Me Typing Out In Every Chapter That I Hate Any Character That Is Just Trying To Ruin Reader And Hongjoong’s
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
More Posts from Beabatiny and Others
Ahhhhh, I love it! I love it! I love it! I’m just smiling at my phone over words, but it just so sweet!
I’m now craving some italian.
Hi, congrats on 300 followers. I have a prompt request for the celebration. I would like to request a one-shot of jongseob with the prompt from sweet "smiling during kisses".
I would also like to add that the reader be gender neutral. congratulations again on 300 followers! 🎉
hihi! thank you so much for participating, and sorry for the late, hope you like it <3 ; 1k wc ; fluff ; first time writing for soeb aaaa ; and credits to my fav proofreader @sobun1est
300 followers event 🎀
You notice the light of the candles as soon as you open the door of your house, taking the first step inside your apartment.
“I’m home!” you said.
Shortly after, called by your voice, you noticed Jongseob coming out of his room to come and welcome you.
That day was your anniversary; one year had passed since you had confessed your tender love and the "roommate" label had turned into lovers. You had just returned from the small pastry shop where you worked in the afternoons to save up for your studies, and with you, you had a large plastic bag containing your boyfriend’s favorite cake.
Although neither of you was swimming in gold, you were happy with your flat. So you gradually decorated it and created a small home with all the amenities you could want.
“Welcome back, honey” he said to you, coming closer to steal a kiss from you and helping with the bags.
While he went to put the cake in the refrigerator you moved towards the small room, from where a soft light came.
As soon as you entered, you noticed that many candles were placed throughout the room, and in the center, there was a carefully set table. The window was wide open, and the view was of the city illuminated by the few lights of the night.
On the table there were two glasses, and next to them a bottle of your favorite wine. The plates had light red and gold decorations, and the tablecloth and napkins followed that theme.
There was also your record player, who carefully selected the records that had accompanied your evenings throughout that year.
“Do you remember our first date?” the boy asked you as he entered the room.
“When we shared pizza, sitting on this sofa while we tried to guess about the lives of the passers-by under this balcony? How could I forget?” you asked him.
He nodded and moved in your direction, seemingly unable to resist his desire to be by you.
He took your face in his hands and soon joined your lips in a long kiss.
“How about we create a remix, maybe with a slight upgrade?” he asked you, looking you directly in the eyes.
“I would love it,” he replied, smiling.
Everything at that moment brought back memories of the first date, when after a year of living together, since you attended the same university, that boy had come forward to ask you to be together.
“Happy anniversary Seob”
“You too, love” he replied.
During your first date, while you were waiting for the food to come, the two of you sat on the couch. You could only gaze lovingly at Jongseob's slim physique as he was focused on the task at hand—he had stood up to begin the vinyl recordings.
During the first date, you were waiting for the pizza to be delivered, while now you were waiting for the lasagna - entirely cooked by Jongseob - to cook in the oven!
You had once expressed how much you would have liked to taste Italian food, so that's why he chose it for dinner.
He had carefully chosen the order of the music records to listen to, as he had presented them to you during your year together.
To ensure that everything looked its best in your eyes, he had even asked his mother to lend him some of the dish set that she had used for her wedding.
He had discovered your favorite flavor in candles, and in his pocket, he had a crumpled piece of paper with a short poem that he wanted to recite to you.
Now he was sitting next to you on the couch and was following the moves of the first date step by step. He had counted how many times your eyes had crossed, but like the first time, he had gotten lost in your eyes and had opted for a more direct approach.
He had turned to you while you were watching him the whole time - noticing how his face was bright and how he had changed in a year. You vividly remembered all the features of his face and how his expression had gone from full concentration to complete disorientation as soon as he had looked at you.
And now everything was happening again: your eyes had met, and the butterflies in your stomach had started to dance.
He had soon come dangerously close and had canceled the distances. Neither of you could hold back a smile, remembering your first kiss while you were living the umpteenth. Many quick kisses alternated with passionate ones while your bodies also got closer.
You took a brief break to let out some lovely laughs that blended in with the background music like they were the melody itself.
Smiles between the kisses, comforting scents, and the warmth of the bodies that united.
He had moved his hand from behind your neck to your hips- oh how he had become bolder.
You were facing him and found it difficult to keep your eyes closed, so now and again when he drew you away, you gave him a tiny peek.
You loved so much seeing that boy's face up close.
With an awkward and hesitant smile, he looked so attractive with the candles lighting him.
The first time you had been interrupted by the arrival of the delivery boy, while this time by a strange burning smell that began to spread from the kitchen.
As soon as it hit your boyfriend's nostrils, his eyes widened and he suddenly stood up.
"THE LASAGNA!" he said as he ran towards the kitchen.
You giggled as you moved to go and check it out too.
As soon as you arrived in the kitchen you saw him wearing two pink skates and an apron of the same color, as he took the lasagna out of the oven. He hadn't even taken the time to turn on the light, the light of the candles was enough; but he had chosen to wear the apron to avoid dirtying the outfit he had worked on to impress you.
Luckily the lasagna wasn’t burnt, but on the contrary, it had acquired a light crunchy crust that had made that dish even better.
You found yourselves shortly after at the table, savoring that delicious food while you remembered the times gone by, shared moments of the present, and fantasized about future experiences.
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
the moment between hongjoong and reader about reader’s brother was really sweet, but I can’t help but be nervous for whatever seonghwa and dann (mainly seonghwa) have planned cause I know it’s going to involve mike and other secrets we may not know about reader yet.
I’m excited for the next part and keep up the great work! <3
Popular, Boy
☆04: The first surrender.
Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!reader
Genre: +18, slow burn, angst, smut, drama, dark academic, love triangle.
wc: 8,5k
Summary: Alliances and secrets simmer beneath the surface as relationships are tested. Whispers of a returning precense cast shadow over your carefully controlled world.
Amid growing tension, nothing is as it seems, and trust becomes a dangerous gamble.
Warnings: Cursing, emotional manipulation, power dynamics, fluff, SMUT (MDN!!) Virgin! Hongjoong, oral (f receiving) fingering, hair pulling, cum eating, use of pet names (good boy, baby, babe, pretty) suggestive.
Series masterlist
☆03 ☆05: The first fracture.
YN♡: I hope you enjoy your return to the losers’ club, ungrateful pet.
Those words feel like a slap in the face, but there's a part of him that can't deny the sting of guilt. Hongjoong had stood up to you, and now, he was being pushed away.
He feels conflicted, like he's torn between two sides of himself.
On one hand, you have everything he’s always wanted, popularity, control, power. On the other hand, he can’t help but feel a flicker of empathy for Dann, even if it’s not enough to overpower his desire to keep his place in your world.
The past three days have been agonizing for Hongjoong. Your cold text still lingered in his mind, your words cutting deeper than he expected.
He wasn’t sure what stung more: being labeled an 'ungrateful pet' or the realization that you had the power to decide his social fate.
In the hallways, the change was immediate and brutal. Your circle avoided him entirely, with Mindy, Wooyoung and the others offering smug smirks or outright ignoring his greetings.
The glances from the rest of the school stung even more, whispers of, 'Guess YN dumped her charity case,' followed him everywhere.
Hongjoong tried to go back to his old routine, hanging out with Yunho, Yeosang, Jongho and Dann in the library, but it wasn’t the same. The nerdy jokes and shared interests felt hollow, overshadowed by his embarrassment.
He couldn’t stop feeling like he’d failed… failed you, failed himself, and maybe even failed Dann.
“Joong, are you okay?” Dann’s voice pulls him from his thoughts during lunch.
Her gaze is soft but cautious. He knows she is trying to reconnect with him, but guilt twists in his stomach.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” He mumbles, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth to avoid saying more.
But Dann isn’t convinced. She has noticed how his shoulders slump when your table erupts into laughter or how his eyes flicker toward you every time you walk by, as if waiting for something.
Was he regretting standing up for her? She wondered, unsure whether to feel gratitude or guilt herself.
✮ ⋆
Brat woo: Party at my place tonight, babydoll!! We’re gonna get lit!!
You smirk as you read Wooyoung's text. Typical of Woo, his personality is always bright and comfy.
You bit your lip, twirling a strand of your perfectly styled hair as an idea formed in your mind.
YN: Invite Hongjoong, too.
The three dots appear almost immediately, followed by Woo’s response.
Brat oo: Babydoll, why would I invite him?
Brat woo: Isn’t he banned from your bad bitches club?
You laugh at his last message as you lean back against your plush chair, crossing one leg over the other. Your perfectly manicured nails taps the edge of your phone as you craft a reply.
YN: Yeah, but invite him.
YN: It would be fun, babe.
Brat woo: Fine. But you owe me a blowjob, doll.
You scoff rolling your eyes, and you prefer not to bother replying. You knew Wooyoung well enough to predict he’d follow through.
You lock your phone and you get up to head to your closet, it's time to look for something cute to wear tonight.
✮ ⋆
His first instinct was to assume it was a mistake. Jung Wooyoung wasn’t his friend. The last party held at his house was amazing and he treated him like they were friends for years, but it was only because he was with you... but not anymore.
Hongjoong read the message again, searching for some hidden sarcasm or trap.
J Wooyoung: Party at my place tonight, you must come.
Why would Wooyoung invite him?
Was this a chance to prove himself again? To get back into your orbit? The thought makes his chest tighten with both excitement and dread.
His phone buzzes with another text, this time from Dann.
Dann: Hey, wanna hang out tonight? We could watch that weird series you’ve been talking about.”
He hesitates, guilt creeping in. Spending time with Dann sounded comfortable, easy, even, but the allure of Jung’s party looms large in his mind. And then, an idea struck him.
He quickly types a reply.
Joong: Actually, wanna come with me to a party tonight?
Dann: What? A party? With whom?
Joong: Jung Wooyoung invited me.
Joong: It’s at his place. You should come.
His reply is almost casually, as if it weren’t a big deal. There is a pause before Dann’s next message comes through.
Dann: Joong, that sounds… weird. Why would Wooyoung invite you? And why are YOU inviting me?
Dann: I remind you that the last time I went to a party, everything went wrong!
Hongjoong frowns, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard. He didn't think that far ahead, but now that Dann brought it up, the invite does seem odd. Still, he can't let her skepticism damp his resolve.
Joong: Does it matter? It’s a party, Dann. It could be fun. We haven’t done anything like this in forever.”
Dann: I don’t know…
Joong: Come on!! It’ll be fine.
Joong: You’ll be with me the whole time.
Joong: If it sucks, we can leave.
Another pause, longer this time. Finally, her reply comes through.
Dann: Okay… I’ll go.
Dann: But if this turns into some kind of disaster, you owe me, Joong.
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He tosses his phone into the bed and starts rifling through his closet, searching for something that looks remotely party-appropriate.
This is it, he thought, half to reassure himself. This is my chance to prove I’m not just a nobody anymore.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The party is already in full swing when you step through the door, your entrance commanding attention as always.
Wooyoung is the first to greet you, slinging an arm over your shoulder in a casual, brotherly way.
“About time, babydoll.” He teases, steering you further into the house “You’ve got people asking for you already.”
You smirk, brushing a perfectly styled strand of hair from your face.
“Good. Let them wait. it builds anticipation.”
Your eyes scan the room, taking in the crowd of familiar faces. The thrum of music, the faint haze of smoke, and the sharp scent of expensive cologne feel like home. But tonight, it’s not the crowd you’re interested in.
“Did you do it?”
He glances at your sideways, catching the subtle edge in your voice “Yeah, I invited him. He is coming, right?” Woo asks casually, though there’s a glint of mischief in his tone.
You nod, lips curving into a sly smile “Of course he will. Thanks for the invite.”
“Anything for you, Queen Bee.” Woo chuckles, patting your shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.
You barely take two steps before Seonghwa appears in your path, leaning casually against the doorframe of the kitchen as if he’s been waiting.
“You really showed up.” He says, his tone teetering between disbelief and sarcasm.
“Obviously, miss out on this? Never.”
His sharp eyes rake over you, the casual air he projects cracking just slightly.
“So, you brought him here?”
You lift your chin, feigning innocence “Who?”
“You know who,” Hwa says, his voice dropping “The nerd.”
“Oh, him. He’s just part of the fun, but he is not coming with me today.”
“Fun,” Hwa repeats bitterly, stepping closer “That’s what you’re calling it?”
You don't back down “You’re awfully concerned for someone who’s supposed to be done with me.”
The jab hits, and Hwa’s jaw tightens “We’ve been through a lot, Clarke. I know how you operate, and this is reckless—even for you.”
“Reckless?” You scoff, taking a deliberate step toward him “Spare me the lecture, Seonghwa. If you’re so worried, maybe you should focus on your own vices. Or do you need me to remind you how much recklessness you’ve been indulging in lately?”
His eyes narrow, his jaw clenched “You always twist things around, don’t you?”
You tilt your head, a flicker of amusement dancing in your gaze “Only when necessary.”
The tension between them hums like a live wire, but before either can escalate further, you sigh and soften your tone.
“Look, Hwa, I get it. You’re mad because I’ve been spending time with Hongjoong. But you and I both know this—whatever this is—doesn’t have to be like this.”
Seonghwa’s perfect brows knit together, his posture relaxing just slightly “And what’s ‘this,’ YN? Because it feels like we’re always walking the same damn line.”
“Friends,” You say firmly, though your voice carries a hint of warmth “We’ve been friends forever, haven’t we? Almost more than friends, at times. I’m not throwing that away just because we’ve hit a rough patch.”
He studies you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he exhales and runs a hand through his hair.
“Yeah, well, you’ve always been good at getting under my skin. Guess I should be used to it by now.”
You smile, a real one this time “You should. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t mean for things to get so tense between us. Truce?”
Hwa hesitates but eventually extends a hand, his lips quivering into a faint smirk-
“Truce. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook completely.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” You say, shaking his hand briefly before pulling him into a quick hug.
As they pull apart, Wooyoung reappears, his grin as wide as ever “See? Told you it’s a party, not a courtroom.”
Both of you laugh, the tension finally dissipating. After all, you've been friends since you were kids, fighting over who got the best gifts or who got the most toys during Christmas.
Yes, maybe fights always were and will always be frequent, but the bond you created will always be there, whether as friends or as lovers. And no one can deny it.
✮ ⋆
The laughter still bubbles around you and friends as you relax on the plush couch in the middle of the buzzing party. The low hum of music blends with the chatter of your friends, creating the perfect backdrop for your carefree moment.
You perched elegantly with your cocktail in hand, tossing your hair back with a playful smirk.
“Remember when you told everyone I cried about losing that silly bet when we went to Meeru Island in the Maldives?” Mingi says, aiming a mock glare at Wooyoung.
He chuckles, shrugging. “You did cry, Mingi. Like, full-on wailing. I saved you from complete humiliation by telling everyone you were faking it.”
“You’re insufferable, Woo.” You lean forward to swat at him, but your grin betrays your amusement.
San joins you, plopping down on the armrest beside Seonghwa, his beer in hand.
“God, you two never change. Should we get you a reality show or something?”
Mingi rolls his eyes but laughs along, the tension from you and Hwa's little fight seemingly evaporating. It’s like old times again, your rhythm unshaken.
Then Woo’s gaze shifts toward the entrance, and his playful expression stiffens slightly.
“Uh… you told me to invite him, but I didn’t think he’d actually show up.”
You follow Wooyoung’s line of sight, your smile freezing as you spot Hongjoong stepping into the house. His attempts at looking casual—down to his carefully chosen shirt and forced grin—betray the nerves he’s clearly trying to hide.
But it’s not just him. Dann is with him, hovering awkwardly at his side.
Seonghwa notices too, his smirk turning razor-sharp “Well, if it isn’t the exile. You sure know how to pick your projects, Clarke.”
Your grip on the empty glass tightens ever so slightly before you recover, placing it calmly on the coffee table. You rise with an air of detachment, smoothing your short silk black dress.
“Don’t start, Hwa.”
Hwa leans back, watching you with an amused glint “I don’t need to. This show writes itself.”
Ignoring him, you stride toward the entrance, movements deliberate, your heels clicking against the polished floor.
Hongjoong’s face lights up with hope when he sees you approach, but you don't acknowledge it.
“Enjoying the party?” You ask coolly, your gaze sweeping over both Hongjoong and Dann.
“Uh, yeah,” He says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly “Thanks for—”
“Wooyoung invited you,” You interrupt, your eyes flick to Dann, your lips curving into a smile that’s anything but friendly “Didn’t realize you’d be bringing… extras.”
Dann stiffens under your gaze “I just came because Joong—”
“I didn’t ask,” You cut her off smoothly. your focus shifts back to Hongjoong “Enjoy the party, and stay out of my way.”
Before Hongjoong can respond, you turn on your heel, heading back to the couch where all your friends are waiting, barely containing their laughter.
“That was subtle.” Mingi teases as you sit back down.
You pick up another drink and take a long sip, your face calm but your mind racing. You had ordered Jung to invite him, but seeing him here, with Dann of all people, scratches at your carefully curated control.
Seonghwa leans closer, his voice low “Trying to make him mad, huh? Gotta admit, it’s fun to watch.”
You don't reply, your gaze lingering on Kim as he and Dann hover near the edge of the room. The party continues to swirl around you, but the game you’re playing tonight is only just beginning.
“Let's go dance.”
And without waiting for an answer, you drag Seonghwa to the center of the dance floor.
✮ ⋆
The party pulses around Hongjoong, but all he can see is you. You were radiant, laughing as you danced with Seonghwa, your hand grazing his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Weren't you supposed to be on bad terms? He threatened you a few days ago and now you act as if none of that has happened.
Every glance, every touch, feels like a slap to Hongjoong’s face, and when your eyes meet his for a brief moment across the room, he knows it wasn’t accidental.
Dann stands beside him, trying to engage him in conversation or distract him with sarcastic comments about the crowd, but he barely responds.
His guilt over snapping at her earlier only adds to the storm brewing inside him.
As the night goes on, you and Seonghwa grow bolder. You dance closer, bodies pressing together in a way that feels almost taunting. Your hand trails lazily over Hwa’s chest as you throw a sly glance over your shoulder, directly at Hongjoong.
He can't take it anymore.
“I need a minute.” He mutters to Dann before walking away.
He finds you in the corner of the room, laughing at something Seonghwa had said. Your head tilts back, the sparkle in your eyes brighter than ever. You look utterly in control, utterly untouchable.
“YN.” Hongjoong says, his voice tight.
You turn to him, your expression cool and unimpressed “Hongjoong, enjoying the party?”
“I…” He hesitates, glancing at the tallest, who stands smirking at him like he knows exactly how pathetic he feels.
“Spit it out.” You cross your arms waiting for his next words.
Hongjoong swallows hard, his pride crumbling under the weight of your icy stare.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” You ask, feigning ignorance as you raise an eyebrow.
“For… for defending Dann.” He admits, the words tasting bitter on his tongue “I shouldn’t have done it. I wasn’t thinking. Please, YN. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
You tilt your head, a small smile playing on your lips “Is that so?”
“Please, YN. I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want to make it up to you.”
You raise an eyebrow. That phrase sounds kinda familiar. Your gaze sweeps over him with an air of detached amusement.
“Anything?”
“Yes.” He said, desperation dripping from every syllable.
“Prove it.”
He looks at you confused, unsure what you mean. But when you point at the floor with a slight nod, his heart sinks.
Here? Now?
The party is still bustling around them, and though the music is loud, he knows there are enough eyes on them to make this moment humiliating.
But the thought of losing your favor, of being cast back into obscurity, is unbearable.
