𓇼 Beabatiny - Blog Posts

I see it, especially the music one since i’m listening to music right now 😭

I saw this floating around amd wanted to try it!

Go to pinterest and search “my vibe aesthetic” and post the top 6 results!

Tagging: @mimikittysblog @fizzyapplecandy

🐟 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

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

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All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.

wow, a chapter where reader’s life isn’t going horrible. This is going great, but we still gotta kill mike that man is public enemy #1 I don’t care how he can blow up in space or die to a snail touching and i’ll be happy.

amazing chapter, excited to see what comes next <3

Popular, Boy

☆12: The first warning.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader

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

wc: 10k

Summary: Stepping back to your world and reclaiming your place with confidence and Hongjoong by your side, feeling that everything is better.

But some loyalties are bound by fear rather than choice.

Warnings: Cursing, manipulation, power dynamics, fluff.

Series masterlist Join the Taglist

☆11 ☆13: The first bliss. Coming soon

The sharp click of your heels echoes through the quiet hallway as you make your way toward your father’s office. The Clarke mansion is always pristine, always silent in places where it shouldn’t be.

It’s suffocating.

You pause outside the heavy wooden door, exhaling before knocking twice.

“Come in.”

You push the door open, stepping inside. Your father is at his desk, flipping through documents, while your mother sits on one of the velvet chairs across from him, sipping tea as if she has no real business here.

Both of them glance up at you, but it’s your mother who smiles first.

“Well, this is a surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure, darling?”

Your father doesn’t say anything. He just watches, waiting. You clear your throat, keeping your tone even.

“I need a favor.”

Your mother’s eyes gleam with interest “A favor? That’s rare.” She sets her teacup down gently. “What is it?”

You don’t hesitate “It’s about Hongjoong.”

At that, your father raises a brow, finally giving you his full attention. Your mother, on the other hand, practically lights up.

“Oh, Hongjoong! I was beginning to think you weren’t talking to him anymore after—” She pauses, tilting her head, eyes sharp. “After that day.”

You knew this was coming. Of course she’d ask.Your fingers tighten slightly at your sides, but your voice remains composed.

“It was a misunderstanding. Everything’s fine between us now.”

Your mother hums in approval, looking far too pleased. “I knew you wouldn’t throw away something special over a little argument.”

Your father clears his throat, his tone clipped “If this is about that boy, get to the point.”

You nod “It’s not about him, exactly. It’s about his father.”

Both your parents exchange a glance.

You continue, “His father lost his job recently, and their family is struggling. I wanted to know if you could offer him something here. A driver, security—anything.”

Your mother leans back slightly, considering. “His father lost his job?” A small frown tugs at her lips, but it isn’t one of disapproval—it’s concern. “That’s terrible.”

Your father leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “What does he do?”

“He was a chauffeur,” You answer. “For a private company, but they let him go.”

Your father exhales, glancing down at the papers on his desk as if debating whether this conversation is worth his time.

“A driver, huh?”

Your mother places a hand on his arm, smiling “Well, we do need another personal driver, don’t we?”

Your father gives her a pointed look, but you know him. He isn’t against the idea—he’s just pretending to be.

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing,” The woman continues, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle on her dress. “The boy is respectful, intelligent. If he’s anything like his son, I’m sure his father would be a good addition.”

Your father exhales through his nose before looking at you “You really want this?”

“Yes.”

A long pause. Then—

“Fine.”

Your mother claps her hands together lightly “Wonderful.” She turns back to you, a knowing smile on her lips. “Tell Hongjoong his father can start next week.”

Relief washes over you, but you keep your expression composed. You lean against the edge of your father’s desk, tilting your head just slightly, letting your voice soften into that sweet, spoiled tone you know they can’t resist.

“Thank you, Daddy,” You say, drawing out the last word just enough to sound affectionate, not excessive.

Your father exhales, shaking his head as if he’s already regretting agreeing to this. But you don’t miss the way the tension in his shoulders loosens. He likes it when you act like his perfect little girl—like you adore him.

Your mother watches the interaction with amusement, sipping her tea. “You should’ve just started with that, sweetheart. You know your father can’t say no to you when you ask nicely.”

Your father gives her a flat look “That’s not true.”

“Oh, please.” She waves a delicate hand in the air. “You’ve been wrapped around her little finger since she could talk.”

You flash a smug little smile, but before you can say anything, your mother’s expression brightens.

“Oh! That reminds me.” She sets her teacup down and turns to you expectantly. “You should invite Hongjoong over for dinner one day.”

Your father grunts “What?”

Your mother raises an eyebrow “What, what? I like him. He’s polite, intelligent, and much better company than some of your other friends.” She pauses, pressing a manicured finger to her lips in thought. “And he’s quite handsome, isn’t he?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes “Okay, calm down.”

She chuckles “I’m just saying, I want to see him again. And this time, without all the party noise.”

Your father mutters under his breath, flipping a page in his documents “I still don’t like the idea of my daughter wasting time with some scholarship kid.”

You pout dramatically, leaning toward him “But, Daddy,” You drawl, “I like him.”

He sighs, rubbing his temple “I swear, you only do this to torture me.”

You smile sweetly “That’s not true! I only do it when I want something.”

Your mother laughs, shaking her head “So? Will you invite him?”

You shrug, pushing off the desk “I’ll think about it.”

But you both know you’ll do it.

As you turn to leave, your mother calls after you, “And tell him I said hello!”

You wave a hand without looking back, already dreading Hongjoong’s reaction when you tell him.

Because if he agrees to dinner, you just know your mother is going to love embarrassing you.

✮ ⋆

Hongjoong opens the door, eyebrows raising slightly when he sees you standing on his porch, dressed effortlessly chic like you don’t belong in this neighborhood.

It’s not the first time you’ve been here, but it’s rare enough that the sight of you standing outside his house still feels surreal.

"Pretty?" He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, a hint of amusement playing at his lips. "Did I forget we had a date or something?"

You roll your eyes, stepping past him like you own the place "Please, nerd. If we had a date, you’d be waiting for me."

He huffs a laugh, closing the door behind you "So, what’s up?"

You spin on your heel, hands clasped in front of you like you’re about to drop the biggest news of the century.

"Well, I just came back from a very interesting conversation with my parents." He tenses slightly at the mention of them, but he doesn’t interrupt. "And guess what?" You tilt your head, smiling. "Your dad just got a job."

Hongjoong blinks "What?"

Before you can answer, his mother’s voice comes from the kitchen "Joong, who’s at the—" She pauses as she steps into the living room, eyes widening when she sees you. "Oh! YN, dear!"

You smile "Hi, Mrs. Kim."

His father enters the room next, looking surprised but polite "It’s nice to see you again, YN."

"You too, Mr. Kim," You reply warmly. "Actually, I came to tell you something." You glance at Hongjoong, then back to his father. "My dad just hired you as a personal driver."

A beat of silence. Then the woman clasps her hands together, eyes shining. "Oh, that’s wonderful news!" She turns to her husband, already fussing. "You see? Everything is working out. I told you things would get better."

The man, though visibly relieved, remains composed "This… this is really unexpected," He says carefully, looking at you. "Your father doesn’t know me, so why would he—"

"It was my idea," You cut in. "I told them about your situation, and they agreed."

Hongjoong’s parents exchange a glance, something unspoken passing between them. Gratitude. Maybe even a little disbelief.

Hongjoong stays quiet beside you, his eyes unreadable.

His mother sighs, then smiles at you warmly "YN, that was really kind of you."

You shrug, like it’s nothing, like you don’t actually care as much as you do "It’s the least I could do."

Mrs. Kim beams "Well, in that case, you must stay for dinner."

"Oh, I—"

"No buts," She says, already ushering you toward the dining table. "It’s our way of saying thank you."

You glance at Hongjoong, who just smirks, as if to say you brought this on yourself.

Fine. You’ll stay.

✮ ⋆

Dinner is surprisingly… nice. Warm. Unlike the silent, performative meals at the Clarke mansion, this table is filled with actual conversation.

Hongjoong’s father asks about school, his mother tells stories from work, and Hongjoong—well, he mostly watches you.

And under the table, his hand finds your thigh. You stiffen slightly at the unexpected touch, but when you glance at him, he’s focused on his plate like nothing’s happening.

His fingers, however, trace slow, lazy patterns against your skin, just under the hem of your skirt.

You shift slightly, your breath catching, but you don’t move his hand. His thumb presses lightly, and your nails dig into your fork.

Mrs. Kim suddenly laughs at something her husband says, then turns to you with a knowing look.

"YN, dear," She starts, voice full of something—something playful, something amused. "How long have you and my son been together?"

You nearly choke on your drink, Hongjoong finally looks up, biting back a smile.

"Excuse me?" You ask, feigning innocence.

His father smirks, shaking his head "You two think we don’t notice?" He nods toward his son. "You’ve been staring at her all night."

Hongjoong shrugs, far too casual "Can you blame me?"

You shoot him a look.

His mother giggles "And he’s been holding your hand under the table for the last ten minutes."

Oh.

You didn’t even realize. Somewhere between his teasing and the conversation, his hand had slipped into yours, fingers lazily intertwined.

Again, Hongjoong just smirks.

You clear your throat, quickly pulling your hand away "Anyway," You say, trying to steer the conversation anywhere else.

But his mother just hums, giving you both a knowing smile "Ah, young love."

Hongjoong leans in slightly, voice low enough for only you to hear "We could make it official, you know."

You gasp, eyes widening as you slap his arm lightly. "Hongjoong!"

His parents laugh at the interaction, clearly entertained, while Hongjoong just grins, absolutely unbothered.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, pretty,” He teases, rubbing his arm dramatically like you actually hurt him.

You roll your eyes, ignoring the warmth creeping up your neck. Idiot.

After dinner, Mrs. Kim insists on making tea, despite Hongjoong’s grumbles that ‘YN probably only drinks champagne, Mom.’ You roll your eyes but accept the tea anyway, sitting at the kitchen counter as his parents clear the table.

Hongjoong stands beside you, arms crossed, leaning slightly against the counter. He’s relaxed, comfortable in his home, but his eyes flicker toward you every few seconds.

You tap your nails against your mug “Your mom likes me.”

He snorts “Understatement. She’s already planning our wedding.”

You scoff, taking a sip of tea “I’d be a great addition to your family, let’s be honest.”

He tilts his head, considering “You do have expensive taste. My mom would love the gifts you’d bring her.”

You nudge him with your elbow “Oh, shut up.”

He grins, but before he can say something else, his mother calls from the living room. “Joong, come help your father with something!”

Hongjoong exhales through his nose, standing up straight “Be right back.” He pauses before heading off, leaning down just slightly so only you can hear. “Don’t miss me too much, pretty.”

You roll your eyes, but he catches the way your lips twitch.

Once he’s gone, you’re left in the quiet of the kitchen, staring down at your tea. It’s strange being here. The warmth, the ease—nothing like the cold, calculated world you come from.

And you hate how much you like it.

A few minutes later, you’re checking your phone when you feel it—gentle fingers trailing down your back. You shiver, looking up just as Hongjoong settles behind you, his presence warm, solid.

“They’re in the living room,” He murmurs. “We have a few minutes alone.”

You raise an eyebrow “And?”

“And…” He steps closer, his hand resting lightly against your hip. “I want to be with you without my mom watching like she’s this close to planning our honeymoon.”

You smirk, but before you can retort, he dips down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

Your breath catches. His lips ghost over your skin, slow, deliberate. His hands find your waist, fingers tightening ever so slightly.

You’re still sitting on the stool, and he’s standing between your legs, close enough that you can feel his warmth against you.

“Joong—”

“Shhh,” He murmurs, placing another kiss just beneath your jaw. “I just like being near you.”

Your heart stutters. For all the teasing, all the flirting, this moment is different. It’s soft. Unrushed. His fingers brush over the fabric of your skirt, trailing lazily along your thigh like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

You don’t stop him. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, giving him more access.

He hums in approval, lips brushing your pulse before finally pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, but there’s something else in them—something real.

His thumb traces circles against your hip “You should come over more.”

You exhale a quiet laugh “Your mom would love that.”

“She would,” He agrees, smirking. “And maybe I would too.”

Your fingers find the collar of his sweater, tugging him closer until your lips are almost touching.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then he kisses you.

It’s slow, deliberate, nothing rushed or messy. Just the warmth of his lips, the way his fingers tighten against you, the quiet hum that vibrates against your mouth.

He’s holding back, you can tell. And maybe you like that.

Maybe you like all of it.

But before things can go any further, the sound of someone clearing their throat shatters the moment.

You both freeze.

Slowly, you turn your head—only to see Mrs. Kim standing in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.

Hongjoong immediately steps back, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Uh...”

She sighs, shaking her head “At least take her out on a proper date first, Kim Hongjoongl.”

You burst out laughing, while Hongjoong groans, burying his face in his hands.

✮ ⋆

After that awkward situation in the kitchen, you and Hongjoong make your way to his room, excusing yourselves with a vague, ‘We have things to do.’ His parents exchange a glance but don’t argue. If anything, they look downright amused.

His room is cleaner than you expected. Bookshelves filled with everything from fantasy novels to thick textbooks line the walls, and his desk is cluttered but organized.

As he digs through his drawers for fresh clothes, you skim over his bookshelf, fingers brushing over the spines until one catches your eye.

You plop onto his bed, flipping through the pages, completely lost in the book.

Then, the bathroom door clicks open.

You glance up—and immediately freeze.

Hongjoong stands in the doorway, fresh from the shower, steam still curling around him. His damp hair clings slightly to his forehead, droplets of water trailing down the sharp planes of his chest.

And the only thing he’s wearing? A towel.

Low on his hips.

Your throat runs dry.

He doesn’t notice at first—he’s too busy running a hand through his hair, sighing like he’s still processing everything that happened tonight. But then he looks at you, noticing your wide eyes, the way your fingers have frozen over the page.

His lips curve “Oh?” He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Something wrong, pretty?”

You snap the book shut. Hard.

“Why are you standing there like that?” You demand, clearing your throat, pretending that nothing about this is affecting you.

Hongjoong shrugs “It’s my room. Didn’t know I needed to be fully dressed to exist in it.”

You glare at him “You’re doing this on purpose.”

He tilts his head, looking far too pleased with himself “Doing what on purpose?”

Your jaw clenches. Fine. Two can play this game.

You set the book aside and stretch, tilting your head slightly, letting your gaze slowly trail down his torso.

Hongjoong’s smirk falters just a little. Then, as if completely unfazed, you lean back against his pillows, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“You know,” You say, feigning nonchalance, “For a nerd, you’re in surprisingly good shape.”

He blinks. Then—he laughs, shaking his head “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

You raise an eyebrow “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” He steps closer, eyes darkening slightly, “That you are the biggest tease I’ve ever met.”

He’s right in front of you now, way too close, the scent of his shampoo still fresh. You can see the water droplets clinging to his collarbone, sliding down his skin, disappearing beneath the towel.

Your stomach flutters “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You say, voice way too even.

