriage to Mingi. You had no illusions about love or loyalty, not when his heart had already belonged to someone else. You had told yourself his affair with Ahri didn’t matter, that you weren’t some naive child clinging to false hope.

But hearing the words now, so bluntly and irrevocably, felt different. It was like an old wound you thought had scarred over, threatening to tear open all over again.

A murmur of voices rippled through the onlookers—gasps, hushed whispers, stolen glances exchanged in uneasy silence. Mingi remained frozen, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful, his fists curling and uncurling around his crutches.

Your fingers curled into your sleeves, nails pressing crescent marks into your skin. The way Mingi stood there, facing Ahri’s wrath without backing down, without crumbling the way you might have expected, made your chest tighten.

For the first time in your marriage, Mingi was choosing you.

The realization sent a flutter through you, foreign and unwelcome and you had to keep your knees from buckling beneath you. 

This wasn’t forgiveness.

But it was something.

Swallowing hard, you spun on your heel and hurried back to your car. By the time you reached the door, your hands fumbled slightly, a little shaky as you slid inside and shut yourself away from the world.  

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the strange, fluttery feeling in your chest to go away. But it lingered, stubborn and insistent, curling around the edges of your thoughts. Ahri’s words still echoed in your mind, but even louder—more impossible to ignore—was the quiet whisper of, What if?

What if Mingi really was choosing you?

Not out of obligation. Not because there was no one else left. But because he wanted to.

A breathy laugh escaped you, more out of disbelief than amusement. 

“What do you think, Maro?”

The name slipped out before you could stop it, but it felt natural, like Maro was still here, curled up beside you, tail wagging, waiting for you to spill your heart out. 

You swallowed, gripping the steering wheel as if it could ground you. 

“It’s stupid, right?” Your voice was tentative as you leaned your head against the headrest. 

“It doesn’t change anything. Just because he—” You stopped, shook your head, trying to chase away the warmth threatening to creep in.

“It doesn’t mean I should believe in something that’s never been real.”

You could imagine Maro pressing his head into your palm like he understood everything you couldn’t say. Like he was telling you that you didn’t have to figure it all out alone.

“God, I don’t even know what's happening anymore.”

A sudden, sharp knock against the window jolted you upright. Your heart lurched into your throat as you turned, only to find Mingi standing just outside, giving you a small wave. Your face burned. Huffing, you fumbled for the lock with clumsy fingers before scrambling out of the car. 

“I got it,” Mingi said with a chuckle, adjusting his grip on his crutches. His voice was light, but his gaze lingered on you, studying you with an expression softer than you were used to.

“You okay?”

You forced a small smile, brushing imaginary dust off your sleeves in an attempt to steady yourself. “Yeah, just tired.”

Mingi didn’t look convinced. He lingered for a second longer, his eyes searching yours as if debating whether to press further. But he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, nodded, and slid into the passenger seat.

The drive home passed in a blur. The streetlights stretched long across the pavement, casting soft, flickering patterns against the windshield, but you were lost in the whirlwind of thoughts brewing in your mind.

Did he really love you?

⋆

"Y/N…can you call my phone? I can’t seem to find it."

Mingi had been more flustered than usual lately—not that he wanted to admit. The accident had left him disoriented, but it was unlike him to be clumsy. But lately, he kept doing things that frustrated him to no end like pushing against a pull door and standing there and now, misplacing his phone for the third time this week. 

He was also never one to ask for help—especially from you.

Before the accident, he had gone out of his way to keep his distance. He had made it clear he wanted nothing from you, and you had gotten the message. Eventually, you stopped offering. And for a while, that’s what he thought he wanted.

Now, he couldn’t stand the thought of it.

If you were in the kitchen, he was suddenly rummaging through the cabinets for a snack he didn’t actually want. If you were on the couch, he was sitting on the opposite end, scrolling through his phone but not really paying attention to it. 

And if you got up to leave the room? Well…so did he.

Because he wasn’t afraid of being clingy. Not with you. Not when the thought of you leaving, of not having you here, was far scarier than anything else.