Slowly, he sinks to his knees in front of you like the first time he did it. The weight of the action crushed the little pride he had left.
“I’m sorry,” His voice trembling as he looks up at you “Please, YN. Forgive me.”
Your lips curve into a slow smile, and you reach down, brushing your fingers along his jaw.
“Good boy.”
Without another word, you grab his hand and pull him to his feet. Ignoring the stares of the partygoers—and the way Seonghwa’s amuse chuckle follows them—You lead him through the crowd and up the stairs.
Hongjoong’s pulse races as you push open the door to an empty room, shutting it firmly behind you.
“YN, I—” He starts, but you silence him with a finger to his lips.
You step closer, a hand sliding up his chest before tangling in the collar of his shirt. Your lips hover just above his, teasing him, your breath warm against his skin.
“You want me to forgive you, don’t you?” You whisper against his lips.
“Yes…” He breathes, his voice shaking.
“Then show me how sorry you are.” You say as your lips finally crash into his.
The kiss is rough, demanding, leaving Hongjoong breathless as your hands roam over him.
You push him into the edge of the bed, your confidence unwavering as you climb into his lap.
“Make it up to me.” You murmur against his ear, your tone lace with both seduction and dominance.
The room remains shrouded in heavy silence, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing and the soft rustling of fabric as your hands continue their work.
Hongjoong sits before you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes glazed with a mix of guilt, desire, and submission. He’s completely under your control, each deliberate movement you make reinforcing your hold over him.
You trail your nails lightly down his chest, exposed now as his shirt hangs loose from his shoulders.
“See, Joongie,” You purr, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his neck “When you beg like that, it reminds me how much you want to be here… how much you need me.”
He shivers under your touch, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words come out. His mind is a haze, lost in you—your voice, your touch, the overwhelming weight of your presence.
He feels as if he’s drowning, yet he doesn’t want to come up for air.
Your lips return to his, capturing him in a kiss so intense it steals his breath. His hands caressing from your waist to your bare legs as you tug him closer, your hands tangling in his hair, ensuring there’s no escape.
Not that he wants one.
Your smirk deepens as you lean closer, your fingers curling under his chin to tilt his face up. Your dominance is unshakable, your presence commanding every ounce of his attention.
“On your knees.”
You order, carrying a weight that leaves no room for protest as you get off his lap to sit next to him on the bed.
Hongjoong’s breath hitches. His mind scrambles for a response, but the intensity of your gaze renders him silent. Swallowing hard, he glances around the empty room, then back at you, his cheeks already red when he sees you spread your legs.
He thinks he knows what you want him to do, and that makes him more nervous.
“YN, I don’t know—”
“Do you trust me or not?” You interrupt, fingers trailing down to his collar, tugging him forward “You said you’d do anything for me, didn’t you?”
Caught in your words and unwavering stare, Hongjoong nods hesitantly.
“I do.” He whispered.
“Then show me.”
Slowly, he slides down to his knees, the fabric of his jeans scraping lightly against the floor. His hands hover awkwardly at his sides, unsure of where they should go, as he looks up at you, his wide eyes fill with a mixture of anticipation and nerves.
He's never done this before. He's seen it in porn videos but still doesn't know exactly what to do.
Your fingers slip into his hair, touch firm but not rough, and you guide him closer with a slow, deliberate motion.
“I always tell you this. Relax, Hongjoong, I’ll take care of you.”
Your other hand moves to the hem of your dress, slipping it up just enough to expose the soft fabric of your black panties.
Hongjoong’s gaze drops instinctively, his breath catching in his throat as his pulse races.
“Focus, Joongie.” You tease, tugging lightly on his hair to draw his attention back to your face “Start slow. I want to feel how much you want my forgiveness.”
With shaky hands, he rests his palms on your soft thighs, his touch hesitant and careful, the cold of his rings making you shiver.
You guide him lower, your smirk never wavering as his lips brush against your thighs.
The warmth of your skin, the faint scent of your perfume, the weight of your hand in his hair—all of it consumes him.
His inexperience is obvious, but you don't mind. You encourage him with soft sighs and subtle movements, your hips tilting forward slightly as he grows bolder, leaving little bites on your inner thighs as his fingers play with the edge of your panties, sliding them down slowly.
He starts taking his time dishing out kisses and biting on both thighs, making you impatient.
You let out a whimper pulling his hair slightly “Hongjoong… hurry up and eat me out.”
For the first time in his life, Hongjoong feels confident enough to smile mockingly against your delicate skin.
You, begging him to touch you? He never imagined it.
Still holding his smile, he slides your panties all the way down to your ankles, and removes them eagerly, leaving on your pretty high heels.
When he returns to his starting position between your thighs, he can't avoid looking to your bare core, all glossy with slick. He bites his lip at the sight.
Did he provoke that?
“Joong...” You reproach again with a whine.
You really need him to do something on his own or you'll force him to sink into your folds right now. You've never felt so desperate before, so eager for someone to touch you.
Hongjoong smiles again, your whiney voice turning him on.
The dry humping in your car, the blowjob in the empty classroom, and all the little make outs can not compare to this. Your pussy inches from his face, your hand tugging his hair and your desperate form waiting for him to touch you.
Fuck, he can’t believe this is happening.
With the highest confidence ever, even though he keeps in mind that he does not know what he is doing, he leans towards your pussy, giving a long lick that makes both of you moan in pleasure.
His warm tongue explores every millimeter of your womanhood, you whine as Hongjoong swipe his tongue up and down your wet slit, taking all your slick on his mouth.
“Shit, you taste so good, baby.” He says without realizing his words, his mind already cloudy.
You open your mouth in surprise at his daring words, you swear you feel more arousal coming out of your cunt.
“Fuck, Hongjoong…” You tighten your grip on his hair, forcing him to sink his head further and he lets you do it gladly, smiling against you “Ah… f-fuck me with your tongue, babe.”
And he does, he leaves your swollen clit to play with his tongue rubbing around your entrance, making you whine desperately.
He snorts with fun when you pull his hair harder, he is loving the way you’re acting, all whiny and desperate for him.
Without making you wait any longer, he slowly introduces his long tongue in your core.
He moans when he hears you do it and starts moving his tongue in and out, your walls clenching on it, his nose rubbing your clit, and his hands squeezing your thighs, bringing you closer to his mouth.
You arch your back, squirming and moaning under his exquisite touch. You never imagined that a virgin nerd like him could eat pussy so well.
Fuck, you never imagined he'd ever do this to you.
“That’s it,” You whisper, voice breathy but firm “Just… just like that, Joong.”
Each sound you make spur him on, his nervousness slowly giving way to determination. He wants to please you, to prove that he is worthy of your forgiveness, even if he doesn't fully know what he is doing.
Your breathing quickening as you tilt your head back “Good boy…” You murmur, your words sending a shiver down his spine.
The tension in the air is electric, every movement charged with a mix of control and surrender.
As your soft moans grow louder, Hongjoong can't help but feel a sense of pride, his confidence building with each passing moment.
✮ ⋆
The music blared through the speakers, the heavy bass vibrating the walls of Wooyoung’s mansion. Dann squeezed through groups of laughing, dancing people, her eyes scanning the crowd.
She’d been looking for Hongjoong for what felt like forever.
She finally spots Jung Wooyoung leaning casually against the bar, a drink in hand, and his signature easygoing grin in place.
Relief washes over her as she approaches him. She has never interacted with him, but she must find Joong.
“Wooyoung,” She calls out, raising her voice above the music “Have you seen Hongjoong?”
Jung tilts his head, his expression is a grimace when he sees her. He's drunk but he doesn't remember inviting this loser to his party, much less knowing the grudge you have against her.
“Little Hongjoong?” He echoes, taking a slow sip from his drink “Yeah, he went upstairs. With babydoll.” At Dann's confused expression, he rolls his eyes “He is upstairs with YN.”
Dann’s stomach drops at his words, her brows knitting together.
“With YN?” She repeats, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Wooyoung nods, smirking “Yep. Upstairs. Why? You jealous or something?” His tone is teasing, but Dann doesn’t have the energy to respond.
She turns on her heel and heads for the stairs, her heart pounding with every step. As she climbs, the noise of the party grows muffled, replaced by the quieter sounds of her own breathing and the creak of the steps.
Her mind races with thoughts she doesn’t want to entertain.
Why would Hongjoong be with you? After everything, after all the tension between you?
She reaches the top of the stairs and pauses before she approaches the only door that is closed in the hallway. Something tells her that they are both in there.
Her hand hesitates on the doorknob, her heart hammering against her ribs. Slowly, she pushes it open, the hinges creaking softly.
Her breath catches in her throat at the sight before her.
There you are—You and Hongjoong. You’re laying on the big bed, moaning as your hands grip Hongjoong’s hair while he is between your legs.
Hongjoong’s shirt is half-unbuttoned, hanging loosely off his shoulders, and his hands grip your thighs tightly, pulling you closer.
Dann’s chest tightens as a sharp pang of betrayal and hurt courses through her. She stands frozen in the doorway, her fingers gripping the frame as she struggles to make sense of what she’s seeing.
Neither you nor Hongjoong notice her. You’re too consumed by each other. The intensity of Hongjoong’s movements speaks volumes, and he is clearly enjoying being there.
Your dominance is evident too, your control absolute, while Hongjoong seems lost, entirely under your spell.
Dann bites her lip, willing herself not to cry as she takes a shaky step back. The scene before her is a confirmation of every fear she’s tried to suppress.
She retreats into the hallway, her heart aching with every step.
Downstairs, the party rages on, oblivious to the turmoil in Dann’s chest.
✮ ⋆
“Joong… I’m close.” You announce closing your eyes shut and your whines get louder, the pleasure is too much to handle.
At your words, Hongjoong places his lips around your sensitive clit, sucking and pulling at it, and without you expecting it, he thrust two of his fingers into your narrow entrance, making you open your eyes and groan in surprise.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
You quickly lift yourself up on your elbow to get a better view of him eating you like a starved man, It is certainly a spectacular sight.
His eyes closed in concentration, his warm mouth on your pussy and his fingers caressing the right places in your tight cunt.
Shit…. Is he really a virgin? Because this is the best oral sex you have ever received.
“L-look at me… look at me, baby.” You order him and he immediately obeys, looking at you with those doe eyes, those pretty doe eyes make a wave of pleasure run through your body “F-fuck… gonna cum, baby. K-keep going.” You moan again tilting your head back, your eyes rolling back “J-just like that…”
Damn, Hongjoong swears that this is the best view in the world, your mouth agape, eyes rolling back, you saying his name like a fucking mantra, this will undoubtedly be an image that will stay in his mind forever.
“Cum for me, pretty… cum on my mouth.”
He doesn't know where that sentence came from but he can't help it, the adrenaline of the moment has his mind clouded.
With those words, you lose it. Your strength leaves your body when the well-known pressure on your abdomen appears, your grip on his hair becomes stronger and your legs begin to tremble from immense pleasure, your orgasm explodes like never before, leaving you breathless.
He moans in satisfaction, the taste of your slick driving him crazy, he moves his tongue everywhere collecting every drop of your orgasm, just like you did that day with him.
“Ah… fuck, Joong!” You squirm under his movements, feeling the beginning of overstimulation “Hongjoong… ‘s too much, baby.”
With a last lick and a wet kiss on your clit, Hongjoong lifts his head with a light smile.
He’s pussy drunk right now and you smile, taking him by the cheeks and bringing him closer to you to kiss him.
His lips are swollen and his chin is soaked with your fluids, he looks messy, but you don't care. The kiss is full of something special this time, you don't know if it's gratitude, warmth or love. But you're definitely enjoying it too much.
“Did I do it right?” He murmurs against your lips and he smiles when you nod.
“That was amazing.” You pull him back, your breathing uneven, your eyes meet his with a satisfied gleam “Not bad for your first time.”
Hongjoong remain above you, his chest heaving as he tries to process what had just happened.
You run a hand through his messy hair, glancing down at him with a mix of amusement and approval.
“Let’s go back to the party.” You add, leaning down to press a quick, teasing kiss to his lips before pulling back.
And Hongjoong smiles satisfied, satisfied to have your forgiveness
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The hallway outside Wooyoung’s upstairs den is dimly lit, the faint bassline of the party vibrating through the walls.
Dann leans against the banister, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if to shield her from the storm raging in her chest. Her mind replays the image of you with Hongjoong in that compromising position.
She blinks back the sting of tears, her breath hitching.
“Pathetic,” She whispers to herself, trying to steal her resolve.
But the pain lingers, twisting deeper with each passing second.
“You look like hell.” A voice cuts through her thoughts, sharp yet strangely casual.
Dann startles, her wide eyes locking onto Seonghwa as he saunters out of the shadows. His shirt is half-buttoned, his tie hanging loose around his neck.
He takes a slow drag from a cigarette, the embers glowing faintly in the dim light.
“What do you want?” Dann’s voice wavers, a mix of anger and embarrassment as she hastily wipes at her cheeks.
Seonghwa tilts his head, smirking “Relax, I just happened to notice you running out of there like the world’s ending.” He exhales a thin trail of smoke, his eyes narrowing with mock “Saw something you didn’t like?”
Dann glares at him but says nothing. The silence between them grows heavy, thick with unspoken truths.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Hwa finally says, leaning casually against the banister “Let me guess… Hongjoong and YN, all over each other like she hadn't kicked him out a week ago because of your little show in the cafeteria?”
His tone drips with derision, his smirk deepening when Dann flinches.
“Why are you telling me this?” She snaps, her voice cracking slightly “You’re supposed to be her friend, aren’t you?”
Hwa chuckles, low and mirthless “Friendship’s a funny thing, don’t you think? Especially when it comes to someone like YN.” He flicks the cigarette away, watching the faint glow disappear into the darkness “You think she really cares about anyone but herself?”
Dann’s gaze falters, the weight of his words settling over her.
“Look,” Hwa says, his voice softening just enough to sound sincere, “I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of YN’s little games. She’s been pulling this crap since we were kids, using people, discarding them when they’re no longer useful.”
Dann clenches her fists, her voice barely above a whisper.
“But Hongjoong isn’t like that.”
Hwa raises an eyebrow, his smirk returning “You sure about that? He dropped you pretty fast for her, didn’t he?”
Her breath catches, the truth of his words cutting deeper than she wants to admit.
“But here’s the thing,” Hwa continues, stepping closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially “YN’s not untouchable. She’s got secrets, vulnerabilities… things she wouldn’t want getting out.”
Dann looks up at him, confusion and hesitation warring in her eyes.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying… if you really want to hit her where it hurts, I can help.”
The air between them crackles with tension. Dann hesitates, her instincts screaming at her to walk away.
But the memory of Hongjoong doing such a thing with you flashes through her mind again, the sting of betrayal fueling the embers of something darker.
“Why?” She asks cautiously, her voice steadier now.
Seonghwa’s grin widens, his eyes glinting with calculated charm
“Let’s just say I have my reasons. And besides…” He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper “Don’t you want to see her fall?”
Dann swallows hard, the weight of his proposition pressing down on her. Her mind races, torn between doubt and the growing need to fight back.
Finally, she nods, her voice quiet but firm.
“Okay. I’m in.”
Hwa straightens, satisfaction flashing across his face “Good. Stick with me, and we’ll make sure YN regrets every move she’s made.”
As he walks away, Dann stands frozen, the faint echo of his footsteps fading into the music downstairs.
For the first time that night, she feels something other than pain—something sharp and dangerous, simmering just beneath the surface.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The soft glow of the afternoon sun filters through the expansive windows of your house, casting a warm, golden hue over the sprawling living room.
You and Hongjoong sit cross-legged on the expensive carpet, a mess of images, glue sticks, and markers spread out between you. The project you’re working on is for the literature class—a visual timeline of key events in European history.
For once, you aren't delegating the work entirely to Hongjoong. Instead, you’re snipping pieces of paper with surprising focus, handing them over to him to paste onto the board.
“Here,” You say, holding up a carefully cut-out image of the Berlin Wall “Paste this next to the 1989 marker. And make it straight this time.”
Hongjoong smirks, taking the picture “Yes, pretty. Anything else you’d like me to do, Your Majesty?”
You roll your eyes but hide a smile “Just don’t mess it up. My grade’s on the line, too.”
You share a laugh, the recent nickname he loves to call you since that night at Wooyoung’s party makes you feel butterflies in your stomach.
Since that day, Hongjoong feels the ease between both of you—something he never thought possible just a few weeks ago. He doesn’t feel nervous or out of place anymore.
Being with you feels natural now, like he belongs here.
You lean back, brushing your hair over your shoulder, and look at him with a curious expression.
“You’re actually not bad at this. Who knew?”
He grins “Wow, high praise coming from you. Should I write this down?”
You smirk, tossing a crumpled piece of paper at him “Don’t push your luck, Kim.”
The banter continues, light and comfortable, until the sound of heels clicking on the marble floor interrupts them.
Your mother appears in the doorway, dressed immaculately as always, her gaze sweeping over the room.
“Oh! Hi, Hongjoong. Didn't know you were here.” Your mother greets him with a lovely smile
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Clarke.” He bows his head politely.
“How are you doing with that guys?” She says while looking curiously at your project.
“Great, we’re having fun.” Hongjoong answers with a sweet smile and your mother giggles gracefully.
From the first time your mother met him, she was delighted with the boy, saying how handsome and polite he was.
“Incredible. Sweetie?” Now she addresses you and you hum in response “I wanted to let you know your brother will be returning from Germany next week. He finished his program early.”
You freeze, your hands stilling on the paper you're cutting. For a moment, a flicker of something—fear?—crosses your face.
“Oh…” You say, voice strained despite her attempt at nonchalance “That’s… great.”
Your mother narrows her eyes slightly, as if detecting the unease.
“Yes. He’s looking forward to seeing you. I hope you’ll make him proud of how you’ve been handling things here.”
“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” You reply with a forced smile.
“Well, I'll let you continue with your work.” Your mother gives a curt nod before leaving the room.
Hongjoong glances at you, sensing the sudden shift in your mood.
“Mike?”
You exhale sharply, tossing the scissors aside “Yeah. My amazing brother. If he finds out I’ve been… well, less than perfect, he won’t hesitate to tell my parents.”
Hongjoong frowns “He sounds… intense.”
“You don’t know half of it.” You mutter, running a hand through your hair. For a moment, your confident exterior falters, revealing a hint of vulnerability.
Hongjoong reaches out, hesitating before placing a hand on yours.
“Hey, it’s okay. Whatever happens, you’ll handle it. You’re YN, remember? You always do.”
You look at him, your expression softening “You’re sweet, you know that?”
He shrugs, a blush creeping up his neck “Just for you, pretty.”
You lean in, your lips brushing his in a soft kiss.
“Let’s finish this project before my mother comes back and give you compliments just for existing”
Hongjooong chuckles, but he can’t shake the lingering thought of your brother. Whoever this guy is, he clearly has a hold over you—and that’s saying something.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Dann quietly tidies up remnants of her lunch, her movements mechanical. She hasn’t spoken to Hongjoong in days. He doesn’t even look at her anymore.
But she notices the change in you—the way you smile more, laugh more, when Hongjoong is around you.
And Dann can’t help but feel the ache in her chest grow sharper with each passing moment.
How much she wishes she was in your place, to be so close to Hongjoong.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The house buzzes with quiet anticipation, the staff moving about with heightened energy. Your mother, dressed in her usual pristine elegance, stands in the center of the room, her voice carrying an air of authority but still kind.