Hongjoong hums, unconvinced. And then his fingers graze your knee. You jolt slightly, but before you can react, he slides his hand up, slow, teasing. Over your thigh, pushing your skirt up just barely, his fingertips ghosting over sensitive skin.

Your breath hitches.

He leans in, voice low, taunting “Tell me, pretty…” His lips hover near your ear. “If I am doing this on purpose… is it working?”

Your pulse pounds.

God, you hate him. But you also don’t.

And maybe that’s the real problem.

Before you can make the very reckless decision to grab him by the towel and end his teasing yourself, Hongjoong grins—the cockiest grin you’ve ever seen—and pulls away completely, stepping back toward his dresser like nothing just happened.

“I should get dressed,” He muses, voice far too casual. “We have places to be, remember?”

You stare at him. He’s so lucky you like him.

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms as he rummages through his drawer “You are the most annoying person I know.”

He tosses a shirt over his head, grinning “And yet, here you are.”

You throw a pillow at him.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Fifteen minutes later, you arrive at the café, the glow from the streetlights casting long shadows through the clear glass windows. Your steps slow as your eyes land on her.

Jina.

She’s behind the counter, casually wiping a glass, completely unaware of what’s coming.

Your lips press into a thin line, irritation bubbling to the surface.

Hongjoong notices immediately, chuckling under his breath as he reaches out, fingers tilting your chin so your eyes meet his instead.

"Stop frowning, pretty. You’ll get wrinkles."

You scoff “Joong, that slut tried to mess with me and you. Don’t expect me to act all nice and sweet around her.”

His lips twitch with amusement, but instead of scolding you, he leans down and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your lips.

"It’s okay, pretty. But please don’t punch her, or I’ll never bring you to a café again."

You roll your eyes “Whatever.”

Hongjoong sighs but laces his fingers through yours, leading you toward the entrance. The bell above the door jingles softly as you step inside, the warm scent of coffee and vanilla lingering in the air.

The second Jina hears the sound, she turns, already slipping into her customer-service smile.

"Welcome to—"

Her voice dies in her throat the moment she sees you.

You, standing next to him.

You, holding his hand like nothing had happened between you two.

A flicker of something—shock, unease—crosses her face before she quickly schools her expression.

Still, you catch it.

The hesitation.

The way she stiffens ever so slightly under your gaze.

She swallows, clearing her throat "Welcome to Café Aurora. How can I help you?"

Hongjoong doesn’t respond. Neither do you. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a neatly folded envelope, placing it on the counter.

"It’s my resignation. Thank Mr. Choi on my behalf."

Jina flinches slightly at the soft thud of the envelope hitting the polished wood.

"What?" Her voice comes out quieter than she intends.

He doesn’t repeat himself. He simply watches her, expression unreadable. A heavy silence settles between the three of you, thick with tension.

Then, he speaks again—his tone even, but firm.

"Before we go, I want to ask you something, Jina." She tenses. "Where do you know Park Seonghwa from?"

For the first time, true panic flashes across her face.

Her breath catches. Her fingers tighten around the rag she’s holding, knuckles turning white.

You don’t miss the way her eyes flick toward you—just for a second—before she quickly looks away, pretending to focus on something across the room.

Like she’s debating whether or not to lie.

Like she’s wondering if you remember.

Your own brows furrow slightly. Why would she—And then it hits you.

The familiarity in her gaze. The way she seems to know you, not just Hongjoong.

You narrow your eyes “Why do I feel like I’ve seen you before?”

Jina’s jaw tightens, lips pressing into a firm line.

Hongjoong shifts slightly beside you, glancing between the two of you “Wait. You know her?”

You blink, memories stirring in the back of your mind, hazy but persistent. You have seen her before.

Not here.

Not as Hongjoong’s coworker.

But years ago.

At Seonghwa’s house.

Your stomach drops, realization crashes into you like a tidal wave. Jina wasn’t just some random girl working at this café.

She worked for Seonghwa’s family.

She had been there. During the years you “dated” Hwa, when you spent countless afternoons at his house. And yet, back then, you never really noticed her.

She was just another staff member, someone in the background, someone who blended into the luxury of the Park estate.

But the way Jina looks at you now—Like she remembers everything.

Like she knows exactly who you are.

Your throat tightens, and Hongjoong notices the change in your expression immediately.

“YN?”

Jina exhales slowly, fingers still gripping the rag in her hands. Then—finally—she speaks. "So, you really don’t remember, huh?"

You meet her gaze, heart pounding “Remember what?”

Jina lets out a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking her head “Figures.” She leans forward slightly, lowering her voice. “You used to be in his house all the time, but you never even looked at me, did you?”

Your fingers curl into fists “What the hell are you talking about?”

Jina tilts her head, eyes glinting “You really don’t know, do you?”

Hongjoong stiffens beside you “Know what?”

She pauses, studying you both.

"Are you sure Seonghwa wanted something serious with you back then?"

A sharp, hollow ache settles in your chest, the weight of Jina’s words pressing into you like a slow, creeping poison.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Your voice is sharp, but there’s something beneath it—something raw.

Jina smirks, tapping her fingers against the counter, eyes flickering between you and Hongjoong.

“I mean exactly what I said. Are you sure Seonghwa ever really saw you as his?”

Hongjoong shifts beside you, his presence grounding you, but your pulse is hammering against your ribs.

“You’re lying.”

Jina raises a brow, clearly amused “Am I?”

Your jaw clenches. You want to ignore this. You want to roll your eyes, turn around, and walk out like none of this matters. Like he doesn’t matter. Like your past with Hwa was just that—past.

But something inside you twists.

You had liked him—really liked him. Back then, you had convinced yourself that the games you played with him meant something, that the tension, the lingering glances, the way he acted like you were the only girl in the room was real.

But if Jina’s words were true—if he had never really meant it, if you were just one of many—then what the hell had all of it been for?

Your stomach churns. Hongjoong, silent until now, finally steps in, his voice firm, protective.

“YN, we don’t have to listen to this.”

But you can’t move. You can’t breathe. Because the memories are flashing—the nights you waited for Seonghwa to call, the excuses he made, the moments that never quite added up.

Jina watches you, her smirk deepening “There it is.”

You snap your gaze back to hers, eyes burning “What do you want? Huh? What’s your goal here?”

Jina leans back, feigning innocence “I don’t want anything. I just think you deserve to know what kind of man Seonghwa really is.”

It shouldn’t hurt. Not anymore.

You have Hongjoong.

Hongjoong, who would never play with your feelings like that. Hongjoong, who looks at you like you’re the only girl in the world.

And suddenly, that’s enough.

The pain dulls.

You exhale, letting go of the sharp, bitter sting in your chest. You turn to him, and when your eyes meet, the warmth there is undeniable.

You have everything you need.

Seonghwa is just a name from your past. A mistake.

You look back at Jina, but this time, your lips curve—not into a smirk, not into anger, but into indifference.

“You know what, Jina?” You say smoothly, voice steady. “I don’t care.”

Jina blinks, her smirk faltering for the first time.

You step closer, tilting your head “You really thought this would break me?” A soft chuckle leaves your lips. “That’s pathetic.”

And with that, you turn to Hongjoong, grabbing his hand as you lace your fingers through his. His grip tightens, reassuring.

Without another word, you pull him toward the exit, leaving Jina behind.

Because for the first time, you realize—you’ve already won.

✮ ⋆

The low hum of the car engine fills the silence between you and Hongjoong as he drives through the dimly lit streets.

The city blurs past, neon lights reflecting against the windshield, but your mind is somewhere else—stuck in the past.

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his eyes flicking toward you every few seconds, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

He can sense it—the shift in your mood, the way your shoulders are tense, the distant look in your eyes.

“You’re quiet,” He finally says, voice softer than usual.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you sigh, shifting slightly in your seat.

“I’m just… thinking.”

Hongjoong hums in acknowledgment, giving you space to find the words. You exhale sharply, pressing your forehead against the window for a moment before turning to him.

“Did I ever tell you that I really liked Seonghwa?”

Hongjoong’s fingers twitch around the wheel, but he keeps his expression neutral.

“No, but I assumed it for the way you two used to act.” He says carefully.

A bitter chuckle leaves your lips “Well, I did. Or at least, I thought I did.” You shake your head, scoffing at yourself. “I was so sure that what we had was real. That if I played hard to get long enough, he’d actually make a move.”

He doesn’t interrupt, just listens.

Your fingers tighten into your lap “And now, to find out that he was screwing around with Jina the entire time…” You trail off, clenching your jaw. “I was an idiot.”

Hongjoong exhales, reaching over to take your hand in his. His thumb strokes slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“You weren’t an idiot,” He murmurs. “You just believed in someone who didn’t deserve it.”

Your chest tightens. You glance down at your joined hands, the warmth of his touch spreading through you, grounding you.

He continues, his voice gentle but firm “Seoghwa never deserved you. And if he had even half a brain, he would’ve known that.”

You look at him then, your lips parting slightly. There’s no jealousy in his voice. No smugness. Just certainty. Like he’s always known your worth—even when you didn’t.

For the first time since leaving the café, the ache in your chest softens.

You squeeze his hand “Thank you, Joongie.” You say quietly.

Hongjoong offers you a small smile before focusing back on the road.

“Are you going to confront him?” He asks.

You nod, your gaze sharpening “Oh, absolutely. He owes me an apology, and he’s going to give it.”

He chuckles “Remind me never to piss you off.”

You smirk, feeling lighter than before “Oh, you already did. You’re just lucky I forgave you.”

By the time you pull into the long driveway of your mansion, the tension between you and Hongjoong has shifted into something else entirely.

Something heavier.

The moment the car stops, silence settles between you—thick, charged.

Hongjoong shifts in his seat, eyes flickering to yours, dark and hungry “You’re staring,” He murmurs.

Your lips curl into a slow smirk “So are you.”

He swallows hard. You know what he’s thinking. You feel it—the weight of weeks spent apart, of lingering touches that never went far enough, of all the things left unsaid.

And now, alone in the dim glow of the car, it finally snaps.

You reach for him first, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you pull him in. Your lips crash against his, and the moment they do, he groans—low, needy, like he’s been starving for this.

Hongjoong kisses you like he’s making up for lost time—desperate, reckless, his hands sliding up your waist, gripping you tighter than he should.

You don’t care, you want it—want him.

A soft moan escapes you when his fingers slip beneath your dress, skimming along your thighs, his touch scorching against your skin.

“Fuck,” He breathes against your lips, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged. “We should—go inside.”

You smirk, trailing your fingers down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer beneath your palm.

“You sure you can wait that long?”

His jaw clenches, his hands tightening around you, and before you know it, he’s pulling you into his lap, his seat pushed back just enough.

The moment you straddle him, he loses it.

His hands roam greedily, his lips devour yours, his breath hitching every time you grind against him.

But then—

The sudden flash of headlights approaching the driveway snaps you both back to reality.

You jolt, your eyes widening “Shit.”

Hongjoong curses, gripping your waist as you scramble off him, both of you breathless, flushed, aching. You adjust your skirt, and Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

“You’re a menace,” He mutters, voice hoarse.

You grin, fixing your lipstick in the rearview mirror “And you love it.”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head “Yeah. I do.”

The moment you step out of the car, smoothing your dress and pretending you weren’t just grinding on your nerdy boy, you hear the hum of an approaching engine.

Hongjoong, still catching his breath, freezes beside you. His hair is a mess, his hoodie slightly disheveled—he looks guilty as hell. You turn your head just in time to see the sleek black car pulling into the driveway.

Your parents’ car, your heart drops.

He exhales sharply “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You barely have time to compose yourself before the car door swings open and your mother steps out first, graceful as ever. Your father follows, adjusting his cufflinks, both completely unaware of what they just interrupted.

Yet.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s voice is warm, delighted. “What a surprise to see you home early.”

Hongjoong tenses beside you, hands stuffed into his pockets, looking like a kid caught sneaking out past curfew.

You, on the other hand, recover instantly, flipping your hair over your shoulder and flashing a perfectly practiced smile.

“Hi.” You greet smoothly, stepping forward like nothing is out of the ordinary. “Didn’t expect you two back so soon. How was dinner?”

Your father eyes Hongjoong for a second longer than necessary before answering.

“Productive,” He says, his tone measured. “We met with investors—secured another deal.”

“Oh, how lovely.” You nod, your voice syrupy sweet, desperately hoping they won’t notice the faint smudge of lipstick on Hongjoong’s jaw.

But your mother’s sharp gaze flickers between the two of you, taking in every detail. The way Hongjoong won’t meet her eyes, the slight flush on his face, the way your dress looks just a little more wrinkled than before.

Then—realization dawns.

Her lips twitch “Oh, honey,” She hums, amused. “We didn’t… interrupt anything, did we?”

Hongjoong chokes. Actually chokes.

You blink, keeping your expression perfectly neutral “Of course not,” You lie effortlessly.

Your mother tilts her head, clearly not believing a single word.

Your father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Darling, be discreet,” He mutters. “If you must do… this”—he waves a vague hand between you and Hongjoong—“At least have the decency to do it inside the house.”

Hongjoong turns bright red. his glasses covering the way his eyes shut with embarrassment.

You grin, looping your arm through his “Of course, Daddy. We’ll be very discreet.”

Your father groans. Your mother, meanwhile, just smirks, shaking her head.

“Hongjoong, dear,” She says smoothly, “Why don’t you come inside for a drink before you go?”

Hongjoong, still recovering, nods stiffly “Uh. Yeah. Sure.”

You pat his chest, whispering, “Relax, nerd. My mom likes you.”

He mutters under his breath “That’s not the one I’m worried about.”

And with that, you lead him inside—your parents following close behind, and your mother still very much amused.

The warmth of the mansion greets you as you step inside, but the atmosphere is anything but comfortable for Hongjoong.

Your mother glides in effortlessly, a small knowing smile still lingering on her lips, while your father sighs heavily, already loosening his tie like he doesn’t want to deal with this tonight.

Hongjoong, on the other hand?

He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

You squeeze his hand reassuringly as the four of you step into the lounge, where the dim glow of the chandelier casts soft shadows across the room.

Your mother gestures toward the leather sofas “Sit, sit,” She says, her voice almost teasing.

He hesitates. You don’t.

Dragging him along with you, you plop down elegantly on one of the couches, crossing your legs, exuding nothing but confidence. Hongjoong, stiff as a board, lowers himself beside you—looking very out of place.

Your father pours himself a drink, running a tired hand through his hair before turning to him.

“Whiskey?” He asks.

Hongjoong blinks “Uh—no, sir. I’m good.”

Your mother hums, sitting gracefully across from you both “You don’t have to be so formal, Hongjoong. We already know you and YN are… close.”

He shifts uncomfortably “Right.”

You smirk, tapping your fingers against your knee “You don’t have to traumatize him, Mom.”

Your mother chuckles, tilting her head “I think it’s adorable. You’re the first boy YN has ever brought home in a serious way.”

Hongjoong freezes.

Your father scoffs “Serious?” He sips his drink, unimpressed. “This is the same girl who threw a designer shoe at my head when I suggested she attend a dinner instead of going out with friends.”

Your mother ignores him “Hongjoong, sweetheart, how is your family?”