You nodded, pressing the call button as Mingi shuffled past you, disappearing into his room. Your gaze lingered on the doorway long after he was gone.

For the duration of your marriage, you had never once stepped foot inside this room. The door had always remained shut, a silent boundary he had drawn long before he ever knew you. A reminder that no matter what legal document bound you together, there would always be parts of him you would never reach.

But as you took a step forward, following the faint sound of his phone vibrating somewhere in the great beyond, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let you glimpse into the parts of himself he had kept locked away.  

You stood hesitantly by the threshold watching your husband rifling through his laundry, digging through pockets, and muttering to himself under his breath. The Mingi you had married would’ve cursed under his breath, thrown something, or blamed someone else for his misplaced phone. 

But this version of him? He simply kept looking, patient and persistent.

His room was dimly lit with the faint scent of paint and cologne filling the space. Canvases leaned against the walls, some vibrant and abstract, others more detailed and unfinished sketches scattered across his desk.  

Your gaze landed on a small canvas resting on the edge of his desk. The soft eyes and the cheeky glint, the little nose, and that signature smile. It wasn’t finished, but there was no mistaking it.

Maro.

“There it is,” Mingi muttered, plucking his phone from the ground next to his bed.

As he swiped the screen to end the call, his gaze flickered toward you, then followed yours to the canvas on his desk. He watched you carefully, half-expecting sadness, maybe even confusion. But instead there was something unexpectedly tender. 

And then you looked at him, and Mingi felt it.

Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he had done something right for once. Like you saw him in a way that made his heart squeeze. His ears burned. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I… picked up painting,” he admitted. “My physical therapist said it’d help with motor skills and strengthening my hands and fingers.” 

He swallowed. “I hope you don’t mind that I painted Maro. I… I wasn’t sure if I got the eyes right,” he admitted, almost shyly. 

You stepped closer, drawn in by the familiar shape on the canvas. “It looks just like him,” you murmured, reaching out to trace the dried brushstrokes with your fingertips. The texture of the paint, the careful detail—Mingi had poured himself into this.

Mingi let out a sigh of relief but then, as if realizing something, tensed again a second later. “I—uh, it was supposed to be a surprise,” he blurted out, his eyes widening slightly, as if he’d just realized his mistake.

You blinked up at him. “A surprise?”

“For you,” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. 

“I wanted to give it to you when I felt like it was perfect. But, um… I guess I kind of ruined that, huh?” He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head.

“You painted this for me?”

He peeked at you through his lashes, leaving something softer and more vulnerable in its place as he gave you a small nod.

“I just… I know how much you loved—love Maro, and I thought maybe… you’d want something to keep. Something I made for you.”

Something only for you.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Oh. Your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice and the way he’d poured so much of himself into a piece just for you was overwhelming. 

“Oh, Mingi…” you breathed.

Emotion swelled in your chest, thick and impossible to name. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was stare at him—the quiet hope in his eyes, the way he watched you like he wasn’t sure what you’d do next.

“I love it,” you said, and you meant it. Not just the painting, but the thought behind it. It was just a painting. But it wasn’t. It was a piece of him—his effort, his sincerity, his quiet way of saying what he couldn’t put into words.

“Thank you.”

The words felt small, insufficient for the weight of what he had given you. But then he smiled—a slow, relieved, utterly radiant smile that knocked the breath from your lungs.

And suddenly, the moment stretched—too long, too precarious.

Your eyes flickered around the room, a sharp awareness settling over you. Mingi’s room. When did he get so close? When did you even come in here?

“I should…” You cleared your throat, glancing toward the door. “I should let you get back to painting.”

Before he could say anything, you turned, slipping out of the room, closing the door gently behind you. For a moment, you leaned against it, trying to steady the sudden pounding in your chest. But before you could make sense of anything—

The door creaked open.

“Wait.”

You turned, as Mingi poked his head out. There was a hint of bashfulness in the way his fingers gripped the doorframe, but his eyes held no hesitation.

“…You can leave it open.”