“I want everything perfect for my son’s return,” She announces, her tone leaving no room for error “The table arrangements, the food, the decor—everything must reflect our family’s standards. He’ll be here in three days, and this dinner must welcome him properly. The whole family will come, so the banquet should be for twenty-five people.”
Dann crouches in the corner of the hallway, hidden behind a large vase. She had come to deliver your paperwork but froze when she overheard the conversation.
Her heart pounds as she listens, her mind racing. YN’s brother… She wouldn't know that the Clarkes have two children if it weren't for some pictures hanging on the walls, in all this time she never heard anyone mention it, not even your parents.
She knows almost nothing about him, but the little mention that Seonghwa made one day left her intrigued.
Why does no one in the family talk about that guy?
The moment your mother leaves the room, Dann slips out and makes her way to the backyard, her hands clutching the papers tightly.
She unlocks her phone in hand and calls Seonghwa.
He’s been a constant presence in her life these past two weeks—not as a friend, but as a partner in their silent pact.
In these weeks, Hwa has treated Dann with a mix of indifference and amusement. He never misses an opportunity to remind her of their deal, yet he’s never outright cruel.
For him, she’s a tool—a means to an end. But for Dann, every interaction feels like walking a tightrope, unsure when his charm might twist into something sharper.
“Seonghwa,” she calls softly when he picks up.
“Hi, what’s the news?”
Dann hesitates before speaking “YN’s brother… He’s coming back in three days. Her mom is planning this big welcome dinner for him.”
“The golden boy, huh? Interesting.”
“Interesting?” Dann blurts out before she can stop herself.
“Of course, it is. Daddy’s favorite, perfect older brother who can do no wrong? He’s probably the only one who can knock YN off her pedestal.”
Dann frowns, clutching her hands nervously “Are you sure about this?”
“Don't be scared, Seo, I’ll take care of everything.”
Dann isn’t comforted by his nonchalance, but she knows better than to push. Seonghwa isn’t someone who worries; he plans, manipulates, and waits for the perfect moment to strike.
“Okay… bye.
Dann bites her lip, hanging up before walking back inside the house. But as she retreats, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s stepping deeper into a game she barely understands.
✮ ⋆
You lounge on the oversized velvet sofa in the living room, your legs tuck beneath you as you flip through the book Hongjoong recommended to you.
You’re not reading it—your eyes skim over the pages without absorbing a single word.
Around you, the house is abuzz with activity. Maids dust every surface, fluffing pillows to perfection.
A team of florists meticulously arranges extravagant bouquets in the foyer, filling the air with the overpowering scent of lilies and roses.
Your mother strides into the room, clipboard in hand, rattling off instructions.
“The table settings must be silver, not gold. And make sure the wine glasses are spotless—he deserves only the best.” Her voice drips with excitement.
You glance at the dining room, now transformed into a stage for the grand dinner. Crystal chandeliers gleam above the polished mahogany table, which is already set with fine china and embroidered napkins.
Everything is immaculate, screaming perfection—just like your brother.
Your father joins his wife, a rare smile softening his otherwise stern face “Finally, our son is coming back. Three years is far too long.” He places a hand on the woman's shoulder, his tone filled with pride “He’s the best of us.”
Your stomach twists. Their words sting in a way you don’t expect. It’s not that you hate Mike—not really. But the shadow he casts is suffocating, the impossibly high bar he sets that you’ll never reach.
The perfect son, the golden child who’s never made a misstep—or so everyone thinks.
Because you know better. You know the cracks hidden behind his flawless exterior. The things he’s done, the lines he’s crossed.
The way he’s used you to cover his tracks, forcing you to dirty your hands so his reputation could remain unscathed. The memory of his voice, cold and commanding, still echoes in your mind.
'You’ll do it, YN. You owe me.' And you always did because saying no was never an option.
Your parents know about his anger issues. They’ve seen his temper, the way his anger can spiral into violence.
They’ve heard the arguments, felt the weight of his wrath. But they ignore it, choosing instead to uphold the illusion of their perfect son.
You know they love you and love to spoil you, but you also know their disappointment runs deep.
To them, you’re the little child who always gets her way, who causes trouble without considering the consequences.
A loud clatter from the kitchen breaks her thoughts, and your mother whirls around.
“What was that? We can’t afford any mistakes!”
You watch your mother hurry away, and your heart sinks further. Mistakes.
That’s all you feel you are lately and a series of disappointments waiting to be uncovered. Your eyes drift to the grand staircase, and you imagine Mike descending it, his presence commanding the room, and your parents beaming with pride.
Your phone buzzes, pulling you from bad thoughts. It’s a text from Hongjoong, something sweet and simple about your project.
Joongie: We’re getting a 10, pretty.
Joongie: Promise!!
For a moment, you smile, but it quickly fades. Hongjoong is your escape, your distraction, but even he can’t erase the weight of your family’s expectations.
Sighing, you set the book down and lean back, closing your eyes. The house feels suffocating, filled with reminders of who you are supposed to be.
But this time, you won’t be caught off guard. If your brother’s return is inevitable, you’ll face him on your terms—even if it means confronting the secrets they both carry.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The school backyard is too quiet to be the last class, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees as students chatter in the distance.
You and Hongjoong sit on a bench, the space between them comfortable but heavy with unspoken thoughts.
You swing your legs lazily, your eyes looking at the horizon. Your usually confident demeanor seems a little more distant today, like your mind is elsewhere.
Hongjoong notices it instantly, and though he’s not the type to pry, he can’t help but ask.
"Hey, what's going on? You seem… off today."
You glance over at him, lips curling into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.
“It’s nothing. Just stuff with my family.”
He raises an eyebrow, sensing that it’s more than just ‘stuff.’ He leans a little closer, his voice softer now.
“Your brother, right?”
You freeze at the mention of him, gaze flickering to the side, as though trying to avoid the thought altogether. Your fingers fidget with the hem of your jacket, and you sigh deeply.
"Yeah, he’s coming back today." You try to mask the vulnerability in your tone, but Hongjoong catches it anyway "After three years, my parents are so excited. You should see the house, Joong... everything has to be perfect."
Hongjoong watches you carefully, his expression thoughtful. He remembers when your mother told you about Mike’s return.
You had been visibly upset, though you masked it quickly, eager to avoid the conversation. He knows that you have spent your whole life living in your brother’s shadow, constantly compared to his perfection.
"I get it," He says softly, his voice steady "You’ve always felt like he’s the ‘golden child,’ right? The one your parents adore."
Your lips tighten, but you don't argue, just nod, glancing at him with a half-smile.
"It’s exhausting. He’s everything they ever wanted in a son. Business master. Perfect grades. Perfect manners. Perfect everything." You pause, a bitter edge creeping into your voice "It doesn’t matter how many times I get a perfect score or do everything right. It’s never enough."
Hongjoong nods, his hand resting on the back of the bench, his gaze still on you. He knows you hide a lot behind that confident exterior, but the cracks are starting to show now, and it makes him feel both protective and… uncertain.
"It sounds like a lot to deal with. But your parents love you. They just have high expectations, don’t they?"
Your gaze flickers briefly to him, but you don't meet his eyes. You bite your lip, as if debating whether to continue.
"They do, but sometimes it feels like it’s not enough." You shrug, trying to brush it off, but the weight of the words lingers in the air between them "Anyway, enough about that."
You shift in your seat, a new thought clearly forming.
“Hongjoong,” You say, voice softer now, almost vulnerable "I know I’ve been, uh… caught up with my family stuff lately. But would you… would you ever invite me to your place one day? Just, you know, to get away from all of this?"
He blinks in surprise, but the warmth of your request is clear. It’s not about the drama or the pressures you face at home. It’s just you wanting a break, wanting something simple.
A break from being the ‘perfect’ daughter, the one always judged against the golden child.
"Of course, pretty." He replies without hesitation "Whenever you want. You can always come over."
You look at him, eyes softer now, a real smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
"Thanks, that means more than you know."
You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of your words settling between you. Hongjoong’s heart races, unsure of what this means for their relationship but knowing one thing:
Being around you, seeing you like this—vulnerable, honest—it pulls him in deeper.
Finally, you break the silence again “Well, if I have to put up with my perfect brother for a while, at least I’ll have something to look forward to, right?”
He chuckles, the sound filling the quiet space between you “Exactly. And you know, I think the ‘perfect’ brother might need a little dose of reality. No one can be perfect all the time.”
You grin at that, your usual self-assuredness flickering back to life.
"Maybe.”
"Well, you’ve got me for anything. Always."
As you sit there, the rest of the world seems to fade away. Just for a moment, everything is okay.
And for now, that’s enough.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
Taglist: @alliecoady98 @maidens-world @yulsr @justconniez @luvvvash @nkryuki @silenttrxxs @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @xh01bri @beabatiny @yothangie @posseup @0407files @yeorisanaxox @innocygnet @a-tiny-thing @sannieily @maplelilly05 @ddeonugu @niaee @cheolright @mrskill2 @badbitch69420sworld @lover-of-fics @zaynsfl4m3s
You can join the Taglist: Here
For some strange reason I can't tag these blogs :c if you want you can leave another blog in the form Or if you can help me solve this problem I would really appreciate it. @Ycuhugi @a-atiny_niawoo @Lemonkait00
☆○☆○☆
All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.
WE GOT ONE!!!!! THANK YOU!!!!
This was really good! Love the angst and the ending too. <3
You’re My Dream
౨ৎ PAIRING— rockstar!jeong yunho x reader
౨ৎ GENRE— fluff, ended relationship, fem!reader
౨ৎ WARNINGS— angst, fluff
౨ৎ WORD COUNT— 1.4k
౨ৎ SUMMARY— you broke up because he was too focused on his music dream, but maybe you and love were the real dream all along.
౨ৎ A/N— i saw a lot of people saying they wanted a oneshot with the concept photos from the 2025 seasons greetings, so i made one! i hope you like it, even though it isn’t quite as angsty as you probably wanted :( still, feedback is appreciated and thanks for reading, lovelies! <3 (i’ll tag a few people who said they were interested if someone wrote one: @beabatiny, @goldendynastys, @kibs-and-bits)
Staring at the fire crackling, you try to hold back the tears that threaten to escape. When had it all gone so wrong?
Just last year, you had been enjoying your boyfriend’s Christmas show with his rock band, and now you’re sitting alone, the night before Christmas.
The crackling of the fire adds to your melancholy, the harsh cold winds blowing outside creating a gloomy atmosphere. You know you should forget like he has, but you can’t throw away two years of your life that easily.
The memories of last Christmas come flooding back to you, even as you try to suppress them. Memories of sitting beside the fire with Yunho, cuddling as you watched a cheesy Christmas movie. Or baking Christmas cookies together at his apartment, laughing as you threw flour at each other.
Turning to the remote controller, you press the power button, not expecting to see him on the screen. His band is playing, and you immediately feel a pang in your chest at the sight of him, his fingers dashing across the keyboard.
Even though he’s the keyboard player and not the lead singer, he has an air about him that draws you in, making it unable to look away, even as you know you should. Why is he still having this effect on you?
The song is one you recognize. “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call,” by Bleachers.
It’s a song he’d introduced to you last Christmas, and, even though it’s sad, it had been a source of joy for you in a way last year, because you remember dancing to the song with him, smiling and laughing.
Now, it really is sad.
When he gets up at the end of the song, leaning into the microphone, you furrow your eyebrows, listening.
“That song goes out to someone I lost a year ago today.” He looks right at the camera, his brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, baby. I wish it had been different, but know that I never really stopped loving you.”
You gasp, only momentarily questioning if he’s really talking to you, before you jump up, now determined to make things right for some reason. You know it’ll probably end in more heartache, but you have to try.
Grabbing your keys and coat, you hurry out the door into the winter storm, unlocking your car before hopping in.
Even though the roads are horrible tonight, you know the way to his apartment like the back of your hand, only slowing because of the snow.
About twenty minutes later, you arrive at his apartment complex, hurrying out of the car, through the blinding snow, and into the lobby of the building.
You try to calm yourself down, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button to the fourth floor.
When you get to the floor, you walk down the hall, slowing to a stop in front of his door. Taking a deep breath, you knock.
It takes about two minutes, but the door opens, revealing a messy-haired Yunho, a few locks of his dark blue hair having fallen in front of his brown eyes, which widen at the sight of you.
“Y/N?” he whispers, his hand clutching the doorknob so tight you think he might break it. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw the program.”
“Oh.”
With a sigh, you rub your arm, biting your lip, really starting to wonder what you’re really doing here yourself. “H-How have you been?”
“Is that really what you’re going to ask?” Yunho asks, giving you a half-smile.
“What else would I say?” you question softly, suddenly feeling stupid for coming to see him. “I can’t just say Merry Christmas or something stupid like I’ve missed you—“
“Can’t you?” he asks, his dark eyes searching yours. “Because I’ve missed you.”
Sighing, you frown slightly, “This can’t be happening. I don’t know what I was thinking. Let me just—“
He grabs your wrist as you turn to leave, making your gaze snap back to his. “Every day without you has been torture. You came to see me for a reason. Do you feel the same?”
“Yunho, it doesn’t matter how we feel. It can’t work now anymore than it did then. We have different goals.”
“We don’t have to!” he exclaims, almost desperately. “I can’t give up the band if that’s what you want. You were upset it took up so much of my time? I’ll quit.”
Your eyes widen as you shake your head, “Yunho, the reason you couldn’t give it up for me before is because it’s what you love to do. I can’t take that away from you. I can’t make you live without it.”
“Well, I can’t live without you.”
His words hang heavy in the air, making you suck in a sharp breath, “Yunho…”
“Don’t say anything,” Yunho tells you, taking a single step closer. “Just tell me…”
“Tell you what?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowing.
“What do you feel?” he asks, just before he leans in, his face inches from yours. Your heartbeat quickens as his warm breath fans across your lips. “If you feel nothing, I’ll leave you alone.”
You’re torn between wanting to close the distance and knowing you shouldn’t.
You don’t have to wait for long.
It feels like the world stops when his soft lips brush against yours for the first time in months. It isn’t like an electric shock, with fireworks exploding, rather it’s like coming home after a long time away. Like warmth and softness and… love.
It only takes a few seconds for you to melt into him, the kiss deepening as he lifts his hands to cup your face, your hands finding his chest, his heartbeat quickens beneath yours fingertips.
After a few moments, he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours as he pants softly, waiting for you to respond.
“I wish I could say I felt nothing,” you whisper, feeling a little helpless against your emotions. “But I can’t. I’ve never been able to.”
“Then give us another chance,” Yunho pleads, his thumbs brushing across your cheekbones. “I meant what I said during the program. I’ve never stopped loving you.”
“But what about the band? What about all the reasons we broke up months ago?”
“You and I both know we were being petty then. And I can quit the band, like I said,” Yunho replies, his tone serious.
“I don’t want you to,” you respond quietly, making him furrow his eyebrows.
“What?” he asks slowly, confusion etched into his features.
“I don’t want you to quit what you love,” you clarify. “That’s what ended things between us before. We quit on our love, and I won’t let you quit on the band now. I was stupid to think you loved me any less because of your passion for music. Please don’t stop playing, Yun.”
“Are you sure?” he asks slowly. “It’ll still take up as much time as it did before, maybe more, since we’ve grown a little more popular now.”
“I don’t care,” you smile softly. “All I care about is being with you again. And I won’t let my jealousy over your time get in the way again… as long as you let me come to your shows.”
“Every single one.”
With a small laugh, you lean forward, pressing another soft kiss to his lips before burying your face in his neck, inhaling his calming scent you’ve missed so much.
“Maybe we should get out of the hallway?” Yunho chuckles, tugging your hand, guiding you into his apartment. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”
You smile shyly, nodding, as you let him close the door behind you both.
Three months later, you’re cheering for Yunho and his band as he performs, smiling widely when he finally comes backstage, his arms open as you laugh, throwing yourself into his arms for a hug. “You did so well, Yunnie,” you whisper in his ear.
He grins, nuzzling his nose into your hair, “Thank you, baby. You’re always the best cheerleader.”
“Can’t say I don’t like the fake tattoos on your hands either,” you tell him wryly, tracing the markings with your finger.
“Oh?” he asks, chuckling softly, his eyes sparking with mischief. “Maybe I’ll leave them on for a little while. And I’ll be sure to tell the stylist you like them.”
“Good,” you grin. “I’m good with anything now as long as you never tell me ‘please don’t call’ like you did last winter ever again.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I love this so much! Another thought I had is him secretly buying takeout and pretending he cooked it just to impress reader
hey, I saw your event and I’m curious about yours thoughts on prompt one: "when he is in your kitchen cooking something for you" for jongseob
cause even though in their most recent video where they cooked food for chuseok jongseob can’t cook and he knows this, but he was so proud of what he made.
I feel like he would still try to make something edible for his s/o.
HIII!! omgg i remember you from the piwon ask w seob. I SAW THAT VIDEO TOO, AND I LAUGHED SO HARD DJASJDAN.
"ofc i know how to cook it, i did it a million times!" cit jongseob. probably lying, like maybe it's something he saw on a youtube video and he tried it once in his life</3. but he would lie just to be able to cook something for you!!! using your kitchen. partially because it brings him a sense of family, and partially because he genuinely has no tools in his apartment... and i feel he would choose something simple to cook but still would follow a video (but he would never admit it) or would call the other members for advice. i also picture him coming to you more than one time showing you his progress, ALL of his progress. like: "i'm about to turn on the oven" or "here i put some salt now, does not it look delicious huh?" while u just stare at him nodding and just grateful to see how happy he looks while cooking for you. and while he waits for the food to cook in the oven, he starts to distract himself with humming some of his favorite rap songs. and he would only be able to stop after smelling the faint smell of burning invading the kitchen! "it's a little overcooked, but otherwise I'm sure it would have come out delicious." he would tell you proudly after putting something barely edible on your plate (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩)
prompts ; event m.list
WE ARE SO BACK! (again)
ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ THE CITY OF LOVE
ㅤㅤ ㅤ Chapter Twelve: Ma Meilleure Ennemie
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ< previous | next >
masterpost
៚ wc: 10k (total: ???)
៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?
៚ playlist !
៚ The night is electric, filled with fleeting glances, moments of tension, and unspoken words hanging in the air. You find yourself caught in a delicate dance between the past and the present, as old wounds resurface in the most unexpected ways. But just when you think you’ve built a wall strong enough to keep it all out, everything comes crashing down. Who can you trust when even your own heart feels like a stranger? Will you finally face what’s been lurking in the shadows, or will you keep running, hoping the past will stay buried? The answers are closer than you think—but are you ready to hear them?
a/n: the way you can tell this is a belated new yearʼs special... also peep the references hehe
tags: @beabatiny @babymbbatinygirl @vcutparis (ik youʼre not actually on my taglist but i wanted to add you here haha 😅)
Paris glowed as if it were at the very edge of heaven. Streets lined with twinkling fairy lights stretched endlessly, shimmering like stars brought down to earth. The chill of winter softened by the warmth of countless candles flickering in shop windows and the golden glimmer spilling out of bustling cafes. Children darted between the legs of laughing adults, their giggles carried on the crisp evening breeze. Couples strolled hand in hand, their faces illuminated by both the soft light of the decorations and the sheer joy of the season. Fireworks were being prepped along the Seine, their bright colors barely restrained, waiting for the stroke of midnight to explode into celebration.
Yet, amidst all this joy and revelry, there was a quiet heaviness—a void that neither the beauty of Paris nor the energy of the celebrations could fill.