He blinks, snapping out of his existential crisis “Oh—uh, good. My dad had his first day today. Thank you again for the opportunity, Mr. Clarke.”

Your father nods, dismissive “He did well.”

Your mother, however, smiles warmly “It was YN’s idea.”

Mike turns to you. “I know,” he says softly. “I still don’t know how to thank you.”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “You don’t have to.”

But your mother? She notices everything—the way Hongjoong looks at you, the way your fingers twitch like you’re stopping yourself from reaching for his hand, the way he makes you soft.

Her smile deepens “Well,” She hums, placing her glass down. “Since we’re all so comfortable, why don’t you join us for dinner sometime soon, Hongjoong?”

He stiffens, you grin. Your father sighs, already regretting everything.

Hongjoong clears his throat “That’s… really generous, Mrs. Clarke.”

“Oh, please,” She waves him off. “Call me Catherine.”

Hongjoong visibly swallows “That’s… really generous, Catherine.”

Your father nearly chokes on his drink, you snicker under your breath.

Your mother just beams “Perfect. I’ll set something up soon.”

He nods, and just when he thinks the interrogation is over your mother’s eyes flicker between the two of you, her smirk returning.

“So,” She leans forward slightly, voice dangerously amused. “Where exactly were you two before we arrived?”

Hongjoong stops breathing.

Your father sighs into his whiskey “Jesus Christ, Catherine.”

You, completely unbothered, just smirk “Nowhere interesting.”

Your mother laughs, sipping her wine.

Hongjoong? He’s never been more stressed in his life.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The school hallways are alive with chatter as you step through the entrance, the silence parting for you like the sea parting for royalty.

It’s been three weeks since you last walked these halls. Three long weeks, spent hiding in the shadows of your own house, nursing wounds both physical and emotional.

But today, you're back.

Your heels click against the floor with each confident step, and you feel the eyes of the students on you—some of them staring in awe, some in jealousy, and others in pure admiration.

Whispers ripple through the crowd as you walk past them, and you can’t help but smirk. You know what they’re saying.

The Queen Bee has returned.

You walk with your head held high, shoulders squared, and a smile that borders on smug. Your friends are all there, surrounding you like the loyal subjects they are. Mindy and Wooyoung are by your side, smiling at the attention you're getting, the flashes of admiration in their eyes mirroring your own.

But even as you drink in the attention, there’s something in the air that you can’t ignore. The familiar pressure of someone’s gaze—the feeling of eyes on you from across the room.

You know who it is before you even see him.

Seonghwa.

You turn your head, catching sight of him standing near his locker, a faint smile playing on his lips as he watches you approach. He straightens as you get closer, the friendly expression in his eyes barely masking the sharpness beneath.

"Sweetheart," He says, his voice smooth, warm, and filled with an almost brotherly concern. "Where have you been? Haven't seen you around for a while. Everything okay?"

You smile, perfectly poised, the kind of smile that looks warm but never quite reaches your eyes.

“Seonghwa,” You greet, stopping just short of where he stands. “How sweet of you to notice.”

He chuckles, leaning against his locker with the kind of casual arrogance that once made your stomach flutter.

Now? It makes you sick.

“Of course I noticed,” He says smoothly, eyes flickering over your face, your stance—always analyzing, always calculating. “Three weeks is a long time to go without seeing you.”

Mindy and Wooyoung exchange glances behind you, but they say nothing. They know better than to interrupt.

You tilt your head, feigning curiosity “Did you miss me?”

Hwa smirks, and there it is—that infuriating, cocky confidence, the belief that you’ll always fall into his hands, just like you used to.

“I think the better question is,” He steps closer, voice lowering, “Did you miss me?”

You laugh, the sound light and dismissive, like the very thought is entertaining.

“Hwa,” You purr, tapping a manicured nail against your chin, “I’ve had… so much to think about these past few weeks.” Your gaze drags over him, slow, assessing—letting him think he still has a chance. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve learned.”

His smirk falters for half a second, but you see it.

You see everything.

You step closer, close enough that only he can hear you when you murmur, “You and I have so much to catch up on.”

Seonghwa studies you, trying to gauge if you’re being playful or if there’s something more dangerous beneath your words.

You don’t let him figure it out.

Instead, you brush past him, letting your perfume linger in the air between you, a lingering reminder that you are no longer the fool who once loved him blindly.

Mindy falls into step beside you, waiting until you’re out of earshot before whispering, “That was fucking terrifying.”

Wooyoung just whistles “Damn, babydoll. He’s gonna suffer.”

You smile.

He has no idea.

✮ ⋆

The cafeteria is alive with energy, students laughing, chatting, living in their own little worlds. But at your table? The air is thick, heavy with tension, the kind that turns heads and makes people pay attention.

You sit at your usual spot, sipping your drink as Mindy and Wooyoung throw teasing comments back and forth.

Across from you, San and Mingi lounge comfortably, more entertained than anything as Seonghwa takes his seat, acting as if he owns the space.

And he might have before.

Before he started working against you. Before he thought he could outplay you. Before you learned the truth.

Seonghwa leans forward, flashing you a smirk, his presence demanding your attention "So, baby—"

“Hey, pretty.”

The entire table shifts, your smirk grows before you even turn to look. Because you already know who that voice belongs to.

Hongjoong.

He slides into the seat beside you like he’s been doing it for years, like this is exactly where he belongs. And then—he does it. He leans in, presses a soft kiss to the corner of your lips, his hand resting against your thigh like it’s his right.

Seonghwa goes still.

Mindy bites her lip to keep from grinning. Wooyoung? He’s barely containing a laugh.

San and Mingi glance at each other, picking up on something dangerous.

But Seonghwa?

He’s frozen, staring at you and Hongjoong like the world just tilted off its axis.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” His voice is low, tight with something uglier than frustration.

You tilt your head, eyes dancing with amusement “Something wrong?”

Hwa’s jaw clenches “I thought…” He stops himself, recalculating, but the damage is already done. You see it in his eyes.

He thought he still had a chance.

And now? He doesn’t.

Hongjoong doesn’t even glance at him. He just shrugs, completely at ease “I think he thought we weren’t on good terms, pretty.”

Seonghwa’s eyes snap to him, burning with fury.

You smirk.

“Oh, Hwa,” Mindy sighs dramatically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You should’ve kept up with the gossip.”

Seonghwa stares at you, as if waiting for some kind of explanation, some confirmation that this is all a joke.

But you don’t give him one. Instead, you lean into Hongjoong’s touch, fingers grazing over his wrist in an intimate, deliberate move.

The weight of his glare is suffocating, burning into you and Hongjoong, but neither of you react. You just smile, the picture of ease, while Hongjoong—calm, collected, unbothered—takes a sip of his drink like this is just another normal day.

San and Mingi exchange a look, sensing the storm brewing, but Wooyoung and Mindy? They’re thriving in the chaos.

Seonghwa finally speaks, his voice tight, controlled, but just barely.

“So, what? You two just—got back together?” His fingers drum against the table, a nervous tick he can’t quite suppress.

You lean back, feigning surprise “Why wouldn’t we?”

His eyes darken, his lips part like he’s about to argue, but he stops himself. He’s realizing things, piecing together all the lies he swallowed as truth.

Mindy hums, propping her chin on her hand “Did you really think they broke up, Hwa?”

Seonghwa doesn’t look at her. He looks at you and you hold his gaze, refusing to be the first to break. He hated that about you—how you never wavered, never bent to his will.

His tongue clicks, irritation flashing across his face “It’s just funny, that’s all.” His smirk returns, but it’s weaker now, forced. “Considering the rumors.”

You feign innocence “Rumors?”

He leans in, dropping his voice so only you can hear “That this nerd was using you.”

Hongjoong tenses beside you.

You grin, slow and deliberate “Oh, that.”

Hwa’s smirk twitches. You place a hand on Hongjoong’s thigh, casual, effortless—a claim.

“If that were true,” You murmur, “Do you really think I’d still be with him?”

Seonghwa hates the way Hongjoong doesn’t even have to say anything. Hates the way you’re looking at him like he’s the one who’s pathetic.

His jaw tightens, and for a brief second, you can see it—the fury, the frustration, the realization that he played himself.

And then—he laughs. Shakes his head, leaning back, drumming his fingers on the table again, pretending this doesn’t bother him.

“Guess not,” He mutters, eyes flicking toward Wooyoung and Mindy. “Guess someone’s been feeding me bullshit.”

Mindy gasps dramatically, placing a hand on her chest “Oh no, Hwa. Were you misled?”

Wooyoung grins, wrapping an arm around her “Damn, man. That’s rough.”

Hwa’s eyes narrow. He knows.

He knows they set him up.

And when he looks at you one last time, you don’t have to say it out loud.

You played the game better.

And he lost.

For the first time, he has no control.

For the first time, you won.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The final bell rings, signaling the end of another school day. Students spill into the hallways, laughter and chatter filling the air as everyone heads off to do whatever rich, privileged, private-school kids do after class.

You glance at Hongjoong as you walk beside him, nudging his arm lightly.

“So, what’s the plan, nerd? Are you free?”

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck “Actually… Yunho, Jongho, and Yeosang need me for something in the library.”

“You’re ditching me to do nerd things?”

He chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets “Not ditching. I did say you could come.”

You stop walking, turning to him with a slow, dramatic smirk “You want me to do nerd stuff… with your nerd friends… nerd?”

Hongjoong grins “Basically.”

You scoff, crossing your arms “I should say no on principle.”

“But you won’t,” He counters easily, smug.

You narrow your eyes at him, then sigh in exaggerated defeat “Fine. I’ll grace you all with my presence. But if I get bored, I’m leaving.”

Hongjoong nudges your waist playfully “You won’t.”

You roll your eyes but let him lead the way.

The library is quiet, dimly lit by the late afternoon sun filtering through the tall, arched windows. Shelves of books stretch high, the scent of old paper and wood polish lingering in the air.

At a far table, three familiar faces sit, already setting up their things—Yunho, Jongho, and Yeosang. You and Hongjoong approach, and Yunho looks up first, his face brightening in surprise.

“Oh, hey, man. You actually brought her?”

Jongho smirks “I thought she’d be too busy shopping or making people cry.”

Hongjoong shrugs “She wanted to come.”

You snort, sliding into a chair “Let’s not lie to ourselves, Kim.”

Yeosang laughs, shaking his head before glancing toward the bookshelves “We should probably get started. Dann’s already here.”

“Wait—Dann’s here?” The moment Hongjoong says it, you stiffen too.

You turn your head slowly—too slowly—until your gaze locks onto her.

Dann.

She stands a few feet away, a book clutched tightly in her hands, her entire body tense.

Your presence here? She wasn’t expecting it.

You and Hongjoong sit down at the table, but there's an undeniable awkwardness that hangs in the air. Dann’s presence is almost suffocating—you can feel her gaze on you, but you pretend you don't notice.

Instead, you lean in toward Hongjoong, your hand finding its way to his thigh under the table.

His fingers graze your wrist as you smile at him, brushing your lips against his ear “Ready to work, nerd?” You murmur, your breath warm against his skin.

He smiles back, that familiar look of adoration in his eyes “Always, but first—”

He leans in and kisses you, slow and teasing, the kind of kiss that makes you feel like the world just stops for a moment.

You pull away just slightly, eyes meeting his “You really need to stop distracting me,” You tease.

Hongjoong grins, not one bit sorry “I can’t help it when you're so distracting.”

The others at the table shift uncomfortably, and you feel the heat of their awkward glances. Yunho, trying to break the tension, clears his throat loudly.

“So, Queen Bee, you gonna help us with this or what?”

You blink “How quaint.”

“Yeah, we're gonna need someone with that attitude to get through this,” Jongho jokes, nudging your shoulder playfully. “And since Joong’s clearly already distracted—”

You roll your eyes but don’t resist “Fine, fine. What are we doing?”

From the corner of your eye, you catch Dann standing slightly apart from the group, fidgeting with the book in her hands. She’s trying to act like she’s not watching, but you feel it—her stare, the weight of her presence, the discomfort written all over her face.

Hongjoong, oblivious to everything but you, leans in slightly “We’re creating study guides for other students. Wanna help?”

You scoff, crossing your arms “Study guides? I didn’t know school nerds were running that kind of operation.”

Jongho laughs, tilting his head at you “Really? I didn’t know you even knew about the study guides. I thought you just paid nerds to take your exams for you.”

Your jaw drops slightly in mock offense, but in reality, you find the comment hilarious.

“Excuse you,” You huff, flipping your hair dramatically. “I am more than a pretty face, you nerd.” You snatch a textbook from the stack in front of you. “Now, give me those fucking books.”

Hongjoong grins at you, shaking his head “See? She’s a fast learner.”

“I was always smart,” You correct, flipping open the book and pretending to scan the page.

“That’s up for debate,” Jongho quips.

“You better watch it,” You warn, smirking.

Yunho chuckles, nudging Dann, who still stands awkwardly on the sidelines “Come on, don’t just stand there. You’re supposed to be the real nerd here.”

Dann startles slightly, caught off guard “H-Huh?”

Yeosang shoots her a knowing look, his voice light but careful “Don’t act like you haven’t done this a million times before. You’re always the one fixing our answers.”

Jongho nods in agreement “Yeah, sit down, Dann.”

Dann hesitates, but the warmth in their voices, the familiarity, makes her shift awkwardly. “I—yeah.”

“You in?” Yeosang asks.

Her heart clenches. Because that’s the problem, isn’t it? She was never really in. Not the way you are.

Not the way she wanted to be.

But despite the sting, she forces a smile, nodding “Yeah. I’m in.”

She pretends it doesn’t hurt when she sees Hongjoong’s hand absently squeeze your thigh under the table.

She pretends that being included still means something.

Even if it’s too late.

——

As the study session progresses, the library fills with the quiet hum of flipping pages, hushed discussions, and the occasional laughter from your table.

You're flipping through one of the books, trying to make sense of the notes when Hongjoong leans closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“You sure you’re not just pretending to read?” He murmurs.

You scoff, shoving his face away lightly “Shut up, nerd.”

Jongho snorts “That’s literally what we said—she just sits here to look smart.”

You glare at him, tossing a pencil in his direction “I will end you.”

Yeosang smirks, tapping his pen against his notebook “I mean, to be fair, YN, we are impressed. Usually, you’d be terrorizing the halls, not… doing actual schoolwork.”

Yunho grins “And she hasn’t threatened to quit yet. Growth.”

“Yet,” You emphasize, pointing your pen at him. “Don't get ahead of yourselves.”

Hongjoong chuckles, sliding an arm over the back of your chair, his fingers lightly grazing your shoulder.

“Nah, she’s too competitive to quit now. She’s gotta prove us all wrong.”

You huff but don’t deny it. Meanwhile, Dann barely hears the conversation.

She keeps her head down, scribbling mindlessly in the margins of her notebook, pretending to be focused. But in reality, she’s distracted—by the way Hongjoong leans into you, how effortlessly you fall into place among his friends.

She should be used to this feeling by now, but it still stings.

Yunho nudges her again, voice lighthearted “Dann, you good? You haven’t called me an idiot yet, and I know I’ve messed up at least three times.”