<< vii | ix >>

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@vcutparis @kaituyyn @blvckarabixnvoid @amazaynaastha

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼 𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Accidentally Have 8 Pets - @xuchiya ot8 x reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Ateez Responding To You Telling Them You Want A Divorce - @deerieme bf!ot8 x reader (text scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Bassists Do It Deeper - @crimsonbubble rockstar!hongjoong x reader x bassists!mingi (thoughts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Calling Them Pretty - @nightbeforethend bf!ot8 x reader (text scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Coppélia - @spookwriter-xo mafia!ot8 x ballerina!reader (series) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 A Deal With The Devil - @mingi-s-dimples devil!hongjoong x pastor’s daughter!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Captain Little Mate: Round 2 - @crimsonbubble dad!hongjoong x mom!reader (hard thoughts) 𓆞 𓆞 Car Sex - @yourfatherlucifer bf!hongjoong x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Cry For Me [Part One | Part Two | Part Three] - @yeostinys ceo!hongjoong x secretary!reader (three parts) 𓆞 𓆞 Detective Kim - @mingkismain detective!hongjoong x detective!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Drunken Love - @kisseudoll bf!seonghwa x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Pink Star Presents - @holybibly pornstar!seonghwa x pornstar!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Pink Yarn - @daydreamingaboutkoreanmen idol!seonghwa x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Survivors - @koyagifs firefighter!seonghwa x er nurse!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Tattoo Artist Seonghwa - @everyonewooeverywhere tattoo artist!seonghwa x reader (drabble) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Daddy’s Summer Fling - @mingi-s-dimples dilf!yunho x daughter’s best friend!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Don’t Hate The Player - @vampzity bf!yunho x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Livestream - @yunniverse bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Love Again - @xomakara single dad!yunho x single mom!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Lust & Love & Loss - @bananayuyu non-idol!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Nothing To Prove - @makeitmingi bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Pillow Princess - @look-at-the-way-i-ride bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 The Hills - @ateezscupid ex bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Snowflake - @mingi-s-dimples bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 You're Mine Baby - @wwooyology ex-bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 Casting Couch - @kitten4sannie frat boy!san x reader ft. frat boy!yungi (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Spiderman - @koyagifs spiderman!san x reader ft.wooyoung (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 The Perfect Cocktail - @covenha best friend!san x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 This Is How I Flirt - @yothangie boxer!san x med student!reader (smau series) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Wading In Wait - @pyeongstarr non-idol!san x yandere!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 By Her Side - @arilevenatz bodyguard!mingi x princess!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Little Doe - @bunnliix outlaw!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Me And My Wife - @koyagifs husband!idol!mingi x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Strangers By Nature - @seongwars heir!mingi x heri!reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Your Secret Fan [Part One | Part Two] - @strrykais idol!mingi x idol!reader (smau) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Asking You To Be His Valentine's - @makeitmingi idol!single-dad!wooyoung x dance teacher!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Secret Santa - @dinossaurz bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 The Beauty of Us - @xuchiya bf!wooyoung x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Thrill Of The Chase - @wwooyology bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Vivrant Thing - @hwaslayer best friend's brother!wooyoung x reader (series) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 A Cozy Game Night - @03jyh23 bfjongho x gn!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Hand Marks - @vampzity ceo!husband!jongho x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Healthy Study Habits - @ohsoimaginari bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Part Of Your World - @makeitmingi bf!ceo!jongho x single mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Put The Book Down - @fivestaralien bf!jongho x gn!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸

I have the same mbti as him so i’m not surprised

thank you for tagging me I think you’re cool too

tagging 🏷️ @lividstar @solaris-amethyst

(you guys don’t gonna do this if you don’t want to)

quiz tag game + your bias

i found this cute personality quiz while i was scrolling thru twt and i thought it’d be fun to do here hehe :3

how did they know i cry super easily TT skjwhw

np taggies: @yourfatherlucifer @cottoncandy-girl @bvidzsoo @mysteriousrainsworld @svintsandghosts @coffee-addict-kitten @sp4ceboo @sorryimananti-romantic @wwooyology @mimikittysblog @crimsonbubble @potatomountain @almightyddeonghwa @hongjoongspoetry @ateezscupid +anyone who’d like to join in <333