You sat at the edge of your bed, the faint hum of the heater in your apartment the only sound breaking the silence. The festive cheer of the city below felt like a mockery of the hollow ache in your chest. The loneliness that clung to you was suffocating, made worse by the distance between you and Hongjoong. You tried not to think about him, but every laugh that slipped in through your window or every stray cat that crossed the street below brought him to mind. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once, his absence more palpable than any presence could ever be.
Seonghwa’s name suddenly flashed across the screen of your phone, pulling the anchor of your thoughts back to the shore. For a moment, you considered ignoring it altogether—you werenʼt in the mood to do anything at all today, anyway, let alone celebrate the upcoming year. But knowing him, he wouldn’t just leave it at one call—he’d keep trying until you answered. With a shaky breath, you swiped to accept.
“Hello?” Your voice came out quieter than you intended, and you cursed yourself for the way it wavered.
“Hey, I missed you!” Seonghwa’s voice was warm, almost too warm. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”
You forced a small laugh, but it sounded hollow even to your own ears. “As if I could. But… why the sudden phone call?”
There was a pause, brief but charged, before he spoke again. “We’re having a New Year’s Eve party here tonight—and you should definitely come!”
Your heart sank. Of course, he’d call about that. You already knew the agency’s New Year’s event was a big deal, but you hadn’t planned on going. The thought of being in the same room as Hongjoong, pretending everything was fine when it very clearly wasn’t, was almost unbearable.
“I don’t know, Seonghwa...” you began, but he cut you off.
“Listen,” he said gently, “you’ve been cooped up for too long. It’ll be good for you to get out, be around people.”
You bit your lip, your grip tightening on the phone. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. Being around people wasn’t the problem. Hongjoong was the problem.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said, hating how weak you sounded.
Seonghwa sighed, and you could picture him running a hand through his hair, the way he always did when he was trying to be patient. “Itʼs because of Hongjoong, isnʼt it?”
Your breath hitched, and the silence that followed was damning. Of course, he knew. He always knew.
“He’s not going to bother you,” Seonghwa said softly. “I’ll make sure of it. You can stick with me the whole night if you want. Hell, I’ll even block his line of sight if it’ll make you feel better.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at that, though it was brief and tinged with sadness. “I don’t think that’s physically possible, Seonghwa.” Your fingers tightened around the edge of your desk, your chest tightening. “And it’s not just that,” you admitted. “I don’t know if I can handle pretending to be okay. I feel like I’ll just ruin the mood.”
“Ruin the mood? Are you kidding?” Seonghwa’s laugh was light but not dismissive. “You’re the highlight of any room you walk into. Trust me, no one’s expecting you to put on a show. Just be there.”
Before you could respond, Wooyoung’s voice burst through the receiver. “Hey, I know this phone number!” he beamed before straight up snatching the phone from Seonghwa. “How come youʼre picking up Seonghwaʼs calls and not mine?”
Your eyebrow went up in confusion. “Youʼve been calling me?”
“No, but you should be able to telepathically sense my soul whenever I want you to call me.”
“Wooyoung, give me back my phone!”
“No way! She’s laughing now, thanks to me.”
Despite yourself, you smiled, warmth seeping into the cracks of your heart. “Well, hello to you too, Wooyoung.”
“Hey there,” Wooyoung greeted. “Now, listen up. You’re coming tonight. No arguments. We’re saving you a seat and everything. And you know what? If you cross paths with Hongjoong and things get weird, just yell my name, and I’ll come running. Deal?”
Your smile faltered at the mention of Hongjoong yet again, but Wooyoung didn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. “I mean it,” he continued. “You’ve been MIA, and honestly, we miss you. So, get dressed, look stunning, and show up. That’s an order.”
“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa scolded lightly, “let her decide on her own.”
“Nope,” Wooyoung countered. “She’s coming. End of discussion.”
You wanted to go. You really did. But the thought of walking into that office, of seeing Hongjoong and pretending like everything was fine... It felt impossible. The wound between you wasn’t just fresh—it was still bleeding, raw and unhealed.
What if he ignored you again? What if he didn’t?
That was the cruelest part. You didn’t know what was worse—his cold indifference or the possibility that he’d look at you with anything resembling regret.
Your thumb hovered over the screen, contemplating an excuse to end the call. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Seonghwa. You knew he’d keep his word, stay by your side, shield you from whatever awkwardness might arise. But it wasn’t enough.
Because no matter how much you wanted to deny it, this wasn’t just about Hongjoong avoiding you. It was about the hollow ache in your chest, the way your mind kept replaying that almost-kiss, that devastating moment when he stepped away.
You hated how much you missed him. How much you still cared, despite everything.
But maybe you were being selfish. Maybe you needed to stop wallowing in your own misery and try to move on. Maybe—
“Still there?” Seonghwa’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft but insistent.
“Uh… yeah. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to decide right now,” he said, and you could hear the sincerity in his tone. “Just think about it, okay? I really think it’ll do you some good. And if it gets too overwhelming, I’ll take you home myself. No questions asked.”
“Okay,” you said quietly, though you weren’t sure you meant it.
“Promise you’ll think about it?”
“Promise.”
“Good,” Seonghwa said, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “And hey, Wooyoung wants to say something to you.”
Wooyoung’s voice came back, loud and chipper. “If you don’t come, I’m eating all the desserts. Every single one. You’ve been warned—mind you, half of these are your favorites!”
You laughed, a genuine one this time. “Noted.”
Meanwhile, at the office, Hongjoong found himself standing beside a table, his hands busy arranging patterned fabrics, though his thoughts were anything but focused on the task at hand. Wooyoung’s voice carried across the room, loud enough to be heard by everyone nearby, including him, making Hongjoong look up in mild surprise, only to see him and Seonghwa engaged in a phone call.
As soon as a laugh echoed faintly through the air from the other line, Hongjoong’s entire world seemed to grind to a halt. It wasn’t even loud—just a soft, almost timid sound—but it hit him like a hurricane.
That laugh.
It was yours.
There was no mistaking it, even after the days of silence that stretched between you like a vast ocean. His hands froze, the patterned cloth he’d been meticulously arranging slipping from his grasp as his breath caught in his throat.
It was ridiculous, really. He’d heard your laugh countless times before, in moments both mundane and extraordinary. But now? Now it felt like a lifeline, a fleeting tether to something he’d been desperately trying to push away yet couldn’t help but crave.
God, how long had it been since he’d heard it? Days? Weeks? It felt like a lifetime. And to think, he’d spent all that time convincing himself that distance was the right thing to do, that staying away from you would somehow make things easier for both of you. What a joke. He wasn’t sure what hurt more—the hollow ache of missing you or the self-inflicted wounds of his own stubbornness.
As your voice murmured something indistinct on the other end of Seonghwa’s phone, Hongjoong felt the sharp sting of longing cut through him like glass. He wanted to hear it more clearly, to hold onto every word, every inflection, as if they could somehow fill the empty spaces you’d left behind. And damn it, he wanted to be the reason you were laughing. Not Wooyoung, not Seonghwa—him. He wanted to be the one who could coax that sound from you, the one you’d turn to when the world felt too heavy or too bright.
For a fleeting, irrational moment, he wanted to march across the room, grab Seonghwa’s phone, and press it to his ear. He wanted to say your name, hear how you’d respond, even if it was with confusion or anger. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.
What good would it do? What could he possibly say to you that would make up for everything? For the cold shoulders, the deliberate avoidance, the way he’d pulled away just when things had begun to shift between you two? He was a goddamn hypocrite, and he knew it. He hated himself for it.
Because the truth was, he didn’t want to keep you at arm’s length. Not even a little. Every fiber of his being screamed against the distance he’d forced between you, begged him to close it, to reach out, to pull you back into the space he’d so selfishly carved out for you in his life. But then that ugly, insidious voice in his head would creep back in, reminding him why he’d done it in the first place.
What could he offer you? He was a man with flaws, with baggage he wishes not to let you carry. And you... you deserved more than he could give.
So he kept his distance, even though it killed him. Even though he could feel the cracks widening in the carefully constructed wall he’d built around himself. He told himself it was for your own good, that he was protecting you, even as the lie twisted like a knife in his gut. He didn’t believe it anymore—not really. But admitting that would mean admitting how badly he’d messed up, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength for that.
Hearing you laugh again, even from afar, was both a balm and a wound. It reminded him of everything he was missing, everything he’d willingly let slip through his fingers. He wanted to fix it, to fix everything, but the fear of making things worse kept him rooted in place.
The voice of another employee of his—Yunho, broke through the fog in his mind, pulling him back to the present. “Hongjoong? You okay?”
He nodded stiffly, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah. Just... tired.”
But as Yunho turned back to his task, Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on Seonghwa. He watched as his friend smiled faintly, clearly amused by something you’d said. And for just a moment, the ache in Hongjoong’s chest flared into something sharper—something dangerously close to jealousy.
He shook his head, forcing the thought away. This was his choice, wasn’t it? He’d made his bed. Now he had to lie in it, no matter how much it hurt.
The call ended with Wooyoung’s playful taunts still echoing in your mind, the warmth and humor of his voice a stark contrast to the silence that quickly reclaimed your apartment. You lowered your phone, letting it rest loosely in your hand as your gaze wandered to the window. Outside, the city lights twinkled in celebration of the approaching New Year, but their brightness felt muted, distant. The faint hum of life beyond the glass only highlighted the silence around you, the stillness wrapping itself around your shoulders like a heavy, unwelcome shawl.
You leaned against the window frame, staring out at the faint reflections of your own eyes in the glass. How long has it been since you let yourself enjoy anything? Since you’d laughed without reservation, without that ache trailing behind it? Days? Weeks? The timeline blurred in your mind, consumed by the fog of isolation.
It wasn’t just the absence of Hongjoong that weighed on you, though his presence—or lack thereof—was an unshakable specter. It was the guilt of shutting out Seonghwa and Wooyoung, the two people who had always been there for you, unwavering and unrelenting in their support. They didn’t deserve your cold shoulder, yet you had given it to them anyway, consumed by your inability to process your own emotions.
But even that guilt paled in comparison to the ache you felt for Hongjoong.
You missed him. There was no denying it, no point in pretending otherwise. You missed his laugh, his rare but heartwarming compliments, the way he’d tilt his head when he was deep in thought. The void he left in your life felt insurmountable, and yet you had no idea how to bridge it. Every attempt at reconciliation seemed doomed from the start, the tension between you so thick it felt almost tangible.
What if I go and ruin everything? The thought sliced through you like a blade, sharp and unyielding. Would your presence at the party make things worse? Would it sour his mood, dampen his excitement for the New Year?
But then, Seonghwa’s voice came back to you, his gentle encouragement echoing in your mind. He was right—you couldn’t keep doing this to yourself. You couldn’t keep hiding away, letting the world pass you by while you drowned in your own sorrow.
With a sigh, you pushed away from the window and headed toward your closet. Each step felt like an act of defiance against the part of you that wanted to stay buried under the covers, but you forced yourself forward. You weren’t going for Hongjoong, you told yourself firmly. You were going for Seonghwa and Wooyoung. For yourself.
As you scanned your closet, fingers brushing over the fabric of your clothes, you tried to suppress the part of you that hoped—prayed—that Hongjoong might notice you. That he might see you, really see you, and understand just how much you missed him.
But that was just wishful thinking, wasn’t it?
Before you could dwell on it further, you grabbed an outfit and set it aside, picking up your phone to send a quick message.
I’ll be there.
Thank you for the encouragement :)
Tell Wooyoung we’ll be competing on who can eat the largest amount of food by the end of the party!
The response came almost instantly.
knew you would cave in lol
this is woo btw
and don’t be too confident, i won’t even give you a chance to win >:)
A small smile tugged at your lips as you read the message. You set your phone down, grabbed your outfit, and headed to the bathroom. Tonight, you weren’t going to let the weight of the past hold you back.
But deep down, you couldn’t deny the truth.
You wanted to see him. Even if it was from a distance.
—
The clatter of chairs and tables echoed through the expansive room as Hongjoong stood at the center of the chaos, his sharp eyes tracking every movement. Employees walked around, fixing decorations, adjusting lights, and arranging catering setups. The air was filled with the subtle hum of excitement, yet he felt oddly detached from it all. He issued instructions left and right, his voice professional and commanding, but beneath his composed exterior, his thoughts churned relentlessly.
The memory of Seonghwa’s phone call from earlier kept replaying in his mind, an endless loop of voices and laughter that wasn’t meant for him to hear. He had caught snippets of Wooyoung’s playful banter, the sound of your distant chuckle, faint but unmistakable. He’d wondered if they were trying to convince you to come to the party. He prayed they were. The idea of you not being there made his chest feel hollow.
He tried to focus on the present, on the tasks at hand, but his mind stubbornly returned to you. Were you debating whether or not to show up? The last time you spoke, things were left unresolved, painful and raw. He knew you had every right to avoid him. Hell, if he were in your shoes, he wouldn’t blame you for staying as far away as possible. But selfishly, he wanted to see you.
No, he needed to see you.
His stomach twisted at the thought of you deciding not to come. He couldn’t bear it. He imagined what you might wear tonight, how effortlessly stunning you’d look, and the ache in his heart deepened. If things had been different—if he hadn’t been such an absolute asshole—he would’ve spent the evening showering you with compliments, unable to hold back the admiration he always felt when you were near.
But he’d ruined that.
The guilt gnawed at him, almost unbearable in its intensity. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. Were you going to take the bus? He hated the thought of you braving the crowded streets alone on a night like this. A part of him toyed with the idea of showing up at your apartment unannounced, offering to drive you himself. But he dismissed the thought almost immediately. You hated him—he was certain of it. The last thing he wanted was to make things worse.
Still, the worry lingered. He had no idea if you were okay, if you’d even decided to leave your apartment.
“Hyung, do you mind? You’re in the way,” a sharp voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts. Hongjoong turned to see Wooyoung, sleeves rolled up as he adjusted the trays of pastries on the table. The younger man’s expression was irritated, though that was nothing new.
“Hey, wait—”
Wooyoung turned with an exasperated look, his brows furrowing as his eyes landed on Hongjoong. “What now?” he asked flatly. “I’m busy, you know.”
“Please,” Hongjoong began, his tone unusually soft, almost pleading. “Just hear me out.”
Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over his face. “This better be worth my time. What is it?”
Hongjoong swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry. “I wanted to apologize,” he said quietly. “For that day. For how I acted. I was out of line, and I feel fucking horrible about it. I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you, and I know everything I said was unjustifiable. I understand your behavior towards me, and I—”
Wooyoung studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed and shrugged. “I didn’t really mind your attitude that day. You were being a jerk, yeah, but I’ve dealt with worse. What really bothered me then, though, was the way you were treating her.”
Hongjoong flinched at the mention of you, guilt hitting him like a tidal wave.
“So, if we go by my logic,” Wooyoung continued, crossing his arms, “since you’re still acting like a bastard towards her, I’m still mad at you.”
Hongjoong nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know. You’re right.”
Wooyoung’s gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. “So, what’s the catch, then? What do you want from me?”
“I just…” Hongjoong hesitated, glancing away. “Is she coming tonight?”
Wooyoung blinked, clearly taken aback. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why do you care?”
Hongjoong exhaled slowly, struggling to find the right words. “Because…” He paused, his shoulders slumping. “Because I need to know. If she’s here, I—”
“You’ll stay away from her,” Wooyoung cut in sharply, his voice cold. “I’m not letting you ruin her night. She doesn’t deserve that.”
Hongjoong nodded without hesitation. “I understand.”
Wooyoung studied him for a moment before his expression softened just a fraction. “If my guess on what youʼre so worried about is correct—Seonghwa will be picking her up. She won’t have to worry about the bus or anything like that.”
Relief flooded Hongjoong’s features. “Thank you.”
As he turned to leave, Wooyoung grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Listen to me, hyung,” he said, his voice low but firm. “This is your only chance to fix things with her. If you screw this up, you’re going to lose her forever. Do you understand?”
Hongjoong’s chest tightened as he nodded. “Yeah.”
“Good,” Wooyoung said, releasing his arm. “Don’t waste it.”
—
You stood in front of the mirror, your reflection staring back at you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. The sleek fabric of your outfit hugged your beautiful form in all the right places, the color complementing your complexion perfectly. Your hair fell just the way you wanted it to, framing your face delicately. Yet, no matter how much you adjusted the hem of your dress or smoothed down nonexistent creases, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
Your hands nervously fidgeted at your sides before moving to smooth your hair again. “Does this even look good?” you muttered under your breath, biting your lip. The anxious energy buzzing inside you was unusual—normally, you weren’t the type to obsess over your appearance. You had a certain confidence about these things, but tonight felt different.
You turned to the side, checking the outfit from another angle, then turned back to face the mirror. Why were you so worked up over this? It wasn’t like you were trying to impress anyone. But the longer you stood there, the more the answer lingered just below the surface, teasing you with its obviousness.
Deep down, you knew.
Hongjoong.
You shook your head at yourself, scolding the foolishness brewing in your heart. Why did you care so much about what he might think? Why were you secretly hoping he’d notice you? You let out a humorless laugh, pressing your fingers against the cool surface of the vanity. You didn’t even know if you wanted him to approach you tonight. The memory of your last interaction was still fresh, a wound that hadn’t fully scabbed over.
But some small, ridiculous part of you hoped—prayed—that maybe, just maybe, things could be different tonight. That maybe he’d look at you the way he used to, with that spark of admiration in his eyes. Maybe he’d find the courage to talk to you, to apologize properly, to explain why he’d hurt you the way he did. Maybe he’d—
Your thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of your phone on the countertop. The screen lit up with Seonghwa’s name and a message that read:
I’m outside.
Walking to the window, you peered outside and saw him leaning casually against his car. When his eyes caught yours, he grinned and waved enthusiastically, his free hand raised high above his head. The sight of his childlike excitement made you chuckle softly, and you returned the wave.
Grabbing your purse, you cast one last glance at the mirror, adjusting your earrings before slipping on your heels. As you made your way out the door, you kept telling yourself to stop overthinking. Tonight wasn’t about Hongjoong—it couldn’t be. This was your chance to let go of everything, if only for a few hours.
Inside the elevator, you leaned against the wall, staring blankly at the buttons as the floors ticked by. When the elevator stopped on the third floor, Madame Dupont stepped in, her sharp eyes immediately lighting up when she saw you.
“My dear!” she exclaimed, her voice warm with surprise. “Look at you! You look stunning.”
Her genuine excitement brought a shy smile to your lips. “Bonsoir, Madame Dupont,” you greeted, inclining your head politely.
“What’s the occasion? You don’t usually dress up like this,” she teased, though her tone carried more curiosity than mockery.
You hesitated for a moment, shifting your weight. “My friends invited me to a New Year’s party. I thought… maybe it’s time I went out and let myself breathe a little.”
Her expression softened, her wrinkled eyes glimmering with something akin to pride. “That’s wonderful to hear, my dear. You deserve it, truly.” Before you could say anything else, she pulled you into a brief but firm hug, her perfume—sweet and floral—wrapping around you like a blanket.
When the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, she squeezed your hand gently. “Have fun tonight,” she said with a smile. “You’ve earned it.”
You nodded, touched by her words. “Merci, Madame Dupont. I’ll try.”
The cool night air greeted you as you stepped outside. Seonghwa was quick to spot you, his entire face lighting up as he waved like an overexcited child. “There she is!” he called out, his voice laced with exaggerated enthusiasm.
You laughed, walking toward him. “You didn’t have to make it that obvious that you missed me, you know.”