Dann blinks, forcing a weak chuckle “Oh—uh, yeah. Sorry. What were you saying?”

Yeosang tilts his head, studying her a little too carefully, but doesn’t press.

“Was just asking if I should format this section like the last one or break it into smaller parts,” Yunho says, handing her a sheet of notes.

She takes it with trembling fingers, trying to focus. But then—

Soft laughter.

She glances up just in time to see Hongjoong kissing your cheek, his hand resting way too comfortably on your lap.

Her stomach twists.

She did this.

She made a deal with Seonghwa. She fed Mike information. She helped spread rumors about you.

And for what?

To watch Hongjoong fall for someone else anyway? To watch you win again?

Her grip on the pen tightens. But… it’s not jealousy that eats at her this time.

It’s guilt.

Because if she had just stayed out of it, if she hadn’t let her petty resentment and heartbreak drive her, maybe—just maybe—you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

Maybe Mike wouldn’t have gone that far.

Maybe Hongjoong wouldn’t hate her if he knew.

But now, it’s too late.

She can’t undo what she’s done.

And soon, she’ll have no choice but to face it.

✮ ⋆

The library session lasts longer than expected. By the time you all wrap up, the school halls are mostly empty, bathed in the dim glow of the evening lights.

Hongjoong stretches beside you, cracking his neck "Alright, nerd squad, mission accomplished."

Jongho groans, rubbing his eyes "Barely. I swear, if one more person asks me to explain quadratic equations, I'm quitting school."

Yeosang chuckles, stuffing his papers into his bag "You'll survive. Probably."

"Yeah, yeah," Jongho mutters. Then he smirks. "Still can't believe YN actually helped."

"I told you," Hongjoong says proudly, pulling you close with an arm around your waist. "She's not just a pretty face."

"Obviously," You say, flipping your hair.

Yunho stretches, groaning "That’s enough brainpower for today."

Hongjoong grins "You sure? Thought nerd stuff was your hobby."

Linda scoffs, leaning into his side "Yeah, yeah, this was cute and all, but next time, I’m making you all do my homework instead."

Hongjoong chuckles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger on your cheek for just a second longer than necessary, and the small gesture makes your heart flutter.

Across the table, Dann watches.

Everyone is grabbing their things, chatting casually about the day as they prepare to leave.

And then—

"You already know Hongjoong is using you, right?"

The words hang in the air, cutting through the lighthearted atmosphere like a blade.

Hongjoong freezes.

You do too.

Slowly, you turn your head, eyes locking onto Dann.

She looks like she immediately regrets it.

Yunho lets out a low whistle "Damn."

Yeosang glances between the three of you, eyebrows raised.

Jongho exhales sharply, his grip tightening around the strap of his backpack "What the hell did you just say?"

Dann’s mouth parts, but no words come out.

"I—"

"You know what?" Your voice is eerily calm, dangerously calm. "Let me make sure I heard you right." You tilt your head. "You think Joong is using me?"

Dann’s heart pounds, she didn’t mean to say it.

It just slipped.

She was so lost in her own thoughts, so lost in the pain of seeing you two together that the words just fell out.

But now it’s too late.

Hongjoong scoffs, running a hand down his face "That’s actually insane."

"You know what’s more insane?" You fold your arms. "The fact that you even thought that, Dann."

"I—" She tries again, her voice wavering. "I didn’t mean… It was just—"

"Just what?" Your voice is sharper now. "Something you just casually thought? Or did someone put that idea in your head?" Dann’s stomach drops. You let out a bitter chuckle. "Unbelievable."

Yunho and Jongho exchange glances, watching the scene unfold in tense silence.

Yeosang clears his throat "Uh, maybe we should—"

"No." Hongjoong shakes his head. "I wanna hear this." His voice lowers, but it’s sharp—cutting. "You really think that little of me?"

Dann panics.

"I didn’t— I mean, I don’t know!" She blurts out, shaking her head. "I just.. I heard—" She stops herself.

But it’s already too late.

Your expression doesn’t change, but the slightest flicker in your gaze tells Hongjoong everything. You know exactly what’s happening.

But you can’t let on, so you do what you do best.

You smirk "You heard what?" You ask smoothly, tilting your head. "Come on, Dann. Don’t get shy on me now."

Dann feels trapped. Every fiber in her being is screaming at her to fix this.

To lie.

To say anything to make it go away.

But she can’t.

She can only stand there, feeling the weight of her own betrayal crushing down on her.

Hongjoong exhales sharply, shaking his head "I really thought we were cool, Dann."

That makes it worse.

He doesn’t sound angry.

He sounds disappointed.

Dann swallows hard, staring at the floor "I… I should go."

Nobody stops her.

Not even Yunho, Jongho, or Yeosang.

She grabs her things and rushes out, leaving behind the suffocating tension she created.

The second she’s gone, Jongho exhales, shaking his head "What the fuck was that?"

"That was crazy."

Hongjoong is still staring at the door Dann disappeared through.

You touch his arm, voice soft "You okay?"

He looks down at you, searching your face for a moment before sighing "Yeah," He mutters. "I’m just— I don’t know. I was really hoping that she wasn't involved with Park and Mike."

You squeeze his hand, your voice steady "Well, she is."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The dining room is bathed in warm, golden light, the soft clinking of silverware against fine china the only sound filling the space.

The Clarke family dinners are always a performance—elegance, poise, and surface-level pleasantries hiding the rot underneath.

You push your food around your plate, only half-listening as your mother hums approvingly, sipping her wine.

“Well,” She says, a pleased smile on her lips. “I must say, Hongjoong’s father has been a wonderful addition to the household staff.”

Your fork pauses midair.

Mike’s does too.

Your father nods in agreement, setting his glass down “Punctual, respectful, efficient—everything we could ask for. He’s handling the job well.”

You relax slightly, about to take a bite when Mike speaks.

“I’m sorry, but what?”

The room stiffens. You glance up just in time to catch his expression shift—from confusion to realization to rage.

Your mother, ever the graceful hostess, waves a hand delicately “Oh, we didn’t mention it, did we?” She chuckles lightly, as if it were a minor oversight. “YN came to us with the idea. Hongjoong’s father was out of work, so we hired him.”

Mike’s jaw tightens, his grip on his knife turns white-knuckled. You feel the tension roll off him in waves.

Your father—oblivious or simply uninterested in Mike’s growing fury—adds, “And truthfully, it was a great decision. The man is trustworthy. If he keeps it up, he might even stay with us long-term.”

Mike’s fork clatters against his plate. Your mother flinches.

“I see,” He says, voice icy. His gaze cuts straight through you. “And no one thought to tell me?”

“Didn’t seem necessary,” Your father replies simply.

Mike’s anger shifts, redirecting itself entirely onto you “Of course,” He mutters. “It was your idea.”

You meet his gaze, keeping your posture calm, collected, untouchable “Yes,” You say, taking a sip of your wine. “It was.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it “Unbelievable.”

Your mother sighs, setting down her fork “Mike, don’t start.”

“Don’t start?” Mike echoes, leaning back in his chair. “So, let me get this straight—you let her bring some random lower-class worker into our home, let him drive us around like some pet project, and I’m just supposed to accept it?”

“He’s not random,” You say, voice sharp. “He’s Hongjoong’s father.”

“Oh, right.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Hongjoong.” His gaze darkens. “The same guy who’s using you?”

You hold a smile, he still believes it.

Mike leans forward, elbows resting on the table, his eyes glinting with something cruel. “What, did he guilt you into this? Make you feel bad for his pathetic little family?”

You set your wine glass down a little too hard.

Your mother tenses. “Mike—”

But you cut her off “You don’t know a damn thing about him.” Your voice is cold, final.

He smirks “Oh, but I do.” He tilts his head, eyes flickering with mock sympathy. “You just don’t want to hear it.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” You agree, voice like steel. “Because it’s bullshit.”

Mike’s smirk drops.

Your father sighs “Enough.”

But Mike isn’t finished “You can dress him up however you want, YN,” he sneers. “But at the end of the day? He’s just a pathetic loser clinging to your last name.”

Your hands curl into fists.

“And you,” He continues, voice lowering, “Are a complete idiot for falling for it.”

The air is thick with silence.

Your mother exhales, rubbing her temples “Mike, we’re eating.”

Your father levels him with a stare “Your attitude is getting out of hand.”

He laughs, pushing his plate away “Yeah? Well, so is hers.” He stands, chair scraping against the floor. “You can let yourself get used like a fucking idiot if you want,” He says, voice dripping with disgust. “Just don’t expect me to sit here and watch.”

He storms off, leaving the room in tense silence. Your parents exchange a tired look. You take another sip of wine, heartbeat hammering in your chest.

From the hallway, someone is listening.

Dann.

And her guilt grows.

✮ ⋆

The Clarke mansion is quiet, the weight of dinner’s tension still lingering in the air. The staff moves about their business in silence, avoiding eye contact, as if sensing that something dark is simmering beneath the surface.

Dann, however, isn’t moving.

She’s frozen just outside the dining room, her mind replaying everything she just overheard. The way Mike spat his words at you, the venom in his voice, the sheer hatred he had for her—all because she had helped someone he despised.

Because you had made a choice that wasn’t about him.

Dann swallows hard, guilt gnawing at her insides like a slow poison. She should feel relieved that you had fought back—that for once, someone had shut Mike down. But all she feels is fear.

Because if he could talk to his own sister like that, what was stopping him from turning on her?

The thought chills her. She should leave. She should go to her room and pretend none of this is her problem. But before she can move a hand grabs her wrist.

She whirls around, heart slamming against her ribs, only to come face to face with him.

Mike.

The air leaves her lungs. His grip isn’t tight—not yet—but it’s firm enough to send pure terror coursing through her veins.

“You,” He murmurs, his voice dangerously low. His eyes are sharp, scanning her face like she’s something rotten beneath his shoe.

Dann tries to pull away, but his fingers tighten, his hold turning bruising.

“M-Mike,” She stammers, forcing a nervous laugh. “What’s—what’s wrong?”

His lips curl into a cold smirk “You tell me.”

Dann swallows, willing herself to stay calm “I don’t—”

“Did you know?” His voice cuts through the air like a blade.

Dann stiffens “Know… what?”

Mike leans in, his breath hot against her skin. “About Hongjoong’s father working for my family.”

“I—”

His grip tightens “Don’t fucking lie to me, Dann.”

“I didn’t know!” She blurts out, panic creeping into her voice. “I swear, I—I had no idea—”

His jaw ticks. He’s not buying it “You’ve been avoiding me,” He murmurs, his tone almost thoughtful. “Ever since that night.”

Dann goes rigid.

That night.

The night he put his hands on you.

The night she realized just how much of a monster he truly was.

“I haven’t—”

His fingers suddenly clamp around her arm, and he pulls her forward, dragging her through the hallway. Dann yelps, stumbling after him, fear clawing at her throat.

“Where are we—?”

“Somewhere private,” He cuts her off smoothly.

Her stomach twists. The deeper into the house they go, the quieter it becomes. The staff is gone. There’s no one to see them. No one to stop him.

No one to help her.

Mike finally shoves open a door that leads to the back garden, a secluded area far from the main house. The night air is cold, but the way he looks at her sends a different kind of chill through her bones.

Dann stumbles back, chest heaving, trying to create space. “Mike, I—”

“You think I don’t see it?” He says, voice eerily calm. “You think I don’t know you’re hiding something from me?”

Dann shakes her head, heart pounding “I swear I didn’t know about it. I would have told you!”

And it was true, she didn't know about Hongjoong’s father working for your family. But Mike just stares at her. Studying her.

Then he laughs.

A low, quiet chuckle that makes her skin crawl.

“Look at you,” He murmurs. “Fucking shaking.”

Dann flinches.

Mike steps closer, towering over her “I don’t like when people keep secrets from me, Dann,” He murmurs, voice like poison.

Dann’s chest tightens.

This is it.

This is the moment.

She can keep playing his game. Keep letting him control her. Keep living in fear.

Or she can do what she should have done weeks ago.

Her fingers curl into fists. She lifts her head, her cheek still burning, and looks him dead in the eyes.

“You’re a fucking coward.”

Mike freezes.

Dann’s pulse roars in her ears. Her own words shock her. But once they’re out, she can’t stop.

“You think you’re so powerful,” She breathes, voice shaking but growing stronger. “You think everyone should be afraid of you. But deep down, you’re just pathetic.”

Mike’s jaw clenches. Dann forces herself to smile. It’s small, shaky, but it’s there.

And for the first time in weeks, she feels powerful. Because she can see it.

For just a fraction of a second, his smirk drops and before she can react—

His hand swings.

The impact is sharp, brutal. Dann’s head snaps to the side, a gasp catches in her throat. The sting spreads across her cheek like fire, her vision blurring from the sheer shock.

Her body locks up.

She can’t breathe.

She can’t move.

Dann’s heart is pounding so loudly it drowns out the quiet.

Mike’s handprint burns on her cheek, the sting radiating through her skull, but the real pain isn’t physical.

It’s the terror.

The realization that she pushed him too far. The garden is empty, secluded—the perfect place for a nightmare. And Mike?

He looks like he’s enjoying it.

His lips curve into a slow smirk as he watches her struggle to catch her breath, her fingers trembling at her sides.

‘You’re a fucking coward.’

The words still hang in the air, and Dann knows she’s signed her own death sentence.

Mike’s expression darkens. His posture stiffens. And then he laughs.

Low. Amused. Cruel.

“Do you even know who you’re talking to?” His voice is quiet, almost mocking.

Dann stays silent. She knows better than to answer. But he doesn’t need her to. He steps forward, closing the space between them, and she flinches instinctively.

His smirk widens “Cute. You think you’re brave now, don’t you?”

Dann swallows hard “I—”

“Shut up,” He cuts her off. The amusement vanishes, replaced with something far colder.

His gaze sweeps over her, calculating, dissecting—like he’s deciding exactly how to break her.

“I bet you think you have nothing to lose,” He murmurs. “That you can just walk away from this and be fine.”

Dann’s breathing falters.

That tone. That deadly calm.

It’s worse than when he’s yelling. Because when Mike speaks like this—he means it.

“I could ruin your mother in a second,” He continues, voice smooth, effortless. “She works for my family. She needs this job. And you?” His head tilts slightly. “You need her to keep it. To pay for your father’s hospital bills.”

Dann’s stomach twists violently.

He knows.

He knows.

“How did you—?” Her voice catches.

Mike chuckles “You think I don’t do my research?” His expression turns mocking. “Your poor, pitiful father, lying there in a hospital bed, while your mother slaves away to keep him alive. And you? You run around playing spy for me, all because you wanted some nerd to look your way.”

Dann feels sick. Her fingers curl into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.

“Leave them out of this,” She whispers.

“Oh? Now you care?” Mike exhales sharply, like he’s bored. “I mean, your mother’s getting old, isn’t she? I doubt she’d find another job if something were to… happen to her position.”

Dann’s lungs seize. And then, the final nail in the coffin.

“Oh, and your father?” Mike clicks his tongue. “A vegetable in a hospital bed, wasting away.” His tone is almost mocking. “How long has it been? Three years?”