“Oh, but I did,” he said with a grin as he opened the passenger door for you. “It’s been far too long since we hung out properly.”
You slid into the car, murmuring a soft “thank you” as you adjusted your dress. But as you settled in, the familiar setting triggered a memory you weren’t prepared for—the last time you were in Hongjoong’s car. You remembered the way he’d glanced at you during that drive, how the silence between you had been heavy but not uncomfortable. How things had been… easier.
The smile you’d been wearing faltered slightly. You really missed him.
But tonight wasn’t about him. You couldn’t let it be.
Seonghwa slipped into the driver’s seat and immediately noticed the change in your demeanor. Though he didn’t say anything, his brows furrowed slightly in concern. “So,” he began, steering the conversation away from whatever was on your mind, “you’ve missed a lot lately.”
“Oh?” you asked, forcing your focus back to him.
“Yeah,” he said, his tone turning light and teasing. “You missed Wooyoung accidentally sending a mass email to the wrong group. He meant to send it to the marketing team, but instead, the IT department got a very detailed report about catering options.”
You chuckled softly. “Let me guess—he blamed it on the system?”
“Of course he did. And don’t even get me started on Mingi and his latest prank. He replaced all of Yeosang’s post-it notes with ones that had motivational quotes in Comic Sans.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “Sounds like I’ve missed quite a bit of chaos.”
“Oh, you have,” Seonghwa agreed with a grin. But as the conversation lulled, your curiosity got the better of you. “What about Hongjoong?” you asked hesitantly.
Seonghwa’s expression softened, a knowing look crossing his features. “He’s… different lately,” he admitted after a pause. “Not as talkative as he used to be. He’s professional, sure, but there’s something missing. He’s not himself.”
Worry gnawed at you, but Seonghwa reached over to pat your arm reassuringly. “Don’t think about it too much tonight, okay? Let’s just focus on having fun.”
You nodded, though his words did little to ease the tightness in your chest. You wished it were that easy. You truly did.
—
Hongjoong’s fingers curled around the edge of the sink, his reflection staring back at him with a mixture of frustration and nervousness. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, matching the unsettled rhythm of his thoughts. His hair refused to cooperate, each strand mocking his futile attempts to tame it. He combed his fingers through the dark locks for what felt like the hundredth time, letting out a low growl of irritation.
“Why now?” he muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes at the rebellious strands. Of all nights, it had to be this one where he couldn’t look as put-together as he wanted.
But deep down, he knew it wasn’t just about the hair. No amount of fixing or adjusting could cover up the restlessness gnawing at his chest. Tonight was different. Tonight, you were here.
The thought made his stomach twist in an uncomfortable knot. His gaze flickered down to his hands, knuckles white against the sink’s edge.
“Why do you care so much?” he asked himself, the question lingering in the air like a stubborn shadow. He already knew the answer—he just didn’t want to say it out loud.
You hadn’t spoken in weeks, not properly. Not since the argument that had left things hanging in the air, unresolved and heavy. And yet, here he was, fussing over his appearance like a teenager before their first dance.
It was foolish, wishful even, but a part of him hoped that tonight… maybe things would be different. Maybe your eyes would find his across the room. Maybe you’d exchange even just a glance.
The muffled sound of Wooyoung’s voice drifted through the door, jolting him out of his thoughts.
“You’re finally here!”
His body stiffened.
You were here.
“Shit,” he hissed, running a hand over his face before straightening his posture. He took one last look in the mirror, smoothing out the creases in his blazer. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.
The moment he stepped out of the bathroom, the atmosphere shifted. The harsh fluorescent lights dimmed, replaced by the soft glow of multi-colored LEDs that washed over the venue in a dreamlike haze. Music played faintly in the background, mingling with the hum of conversations and the occasional burst of laughter.
But Hongjoong wasn’t focused on any of that. His eyes darted through the crowd, scanning the sea of faces for one in particular.
Before he could spot you, the stage lights flickered on, illuminating the small platform he had set up in the center of the room. Seonghwa stood there, microphone in hand, his presence commanding attention as he greeted the crowd.
“Good evening, everyone!” Seonghwa’s voice was warm and inviting, drawing cheers and applause from the guests. “Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate not just the end of the year, but also the incredible milestones we’ve achieved together. It’s an honor to have so many talented and inspiring individuals gathered here.”
The applause swelled, and Seonghwa smiled, pausing for effect before continuing. “Now, I won’t keep you from enjoying the night, but before we get started, I’d like to call up someone very important to say a few words—our host, the man behind it all… Kim Hongjoong!”
The room erupted into cheers as Seonghwa gestured toward him, and Hongjoong felt a surge of anxiety spike through his chest. He wasn’t one to get stage fright, but the thought of speaking while you were out there, somewhere in the crowd, made his throat tighten.
He forced a small smile as he stepped onto the stage, his usual confidence faltering under the weight of his own thoughts.
“Thank you, Seonghwa,” he began, his voice steady but lacking its usual vibrancy. “And thank you all for being here tonight. This year has been nothing short of extraordinary, and it’s all thanks to the hard work and dedication of everyone in this room.”
His words were genuine, heartfelt, but as he continued, his eyes couldn’t stop flickering across the crowd, searching. He tried to keep his composure, but the way his gaze kept shifting didn’t go unnoticed by a few observant guests.
“Tonight is not just about reflecting on our successes but also about looking forward to the future. I hope this evening will serve as a reminder of the creativity, passion, and drive that brought us all together. Let’s welcome the new year with open arms and make it even better than the last.”
The applause was loud, appreciative, but Hongjoong barely heard it. His eyes finally landed on you.
And you were looking back at him.
For a moment, everything else seemed to blur—time, sound, the crowd around you both. His heart stuttered in his chest, and his grip on the microphone tightened.
“I…” He paused, clearing his throat to steady himself. “I hope you all have fun tonight. Thank you.”
The crowd cheered again as he stepped off the stage, but the moment had already left him shaken. Across the room, Wooyoung nudged your shoulder gently. “Hey, you okay?”
You blinked, startled out of your thoughts, and turned to him with a faint smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Wooyoung didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? You kind of zoned out there for a second.”
You hesitated, your eyes flickering toward the stage where Hongjoong had stood moments ago. “It’s just… there are so many high-profile people here. I feel like I don’t belong.”
“Bullshit,” Wooyoung said bluntly, earning a surprised laugh from you. “Sorry for the language, but yeah, that’s total bullshit. You belong here just as much as anyone else.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not.” He crossed his arms, giving you a pointed look. “Look around. People are literally noticing you left and right. You’re the star tonight.”
Before you could respond, a nearby conversation caught your attention.
“Who’s that stunning mademoiselle over there?” a woman whispered, her gaze fixed on you.
“She’s one of Mr. Kimʼs newest models,” her assistant replied, earning a smile of approval from the woman.
Wooyoung grinned triumphantly. “See? I told you.”
You shook your head, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re reaching, Woo.”
Before he could argue further, someone from across the room called out his name, and you turned to see a tall man waving enthusiastically.
“Soobin!” Wooyoung called back, his face lighting up.
You nudged him gently. “Go say hi.”
Wooyoung hesitated, glancing back at you. “Are you sure? My priority tonight is—”
“I’ll be fine,” you reassured him. “Go. Catch up with your friend.”
It took a little more convincing, but eventually, Wooyoung relented, leaving you alone in the crowd, telling you to stay safe before heading towards the other corner of the room. And as much as you hated to admit it, you wanted the chance to see Hongjoong—keeping Wooyoung around would lower your chances. You weren’t sure what you’d say or do, but the pull was undeniable.
The music swelled, filling the air with a hauntingly beautiful melody that sent shivers cascading down your spine. You recognized the song instantly—Ma Meilleure Ennemie.
Its delicate notes carried a tension that mirrored the one steadily growing in your chest. Each rise and fall of the rhythm felt like it was echoing the flutter of your heartbeat, unstable and erratic.
The lights dimmed and flickered in sync with the music, casting shifting hues of red, blue, and purple over the crowd. The once vibrant room was now a kaleidoscope of moving silhouettes, their faces obscured by the moody lighting and the fog created by the haze machine. You moved cautiously through the throng of people, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor.
With every step, you felt smaller. The towering presence of high-profile figures, their laughter and animated conversations, created an invisible barrier that was difficult to breach. These were people who belonged here—artists, designers, and models who were not only established but celebrated. They mingled with ease, their confidence palpable, while you felt like an imposter wandering through a world you didn’t quite belong to.
You clenched your fingers around the fabric of your dress, the smooth satin offering little comfort against the gnawing self-doubt creeping into your thoughts.
“Excusez-moi.”
A deep voice startled you, and you turned to see an elegantly dressed man with salt-and-pepper hair and a sharp, tailored suit. He looked every bit the part of a veteran in the fashion industry.
“You are one of Monsieur Kim’s models, no?” he asked, his French accent rolling off his tongue smoothly.
You forced a polite smile, nodding. “Yes, I am.”
“Ah,” he said, his smile warm but scrutinizing, his eyes scanning you as if evaluating your worth. “I thought so. You have a certain... presence. Unique.”
His words, though intended as a compliment, made your skin prickle with unease. You managed to thank him before he moved on, but the encounter left you feeling even more out of place.
As you continued walking, more people stopped you. Some were kind, their words of admiration genuine, but others were probing, their questions sharp and loaded.
“How long have you been modeling?”
“Which agency represents you?”
“Do you think you’re prepared for a career this demanding?”
The last question lingered in your mind long after the conversation ended, gnawing at the cracks in your composure. Am I prepared?
Someone brushes past you, stepping on your foot in the process. You hissed in pain, stumbling back and clutching your arm to steady yourself.
“Apologies!” the person called out over their shoulder, but their apology was lost in the sea of voices and music.
You backed away further, retreating to the edges of the room where the lights weren’t as harsh, and the crowd wasn’t as suffocating. The thrum of conversations and laughter seemed louder now, drowning out the melody of the song that once comforted you.
Your breathing grew shallow, the edges of your vision narrowing as anxiety took root. Your hands trembled slightly as you pressed one against your chest, trying to ground yourself.
Maybe you shouldn’t have sent Wooyoung off…
The thought barely formed in your mind before you decided to leave the crowd altogether. You turned, intending to slip away unnoticed, when a warm hand closed gently around your forearm.
“Wait—”
The touch was familiar, so much so that your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
It was Hongjoong.
Slowly, you turned to face him, and the sight that greeted you nearly knocked the air from your lungs.
Even under the shifting, dim lights, he looked strikingly handsome. His dark hair, though slightly tousled, framed his sharp features perfectly. The tailored blazer he wore fit him impeccably, accentuating his slim build and exuding an understated elegance. But it wasn’t just his appearance—it was the way he held himself, a quiet intensity in his gaze that felt almost magnetic.
He was slightly out of breath, his chest rising and falling as if he’d been rushing. You couldn’t help but wonder—had he been searching for you? The idea made your heart clench with conflicting emotions.
“I…” You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come. You had hoped to catch a glimpse of him tonight, to admire him from a distance and leave it at that. But now, with him standing this close, your resolve crumbled.
Hongjoong’s grip on your arm loosened, but his hand lingered as if afraid you might vanish if he let go completely. “Please,” he said softly, his voice almost drowned out by the music and chatter around you. “Can we talk? Just for a moment.”
You hesitated, glancing around at the crowd before meeting his gaze again. “Hongjoong, I don’t think this is the time or place—”
“Then tell me when,” he interrupted, his voice firm but laced with urgency. “Tell me where, and I’ll be there. Just… don’t push me away like this. Please. I’m begging you.” His hand tightened ever so slightly on your arm, his desperation evident in the way his brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as if to hold back words that might spill out too quickly.
Your hesitation deepened, your heart warring against your mind. This is a mistake. He’s a mistake. But… why does it hurt to see him like this?
“I donʼt…” you began, your voice faltering as your resolve threatened to give way.
“I know I’ve hurt you,” he continued, his voice trembling with emotion. “I know I’ve failed you in ways I can’t even begin to explain. But if you walk away now, if you don’t let me fix this—” His voice broke, and he exhaled shakily, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Don’t let this end here. Just one conversation. That’s all I’m asking for.”
You bit your lip, your chest tightening at the rawness of his plea. You wanted to say no, to walk away and preserve the fragile walls you’d built around yourself. But the sincerity in his eyes, the cracks in his usually composed demeanor, made it impossible.
This is dangerous, you thought, your mind screaming at you to pull away. But your heart had already decided.
You sighed, nodding slowly. “Fine,” you whispered, the single word barely audible over the noise around you. Relief washed over his face, and for a moment, you hated how much it softened something inside you.
The moment Hongjoong’s hand tightened around your arm and he led you toward the nearest exit, your feet faltered. Panic mixed with confusion, and you instinctively pulled back, halting him in his tracks.
He turned to face you, a flicker of concern flashing in his eyes as he noticed your resistance. His brows knit together, and his lips parted to question you, but you spoke first.
“Hongjoong,” you began, your voice a mixture of firm and hesitant, “you have guests. This is your event. You can’t just leave them here like this. What if they notice you’re gone? What if it leaves a bitter taste in their mouths? They’re—”
“I don’t give a damn about what they think,” he interrupted, his tone sharp yet desperate. His voice cracked ever so slightly, and it was enough to make you pause. “To hell with it if they think I’m irresponsible. I don’t care if they’re disappointed, or if they whisper behind my back. All I care about is you—just you. I need you to talk to me tonight—that’s all that matters. So, please…”
The intensity in his gaze, the way his voice broke on the word please, made your chest tighten painfully. You sighed, defeated by his resolve but unwilling to make this easy for him.
When he reached for your arm again, you took a step back, hiding it behind you as you shook your head. “You don’t have to drag me with you,” you said, your tone cold but your heart racing. “I have two feet that function perfectly fine, you know.”
For a moment, his face fell—hurt flashed across his features so quickly it was almost imperceptible, but you saw it. And as much as it made guilt twist in your stomach, you knew you had every right to set boundaries. After all, he had been the one to build the fire between the two of you, only to extinguish it when you were most vulnerable.
Still, he nodded, accepting your terms without argument. A couple of minutes later, you found yourself stepping into his office on the highest floor of the building.
The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of the city lights seeping in through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. Papers were scattered across his desk, some even littering the floor. It wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t the meticulously organized space you remembered from your last visit. The disarray was a stark contrast to the Hongjoong you knew—or thought you knew.
He closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the silence. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to suffocate.
“I know,” he began, his voice low and rough, “that I’ve been a mess. That I’ve been unfair to you.” He turned toward you, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I’m not going to stand here and pretend like I haven’t made mistakes. I have. I’ve made so many mistakes.”
You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the desk to steady yourself. “Then why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why did you do it? Why did you build this thing between us only to tear it apart?”
Hongjoong’s shoulders sagged, and he ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “Because I was scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “That night… at your doorstep… I almost kissed you. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But I was standing at the edge of a cliff, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to fall.”His words sent a sharp pang through your chest. “So you weren’t scared to fall when you were dancing with me at the flower shop?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “When you’d look at me like I was the only person in the world? When you kept lighting the fire between us? You weren’t scared to do all of that, but the moment we almost kissed, suddenly you’re scared?”
He flinched at your words, and for a brief moment, you saw the guilt etched into his features.
“I was scared of what it meant,” he confessed, his voice rising slightly in desperation. “I was terrified, because I didn’t know what would happen if I let myself fall for you. I thought if I stayed away, I’d be sparing you—”
“Sparing me?” you interrupted, your voice rising as tears stung your eyes. “Sparing me from what, Hongjoong? From feeling like I was nothing to you? From crying myself to sleep because the one person I trusted to stay decided to leave? You weren’t sparing me. You were sparing yourself.”
“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. “I know, and I hate myself for it. But I couldn’t—”
“Couldn’t what?” you snapped, your chest heaving as the floodgates burst. “Couldn’t handle the thought of being vulnerable? Couldn’t deal with the possibility of getting hurt? Newsflash, Hongjoong: you hurt me. You left me to deal with everything on my own while you ran away. What are you so scared of?”
“I’ve spent so much of my life building walls, focusing on my work, convincing myself that I didn’t need anyone. But you…” He took a shaky step toward you. “You made me want more. And it terrified me.”
“That doesn’t make it better,” you snapped, your voice cracking as tears burned at the corners of your eyes. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? You pulled me in, Hongjoong. You made me believe in something I didn’t think I could have. And then you pushed me away like I was nothing.”
He winced, his head hanging low. “I know,” he said softly. “I know I was an asshole. I know I shouldn’t have waited this long to talk to you. But—”
“It’s not too late,” you cut him off, your voice quieter but no less firm. “It’s just that you could’ve done this sooner. You had every chance to speak to me, and you didn’t. Why only now?”
He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours for a sign of forgiveness. “Because I’ve realized that I can’t keep running from this. From you. I don’t care how long it takes or how hard it is—I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us. Just tell me how, and I’ll do it. Please…”
His voice broke, and the raw emotion in it shattered the last of your defenses. All the pain, resentment, and longing you had bottled up came rushing to the surface.
“You don’t get to just say that and expect everything to be okay!” you cried, your voice rising as tears spilled down your cheeks. “Do you know how many nights I stayed up thinking about you? About what I did wrong—and why I wasn’t enough?”
Hongjoong reached for you, pulling you into his arms despite your attempts to push him away. You pounded your fists weakly against his chest, but he didn’t let go. His hands cradled the back of your head, his lips pressing softly against your temple as you sobbed into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry. You were always enough. More than enough. This is on me. All of it.”
Your fists stilled against his chest, and you let out a choked sob, clinging to him as all the anger and frustration poured out of you.
He held you tighter, his presence grounding you even as your emotions threatened to drown you. And in that moment, you realized that as much as you wanted to hate him, as much as you wanted to push him away—you couldn’t. Not entirely.
The silence between you stretched thin, taut like a wire ready to snap. Hongjoong’s arms remained firmly around you, his hands gently gripping your arms as if afraid you might slip away. His gaze bore into you, raw and pleading, but you couldn’t look at him without feeling the sting of all the nights you cried over his absence.
“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he began, his voice hoarse as though the words clawed their way out of him. “But I’m here now, and I’m begging you. Just—please, let me fix this. Let me fix us. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
You pulled back slightly, enough to meet his eyes, and the sight of him broke your heart all over again. His eyes were glassy, brimmed with tears he was clearly fighting to hold back. The vulnerability in his expression was a stark contrast to the confident, composed man you thought you knew.
“And what if it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if no matter how hard you try, it won’t erase the pain you’ve caused? Do you even realize what you did to me, Hongjoong?”
“I do,” he said quickly, embracing you even tighter as though afraid you’d vanish if he let go. “I know I broke you. I know I left you alone when you needed me most. And I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I swear, I’ll never make that mistake again. Just tell me how to fix this—tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You say that now, but what about when things get hard again? Will you run away then too? Will you leave me to pick up the pieces while you figure out how to handle your emotions?”
“No,” he said firmly, his voice rising with desperation. “I won’t. I know I’ve been a coward, and I know I don’t deserve your trust, but I’ll earn it back. I’ll prove to you that I’m not the same person who hurt you. I… Iʼll admit I really thought placing a wall between us was the solution. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I was wrong. So fucking wrong. I’ve spent every single day regretting it, hating myself for the pain I caused you. And I’m here now because I can’t keep living like this—I can’t keep living without you, goddamnit.His words hit you like a tidal wave, threatening to pull you under. You wanted to believe him, to let yourself fall into the safety of his arms, but the scars he left on your heart made it impossible to trust him fully.
Still, you wanted to.
“I hate you, you know,” you said, your voice trembling as the words spilled out like shards of glass. Each one was sharp, cutting through the silence, through the air that seemed too thick to breathe. Tears ran down your cheeks in an unrelenting stream, and you didn’t bother to wipe them away. Your fists clenched at your sides, the tremor in them betraying the rawness of your emotions.
“I hate how you left me in the middle of a path I was unfamiliar with,” you continued, your tone rising with every syllable. “I hate how much of a coward you are. I hate how you made me believe there was something between us, only for you to act like there wasn’t. I hate how you kept me wondering why I wasn’t enough for you to stay.”
Your voice cracked on the last word, and you felt yourself breaking all over again, like a dam collapsing under the weight of too much pressure.
“But…” You paused, choking on the lump in your throat. “But mostly, I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”
The admission hung in the air, a fragile truth that seemed to silence everything around you. And as the words left your lips, you let your arms find their way around his figure, clinging to him with a desperation that mirrored the ache your heart felt.
You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. His arms came around you almost instinctively, holding you tightly as though afraid you might slip away if he loosened his grip even slightly. The faint, familiar scent of him—the one you’d tried so hard to forget—engulfed you, pulling you deeper into the spiral of emotions you’d fought to keep at bay.
You idiot, you thought to yourself, you absolute fool.
You had come here tonight to forget him, to push the memories of him into a corner of your mind you could lock away forever. Yet here you were, sobbing into his chest like the heartache of the past weeks hadn’t been enough. You hated how much you’d missed him, how much you still craved the safety of his arms even after everything he’d put you through.
Hongjoong held you close, his own chest tightening with every sob that wracked your body. He rested his cheek against the crown of your head, his breath hitching as he tried to steady himself. How could he have done this to you?
The sight of you like this—so fragile, so broken—was a knife to his heart. And knowing he was the one who had caused this pain made the guilt nearly unbearable. He’d spent weeks convincing himself that pushing you away was the right thing to do, that he was protecting himself, protecting you. But standing here now, with you trembling in his arms, he realized how horribly wrong he’d been.
The fears that had haunted him for so long—the fear of being abandoned again, of opening his heart only to have it shattered—no longer mattered. Because nothing, no ghost from his past, no amount of uncertainty, was more important than you.
He didnʼt care anymore. He didnʼt care about anything but you.
He closed his eyes, his lips pressing softly against your temple. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “For everything. For hurting you, for being a coward. I’m so sorry, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”
You sniffled, lifting your head slightly from his chest. His hands moved instinctively, one cupping your face while the other rested on your waist, steadying you. His thumb brushed away the tear tracks on your cheek, and when you finally met his gaze, the raw vulnerability in his eyes made your breath catch.
Hongjoong looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, his own tears threatening to spill over. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. He didn’t need to speak; the emotions in his eyes said everything.
And against your better judgment, against every ounce of self-preservation you’d tried to cling to, you found yourself leaning in.
The moment your lips met, it was as though the world outside ceased to exist. The kiss was slow but full of urgency, a culmination of every unspoken word, every suppressed feeling, every moment of longing that had built up between you.
Fireworks exploded in the distance, the sound echoing through the air as the clock struck twelve.
The kiss was not rushed, nor was it perfect; it was trembling, raw, and unpolished. It was the kind of kiss that could only come from a place of deep yearning, a place where words had failed and only touch could suffice.
Hongjoong’s lips were soft against yours, moving with an unspoken gentleness that contradicted the storm of emotions swirling between you. It wasn’t about passion or desire—it was about connection, about pouring every unsaid word and buried feeling into this single, fragile moment. His touch was tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away, but when you didn’t, he kissed you deeper, his hands steadying you as if to anchor you both.
The world around you seemed to dissolve into nothingness. The distant sound of fireworks faded into a muffled hum, the sharp chill of the night forgotten. All that remained was the warmth of his lips and the way your heart thundered in your chest, not from nerves but from the overwhelming sensation of being wholly, undeniably seen.
His hand cupped your cheek with a reverence that made you feel like you were something sacred, something he was terrified of breaking yet couldn’t bear to let go of. His thumb brushed against your skin, a subtle, tender movement that spoke volumes more than words ever could.
For the first time in weeks, the ache in your chest began to ease, replaced by a bittersweet warmth that spread through your entire being. The kiss wasn’t just an apology; it was a confession, a plea, a promise. It carried every moment you’d spent apart, every sleepless night, every tear you’d shed. It was as though he was trying to stitch back together every broken piece of your heart, not with grand gestures but with the simplicity of his presence and the sincerity in his touch.
And you kissed him back just as softly, your movements hesitant but full of meaning. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it was a surrender. A quiet acknowledgement that no matter how much he had hurt you, no matter how hard you had tried to let him go, he was still there, embedded in every corner of your heart.
You could feel his tears against your skin, hot and unrelenting, as they mixed with your own. Yet, he didn’t pull away; he stayed, pressing closer as though afraid that even a breath of space might shatter this fragile moment. His lips trembled against yours, betraying his vulnerability, his desperation, his overwhelming relief.
It was soft, painfully so, like the brush of a feather or the first tentative notes of a love song. And yet, it carried the weight of everything—the pain, the longing, the fear, and the undeniable truth that no matter how broken the two of you had been, you were still standing here, together, trying.
When you finally pulled back, your foreheads nearly pressed together, both of you breathing heavily, as though the kiss had stolen every ounce of air from your lungs. His eyes met yours, glistening with unshed tears, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw him—truly saw him. Not the man who had hurt you, not the coward who had run away, but the boy you had once fallen for, the boy who was still fighting to be worthy of you.
Coming to terms with what just happened, your cheeks flushed, and it seems he still noticed it despite the dim, ambient surroundings engulfing both of you, given the way he smiled.
And in that moment, as the bright hues of fireworks lit up the sky, you realized something: this wasn’t an ending. It wasn’t even a beginning. It was a moment suspended in time, a fragile, imperfect truce between two hearts that refused to let go of each other, no matter how much they had tried.
🎞️ — lividstar.
YOU READY TO GET FUCKING SUED
BRO DANN GROW A BACKBONE I SWEAR YOU KEEP PISSING ME OFF
Popular, Boy
☆14: The first confession.
Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader
Genre: +18, smut, slow burn, angst, drama, dark romance, love triangle.
wc: 8,7k
Summary: While some battles are fought with fists, others are waged behind closed doors, where power, reputation, and control mean everything.
And when innocence is placed at the center of the storm, the lines between family and enemy blur.
Warnings: Cursing, physical violence, power dynamics, fluff.
an: We are almost at the end of the series!! I hope you enjoy the last chapters coming soon♡
Series masterlist Join the Taglist
☆13 ☆15: The first checkmate. Coming soon.
The waiting room smells like antiseptic and paperwork, a sterile combination that makes your stomach churn.
You tap your nails against your thigh, gaze locked on the reception desk as if willing the nurse to call your name faster.
Hongjoong sits beside you, his hand resting lightly on your knee, a silent anchor. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t tell you to calm down, but his presence alone is enough to keep you grounded.
It’s been a week. A long, exhausting week of waiting. And now, it’s finally time. A nurse steps out from behind the desk, a folder in her hands.
“Miss Clarke?”
You stand immediately, legs tense, heart hammering. He follows suit, his hand finding yours, lacing his fingers through yours without hesitation.
The nurse hands you the folder with a professional smile, oblivious to the weight of what she’s just given you.
“Here are the results. Let us know if you need anything else.”
You nod stiffly, clutching the envelope as if it might slip through your fingers and disappear. Neither of you says a word as you leave the hospital.
Not even when you slide into Hongjoong’s car.
Not even when you place the envelope on your lap, staring at your name printed neatly on the front.
The tension is suffocating.
He glances at you before reaching over, his fingers brushing against your wrist.
“Pretty,” He murmurs, soft but firm. “Do you want me to open it?”
You inhale sharply, then shake your head “No.”
With careful movements, you break the seal and pull out the papers. Your eyes skim the words—test subject, percentage, confirmation—until you find it.
99.9% probability of paternity.
Your fingers tighten around the edges of the document, your breath catching.
There it is.
Proof.
The proof you needed to finally rip Mike’s perfect image to shreds.
Hongjoong watches you carefully, his free hand still resting over yours “It’s real,” He says, like he already knows. Like he never had a doubt.
You nod, throat tight “It’s real.”
For a few moments, you let yourself sit in the weight of it.
Then, you exhale and fold the papers neatly, sliding them back into the envelope “Let’s go.”
✮ ⋆
Your room is dimly lit. You and Hongjoong sit on your bed, the envelope between you, a silent promise of what’s coming.
You tap the envelope once before speaking “Mike has a business trip in two days.”
Hongjoong leans back against the headboard, arms crossed “That’s when you’re telling them?”
“That’s when I’ll have the best chance,” You confirm. “If he’s here, he’ll find a way to twist everything. He’ll manipulate them, make himself the victim. I need them to see the truth without his interference.”
He nods, understanding “And you need me there.”
You look at him then, taking in the steady certainty in his eyes “I want you there,” You admit. “As a witness. As… as support.”
His gaze softens, and he reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently “I’ll be there, pretty.”
The words settle something deep inside you, a quiet reassurance that you won’t have to face this alone.
You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder, letting the storm outside mirror the one building inside your home.
In two days, everything would change.
And for the first time, you were ready for it.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
Dann hesitates outside Mike’s study, her hands clammy as she wrings them together. She shouldn’t be here.
She doesn’t want to be here.
But she doesn’t have a choice. With a deep breath, she knocks. A sharp ‘Come in’ Follows almost immediately.
Dann swallows and steps inside. The room is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of whiskey and his signature cologne. He sits at his desk, fingers steepled, his gaze sharp as it lands on her.
She feels like prey.
“Well?” His voice is clipped, impatient. “What is it?”
Dann shifts uncomfortably, her nails digging into the skin of her palm “I… I overheard something.”
Mike raises an eyebrow, waiting.
“It’s about YN.”
That gets his attention. Mike’s entire body stiffens, his sharp gaze snapping toward Dann.
“What about her?” His voice is low, laced with something dangerous.
Dann forces herself to keep her composure, though the weight of his stare makes her stomach churn.
“She… she was on the phone with Hongjoong a couple of days ago,” She begins hesitantly. “I didn’t hear much, but I caught a name.”
He doesn’t react right away. He just watches. Waiting.
Dann swallows hard “Hannah.”
The sound of glass shattering against the wall makes her flinch violently.
Her breath catches as she watches whiskey drip down the bookshelf, the remnants of the crystal glass scattered across the polished wood floor.
Mike rises abruptly, his chair scraping against the ground, the muscles in his jaw flexing as his hands curl into fists. His entire body trembles with barely contained rage.
“What did you just say?” His voice is dangerously low.
Dann forces the words out, her pulse hammering “I–I heard her say they should go with Hannah. And then she left with Hongjoong. I don’t know where they went, but—”
His palm slams down onto the desk with a force that rattles the papers on top of it. Dann jumps, her entire body locking up.
“You’re sure?” His voice is tight, seething.
She nods frantically “Yes. She said it clearly.”
Mike’s breathing turns ragged, his chest rising and falling too fast. The room is heavy with his fury, suffocating.
That bitch.
He told Hannah to disappear. He made sure of it. There was no way you could have been in contact with her.
Unless…
His stomach twists with something unfamiliar—something dangerously close to dread.
What if Hannah never left?
What if—
His fingers dig into the desk as he exhales sharply, forcing himself to think. His thoughts are spiraling, unraveling, but one thing is certain.
He needs answers. Now.
Slowly, he turns to Dann, his expression unreadable, voice cold and deliberate.
“Don’t mention this to anyone.”
Dann nods quickly, stepping back toward the door. She doesn’t need to be told twice. But before she can escape, his voice slices through the air again.
“She’s here, isn’t she?” His tone is eerily calm, but the way his chest rises and falls betrays his barely leashed fury.
Dann hesitates, a chill running down her spine. She already knows where this is going. And once again… it’s her fault.
“I… I don’t know,” She whispers.
But he’s already moving.
Without another word, Mike practically bolts from the room, his footsteps heavy with purpose.
Dann stands frozen for a second, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Then, without thinking, she rushes after him.
If she can stop him from hurting you again… maybe, just maybe, she can lessen the guilt threatening to drown her.
✮ ⋆
The moment the bedroom door slams open, you barely have time to react before Mike storms inside.
Hongjoong stiffens beside you, his entire body going rigid as he instinctively moves closer. Dann lingers by the doorway, frozen in place.
But the older one doesn't look at them. He doesn’t even acknowledge their presence. His furious gaze is locked solely on you.
“What the fuck are you playing at?” His voice is low, dangerously quiet—but you know better than to mistake it for restraint.
You raise an eyebrow, keeping your expression indifferent even as your heart pounds.
“You’re going to have to be more specific, Mike. I play a lot of things.”
His jaw ticks. His hands curl into fists at his sides.
“I’m not in the mood for your stupid games,” He spits. “You were with her.”
You blink, feigning confusion “With who?”
His hand moves so fast you barely see it.
The force of the slap sends your head snapping to the side, your cheek stinging instantly. The taste of blood blooms on your tongue.
Hongjoong moves before you can even react. He shoves Mike back, hard enough that he stumbles a step.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” His voice is sharp, furious, his breathing ragged with anger.
But Mike barely even looks at him. Instead, he straightens, smoothing out the front of his shirt like he isn’t the least bit fazed.
Then, he steps forward again, crowding you, towering over you like a storm ready to break. You lift your chin defiantly, refusing to cower.
“Where is she?” His voice is a low growl. “Where the fuck is Hannah?”
You tilt your head, licking the cut on your lip before giving him the most infuriatingly nonchalant smile you can muster.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His eyes darken “Don’t fucking lie to me, YN.”
“Lie to you?” You scoff. “Please. If there’s anyone who’s an expert in lying, it’s you.”
Another step forward. Another inch of space stolen.
Hongjoong moves again, stepping between you and Mike this time, his stance firm, protective.
“Back. The fuck. Off.” His voice is steady, but his hands are clenched into fists, his entire body wound tight like a spring ready to snap.
Mike glares at him, as if just now registering his existence.
“And what the hell are you going to do about it, nerd?”
Hongjoong doesn’t flinch “Try me and find out.”
There’s a heavy pause. The air crackles with tension.
And then… Mike smirks.
It’s slow, cold, calculated.
“Cute,” He mutters, voice dripping with condescension. “She’s really got you wrapped around her little finger, huh?”
Hongjoong doesn’t respond, doesn’t rise to the bait. But you see it—the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his jaw tightens.
And then, there’s Dann.
Standing by the doorway, silent, watching.
She does nothing, says nothing.
Just like before.
And something inside you snaps. You inhale sharply, the pain in your cheek already numbing beneath the flood of anger boiling in your veins.
“I don’t have time for your theatrics, Michael,” You say, your voice eerily calm. “So unless you have anything useful to say, get the fuck out of my room.”
Mike tilts his head, his smirk widening “You’re awfully confident for someone who still flinches when I raise my hand.”
You don’t flinch this time. Instead, you step around Hongjoong, closing the distance between you and him in a deliberate, defiant move.
“You should be careful,” You whisper, eyes locking onto his. “Because one day, you’re going to raise your hand at the wrong person.”
Mike doesn’t reply, he just looks at you. And in that moment, something shifts.
A flicker of uncertainty, maybe even a sliver of doubt, crosses his expression—so brief you might have imagined it.
Then, just as quickly, it’s gone.
He scoffs, rolling his shoulders before stepping back “This isn’t over,” He mutters.
You smile, sickly sweet “Oh, I know.”
With that, he turns sharply on his heel and strides out of the room, the door slamming behind him.
Silence.
Hongjoong exhales, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down.
Dann?
Still standing there.
Still watching.
She looks like she’s just seen a ghost—pale, eyes wide, shoulders drawn tight. Guilt hangs off her like a second skin, but you don’t give a fuck.
You exhale sharply, turning toward her with slow, deliberate movements.
“Why are you still here?” Your voice is flat, emotionless.
Dann swallows hard, her hands trembling as she grips the strap of her bag like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
“YN, I—”
Your patience snaps “Get the fuck out.” Dann flinches, shame flashing across her face. “Did I fucking stutter?” You step forward, eyes burning into hers. “Or do you need me to spell it out for you?”
She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Just stands there, frozen in place, like she wants to say something—needs to—but she can’t.
Your fingers curl into fists “You stood there and did nothing. Again.” You shake your head, disgust curling in your stomach. “You are a fucking coward.”
Dann’s eyes glisten for a fraction of a second, but you don’t care.
You don’t fucking care.
She chose this.
She chose to side with Mike.
And now, she’s realizing it—realizing that no matter how much guilt is eating her alive, it doesn’t change the fact that she let him hurt you.
Again.
Hongjoong, still fuming, finally speaks “You heard her,” He says, voice low and cold. “Get out.”
Dann’s lips part slightly, but no words come out. Then, after a painfully long moment she nods. Her gaze drops to the floor as she turns on shaky legs and stumbles toward the door.
She hesitates when she reaches the threshold, gripping the handle so tight her knuckles turn white.
“I never meant for it to be like this,” She whispers, voice barely above a breath.
You don’t respond. She lingers for just another second—just long enough for you to see the full weight of her regret in her expression.
Then, she steps out, and the door clicks shut behind her.
Silence.
Finally, you exhale, your body collapsing on the bed.
Hongjoong’s already by your side, his hand gently cupping your face. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watching you with concern in his eyes.
You can feel the heat of his gaze, but it doesn’t comfort you—it only makes you more aware of the hurt still burning inside.
“Are you okay?” He murmurs softly, gently lifting your chin to inspect the cut on your lip.
His fingers are warm, his touch careful, and you bite down a wince when he brushes his thumb over your skin.
“I’m fine,” You mutter, your voice still hoarse from the shouting and the silence that follows.
He doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he exhales sharply, shaking his head before standing up.
“Stay here,” He says firmly.
You watch as he disappears into your private bathroom, the sound of cabinets opening and closing filling the quiet room. Moments later, he returns with a small first-aid kit in his hands.
He kneels in front of you, placing the kit on the bed as he pulls out antiseptic and some cotton.
“This is going to sting,” He warns, soaking the cotton pad with the antiseptic before pressing it gently against your split lip.
You flinch, a sharp hiss escaping your lips “No shit, Sherlock.”
He huffs out a small laugh, shaking his head but continuing his task with steady hands.
“You and your damn mouth,” He mutters, his tone affectionate despite his frustration.
You roll your eyes, but the warmth in his voice soothes something inside you. He finishes dabbing at the wound, then carefully applies a bit of ointment with his fingertip, his touch unbearably soft.
When he’s done, he pulls back slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if making sure there aren’t any more hidden injuries. His fingers brush your jaw, lingering for a moment.
“YN…” His voice is quiet, serious.
You exhale, knowing what he’s going to say, knowing he wants you to be honest about what’s going on.
“I’m not going to let him get away with this, Hongjoong,” You say before he can speak, your voice firm despite the dull ache in your lip.
“I’ve been thinking about it, and if my parents try to cover for him, if they try to ignore the truth and protect him, I’ll sue him.”
His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t look shocked. Just… resolute. Like he’s been waiting for you to say this.
“I’ll sue him for physical violence,” You continue, your voice steady now. “For everything he’s done to me. And for abandoning his child. If my parents refuse to see the truth, then I’ll expose it all.” Your gaze hardens. “I won’t let him pretend like this never happened. I’ll go after him for everything.”