Dann’s entire body locks up. Because he’s right.

Three years.

Three years of her mother breaking her back to keep him alive. Three years of Dann doing everything she could to ease the burden.

Three years of hoping. That maybe, one day, her father would wake up.

Mike’s voice cuts through the fog of her fear “I could make that bed disappear, you know.”

Dann stares at him, eyes wide.

“I mean, think about it.” He shrugs. “What’s the point of keeping someone around who isn’t even awake? The doctors must be tired of keeping him alive. And your mother? Imagine how relieved she’d be if she didn’t have to worry about hospital bills anymore.”

Dann’s breathing turns shallow. Her fingers dig into her skin so hard they might leave bruises. Mike leans back, watching her come undone.

Then he smiles “And as for you?” He leans in slightly, voice dropping to a whisper. “I can make sure you don’t even finish school.”

Dann’s heart drops, his smirk is gone now, his eyes cold and merciless.

“You think my family doesn’t have connections in the education system?” He scoffs. “All it takes is one phone call. One simple request. And suddenly, your scholarship? Gone. Your grades? Suspiciously altered. Your teachers? Unwilling to recommend you for any other school.”

Dann freezes, because he’s not bluffing. This isn’t an empty threat.

This is real.

Her entire future—her mother’s future—her father’s life—all hanging by a single thread. And Mike?

He’s holding the scissors.

“You don’t want that, do you? So, tell me, Dann.” His voice softens, but the cruelty behind it only makes it worse. “Are you still on my side?”

Dann’s lips part, but no words come out.

She should scream. She should fight back.

She should run.

But instead—She nods.

Because she has no choice.

Because she’s afraid.

Because her father’s life is hanging in the balance.

And because she’s not ready to lose everything.

Mike’s smirk returns “Good girl.”

And just like that—it’s over. He pats her cheek mockingly before stepping back.

“You know what to do.” His voice is smooth, assured, like he’s never once considered the possibility of her betraying him.

Because why would he?

She’s trapped.

Dann watches as he walks away, leaving her frozen in the garden, hands trembling, chest tight.

Her father, her mother, her entire life.

Mike owns all of it.

Tears blur her vision as she wraps her arms around herself, body wracked with silent shame.

She wants to do the right thing.

But survival?

It comes first

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Taglist: @mrskill2 @stayatinykatsy @badbitch69420sworld @lunaryoongie @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 @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.

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

𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙴𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙱𝚢 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 "𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙰𝚑, 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 (𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊)"

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚗 𝙲𝚘𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚎 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚜

𝙻𝚎𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎

𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙴𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙵𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚂𝚒𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙴𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢

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

Popular, Boy

☆11: The first truth.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader

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

wc: 7,5k

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

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

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

Series masterlist. Join the Taglist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dann’s stomach twists.

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

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

There’s silence. Heavy. Expectant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because it’s too late for regrets now.

✮ ⋆

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

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

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

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

Unfortunate.

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

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

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

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

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

“We are protecting you, sweetie.”

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

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

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

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

“Lower your voice.”

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

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

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

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

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

Meaningless.

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

Another gift.

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

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

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

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

You won’t forget. You won’t forgive.

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

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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

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

And then he sees them.

Little Hongjoong and that girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wooyoung blinks “...Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

He avoids his gaze.

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

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

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

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

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

✮ ⋆

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

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

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

Brat Woo: Babydoll.

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

Bratty Woo: You should talk to him.

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

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

Doubt.

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

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

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

YN♡: We need to talk.

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

✮ ⋆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pushes the door open, and there you are.

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

His stomach twists.

"What happened to you, pretty?"

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

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

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

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

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

The fuck? Is this the picture Wooyoung mentioned?

"Wait—what? When was this taken?"

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

"No, I don’t—”

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

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

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

“Pretty, it’s not what you think.”

You arch a brow in mock amusement “No?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Now… tell me what happened to you."

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

“Mike.”

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

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

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

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

You look… small, fragile.

Broken.

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

Hongjoong frowns “Someone recorded you?”

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

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

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

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

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

Silence. Until one name suddenly clicks into place.

“…Dann.”

Hongjoong frowns “Why her?”

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

The realization settles between you like a ticking bomb.

“We need to find out the truth.”

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

Hongjoong chuckles “Fine, thank you, pretty.”

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

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If anything, this is the perfect opportunity.

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

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

You have the truth, and you have Hanhah.

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

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

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

The sight of her made your chest tighten.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✮ ⋆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me? I don't even know who she is.”

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

He hesitates for a moment before nodding “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s perfect,” You correct.

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

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

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

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

This is it.

The first move.

Tomorrow, you will see Hannah.

Tomorrow, everything will change.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The drive to Hannah’s apartment is quiet.

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

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

Not yet.

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

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

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

“Are you sure about this?”

You don’t hesitate “Yes.”

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

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

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

He notices “Pretty?”

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

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

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

“You brought company,” She says flatly.

You exhale “Can we come in?”

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

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

And then—

“Auntie!”

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

Hongjoong freezes beside you.

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

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

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

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

“Who’s that?”

Joong is pale, not believing what he is seeing.

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

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

He blinks “Uh… yeah?”

The little girl grins “Then you can stay.”

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

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

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

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

His brows furrow “Okay…?”

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

The words drop like a bomb in the small apartment.

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

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

You clench your jaw “Exactly what I said.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because this is just the beginning.

✮ ⋆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we gonna tell Daddy soon?”

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

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

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow “A girl? Who?”

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

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

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

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

✮ ⋆

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

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

After what happened to you, after seeing Mike’s violence firsthand, something in her feels wrong.

Maybe this has gone too far.

But Seonghwa doesn’t give her a choice.

“Dann.”

His voice cuts through the noise, smooth and controlled, but she knows him well enough to hear the edge beneath it. She stops mid-step, squeezing her eyes shut for a brief second before turning around.

Seonghwa leans casually against the lockers, arms crossed, looking her up and down with that usual amused smirk. But there’s something else in his expression—something sharp.

“We need to talk.”

Dann swallows “I have class.”

“It can wait.” He pushes off the lockers and steps closer, lowering his voice. “I heard something you’re gonna love.”

She forces herself to look bored “I doubt that.”

Hwa chuckles, shaking his head “You really should be more curious, Dann. You and I both know Mike would want to hear this.”

Her stomach twists “I don’t—”

“The nerd is using YN.”

Dann freezes. Seonghwa watches her carefully, letting the words settle in before continuing.

“Wooyoung and Mindy said it. Apparently, Hongjoong’s only with her for popularity. And get this—she knows it. She’s staying with him anyway.”

Dann shifts uncomfortably, gripping her books tighter “So what? That’s their problem, not ours.”

Hwa’s smirk fades slightly “Are you forgetting who you’re working with? Mike needs to know this.”

Dann glances around, her pulse quickening “Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t get involved in this one.”

His eyes narrow, and just like that, his amusement vanishes. He steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“What’s wrong with you lately?”

“Nothing,” She lies, shifting her weight.

“You’re acting differently.”

“I just think—” She hesitates, wetting her lips. “I think Mike has enough reasons to hate her already. He doesn’t need this one either.”

Seonghwa scoffs, shaking his head “Of course he does. What’s better than proving she’s pathetic? That she’s weak?” He tilts his head, watching her carefully. “Unless you don’t want to be useful to him anymore?”

Dann clenches her jaw. She feels cornered, the guilt pressing down on her chest.

YN doesn’t deserve this.

But Seonghwa is watching her like a predator, waiting for any sign of weakness. If she refuses, he’ll start asking questions—questions that might lead back to her hesitations, her guilt. If Mike finds out she’s doubting him…

She exhales shakily, looking down at her shoes “Fine,” she mutters. “I’ll tell him.”

His smirk returns instantly “Good girl.”

She doesn’t move right away. Every fiber of her being screams at her to walk away, to stop this before it goes any further.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she pulls out her phone, her fingers trembling as she types a message to him.

Dann: We need to talk. It’s about YN and Hongjoong.

As she presses send, she feels sick.

She doesn’t notice the two figures watching from down the hall.

Wooyoung leans lazily against the lockers, arms crossed, his grin widening. “Babydoll was right.”

Mindy hums, inspecting her nails. “Honestly, I knew it since the day I saw her talking with Hwa at the party.”

Woo chuckles. “Well, he did what we needed him to do.”

Mindy smirks, flicking her gaze toward Dann “Now lets see if Dann tells Mike.”

Because once Mike hears this, things will really start falling apart.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The evening air is cool against your skin as you push open the balcony doors of your bedroom, stepping outside with a quiet sigh.

The city lights stretch far into the distance, twinkling against the dark sky.

Everything feels too much—Hannah, the baby, the truth you’re about to reveal. It’s all starting to feel real.

But then, there’s him.

Hongjoong stands a few feet away, leaning against the railing, his gaze distant. He’s been quiet since you got home, like he’s still trying to piece everything together.

You step beside him, resting your arms on the railing "You’re thinking too much," You murmur.

He huffs out a small laugh, shaking his head "Can you blame me?"

You tilt your head, watching him "What’s on your mind?"

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. "Hannah, the baby, Mike. You." He glances at you then, something unreadable in his expression. "This is a lot, pretty. I just… I don’t want you to go through this alone."

You blink at him, caught off guard.

He’s serious.

"You really mean that?" You ask softly.

Hongjoong turns fully toward you, his brows drawing together. "Of course I do. I—" He hesitates, like the words are caught in his throat. Then, with a deep breath, he presses on. "I care about you, YN. More than you think."

Your heart does something strange—tightens, twists, then swells. You don’t know what to say. No one has ever said that to you, not like this.

Not like they meant it.

So, instead of words, you step closer, your hands reaching out on instinct.

He doesn’t move as you slip your arms around his waist, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

He’s warm, steady, safe.

For a second, he’s frozen. Then, slowly, his arms come around you too, holding you just as tightly.

"You don’t have to do anything for me," You whisper. "Just… stay with me."

Hongjoong rests his chin on top of your head, his voice quiet but firm.

"I’m not going anywhere."

And for the first time in a long time, you believe it.

✮ ⋆

Your room is dimly lit, the golden glow from your bedside lamp casting soft shadows on the walls.

The silence is peaceful, interrupted only by the faint sound of pages flipping as Hongjoong sits on your bed, pretending to read a book but really just stealing glances at you.

You’re laying next to him, your head resting in his lap while you scroll over your social media.

He is about to say something when a sharp knock.

No. Not a knock. A demand interrupts him.

You freeze, and Hongjoong’s muscles tense. Then the door swings open without waiting for permission.

Mike steps inside, composed as ever, but there’s something in his eyes—something sharp, something dangerous.

You meet his gaze, already standing from your comfortable position.

"What the hell are you—"

"You’re pathetic," He cuts you off smoothly "And predictable." His gaze flickers to Hongjoong, and he lets out a small, humorless chuckle "I should have known he’d be here."

"What do you want, Mike?"

"You really are desperate, aren’t you?" His voice is low, full of quiet venom "So desperate for someone to want you that you’re letting this nerd use you. And what’s worse?" He tilts his head, lips curving into something cruel "You fucking know it."

You smile when you hear that. It was them.

"And where did you get that brilliant theory? Park Seonghwa?" A pause "Or Dann?"

Something flickers in Mike’s eyes. Park Seonghwa? What does Seonghwa have to do with this?

You scoff "Of course. You must be proud—controlling people like puppets, just like you always do."

Mike steps closer "And you’re any different?" His voice lowers "You lie to yourself every day, pretending you’re not just as pathetic as the rest of them. But deep down, you know the truth."

"You want to talk about truth?" Your heart pounds as you take a step forward, voice daring, reckless "What about Hannah then?"

The moment the name Hannah leaves your lips, the air in the room shifts. Mike stiffens, his entire body going rigid. The usual arrogance in his expression wavers—just for a second, but it’s there.

A crack. A weakness.

You see it, Hongjoong sees it.

And then, Mike moves.

The slap comes fast, too fast.

The sound of it rings through the room, a sickening crack as his palm connects with your cheek, whipping your head to the side.

The sting is instant, burning hot, your skin already throbbing. You gasp, stumbling back, your vision blurring for a split second.

But before you can process the pain—before you can even react—Hongjoong is already moving.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" The anger in his voice is like nothing you’ve ever heard before.

Hongjoong shoves Mike back, his entire body coiled with fury. The sharp contrast between his usual calm demeanor and the pure rage in his eyes is enough to make even Mike falter.

"You don’t get to do that," Hongjoong seethes, standing between you and your brother, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are white. "Not to her. Not to anyone."

Mike’s lips curl, his composure snapping back into place, but there’s an unmistakable flicker of irritation—maybe even surprise—at Hongjoong’s audacity.

"And what exactly do you think you’re doing?" Mike taunts, brushing off the shove like it was nothing. "You think you can protect her?" He scoffs. "You think she needs you?"

Hongjoong doesn’t flinch "She doesn’t need me," He admits, voice steady. "But I’m still here. And I won’t fucking stand by while you hurt her."

There’s something raw, undeniable in his words. You blink, still dazed from the slap, your hand hovering near your stinging cheek. Hongjoong turns slightly, eyes softening when they land on you.

"Are you okay, pretty?" His voice is lower now, gentle.

Something inside you twists.

Mike clicks his tongue in disgust "Pathetic," He mutters.

Hongjoong’s jaw clenches "Get the fuck out."

For the first time, Mike hesitates.

Hongjoong’s not just some quiet, desperate nerd anymore. He’s furious. Unshakable. And for once, Mike doesn’t have complete control over the situation.

"You’re making a mistake, nerd." Mike finally says, his voice cold, but there’s something else there too—annoyance, maybe even unease.

"Get. Out," Hongjoong repeats, this time his voice lower, quieter—but somehow deadlier.

Mike holds his gaze for a long moment before scoffing and turning toward the door. But before he leaves, he glances at you one last time.

"You think you’re playing some clever game, but you have no idea what you’re doing," He murmurs. "You’ll regret this, YN."

With that, he walks out, slamming the door behind him. The room is suffocatingly silent in the aftermath.

Hongjoong exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as he turns back to you. His fingers twitch, like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if he should.

"Pretty—"

"I’m fine," You cut him off, voice tight.

But you’re not fine.

You’re shaking. Your cheek burns. Your heart is racing. And then, without thinking, you step forward and wrap your arms around Hongjoong.

He melts immediately into the embrace, his arms coming around you protectively.

"I’ve got you," He murmurs into your hair. "I’m right here."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.

mingi randomly telling reader facts oh I would fold and the painting 🥹🥹🥹🥹

strangers by nature | viii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.5K Warnings: fluff, mentions of infidelity

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“You’ll need extensive physical therapy,” Dr. Jang said, flipping through his chart the day Mingi was to be discharged. 

“Walking will be difficult at first. You’ll experience weakness, dizziness, and possibly some coordination issues.”

Mrs. Song let out a sharp breath, bringing a hand up to her mouth as if to stifle a gasp. Beside her, Mr. Song reached over and placed a firm, reassuring hand on her arm. They had known this was coming, yet hearing it aloud made it all the more real.

“We’ll have to make arrangements,” his mother replied. “Oh, if he’s going to struggle, we can have the physical therapist come to the house.”

“There’s no need,” Mingi rasped, glancing over at you. “Y/N can help me.”

The entire room fell silent.

Dr. Jang stopped mid-page, his eyes flickering up over his glasses. The nurse who had been taking discharge notes blinked so fast it was almost comical. Even Mr. Song, ever composed, arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“W-What? Me?” you stammered, pointing to yourself as if there had been some mistake.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like your help,” Mingi repeated, his voice steadier now, as if the decision had already been made in his mind. There was something almost… gentle in the way he looked at you.

You stared at him in disbelief. Mingi, the man who never wanted anything to do with you, was asking for your help? 

“Mingi, are you sure?”

Mrs. Song was still staring at him like he had grown a second head. “But you always—” She hesitated, searching for the right words. 

“You’ve never liked being…helped. You always insist on doing things yourself.”

Mingi exhaled, leaning back against the pillows, his fingers twitching slightly against the blanket. “I know,” he admitted. His voice was quiet, almost contemplative. 

“But things are different now.”

And for some reason, the way he said it made it feel like he wasn’t just talking about his injury.

You pulled up to the entrance, cutting the engine before stepping out to grab Mingi’s crutches from the backseat. By now, the visits were becoming routine, but each time, it still struck you as surreal.

You turned to him, holding out the crutches. “Do you need anything else? I can grab a wheelchair if you want.”

Mingi shook his head. “No thanks, I’ve got it.”

Then, to your complete and utter bewilderment, he smiled—small, unguarded, but warm in a way you’d never quite seen before. The sight of it sent a strange flutter through your chest, something unfamiliar yet not entirely unwelcome.

Before you could process it, his hand brushed against your arm, a brief touch that sent a gentle warmth trailing in its wake. His fingers lingered just long enough to make you wonder if it was intentional before he gave your arm a light squeeze—as if he were telling you he’d see you soon.

It was fleeting, gone too soon, but the feeling remained, leaving you gripping the car door handle as if it were the only thing keeping you steady.

Mingi had never smiled at you before. 

The whole drive home, you were lost in thought, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Confused didn’t even begin to cover it. Lately, everything about Mingi had been confusing.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. But then it became impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just the way he looked at you now—like he was seeing you for the first time, rather than through you. It was how he acted. How he hovered. 

He followed you around the penthouse like a puppy. If you turned around too quickly, he was there, standing just a few feet away. If you rounded a corner, you nearly crashed into him. It was like he was always waiting for something. 

Waiting for you.

You could almost see it—the imaginary puppy ears perking up, the wagging tail swishing behind him, hoping you’d notice that he was there. 

And as if that weren’t strange enough, he’d also become…talkative. Well, in his own way. Mingi had started initiating conversations with you through animal facts, seemingly random tidbits of knowledge he’d been holding in until they just slipped out. 

“Did you know that vampire bats share their food with other vampire bats?”

“What?” You blinked at him, holding your fork mid bite. 

“They, um…they regurgitate blood for bats that didn’t eat.” His voice was quiet and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if this was something you’d want to hear but hoped you might find it interesting.

You blinked at him, trying to decide if this was some kind of weird joke. But there was no teasing in his expression—just an earnest kind of hopefulness, like he wanted you to acknowledge his effort.

Like he wanted you to know he was trying.

“Oh…” You let out a small laugh, tilting your head at him. “Are you telling me I don’t eat enough?”

Mingi’s ears tinged pink as he gave a small, sheepish nod. 

“Kind of…” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. 

“I noticed that sometimes you skip meals when you’re busy or stressed.” His voice dropped slightly, almost as if he was embarrassed to say it aloud. 

“It’s not good for you.”

Another instance, you were humming to yourself as you sorted through the laundry, tossing a few shirts into the washing machine. The penthouse was quiet, save for the whir of the dryer running in the background. You reached for the basket when—

“Did you know that wombats poop in cubes?”

You yelped, throwing your laundry into the air as you spun around. Mingi stood just a few feet away, wide-eyed, his hands hovering awkwardly in front of him like he wasn’t sure whether to help or apologize.

“Mingi!” you gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled, shifting on his feet. “The sugar cubes you put in your tea reminded me of wombat poop for some reason.”

You shook your head as you stepped into the lift back to the penthouse. You weren’t sure how you felt about your husband’s newfound attitude. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful—Mingi had finally woken up, and that should have been enough. 

The moment you kicked off your shoes in the foyer, Mrs. Ha, the chef, scurried over, her eyes darting between you and the hallway like she was still in the habit of speaking cautiously.  

“Oh, Ms. Y/N!” she whispered urgently, clutching her apron. “How was he?”

You let out a sharp exhale, still trying to make sense of it yourself. “Weird,” you hissed, picking up your pace to match hers as you both hurried toward the kitchen.

“He smiled at me. And—” You hesitated for a second before lowering your voice. “He squeezed my arm.”

Mrs. Ha gasped so dramatically you thought she might faint. “No.” She shook her head as if refusing to believe it.

“I know,” you muttered, half-joking, but not really. “He used to pretend I didn't exist. Now he’s…” You trailed off, struggling to find the right word.

Warm? Inviting? Considerate?

It felt strange to say out loud, but stranger still that it might actually be true.

Mrs. Ha grabbed your wrist as if trying to steady herself, or maybe you. “Ms. Y/N,” she said gravely, “do you think he hit his head too hard?”

You swallowed, the thought lingering in your mind longer than it should. Mingi’s accident had been severe. He’d been unconscious for months and it was a miracle he woke up at all. 

And yet, this wasn’t just waking up. This was different. The Mingi you knew had been cold, distant, cruel even. He never touched you unless absolutely necessary, never smiled at you unless it was laced with sarcasm or condescension. But today?

Today, he’d looked at you like he actually saw you.

Could head trauma really alter someone’s personality that drastically? Had the accident shaken something loose inside him?

“Can you believe he asked me about plants?” Yohan scoffed, handing you a cup of tea as you stepped into the kitchen.

“Mingi and plants.” He shook his head in disbelief, leaning against the counter. “I can’t believe he’s actually considering keeping something alive besides himself.”

You snorted, though the humor was short-lived. The shift in Mingi’s behavior was too drastic, too unnatural. You took a sip of your tea, the warmth doing little to ease the uncertainty. This new Mingi was too good to be true, and you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mingi’s kindness, his warmth—it didn’t make sense. Not when he had spent so long resenting you.

“This morning, he casually mentioned that zebras can’t sleep alone,” you murmured, tapping your fingers against the cup. 

“Well he said he’s looking forward to dinner!” Mrs. Ha interjected. 

“Three months ago, he barely spoke to anyone, including Y/N and now he’s making conversation?” Yohan shook his head, placing a hand on his hip. 

“This is suspicious.”

No one wanted to say it out loud, but you all felt the same way. Mingi’s recovery wasn’t just physical. He was changing, bit by bit. And for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t for the worse.

⋆

“Your grip strength is starting to improve, as well as the mobility on your left side. Soon, you won’t need the crutches anymore,” Dr. Lim noted encouragingly.

Mingi exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he steadied himself. The session had been brutal, as they always were, but hearing that he was making progress gave him a small sense of victory.

“That’s it for today. We’ll see you next week.” The physical therapist gave him a nod of approval before turning away, already moving on to his next patient.

Mingi nodded, gripping his crutches tightly as he made his way toward the exit. Every movement still felt like an uphill battle. He had spent the last two months relearning how to move, how to function without feeling like his own body was working against him. The physical therapy sessions were grueling, pushing him to his limits, but he refused to back down.

The accident had nearly killed him. Three broken ribs, a fractured femur, and nerve damage. Though it wasn’t extensive, it was enough to remind him that no matter how much he pushed, there were still limits. 

And he hated that.

He hated the way his body trembled when he overexerted himself, the way his right arm sometimes felt too weak to grip things properly. He hated that he still struggled to get up without support, that simple tasks took twice the effort they used to. 

But he didn’t hate the way you anticipated his struggles before he could voice them. The way you reached for his arm before he could stumble, or placed things in a way that made it easier for him to access. And he didn’t hate how easily you entertained his ramblings, even when they were about the most mundane things.

For an hour and a half each week, he hated being away from you.

Because no matter how frustrating the setbacks were, no matter how exhausting the battle of recovery became, seeing you at the end of each session reminded him of his purpose and his promise to Hongjoong and Wooyoung. 

The thought of going home had him biting back a grin as he adjusted his crutches and made his way out of the rehabilitation center. He was already looking forward to sliding into the passenger seat beside you, exaggerating the difficulty of his new balance exercises and guessing what Mrs. Ha had whipped up today.

The anticipation carried him forward until it came to a screeching halt.

The moment he stepped into the rotunda, his fingers instinctively tightened around the crutches, his body going rigid. The hospital lobby was a blur of white coats and murmured conversations, but all he could focus on was the figure standing in front of him.

Ahri.

Her arms were crossed, her manicured nails tapping impatiently against her sleeve. She looked annoyed with her lips pressed into a thin line as her sharp gaze raked over him. 

The sight of her made something curdle in his stomach—something sharp, bitter, and unwelcome.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi asked flatly.

Ahri scoffed, stepping closer. “Are you seriously asking me that? You’ve been avoiding me ever since you woke up.”

“Maybe that should tell you something,” he muttered, but he already knew Ahri wouldn’t take the hint.

Ahri rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Mingi. Don’t act like this. We need to talk.”

“No,” he said simply, his grip tightening around the crutches until his knuckles turned white. 

“We really don’t.”

“You’re being dramatic. I was worried about you—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, his voice low, firm. 

Ahri’s mouth opened, then closed. For the first time, she looked uncertain, like she hadn’t expected him to be this direct. Her expression faltered for a split second, But then, just as quickly, she recovered, her lips curling into a sneer.

“So that’s how it is?” she scoffed. “You wake up and suddenly forget about us? Is it because you want to play house with her?”

Mingi’s jaw tensed but his silence spoke volumes.

“What’s wrong with that?” he replied quietly. 

That made her pause. Just for a second. But then she shook her head, scoffing again like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“Oh, give me a break,” she snapped. “You spent so long telling me how miserable you were, how you were trapped with her.” She let out a bitter laugh. 

“But now what? You wake up from a coma and suddenly, she’s the one you want? You told me you wished you’d never married her, that you never loved her.” 

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to something softer, something almost pleading as if she could still reach him. 

“Mingi, you told me I was the only thing that made you happy.”

And maybe, once, he had believed that.

Maybe, once, he had convinced himself that Ahri was the answer, the escape he craved, the proof that he was still alive, still capable of feeling something. But standing here now, after dying and coming back, after losing everything and being given a second chance, he saw it for what it truly was.

A mistake. A desperate attempt to outrun his own self-destruction.

But you—you had always been real. And this time, he wasn’t going to run.

This time, he was going to love you the way he should have all along.

“You weren’t,” he said steadily. “You never were.”

Ahri’s face twisted, something wounded flickering across her features before it morphed into anger. 

“Bullshit! If that were true, then why did you keep coming back to me?”

"You were there when it was easy, Ahri. When it was fun. But when I was lying in that hospital bed, barely clinging to life, you were nowhere to be found."

Ahri’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“And you know what? I don’t blame you,” Mingi said, tilting his head. 

“Because we were never real, were we? We were just two selfish people feeding off each other’s worst impulses.” He exhaled sharply, as if the weight of it all was finally lifting off his chest. 

“I don’t owe you anything.”

People turned, pausing in their tracks, stealing glances at the commotion, but Mingi could care less. Instead, he stepped past her without another glance, heading toward the one person who mattered—

You.

"You think you can just walk away from me?" Ahri's voice rose, sharp and unhinged. 

Mingi didn’t flinch. He didn’t react at all. 

And that set her off. 

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

Her lips curled, a smirk. "You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you?" She let out a breathless, almost manic laugh, her eyes glinting with something unhinged. 

"Especially when you fucked me on your wedding night!"

A murmur rippled through the gathering crowd. Gasps. A sharp intake of breath. Someone muttering under their breath. But Ahri was past caring. Her hands trembled at her sides, whether from rage or something deeper, something uglier, even she wasn’t sure.

“You threw her away like she was nothing. And now, you think you can just have her?”

Ahri let out a broken laugh, something desperate and wild. 

"She’s stronger than you ever gave her credit for." Ahri’s voice turned quiet, almost pitying.

“She doesn’t need you."

Mingi’s breath hitched, and for the first time since this entire confrontation began, doubt slithered in, coiling tight around his chest.

Because what if Ahri was right?

What if you never forgave him? What if everything he had done, all the cruel words, all the neglect, had built a wall so high between you that he’d never be able to climb over it?

He remembered the way you had looked at him when he was just a clumsy, oversized puppy, tail wagging, tongue lolling, no words to defend himself—only his actions. And still, still, you had cared for him. Fed him. Sheltered him. Loved him, even when you hadn’t known it was him.

Mingi clenched his jaw. He could fix this.

Because if he had been capable of love then, stripped of his pride and his excuses, then he was capable of love now. And he would prove it to you. No matter what it took.

He would not lose you.

"Ms. Jeong," a voice said smoothly, "I suggest you leave before you embarrass yourself any further."

Mingi tensed. He didn’t need to turn to know what he’d see—that infuriatingly calm expression, always so composed, so sure with his stupid face and stupid hair.

Seonghwa.

The hospital director's voice was calm, but the authority behind it was unmistakable. He stepped into Ahri’s path, yet the weight of his presence alone was enough to send a chill through the air.

Ahri whirled on him. "Stay out of this, Park Seonghwa!" she snapped. "This has nothing to do with you!"

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "You’re causing a disturbance in my hospital. That makes it my problem."

Her chest rose and fell with sharp, angry breaths, but Seonghwa remained unfazed.

"You’re humiliating yourself. If you don’t leave, I’ll have security escort you out."

Ahri’s lips parted, her eyes darting between Seonghwa and Mingi, as if searching for an opening—one last attempt to regain control of the situation. But Mingi had already turned his back, walking toward the exit. Toward you.

And you—you had just barely managed to keep your knees from buckling.

You had been standing just around the corner, heart in your throat, ears ringing with every word that had left Mingi’s mouth.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You didn’t have an answer for that. Not yet.

But Mingi, your husband, the same man who once treated your marriage like a prison sentence—was choosing you.

Your phone chimed, interrupting your conversation with Yohan and Mrs. Ha.

Pick up Mingi.

“Has it already been an hour and a half?” Yohan sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Mrs. Ha chuckled as she wiped her hands on her apron, already turning back to the half-prepped vegetables on the counter. 

“Time flies when you’re talking shit, I guess,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone.

Conversations like these had once been a source of relief, a safe space where you, Yohan, and Mrs. Ha could freely air out your frustrations about Mingi and his insufferable attitude. It had been cathartic, a necessary way to bond over shared grievances, particularly in the way he ignored Yohan’s presence, dismissed Mrs. Ha’s kindness, and, worst of all, the way he had treated you.

The usual satisfaction of venting was absent, replaced instead by something heavier. 