Hongjoong lets out a slow breath, then places his hand on yours, squeezing it gently.
“I’m with you, pretty. Whatever you need.” His words are quiet, but they hit you harder than you expected.
You smile, a little softer now, though the fire in your chest doesn’t fade.
“Thanks. I can’t do this alone. I need you, Joong. I need someone who actually cares.”
He leans in closer, brushing his lips against your forehead “I’m not going anywhere, pretty. You don’t have to worry about that.”
His words are like a balm to the raw, exposed parts of you that still burn from the events of the past week.
You lean into him, feeling a sense of calm wash over you, but the battle is far from over.
And you’ll fight it until the very end.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The sound of luggage wheels rolling across the marble floor echoes faintly from the main hall. The staff murmurs in hushed voices as they move about, ensuring everything is ready for Mike’s departure.
You remain in your room, not bothering to come downstairs to see him off. You have no reason to.
But of course, that doesn’t mean he’ll leave without seeing you first.
A sharp knock rattles your bedroom door. You don’t move, keeping your gaze fixed on your vanity mirror as you swipe the last bit of lip gloss across your lips.
The door swings open anyway.
“Still sleeping in?” His voice drips with condescension as he steps inside, hands tucked into his suit pockets. “What a waste of a morning.”
You meet his gaze in the mirror, your expression blank “Did I invite you in?”
Mike chuckles, slow and deliberate as he leans against your doorframe “Oh, don’t be like that, dear sister.” His tone is almost mocking. “I’m leaving for a few days. Thought I’d be nice and say goodbye.”
You finally turn in your chair, crossing your legs as you tilt your head.
“You? Nice?” A smirk plays on your lips. “That’s new.”
His expression darkens, but he keeps his composure “Just making sure you don’t get any… stupid ideas while I’m gone.”
Your smirk doesn’t fade “Stupid ideas?” You rest your chin on your palm. “Like what? Going out with Hongjoong? Or maybe—oh, I don’t know—breathing without your permission?”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he pushes off the doorframe and takes a step closer.
“You think you’re untouchable just because Mom and Dad tolerate your little tantrums. But don’t forget, YN,” He leans down slightly, lowering his voice, “I always know what you’re up to.”
You hold his gaze, unfazed. If he’s trying to intimidate you, he’s wasting his time.
“Oh, please.” You scoff, standing up to face him properly. “If you really knew everything, you’d be a lot more pissed off right now.”
For a fraction of a second, something flickers in his eyes—uncertainty.
You smile sweetly, brushing past him toward your closet as if he’s nothing more than an annoying fly buzzing around your space.
“Have fun on your little trip, big brother.” You throw the words over your shoulder, voice dripping with fake politeness. “Try not to ruin anyone’s life while you’re gone.”
Mike’s silence lingers a second too long before he finally exhales sharply.
“We’ll see, little sister.”
And with that, he turns on his heel and leaves.
The moment the door clicks shut, you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
He knows nothing.
But soon? He will.
And you can’t wait to watch his world burn.
✮ ⋆
“He’ll be gone for four days, so the dinner has to be tomorrow night,” You tell Hannah over the phone, pacing your room.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Doubt laces her voice. “Your parents always side with him… I don’t think this time will be any different.”
You let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your temples.
“I’m not gonna lie… I don’t expect some big revelation, but maybe, just maybe, it’ll be enough to make them see him for who he really is.” Your eyes drift to the stack of photos on your desk. “I already printed some pictures of Lily and me together. She looks adorable.”
Hannah chuckles “Of course she does, she’s my daughter.”
You scoff “Thank God she got your genes and not Mike’s.”
She laughs “Alright, little lady. Good luck tomorrow night. Don’t forget to update me after.”
“Don’t worry, I will. Bye, Hannah.”
Ending the call, you immediately dial Hongjoong. He picks up after a few rings.
“Hey, pretty.”
“Hey, nerd.”
“What’s up?”
“Tomorrow night, I’m telling my parents about Lily.”
A beat of silence. Then, “Okay. What time should I be there?”
“Seven.”
“Got it. I’ll be there.”
With that settled, you head downstairs, finding your parents in the lounge. Your mother is sipping wine, your father reading something on his tablet.
“I was thinking,” You begin smoothly, “We should have a formal family dinner tomorrow. Something nice… and Hongjoong should join us.”
Your mother lights up instantly “Oh, I love that idea! I’ll have the chefs prepare something special.”
Your father hums in agreement, setting his tablet down “Actually, that works well. We have something important to discuss with you tomorrow night.”
Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your expression neutral.
“Oh? That’s funny. I have something important to tell you too.”
Your mother claps her hands together, completely unaware of the storm brewing beneath your words.
“Perfect! Tomorrow will be a lovely evening.”
If only she knew.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The next evening, the mansion is buzzing with activity. The dining room is set to perfection—polished silverware, crystal glasses, and candles flickering over the lavish spread of food.
The scent of gourmet dishes drifts through the air as house staff move efficiently, making sure everything is flawless for the ‘perfect’ family dinner.
Your mother walks past, admiring the setup with a pleased hum “This is wonderful,” She says, her red lips curving into a satisfied smile. “I want everything to be just right.”
You take a slow sip of wine, standing near the grand windows as you watch the evening sky darken. They have no idea what’s coming.
“Excited for dinner, sweetheart?” Your mother asks, adjusting one of the centerpiece arrangements.
You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes “Oh, very.”
As if on cue, the main doors creak open. You glance over your shoulder just as Hongjoong steps inside, guided by a staff member.
He looks effortlessly good—black slacks, a fitted button-up, sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms. His eyes find yours instantly, and a subtle smirk tugs at his lips.
“Hey, pretty.”
“Hey, nerd.”
Your mother claps her hands together, beaming “Hongjoong! I’m so happy you could join us.”
He nods politely “Thank you for having me, Catherine.”
She waves off the formality “Oh, come now, you’re practically family.”
If only she knew how ironic that statement really was.
Before anyone can say more, the deep voice of your father cuts in “Shall we sit?”
You share a quick glance with Hongjoong before following them to the table. The air feels thick with anticipation, a silent countdown ticking in your head.
Soon, your parents will know the truth about their golden son.
Soon, their perfect image of Mike will shatter.
And soon… everything will change.
—
The atmosphere at the table is warm—too warm. Beneath the golden glow of the chandelier, tension lingers like a quiet storm waiting to break.
The clinking of silverware and the occasional murmur of conversation fill the space, but the food on your plate might as well be dust.
Your mother is in an unusually cheerful mood, delighted by Hongjoong’s presence, while your father sips his wine, listening to the flow of conversation with a composed expression. It almost feels… normal.
But you know better.
And then, your father clears his throat, setting his glass down with deliberate care.
“So, darling,” He begins, his sharp gaze settling on you. “Your mother and I have something to discuss with you.”
You exchange a glance with Hongjoong, who subtly reaches under the table, his hand resting on your thigh—a quiet reassurance.
“Is that so?” You say smoothly, lifting your own glass to your lips. “What is it?”
Your mother beams, leaning in slightly “It’s about Mike.”
Of course it is.
Your father nods, his voice steady, authoritative “We’ve made a decision regarding his future. He’s being named the next CEO of Clarke Enterprises.”
Your fingers tighten slightly around your glass, but you keep your expression impassive.
“He’s been preparing for this role his entire life,” Your mother continues with pride. “This will secure not just his success, but the future of our entire family.”
You place your glass down carefully, tilting your head “You’re telling me that Mike is taking over the company?”
Your father nods with satisfaction “It’s what’s best for the Clarke legacy.”
Legacy. Always the fucking legacy.
Hongjoong’s grip on your thigh tightens, sensing the storm brewing inside you. But he doesn’t stop you.
You inhale slowly, your lips curling into something that almost resembles a smile.
“Well,” You say, voice deceptively light, “Since we’re discussing important family matters, I have something to share as well.”
Your mother raises an intrigued eyebrow “Oh?”
Your father watches you carefully, his patience thin but present. You sit up straighter, meeting their gazes dead-on.
“It’s about Mike,” You begin, pausing just long enough for anticipation to settle. “And his actual legacy.”
Your mother frowns slightly “What do you mean?”
Your smile sharpens “He already has a daughter.”
Silence.
Your mother blinks. Your father’s wine glass stills mid-air.
“What… did you just say?” Your father asks, his voice eerily calm.
You lean forward slightly, elbows resting on the table as you deliver the next blow.
“Four years ago, Mike had an affair with one of our housemaids. Her name was Hannah—I’m sure you remember her.”
Your mother’s expression freezes, her posture stiffening. Your father’s jaw tightens, but you don’t stop.
“When she got pregnant, your perfect son threatened her,” You continue, voice unwavering. “He told her to get rid of the baby. He forced me to lie and frame her for stealing so she would be fired. He abandoned her. Abandoned his own child.”
Reaching into your bag, you pull out the neatly stacked documents and slide them across the table. Your nails tap against the top page.
“Here.” Your voice is sweet, almost mocking. “A DNA test. Pictures. Bank transactions of the money I have been sending her every month since he left her to fend for herself.”
Your mother’s face drains of color. Your father’s grip on his fork tightens so hard you hear the faint creak of metal.
You tilt your head slightly, watching their reactions with quiet satisfaction “And this is the man you want to give the entire empire to?”
Your mother’s lips part slightly, her manicured fingers reaching hesitantly for the photos. The first image is of Lily alone—her bright, round eyes, her tiny, perfect features. Then another, with you beside her, smiling softly as she clings to your arm.
Your father slowly sets his utensils down, his gaze dark “You’re lying.”
You lean back, crossing your arms “The proof is right in front of you.”
Your mother shakes her head, almost desperate now “No… no, this is—this is a mistake.”
Your father exhales sharply, rubbing his temple “Mike would never—”
“Oh, but he did,” You cut him off smoothly. “And you can either accept that, or continue pretending he’s some flawless heir.”
The silence stretches, thick and suffocating. And then—
“This… cannot get out.”
Your blood runs cold.
You stare at your father, waiting for him to correct himself. To say something that doesn’t make you want to burn this entire house down.
Your mother finally meets your gaze, her expression unreadable “Do you have any idea what this could do to our family? To his future?”
A hollow laugh escapes you “Oh, so that’s what you care about?”
Your father sighs, as if this is just some inconvenience “Mike is going to take over the company. If this scandal comes out, it will ruin everything.”
You feel like you’ve been slapped. Hongjoong tenses beside you, his jaw locked, his hand gripping your thigh in restraint.
Your mother softens her voice, like she’s trying to reason with you “YN, sweetie… we cannot let this get out. It’s not just about Mike—it’s about all of us.”
You inhale sharply, schooling your expression. You knew this would happen. You knew. And yet, their blatant dismissal still stings more than it should.
You exhale slowly.
“Fine,” You murmur, collecting the documents back into your bag. “I understand.”
Your mother lets out a breath of relief “Good—”
“But let me make one thing very clear,” You cut her off, standing up. “If you try to cover this up—if you refuse to acknowledge that little girl as his daughter—I will make sure everyone finds out.”
Your father’s eyes darken “You wouldn’t dare.”
You meet his stare, unflinching “Try me.”
And they know you mean it. They know.
The air is suffocating. Your mother swallows, glancing between you and your father, tension crackling in the room.
And then, your father speaks, his voice cold.
“Go to your room, YN.” You raise an eyebrow in defiance. “Now.” His voice is sharp, commanding.
Hongjoong rises to his feet immediately, his stance protective, standing just a few steps behind you. But you don’t move at first, locking eyes with your father, refusing to back down.
The silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment, before, without another word, you grab Hongjoong’s hand. Together, you leave the dining room, the weight of the situation settling around you.
Once you step into the hallway, Hongjoong gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his voice quiet.
“YN…”
You shake your head, cutting him off “Not now.”
You make your way to your bedroom, and once inside, you immediately release his hand.
You walk straight to your vanity, placing the folder with the DNA test results and photos down onto the surface with precise movements, the sound of the paper rustling loud in the otherwise quiet room.
Your fingers grip the edges of the folder, your nails digging into the expensive paper as your mind races. The frustration is building up inside you, but you force yourself to breathe through it.
Hongjoong watches you carefully, the door clicking shut behind him. He stays silent for a moment, giving you space to process. He knows you need it.
Finally, he speaks softly, his voice filled with concern “Are you okay?”
You exhale sharply, turning to face him “I told you they’d cover it up,” You murmur, your voice quiet and bitter.
He steps closer, his eyes searching your face for any hint of vulnerability “Yeah... but you were still hoping, weren’t you?”
Your lips press into a thin line. Damn him for knowing you so well. You look away, arms crossed, leaning against the vanity as frustration bubbles up in you.
“I just wanted them to see him for what he really is,” You admit quietly, your voice trembling just slightly. “To finally see that he’s not perfect.”
Hongjoong moves between your legs, his hands resting gently on your thighs.
“They’re too deep in their delusions, pretty. You can’t change them overnight.”
You exhale sharply, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.
“Then I’ll make them see it,” You say, a fierce determination in your voice.
His hands tighten slightly on your waist, his gaze narrowing as he looks at you.
“How?”
“I’ll bring Lily tomorrow.” You shrug, as if the plan is simple, innocent.
He frowns, his brow furrowing “Wait—what? I don't think Hannah will agree to that.”
You look at him, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
“Maybe not, but this might pressure them into acknowledging her. They know she exists now, and there’s no reason to hide her anymore. I’ll tell them I want to spend time with her, show her the house. It's innocent.”
Hongjoong scoffs, a teasing glint in his eyes “Pretty, you and ‘innocent’ don’t belong in the same sentence.”
You grin, giving him a wink “Okay, maybe not. But still, it’s a good plan. They’ll have to deal with it when she’s right there in front of them.”
He exhales, running a hand through his hair, the lines of concern still etched on his face.
“And what if they freak out?”
“They won’t. They might struggle with it, but they won’t just throw her out. She’s their granddaughter, whether they like it or not.”
He studies you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. He shakes his head with a soft laugh.
“You’re scary when you plot, you know that?”
You smile slyly, cupping his cheek “I know. So... are you in?”
He sighs dramatically, though there’s no hiding the affection in his eyes.
“Like I have a choice.”
You laugh, leaning in to kiss him lightly “Nope. You don’t.”
With that, Hongjoong presses his lips to yours in a deep kiss, sealing the deal for the next move.
And just like that, the plan is set.
✮ ⋆
The hallway outside the dining room is dimly lit, the hushed murmur of voices bleeding through the heavy oak doors.
Dann stands just beyond the threshold, fingers curling around the strap of her bag. She hadn’t meant to stop. Hadn’t meant to listen.
But your voice—sharp, angry—had frozen her in place.
“You’re telling me that Mike is taking over the company?”
“It’s what’s best for the Clarke legacy.”
Dann’s breath catches. Her fingers twitch.
“Well, since we’re discussing important family matters, I have something to share as well.”
Dann’s throat tightens. She’s heard this kind of bitterness from you before, but never like this.
Never so raw.
“It’s about Mike, and his actual legacy.”
His actual legacy? What are you talking about?
She knows you have every reason to be upset. But Mike had warned her—had threatened her. And yet, something in her gut twists. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be listening to this.
She turns to leave, forcing herself to step away, but then—
“Dann!”
She flinches at the sound of her mother’s voice echoing from down the hall.
Shit.
Scrambling, she ducks into a side corridor before hurrying toward the kitchen. Her pulse pounds in her ears, your words still looping in her mind.
You were furious about Mike becoming CEO.
Dann hesitates, fingers hovering over her phone. For a brief moment, she considers doing nothing. She considers keeping this to herself.
But then she remembers Mike’s cold voice in her ear. Her stomach clenches as she finally types out the message.
Dann: YN’s pissed about you becoming CEO. She’s planning something.
She stares at the text, her finger hovering over the send button. A part of her screams Don’t do this. But another part knows…
If she doesn’t, she’ll be the next one to suffer.
Her thumb presses down.
Sent.
Her heart pounds as she locks her phone, shoving it into her pocket.
And as she heads toward the kitchen, trying to steady her breath, one thought keeps echoing in her mind.
How much longer can I keep doing this?
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The gentle hum of the car engine fades as Hongjoong parks in front of the grand estate. You glance over your shoulder at Lily, who’s kicking her legs excitedly in her car seat, her wide eyes shining with curiosity.
“Alright, princess. Ready to see where I live?”
It took some convincing to get Hannah on board with bringing Lily along today, but after much persuasion, she finally agreed—though not without a threat.
If anything were to happen to her daughter, she told you, she’d make you wish you never stepped foot near her.
Lily gasps dramatically, clapping her hands “Like a castle?”
Hongjoong snorts “Close enough.”
You smirk, unbuckling her seatbelt before lifting her into your arms “Exactly like a castle. With grumpy old kings and queens inside.”
Hongjoong chuckles but gives you a look “Pretty.”
You just wink at him before turning toward the front doors. As you step inside, the staff immediately notices your little guest.
A few maids exchange surprised glances, but none dare to say anything. Then, your mother’s voice floats from the dining hall.
“YN? Darling, is that you?”
Showtime.
You adjust Lily on your hip and strut into the hall, Hongjoong right beside you. Your mother and father are already seated at the table, sipping tea like they own the world.
But the second they see her, your mother’s teacup stops midair. Your father straightens.
“Mother, Father,” You say with a polite smile, shifting Lily in your arms, “I wanted to introduce you to someone properly.”
Lily, bless her little heart, waves excitedly “Hi, I’m Lily!”
Your mother blinks “Oh… oh my.”
Your father’s jaw tightens, but he stays silent. Hongjoong shoves his hands into his pockets, watching carefully.
“Since you know about her now, I figured there’s no need to keep her hidden,” You continue smoothly, placing Lily down so she can run toward the grand windows. “She’s family, after all.”
The air in the room is suffocating.
Your mother glances at your father “Well, I—” She stops when Lily gasps.
“This place is so big!” The little girl spins in excitement, her curls bouncing. “I wanna see all of it!”
Your mother’s lips part, struggling, fighting every instinct she has. She glances at your father again, who is rubbing his temple.
Hongjoong nudges you slightly, whispering, “Your dad looks like he’s about to explode.”
You grin “I know.”
Your mother clears her throat, standing up “Lily, dear, would you like something to drink?”
Lily beams “Do you have chocolate milk?”
Your mother hesitates, then nods slowly “Yes… of course.”
You exchange a glance with Hongjoong.
Oh, this is too good.
Meanwhile, your father finally speaks, his voice even “And how long do you plan to keep her here, YN?”
You feign innocence “Just for a few hours. She should get to know where her family comes from.”
Your father sighs, rubbing his temple again. He looks like he wants to object—but what can he say? Get that child out of my house? Even he knows that would make him look bad.
And that’s when you realize—your parents are nervous. They don’t want to acknowledge her. They don’t want to accept her.
But ignoring her is impossible.
And the best part?
Mike still has no idea.
Your father exhales sharply, sitting up straighter. His voice drops into something colder, firmer.
“Darling, listen carefully.” His gaze is heavy, commanding. “Your brother will be back tomorrow.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “He can not see this girl here.”
You let out a dry laugh “Why not? it's his daughter.”
Your mother nods, forcing a smile “Yes, sweetheart. But it's illegitimate.”
Your father’s expression hardens “That means you will not, under any circumstances, mention the girl’s existence.”
A heavy silence fills the room.
Lily, still holding her glass of chocolate milk, glances up at her grandmother with wide, innocent eyes. Then, in the softest voice, she speaks.