Guilt.

You weren’t sure why.

Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered now, softer, searching, as if trying to memorize every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. Like he was looking for something—hoping for something.

Or maybe it was the way he hesitated before speaking, as if he wanted to be understood but didn’t know how. As if he was afraid that one wrong step would send him tumbling right back into the version of himself you had every reason to despise.

And that’s what made your chest ache.

You sighed, grabbing your keys from the counter and with a quick farewell to Yohan and Mrs. Ha, you made your way down to the garage. The drive to the hospital was quiet, the high rises casting fleeting shadows as you navigated the city streets.

Your mind wandered. Mingi was still a mess of contradictions—still the person who had hurt you more than anyone else ever had. And yet, in the past two months, something had shifted. He’d been different.

You weren’t sure what that meant for you, if it meant anything at all.

Pulling into the hospital lot, you glanced at the time. You were early. With minutes to spare, you found yourself hesitating, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You could just wait here, let Mingi find his way out like always. 

But today, something in you wavered.

Maybe, just this once, you’d meet him halfway.

Sighing, you turned off the engine and walked into the hospital. The automatic doors parted soundlessly as you entered, the sterile scent of antiseptic and faint traces of coffee from the café wrapping around you. 

You weaved through the familiar hallways toward the rehabilitation center, past patients in wheelchairs and staff exchanging clipped instructions.

And then—

"You think you can just walk away from me?"

You stopped.

Ahri.

Her voice carried through the clinic, too loud, too reckless for a public space, but she didn’t seem to care.

A few steps ahead, just past a row of columns, Mingi stood—partially obscured, his broad shoulders stiff with tension. Ahri stood in front of him, heaving with anger, her expression twisted into something between fury and despair.

Your instincts told you to walk away before you were pulled into something you weren’t meant to witness. But your feet wouldn’t move. Instead, you ducked behind the corner, pressing yourself against the wall, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You sucked in a breath. That stopped Mingi and Ahri knew it. You peeked out just enough to catch the smirk curling at the edges of her lips and the cruel glint in her eyes.

"You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you? You fucked me on your wedding night!"

The words slammed into you, knocking the air from your lungs. You had known what you were getting into when your parents arranged your marriage to Mingi. You had no illusions about love or loyalty, not when his heart had already belonged to someone else. You had told yourself his affair with Ahri didn’t matter, that you weren’t some naive child clinging to false hope.

But hearing the words now, so bluntly and irrevocably, felt different. It was like an old wound you thought had scarred over, threatening to tear open all over again.

A murmur of voices rippled through the onlookers—gasps, hushed whispers, stolen glances exchanged in uneasy silence. Mingi remained frozen, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful, his fists curling and uncurling around his crutches.

Your fingers curled into your sleeves, nails pressing crescent marks into your skin. The way Mingi stood there, facing Ahri’s wrath without backing down, without crumbling the way you might have expected, made your chest tighten.

For the first time in your marriage, Mingi was choosing you.

The realization sent a flutter through you, foreign and unwelcome and you had to keep your knees from buckling beneath you. 

This wasn’t forgiveness.

But it was something.

Swallowing hard, you spun on your heel and hurried back to your car. By the time you reached the door, your hands fumbled slightly, a little shaky as you slid inside and shut yourself away from the world.  

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the strange, fluttery feeling in your chest to go away. But it lingered, stubborn and insistent, curling around the edges of your thoughts. Ahri’s words still echoed in your mind, but even louder—more impossible to ignore—was the quiet whisper of, What if?

What if Mingi really was choosing you?

Not out of obligation. Not because there was no one else left. But because he wanted to.

A breathy laugh escaped you, more out of disbelief than amusement. 

“What do you think, Maro?”

The name slipped out before you could stop it, but it felt natural, like Maro was still here, curled up beside you, tail wagging, waiting for you to spill your heart out. 

You swallowed, gripping the steering wheel as if it could ground you. 

“It’s stupid, right?” Your voice was tentative as you leaned your head against the headrest. 

“It doesn’t change anything. Just because he—” You stopped, shook your head, trying to chase away the warmth threatening to creep in.

“It doesn’t mean I should believe in something that’s never been real.”

You could imagine Maro pressing his head into your palm like he understood everything you couldn’t say. Like he was telling you that you didn’t have to figure it all out alone.

“God, I don’t even know what's happening anymore.”

A sudden, sharp knock against the window jolted you upright. Your heart lurched into your throat as you turned, only to find Mingi standing just outside, giving you a small wave. Your face burned. Huffing, you fumbled for the lock with clumsy fingers before scrambling out of the car. 

“I got it,” Mingi said with a chuckle, adjusting his grip on his crutches. His voice was light, but his gaze lingered on you, studying you with an expression softer than you were used to.

“You okay?”

You forced a small smile, brushing imaginary dust off your sleeves in an attempt to steady yourself. “Yeah, just tired.”

Mingi didn’t look convinced. He lingered for a second longer, his eyes searching yours as if debating whether to press further. But he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, nodded, and slid into the passenger seat.

The drive home passed in a blur. The streetlights stretched long across the pavement, casting soft, flickering patterns against the windshield, but you were lost in the whirlwind of thoughts brewing in your mind.

Did he really love you?

⋆

"Y/N…can you call my phone? I can’t seem to find it."

Mingi had been more flustered than usual lately—not that he wanted to admit. The accident had left him disoriented, but it was unlike him to be clumsy. But lately, he kept doing things that frustrated him to no end like pushing against a pull door and standing there and now, misplacing his phone for the third time this week. 

He was also never one to ask for help—especially from you.

Before the accident, he had gone out of his way to keep his distance. He had made it clear he wanted nothing from you, and you had gotten the message. Eventually, you stopped offering. And for a while, that’s what he thought he wanted.

Now, he couldn’t stand the thought of it.

If you were in the kitchen, he was suddenly rummaging through the cabinets for a snack he didn’t actually want. If you were on the couch, he was sitting on the opposite end, scrolling through his phone but not really paying attention to it. 

And if you got up to leave the room? Well…so did he.

Because he wasn’t afraid of being clingy. Not with you. Not when the thought of you leaving, of not having you here, was far scarier than anything else.

You nodded, pressing the call button as Mingi shuffled past you, disappearing into his room. Your gaze lingered on the doorway long after he was gone.

For the duration of your marriage, you had never once stepped foot inside this room. The door had always remained shut, a silent boundary he had drawn long before he ever knew you. A reminder that no matter what legal document bound you together, there would always be parts of him you would never reach.

But as you took a step forward, following the faint sound of his phone vibrating somewhere in the great beyond, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let you glimpse into the parts of himself he had kept locked away.  

You stood hesitantly by the threshold watching your husband rifling through his laundry, digging through pockets, and muttering to himself under his breath. The Mingi you had married would’ve cursed under his breath, thrown something, or blamed someone else for his misplaced phone. 

But this version of him? He simply kept looking, patient and persistent.

His room was dimly lit with the faint scent of paint and cologne filling the space. Canvases leaned against the walls, some vibrant and abstract, others more detailed and unfinished sketches scattered across his desk.  

Your gaze landed on a small canvas resting on the edge of his desk. The soft eyes and the cheeky glint, the little nose, and that signature smile. It wasn’t finished, but there was no mistaking it.

Maro.

“There it is,” Mingi muttered, plucking his phone from the ground next to his bed.

As he swiped the screen to end the call, his gaze flickered toward you, then followed yours to the canvas on his desk. He watched you carefully, half-expecting sadness, maybe even confusion. But instead there was something unexpectedly tender. 

And then you looked at him, and Mingi felt it.

Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he had done something right for once. Like you saw him in a way that made his heart squeeze. His ears burned. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I… picked up painting,” he admitted. “My physical therapist said it’d help with motor skills and strengthening my hands and fingers.” 

He swallowed. “I hope you don’t mind that I painted Maro. I… I wasn’t sure if I got the eyes right,” he admitted, almost shyly. 

You stepped closer, drawn in by the familiar shape on the canvas. “It looks just like him,” you murmured, reaching out to trace the dried brushstrokes with your fingertips. The texture of the paint, the careful detail—Mingi had poured himself into this.

Mingi let out a sigh of relief but then, as if realizing something, tensed again a second later. “I—uh, it was supposed to be a surprise,” he blurted out, his eyes widening slightly, as if he’d just realized his mistake.

You blinked up at him. “A surprise?”

“For you,” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. 

“I wanted to give it to you when I felt like it was perfect. But, um… I guess I kind of ruined that, huh?” He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head.

“You painted this for me?”

He peeked at you through his lashes, leaving something softer and more vulnerable in its place as he gave you a small nod.

“I just… I know how much you loved—love Maro, and I thought maybe… you’d want something to keep. Something I made for you.”

Something only for you.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Oh. Your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice and the way he’d poured so much of himself into a piece just for you was overwhelming. 

“Oh, Mingi…” you breathed.

Emotion swelled in your chest, thick and impossible to name. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was stare at him—the quiet hope in his eyes, the way he watched you like he wasn’t sure what you’d do next.

“I love it,” you said, and you meant it. Not just the painting, but the thought behind it. It was just a painting. But it wasn’t. It was a piece of him—his effort, his sincerity, his quiet way of saying what he couldn’t put into words.

“Thank you.”

The words felt small, insufficient for the weight of what he had given you. But then he smiled—a slow, relieved, utterly radiant smile that knocked the breath from your lungs.

And suddenly, the moment stretched—too long, too precarious.

Your eyes flickered around the room, a sharp awareness settling over you. Mingi’s room. When did he get so close? When did you even come in here?

“I should…” You cleared your throat, glancing toward the door. “I should let you get back to painting.”

Before he could say anything, you turned, slipping out of the room, closing the door gently behind you. For a moment, you leaned against it, trying to steady the sudden pounding in your chest. But before you could make sense of anything—

The door creaked open.

“Wait.”

You turned, as Mingi poked his head out. There was a hint of bashfulness in the way his fingers gripped the doorframe, but his eyes held no hesitation.

“…You can leave it open.”

<< vii | ix >>

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𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼 𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Accidentally Have 8 Pets - @xuchiya ot8 x reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Ateez Responding To You Telling Them You Want A Divorce - @deerieme bf!ot8 x reader (text scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Bassists Do It Deeper - @crimsonbubble rockstar!hongjoong x reader x bassists!mingi (thoughts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Calling Them Pretty - @nightbeforethend bf!ot8 x reader (text scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Coppélia - @spookwriter-xo mafia!ot8 x ballerina!reader (series) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 A Deal With The Devil - @mingi-s-dimples devil!hongjoong x pastor’s daughter!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Captain Little Mate: Round 2 - @crimsonbubble dad!hongjoong x mom!reader (hard thoughts) 𓆞 𓆞 Car Sex - @yourfatherlucifer bf!hongjoong x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Cry For Me [Part One | Part Two | Part Three] - @yeostinys ceo!hongjoong x secretary!reader (three parts) 𓆞 𓆞 Detective Kim - @mingkismain detective!hongjoong x detective!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Drunken Love - @kisseudoll bf!seonghwa x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Pink Star Presents - @holybibly pornstar!seonghwa x pornstar!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Pink Yarn - @daydreamingaboutkoreanmen idol!seonghwa x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Survivors - @koyagifs firefighter!seonghwa x er nurse!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Tattoo Artist Seonghwa - @everyonewooeverywhere tattoo artist!seonghwa x reader (drabble) 𓆞

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𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Asking You To Be His Valentine's - @makeitmingi idol!single-dad!wooyoung x dance teacher!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Secret Santa - @dinossaurz bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 The Beauty of Us - @xuchiya bf!wooyoung x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Thrill Of The Chase - @wwooyology bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Vivrant Thing - @hwaslayer best friend's brother!wooyoung x reader (series) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 A Cozy Game Night - @03jyh23 bfjongho x gn!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Hand Marks - @vampzity ceo!husband!jongho x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Healthy Study Habits - @ohsoimaginari bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Part Of Your World - @makeitmingi bf!ceo!jongho x single mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Put The Book Down - @fivestaralien bf!jongho x gn!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸

AYO FUCK MIKE, FUCK JINA, FUCK SEONGHWA, FUCK DANN, FUCK HONGJOONG, FUCK EVERYBODY, WE LOVE READER!

I’ve said this before, but dude…we have to kill Mike i’m so serious I need this man gone. Also I knew there was something up with Jina from the last chapter with the comment she made about reader.

I just need happiness for reader cause i’m losing it every time I see a new chapter posted. I’m very much enjoying it as I say after every chapter. Keep up the amazing work! <3

ps. It’s mostly likely because I don’t read everything and jump straight into the story, but why did I just notice it says love triangle in genre.

Popular, Boy

☆10: The first wound.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader

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

wc: 8,2k

Summary: A night that was meant to go one way takes a devastating turn. Tension rise, lines are crossed, and for the first time...

Doubt begins to surface in unexpected places.

Warnings: Verbal abuse, physical violence, cursing, angst.... a lot of angst.

an: Request are open! Feel free to request whatever you like (I just don't accept m×m requests)

Series masterlist Join the Taglist

☆09 ☆11: The first truth. Coming soon

It had been days since Hongjoong and you had spoken. Your fight at the club still lingered in the air like an unshakable fog, thick with tension and unresolved emotions.

At school, you acted as though the other didn’t exist, carefully avoiding eye contact, ignoring each other’s presence, and pretending like your worlds hadn’t once been intertwined.

Your friends noticed, but no one dared to bring it up—not when you were burying yourself in distractions, and not when Hongjoong looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But today, Hongjoong decided to end it.

During his shift at the café, his boss, Mr. Choi patted him on the back, a rare smile breaking his usually stern face.

“You’ve been working hard, kid. Take tomorrow off. Get some rest.”

Hongjoong blinks in surprise. He had expected to push through another exhausting shift, but this?

This is an opportunity, a chance to set things right.

As soon as he gets to the back room, he pulls out his phone and hesitates for a second. His fingers hover over your name before he finally taps on it.

Joongie♡: Hey..

He stares at the screen, wondering if you would ignore him. The three little dots appear almost instantly, then vanish, then appear again.

YN♡: What?

Hongjoong exhales. Short, cold, distant. He deserves that.

Joongie♡: I don’t like this. Us, being like this.

Joongie♡: I’ll explain everything. I swear.

Joongie♡: Let me make it up to you.

Another long pause. He can practically hear you scoffing at the message, debating whether you should even give him the time of day.

Then, finally you answer.

YN♡: Fine.

His heart lurches forward.

Joongie♡: Tomorrow. 7 PM. I’ll send you the address.

He searches for the perfect spot, something that isn't too extravagant but still special. A small, charming restaurant near the city’s main street catches his attention.

It was warm, cozy, and has the kind of atmosphere that feels... personal.

Perfect for what he needs to say.

Jina, behind him, narrows her eyes to get a look of what he is doing. She can see the contact name 'YN♡,' and then he sends a link.

Is he going on a date with that girl?

Without doing a sound, she gets back to her task.

Joongie♡: Sent.

Joongie♡: See you there, pretty.