“Daddy don’t want to meet me?” Her small voice cracks slightly as she pouts, her lip trembling.
She sets the glass down and looks at them, her eyes filling with tears as she struggles to understand why the adults are acting this way. The sadness in her expression is enough to make your heart ache.
The room grows painfully quiet. You see the subtle shift in your parents’ expressions as they look at the little girl, her innocence making it harder for them to keep up their cold act.
Lily sniffles, wiping her nose with her sleeve, and then in the sweetest, most trusting voice, she adds,
“Mommy told me that daddy loves me and when he is done with work, he will meet me.”
She says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world—her childlike belief in her father’s love and promise, pure and untainted by the complicated mess of adult affairs.
You feel your throat tighten as you watch Lily, and even your parents are visibly affected.
Your mother’s hand shakes slightly as she reaches for Lily, pulling her onto her lap. Her expression softens, the guilt creeping in despite her best efforts to remain unaffected.
Your father glances at your mother, his face softening just a fraction. He lets out a small sigh, clearly conflicted, but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he picks up his glass, taking a long sip, as if the weight of the situation is too much to bear.
Lily’s innocent words seem to hit them harder than any argument could. And you realize—this is the beginning of something.
They can’t ignore her forever.
You lean forward, your voice still calm but filled with a subtle bite “You see, she’s not going anywhere. She’s part of the family now, whether you like it or not.”
Lily, oblivious to the tension, smiles softly and rests her head on her grandmother’s shoulder. Your mother brushes a strand of hair out of her face, and for a moment, you almost see the warmth return to her eyes.
“Let’s not pretend that we can’t move forward from this,” You add, watching them both. “She’s a part of me, and if you can’t see that, then you’re not seeing the full picture.”
Your father finally speaks, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant “We’ll see how things go.” His words are far from a promise, but it’s a crack in the facade.
A small step toward accepting the truth.
Hongjoong gently nudges your arm, his quiet support standing strong behind you.
And then, for a brief, fleeting moment, you think they might actually listen.
✮ ⋆
The afternoon stretches lazily as you, Hongjoong, and Lily spend time in the vast garden outside. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the manicured lawns.
Birds chirp in the distance, and the sound of laughter and lighthearted chatter fills the air as you chase after Lily, who runs ahead, giggling uncontrollably.
Hongjoong stays close, holding Lily’s hand as she spins in circles, occasionally darting away to pick flowers or make up little games.
The innocence of the moment is enough to make your heart swell, and Hongjoong’s quiet smiles as he watches you with Lily are more than enough to reassure you that, despite the turmoil, this is where she belongs.
From the large windows of the dining room, your parents observe the scene in silence.
The head of the family's stern gaze never falters, his arms crossed over his chest, watching as you play with the child he doesn't want to acknowledge.
His mouth is set in a firm line, and it’s clear he hasn’t warmed to the idea of Mike’s hidden life.
“I still don’t like this,” He mutters under his breath. “It’s not just about her being his daughter. It’s about the family’s reputation. Michael has always been the heir. This… this doesn’t fit the image.”
His wife, standing beside him, watches you through the glass. Her eyes soften as she takes in the sight of her daughter and granddaughter together.
For a moment, she allows herself to feel something, something unspoken. Joy, maybe, or hope—an inkling that, perhaps, this child could be a part of their family, even if it’s only in the most private corners.
“I know you’re worried, but… she’s so sweet.” Her voice trembles slightly, her tone tender as she continues to watch. “I can’t deny it. She’s so innocent, and she deserves a chance. She’s part of Mike’s blood, after all.”
He narrows his eyes, his jaw tightening. He cannot bring himself to fully accept what is happening, nor can he allow his daughter to be wrapped up in the emotional complexity of it all.
He’s a man of principle, of tradition, and this is not how things should be. His position, his legacy—everything he’s worked for—depends on his son, upholding the family name.
“Mike can’t just do what he wants,” He grumbles, still staring out at the garden. “He’s the heir. We’ve worked our entire lives to protect this family’s name, and this—this child complicates things. She could ruin everything.”
The woman hesitates “But… she’s still part of our family, Richard. You can see it in her face. She’s… she’s so much like Mike. She deserves a place in this family.”
“But she can’t just be ‘part of the family’ because we feel sorry for her.” His voice grows firm again. “Family’s future depends on him. He is our heir. If this news gets out… it could destroy everything. We need to be careful.”
Catherine sighs softly, the weight of the decision pressing on her. She knows what he says is true. Mike’s position in the family, the business—everything depends on how they handle this situation.
She can’t just throw it all away for a child born from a mistake. But deep down, she feels a pang of sympathy for the little girl, and a part of her can’t help but want to open her heart.
“I just wish Mike would have been honest with us from the beginning,” She says softly, looking back out at the garden where you, Hongjoong, and Lily continue to play. “This could have been different… maybe we could have made it work.”
Her husband grunts, not bothering to respond. The thoughts swirling in his head are far more complex than he lets on. He’s still angry, still resolute in his belief that the family must maintain its perfect image.
But as he watches you laugh with the child, something shifts.
Just a little.
Catherine places a gentle hand on his arm, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t forget… we have to think about what’s best for the family. For all of us.”
He doesn’t respond immediately, but his gaze softens for a moment as he watches his daughter interact with Lily.
The love, the connection—it’s undeniable.
It’s not just about legacy anymore; it’s about family. And maybe, just maybe, he can find it in himself to accept this little girl.
✮ ⋆
The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the garden as the evening winds start to cool.
Lily’s little hands are clinging to your leg as you stand in the doorway, ready to leave.
She’s grown comfortable in the short time she’s spent here, her big eyes filled with innocence and wonder as she looks up at your parents.
“Lily, we’re going to head out now,” You say softly, crouching down to her level as you adjust her little jacket.
The weight of the evening’s tension still hangs in the air, but moments like this make it all seem worth it. Her eyes flicker to her grandparents, and then she looks back at you with that wide-eyed curiosity.
Your mother stands nearby, a little hesitant, but a soft smile curves on her lips as she watches the little girl.
“Goodbye, Lily” She says, her voice surprisingly gentle as she kneels in front of her. “Come here and give Grandma a hug.”
Lily blinks up at her and hesitates for just a second before her tiny arms stretch out.
“Bye, Grandma,” She says sweetly, throwing her arms around your mother’s neck in a warm embrace.
Your mother’s eyes soften even more, her heart swelling with tenderness “Goodbye, my dear. Come see us again soon, okay?” She says softly, her voice catching slightly.
“Okay!” Lily chirps, pulling back and giving her a big smile, her tiny hands clutching the edges of her jacket.
You feel your heart tug as you watch the two of them, the love in your mother’s eyes undeniable. You can’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips as you see how easy it is for Lily to wrap your mother around her finger.
Turning to your father, Lily trots over to him, her little legs moving quickly as she approaches him hesitantly.
“Goodbye, Grandpa,” She says shyly, her voice almost a whisper.
Your father’s stern expression softens for just a moment as he bends down to her level, offering a hand to her.
“Goodbye, little one,” He replies, his voice rough but kind as he gently pats her head. “Take care of yourself.”
Lily gives him a sweet smile, her innocence shining through. She gives him a quick hug, standing on tiptoe to wrap her tiny arms around his neck.
“I’ll miss you!” She says brightly before letting go.
Your heart aches slightly watching the interaction, a little flutter in your chest, as a sense of something new begins to blossom within you.
It’s strange, yet beautiful to see how Lily’s innocence is slowly making its way into their hearts, no matter how reluctant they may have been before.
Hongjoong stands off to the side, watching the scene unfold with a quiet smile. His presence is a steady comfort, and his eyes meet yours as he watches you.
You glance back at him, giving him a soft smile of appreciation for being there, supporting you in all of this.
Lily looks up at you and stretches her arms out wide, grinning “Come on, Auntie YN, let’s go home!”
You laugh softly, picking her up and resting her against your hip “Alright, sweetie, let’s go,” you say with a final wave to your parents. “Bye.”
With one last look to your parents, you turn to Hongjoong and nod for him to follow, holding Lily close.
Your mother and father wave back, their faces filled with that strange, bittersweet mixture of emotions as they watch you leave.
The door closes gently behind you, and as you step outside, the cool evening air wraps around you, the weight of the moment still lingering in your heart.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
Four years ago.
The hallway outside Mike’s room is dimly lit, the distant hum of the household settling for the night.
You were on your way to your own room when you heard it—the sharp edge of his voice, low but venomous.
“I don’t give a damn what you think, Hannah.”
You pause. Hannah, the maid?
You inch closer, pressing yourself against the cold wall near the doorframe. You can’t see them, but you can hear everything.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” He continues, his tone eerily calm “You’re going to take care of this. Get rid of it.”
A sharp inhale. Then Hannah’s voice, trembling but still defiant.
“Mike, this is your child. You can’t just—”
A loud thud cuts her off, like a hand slamming against the desk. You flinch.
“No, Hannah,” Mike hisses, his voice now sharp as a knife. “I told you to handle it. I don’t care how. But you will not ruin my future over this. Do you understand me?”
Silence. Thick. Suffocating.
Then, softer, but no less cruel, “If you don’t, I’ll make your life a living hell. And I’ll make sure that bastard never sees the light of day.”
Your stomach twists. Your chest tightens. You don’t know what’s happening, but your instincts tell you it’s something terrible.
Hannah sniffles “Mike, please…”
He sighs, exasperated, like he’s dealing with an inconvenience rather than a human being.
“You have until tomorrow to figure it out.”
A second later, footsteps approach. You panic, stepping away from the door just as it swings open.
Mike stops short when he sees you standing there. His eyes narrow, calculating.
“What are you doing here?”
Your mouth opens, but no words come out. You glance past him, catching a glimpse of Hannah inside the room—eyes red, shoulders shaking, her hand protectively placed over her stomach.
He steps forward, blocking your view, his voice lowering dangerously “Forget whatever you think you heard.”
You shake your head slightly, confusion and unease knotting inside you.
“What—”
He doesn’t let you finish “Actually,” He murmurs, a slow smirk curling on his lips, “You’re going to help me.”
Your brows furrow “Uh?”
Mike tilts his head “You’re going to tell Mother and Father that Hannah stole from you.”
Your breath catches “She what?”
“You’ll say you saw her sneaking out of your room with your jewelry,” He continues smoothly, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world “They’ll believe you.”
“Mike, no…” You whisper, horrified.
He leans in slightly, his presence suffocating “You will.”
You shake your head, stepping back “I won’t do that to her.”
His smirk vanishes in an instant. His hand shoots out, gripping your arm so tightly you wince.
“Yes, you will,” He says darkly. “Because if you don’t, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
You don’t sleep that night.
The next morning, Hannah is dragged out of the estate in tears.
And you watch, sick to your stomach, as your parents believe every word you say.
—
The school gates are buzzing with students leaving for the day, laughter and chatter filling the air. You step outside, slipping your phone into your bag when a soft voice stops you.
"Miss YN."
You blink, turning toward the sound.
And freeze, it's been months since the last time you saw her.
Hannah stands a few feet away, her hands nervously clasped in front of her. But that’s not what sends your heart plummeting to your stomach.
It’s the undeniable swell of her belly beneath her coat.
Your mind goes blank.
She shifts uncomfortably under your stare, glancing around as if making sure no one is watching.
“Can we talk?”
You don’t respond immediately, still trying to process what you’re seeing. Then, your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag, and you nod stiffly.
You lead her toward a quieter area near the entrance, away from the curious eyes of your classmates. The moment you stop walking, you cut straight to the point.
“You’re pregnant.” Your voice is eerily calm.
Hannah exhales, her shoulders sagging slightly “Yes.”
Your stomach churns “Is it—”
“I know Mike is in Germany now,” She interrupts before you can finish the question. “That’s why I came to see you.” She looks up, her expression conflicted. “I’m pregnant, Miss YN. Mike is the father.”
Your heart pounds violently against your ribs.
Hannah swallows hard, her voice quieter now, almost fragile “He doesn’t want anything to do with me. Or the baby.”
It feels like the ground beneath you is cracking, splitting open, revealing something dark and ugly you were never meant to see.
“That’s why he forced me to lie?”
The words slip past your lips before you can stop them. Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Hannah hears it.
Her brows furrow “What?”
Your chest tightens painfully “That’s why he made me say you stole from me?” You repeat, a bitter laugh escaping you. “Because he didn’t want to handle his mistake?”
Hannah’s lips part slightly. She looks shaken, her hands trembling.
“Miss YN… you did—”
“I didn’t want to,” You cut in, your throat tightening. “But he gave me no choice.”
A heavy silence stretches between you. Then Hannah speaks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I never got rid of her.”
Your breath catches.
“What?”
Hannah exhales shakily, one hand instinctively pressing against her belly, as if shielding the life growing inside her.
“I couldn’t do it,” she whispers. Her eyes meet yours—raw, pleading, desperate. “I’m keeping her.”
The world tilts beneath your feet.
Oh, god.
Your throat tightens, your heart hammering against your ribs.
“Don’t worry,” You manage, though your voice barely holds steady. “I’ll help you.”
But the second the words leave your lips, reality crashes down like a tidal wave.
You’re only seventeen.
How the hell are you supposed to ask your parents for extra money without raising suspicion? How are you going to keep this a secret from them?
And most importantly…
What will Mike do if he finds out?
A shiver runs down your spine.
He will kill you.
If he ever finds out, he will fucking kill you.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
Taglist: @mrskill2 @stayatinykatsy @badbitch69420sworld @lunaryoongie @lover-ofallthingspretty @certifiedmoa @jilxxasu @alliecoady98 @maidens-world @Lemonkait00 @yulsr @justconniez @luvvvash @zaynsfl4m3s @nkryuki @boomzen @hurryupmars @silenttrxxs @blue5ummer @khaskl08 @unbroken-shadows @vnxlla @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @milliesupremexx @xh01bri @a-atiny_niawoo @winterstuf @domfikeluva @lezleeferguson-120 @beabatiny @yothangie @lover-of-fics @mingipessego @posseup @0407files @cheolright @nyx-y @arilevenatz @yeorisanaxox @innocygnet @a-tiny-thing @sannieily @maplelilly05 @ddeonugu @niaee @yunhogrippers @itzyejiluv @sannieworshipper @m0onchild-98 @l0vjoongie
☆○☆○☆○
All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.
𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦! 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 Bf!Ateez Texts - @littlexbunni ot8 x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Case: It's You [Book One] [Book Two] - @potatomountain detective!poly!ot8 x detective!reader (series) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Comfort Texts - @srslyscary ot8 x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Compromise - @cyberpxnk bf!seonghwa x reader x soccer player!yunho (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Défilé De Lingerie - @/bro-atz lingerie designer!san x lingerie model!reader x lingerie tailor!mingi (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Deal With The Devil - @hoeforalbedo priest!hongjoong x reader (series) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Destiny - @k-zuzu idol!hongjoong x idol!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Do Not Touch - @bandgie death!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Duck Curtains - @ichorai roommate!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Enough - @mingsolo idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓆞 Essence - @whatudowhennooneseesyou siren!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Gently Giant - @jagibangbangchan whale mershark!seonghwa x mermaid!reader ft.pirate!ateez (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Got A Fur Coat, So I Make It Purr - @velvetydream idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Just A Few More Minutes - @skrrts stay-at-home dad!seonghwa x mom!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Know Your Place - @xosannie idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Early Bird Gets The Worm - @ja3hwa bf!yunho x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Emotion Verte - @altxrrmelancholy bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Hail To The King - @sweetinsaniiity king!yunho x ex-princess!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Head Empty, Mouth Full - @xosannie bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Lesson Plans - @callmeagardengnome professor!yunho x teaching assistant!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸
𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Perfect Opportunity - @mingi-s-dimples bf!idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Princess Fluffy-Cupcake-Sparkles - @seonghw4ffles non-idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Never Yours - @daceydeath idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Riding The Heat - @xomakara alpha!idol!yeosang x omega!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Sleepy Head - @sugawhaaa bf!yeosang x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 Diet Pepsi - @loserlvrss bf!san x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Dream Come True - @makeitmingi dad!idol!san x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Facade Of Perfection [Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] - @koyagifs ceo!san x reader (three parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Guilty Pleasure | Follow You - @orshii priest!san x reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓆞 Handy - @hausofwoo maintenance man!san x tenant!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Good Morning - @yuyusshinelight dad!husband!idol!mingi x mom!wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Happy Birthday to Us - @freyaphoria yandere!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Heat Stroke - @sluttywonwoo bf!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 His Chérie - @xuchiya idol!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Lip Gloss - @loserlvrss friend!mingi x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Day Off - @cyberseong bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Décolletage - @daddyfordaeddy servant!wooyoung x lady!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Don't Save Her (She Don't Wanna Be Saved) - @lunardragon00 peasant!wooyoung x princess!reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Forbidden Fruit - @astrasng idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Fractured Promises - @koyagifs ceo!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Screeching Tires and Blood Stains - @daceydeath mafia!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Second Chance at Love - @xomakara single dad!widow!jongho x nanny!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Secretary Jongho Headcanon - @rems-writing secretary!jongho × ceo!reader (headcanon) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Sneaky - @hwallazia ceo!jongho x office worker!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Stars - @beenbaanbuun bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸
🐟 k - kids by current joys
🐟 o - odd reasons by donovan melero
🐟 i - it’s you by ateez
I can’t recommend much music, but hey it’s something
MOOT / TAG GAME !
mission— spell your real name / name you use on tumblr with songs you like >< ready, set, go !
m — my love, mine all mine (mitski)
i — i love you, i’m sorry (gracie abrams)
c — coraline (lyn lapid)
k — killshot (magdalena bay)
i — i know you (faye webster)
e — either way (ive)
tagging— @puma-riki @flwrstqr @liwinly @woniefication @lilificationn @stvrriki @okwonyo + anyone else who wants to join !
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
-
dmmmlalala liked this · 1 month ago -
piecessoull liked this · 1 month ago -
jooholicx liked this · 1 month ago -
a-0206 reblogged this · 1 month ago -
airaviity liked this · 1 month ago -
bellamuertex0 liked this · 2 months ago -
maidens-world liked this · 2 months ago -
bunny-hwa reblogged this · 2 months ago -
valeriee21 liked this · 2 months ago
-
sannieworshipper reblogged this · 2 months ago -
sannieworshipper liked this · 2 months ago
-
yunhogrippers reblogged this · 2 months ago -
yunhogrippers liked this · 2 months ago
-
el150906 liked this · 2 months ago -
m-flowerjunnie-oa liked this · 2 months ago -
a-tiny-thing liked this · 2 months ago -
aloneatpeace liked this · 2 months ago -
latisthegenderfluidwannabealone reblogged this · 2 months ago -
latisthegenderfluidwannabealone liked this · 2 months ago
-
bunny-hwa reblogged this · 2 months ago
-
bunny-hwa reblogged this · 2 months ago
-
prbywoo liked this · 2 months ago -
mrskill2 liked this · 2 months ago -
xuchiya liked this · 2 months ago -
alwaysdumbleburn liked this · 2 months ago -
yuyuooz liked this · 2 months ago -
ur1andonlydestiny liked this · 2 months ago -
hurryupmars liked this · 2 months ago -
cheolright liked this · 2 months ago -
lisatz reblogged this · 2 months ago -
differentwolflawyerfish-blog liked this · 2 months ago -
unbroken-shadows liked this · 2 months ago -
unbroken-shadows reblogged this · 2 months ago
-
ew-mehrong liked this · 2 months ago -
milliesupremexx liked this · 2 months ago