No response, but you had read the message. Hongjoong put his phone down, exhaling deeply.

Tomorrow, he will fix things. He has to.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You stand in front of the mirror, carefully applying the finishing touches to your makeup over your bruised cheek. Your hands are steady, but inside, your heart is racing with anticipation.

Tonight, Hongjoong is finally going to explain everything. You had spent days drowning in frustration, confusion, and anger, but now, there is a chance to clear the air.

Tonight, everything will be fixed.

Tonight, Hongjoong would explain himself.

Tonight, he would tell you why he had been acting so distant, why he had been avoiding you after school, why he had refused to spend time with you.

He would make it up to you like he promised.

You adjust the delicate straps of your black dress, making sure everything is perfect. Your hair cascades over your shoulders in soft waves, and your lips are painted a deep shade of red—covering perfectly your broken lip—masking your vulnerability.

You take a step back, examining yourself with a critical eye. Stunning as always.

Hongjoong would see you and remember exactly why he had fought so hard to be with you.

Your phone buzzes on the vanity table. You grab it instantly, hoping it is Hongjoong confirming he is already there, waiting for you. But it is just a reminder from your driver.

With a sigh, you slip your phone into your designer purse and grab your coat. As you walk down the grand staircase of your home, you catch sight of Mike lounging in the living room, flipping through a magazine.

"Going somewhere?" He asks without looking up.

"Not that it's any of your business."

Mike smirks but doesn't push further. He simply leans back and watches as you disappear through the front door.

The car ride to the restaurant was quiet, giving you too much time to think.

Was Hongjoong nervous? Was that why he hadn't said much after sending you the address? You shook your head. No, tonight was about fixing things.

You wouldn’t let doubt ruin it.

The restaurant Hongjoong had chosen is small but elegant, tucked away near the city’s main street. Fairy lights hang across the windows, giving the place a warm, intimate glow. It’s a charming spot, perfect for a conversation that had been long overdue.

You walk in, heels clicking against the polished floor as you approach the host.

"Reservation under Kim Hongjoong." You say smoothly.

The host checks his list and nods "Ah, yes. Right this way, miss."

You follow him to a cozy table by the window, the perfect spot to watch the city’s nightlife unfold. You sit down, crossing your legs gracefully, and check your phone. No new messages.

You exhale, telling yourself that he would be here any second. You smooth out your napkin and glance at the entrance.

Your fingers tap against the polished wood, eyes flicking to the entrance every few seconds. Any moment now.

The waiter approaches “Would you like to order something while you wait?”

“I’ll wait,” You reply, forcing a polite smile “He’ll be here soon.”

The minutes drag on. The candle in the middle of the table flickers, barely illuminating the growing void in your chest.

7:15 PM.

You check your phone. No messages.

7:35 PM.

Your throat feels tight. You type a quick text.

YN♡: Are you on your way?

Sent. No response.

7:50 PM.

Your nails dig into your palm. You try not to look at the couples around you, laughing, talking, and enjoying their meals together. You try not to feel humiliated.

8:15 PM.

He 's not coming.

You blink, pushing back the sting behind your eyes. No. This isn’t happening, Hongjoong wouldn’t—he wouldn’t do this to you. Not after everything. Not after all the things he told you, the way he held you, the way he—

Your phone buzzes.

Finally.

You grab it instantly, hope swelling in your chest—until you see the sender.

Seonghwa.

You hesitate, then open the message. It 's a photo.

Your eyes open in surprise.

It’s Hongjoong.

Hongjoong in a different restaurant. Hugging a girl.

The image isn’t blurry. It isn’t vague.

They look comfortable, like he belongs there. Like this is his life, and you aren't in it.

Your chest caves in. The restaurant around you fades into nothing but muffle sounds and blurry lights.

Your phone slips from your fingers into the table, your vision blurry. A sharp inhale burns through your throat, but it doesn't bring any relief.

He… he really didn’t come.

He left you waiting, and he was with someone else.

You stand abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. You don’t care if people look. You don’t care about anything.

You grab your purse, leaving behind the perfectly set table, the unlit candle, the untouched hope you had carried with you.

The ride home was silent.

You walk through the front door in a daze, your heels clicking against the marble floor. No one is around. Good.

You climb the stairs to your bedroom, locking the door behind you. The moment you turn around, the weight of it all comes crashing down.

You clench your fists, willing yourself to breathe, to not care, to be the unbothered YN everyone expects you to be.

But you can’t.

Your knees give out.

And for the first time in years, you cry.

Not silent tears. Not a quiet sniffle.

You sob.

Your body curls in on itself, shaking, as raw, broken cries escape your lips. Your hands clutch at your dress, nails digging into the fabric as if holding into something—anything—would stop you from unraveling completely.

But there is nothing left to hold onto.

Hongjoong had taken everything.

The walls you had built. The pride you had carried. The belief that you could never be broken.

And yet, here you are.

Crying alone in the dark.

Like a fool.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Hongjoog is just about to leave his house, dressed in his best clothes, nervous yet excited. He has finally got a day off, and this is his chance to make things right with you.

He checks his phone again, seeing your last message confirming their date, and a small smile tugs at his lips. After everything, he is determined to fix this.

Then, his phone buzzes.

Jina: Kim, I need your help. It's urgent. I'm at the café. Please, just for a second.

Hongjoong frowns. Jina rarely texts him outside of work, and the urgency in her message makes him hesitate. He glances at the time—he has enough to swing by quickly, help her out, and still make it to the restaurant on time.

Hongjoong: What’s wrong?

Jina: Just come. Please. I really need you.

Sighing, he pockets his phone and hurries toward the café, telling himself it wouldn’t take long.

When he arrives at the cafe, Jina is waiting outside, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, an unreadable smirk on her lips.

“I thought something bad happened,” Hongjoong says, a little breathless.

Jina puts on a fake worried face “It did! Well, kind of. I locked myself out of the counter, and I left something really important inside. You’re the only one I know who might figure out how to open it without causing a scene.”

Hongjoong exhales sharply, checking the time. He still has time.

“Alright.”

She leads him inside, making sure to keep her pace slow, stalling as much as possible. When they reach the storage room, she hands him a thin wire.

“I saw you mess with one of these before. Think you can do it?”

He takes the wire, focusing as he tries to get the lock open. His brows furrowed as he works, unaware that Jina has discreetly pulled out her phone, sending a quick text.

Jina: He’s here. Keep watch.

Outside, a tall man leans casually against a lamppost near the café, watching through the window, waiting for the right moment.

Hongjoong is still working on the lock when Jina suddenly steps closer, pretending to peer over his shoulder. She tilts her head, letting her hair brush against him, positioning herself just right.

And then, right when she sees the man lift his phone, she leans in even more, her lips dangerously close to Hongjoong’s cheek.

“Almost there,” The man mutters, oblivious to how it looks from the outside.

The lock finally gives in, and Hongjoong straightens up, triumphant.

“There, it’s open.”

Jina beam “You’re a lifesaver!” She says, throwing her arms around him in an exaggerated hug.

And just like that, flash—The man captures the perfect shot. From the angle he took it, it looked exactly like they were sharing an intimate moment.

Hongjoong checks the time again and feels his stomach drop. He had stayed way longer than he meant to.

“Shit, I have to go,” He says, pulling away from Jina’s hold.

Jina pouts, but inwardly she is smirking “Leaving already? Come on, stay for a drink. It’s not like you’re in a rush.”

“I am in a rush,” He snaps, already heading for the door.

Jina watches him go, waiting until he is far enough before pulling out her phone and sending a message.

Jina: Done. He’s on his way, but I made sure he’s late.

The reply is instant.

Bastard Park: Perfect. Time to deliver the final blow.

With a satisfied smirk, he sends the picture to you.

And just like that, the trap is complete.

✮ ⋆

As soon as Hongjoong steps out of the café, he pulls out his phone to check the time—and his heart plummets.

It was way past the time he was supposed to meet you.

“Shit,” He mutters under his breath, breaking into a sprint toward the restaurant.

His mind races, a thousand apologies already forming in his head. Maybe you are still there, waiting. Maybe he can explain. Maybe you’d understand.

But when he arrives, the small restaurant is nearly empty. The table he had reserved was cleared, no sign of you anywhere.

Hongjoong’s chest tightens. He runs a hand through his hair, breath still uneven as he turns in all directions, hoping—praying—that you are just running late too.

He pulls out his phone to call you, but there is no answer. He tries again.

Straight to voicemail.

He knows he needs to find you, to explain. But deep down, something tells him that the damage is already done.

And this time, he doesn’t know if he can fix it.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You barely sleep, your body is exhausted, but your mind is restless. You hadn’t felt this empty in years, the heaviness of betrayal dragging you into a deep, silent pit.

The house is quiet as you sit down for breakfast, your eyes barely lifting from your plate. Your mother sits across from you, picking at her food.

“Sweetie,” Your mother calls softly, breaking the silence “Have you heard from Hongjoong?”

Your chest tightens at the mention of his name, the flash of the photo still burning in your mind. You don’t want to talk about him—not today.

Not after everything that happened last night.

“Please don’t.” You mutter under your breath, pushing your plate aside, and voice cracking from the strain of holding back the flood of emotions.

Your mother raises an eyebrow, confused “What do you mean?”

You snap, your patience finally unraveling “Don’t ask me about him, I don't want to talk about him.”

Your voice comes out sharp, harder than you meant, but it was too late to take the words back.

Your mother’s face stiffs, hurt flashing in her eyes “Sweetie, what's going on? Something happened between you or—”

“I don’t want to hear his fucking name, again!” You spit, not caring if you are crossing a line.

The silence in the room grows thick and heavy. Mike, who had been leaning against the kitchen door frame, watching the scene unfold, finally speaks up, his voice cold and sharp, a sign of his anger brewing beneath the surface.

“Watch your mouth, YN,” He growls “You think you can talk to our mother like that?”

Your eyes flick to your brother. There it is. The fury in his gaze is palpable, and you know what is coming.

He always had a short temper, and whenever things didn’t go his way, he couldn’t control his rage.

And every person in this family knows it.

"Mind your own fucking business, Mike."

“That’s it,” Mike snarls, his hand gripping your arm with force making you gasp in pain “You think you can speak to me like that in front of our mother? You’re just as worthless as I always knew.”

“Mike, stop!” Your mother shouts, but it’s too late.

Mike drags you by the arm, the grip tight and punishing, as he pulls you toward the stairs. You struggle against him, your heels slipping on the marble floor, but Mike’s anger is a force that can’t be ignored.

Your parents’ voices ring out from behind, frantic and desperate.

“Mike, let her go! This is insane!”

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t care. The only thing that matters is the fury building inside him, and he isn’t about to stop.

Due to the screaming scandal, the employees and even Dann left their duties to see what is happening to the Clarke family.

“Mike! What are you doing?” Your mother shouts, but Mike doesn't respond.

He is beyond words now, his anger blinding him, consuming him.

Your vision blurs with anger and pain, you want to scream, to lash out, but you can’t. You can’t do anything except let him drag you up the stairs, your feet barely touching the steps.

Dann stands in the hallway, frozen, her wide eyes lock on the scene. She can hear her heart thumping in her chest, but she can’t bring herself to move, to intervene.

What is he doing? What’s happening?

Before everyone can react, your scream resonates in the immense house.

“Let go of me!” You scream, trying to break free, but his hand is like a vice around your arm. It’s raw, desperate.

Dann’s stomach lurch as the scream echoes in her ears. The sound of footsteps grows louder, and desperate shouts. Her breath hitches, she isn't the type to get involved, but this time she moves instinctively, stepping behind Clarke's family and some other maids.

“Mike, stop! What are you doing?!”

It’s your mother’s voice. Desperate.

With one swift motion, Mike shoves you into your room and slams the door, locking it behind him, the sound of it echoing through the house.

Dann’s gaze flicks towards the other maids, all of them looking as stunned as her, eyes wide with fear unsure if they should help or stay away from this.

Your parents’ frantic knocks fill the air.

“Mike, open this door right now!” Your father screams.

“Calm down, and stop this!” Your mother cries out.

But Mike is past caring. The door remains shut.

Inside, the room feels suffocating. Mike’s eyes are wild, his hands trembling with rage as he advances on you.

You back away, trying to create distance, but he is too fast.

His fist connects with your face in a brutal slap, sending you stumbling back into the wall. The sharp pain blooms on your cheek, but it’s nothing compared to the twisted fury that burns in his eyes.

“Why do you always act like you're better than everyone?” Mike hisses, his voice low and venomous “You think you can get away with everything? I hate you. I hate everything about you.”

You try to steady yourself, the tears threatening to spill, but you refuse to let him see you break.

You wipe your mouth, your body shaking with suppressed anger “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this?!”

Mike’s eyes flares with rage “I don’t need a fucking reason!” He screams back, his foot crashing into your leg, sending you collapsing into the floor “You’re nothing but a spoiled, ungrateful little bitch.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You try to scramble away from him, but he’s relentless, towering over you, his rage completely uncheck.

“You’re sick! Stop this shit, Mike!”

The words only seem to make him angrier. He leans down, grabbing you by the hair and yanking your head back.

“I’m the one in control here,” He snarls “And you’re nothing.”

✩

Outside the room, the sound from inside—yelling, screams, and the harsh, guttural thudding of fists—is unmistakable and your parents continue to knock, their voices becoming more desperate by the second.

“Please help me open the door!”

The head of the family screams to the staff around when the noise intensifies as Mike shouts again, this time inaudible, followed by the sickening sound of something crashing. Dann freezes, her feet rooted to the floor.

“Mike, please!” Your mother cries, her voice trembling “You need to stop! This isn’t the way! Please—!”

Dann’s breath hitches in her throat as she sees your mother, looking frantic, her face pale with fear.

Your father is right behind her, both of them calling Mike’s name, their voices pleading, but it’s clear he isn’t listening.

“Mike open the fucking door!” He shouts again, his voice no longer calm but desperate.

He bangs his fist against the wood, as if trying to break it open, but it doesn’t work. The door doesn’t budge.

Everyone can hear your muffled screams from inside. They are weak, strain, each one like a stab to the chest.

Dann is shocked, she hadn’t heard you like this before—not ever. You were usually strong, always the one who stood tall, the queen bee who ruled every room she entered.

To hear you reduced to this? It 's too much.

“Let me in!” Your mother pleads, the desperation in her voice rising.

But Mike remains silent behind the door. Then, a sickening crash. The sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

Dann’s hands tremble as she grabs the edge of the railing, her thoughts spinning. She wants to run, to leave, to shut her eyes and pretend she didn’t hear the violence unfolding in your room.

She wants to be anywhere but here.

But there is something else in her chest—something that feels like guilt. A pang of regret so sharp it made her chest ache.

She had helped Mike. She had been a part of his anger, his manipulation. She had stood by and allowed him to act like this, but now, seeing you suffer...

For the first time, Dann wonders if she’d made a terrible mistake. She knew that Mike was rigorous, but this? This is beyond anything she had expected.

“Please, Mike. Open the door! You’re hurting her! Don’t you see what you’re doing?”

Dann could hear the desperation in their voice. Your father—who always seemed so in control, so unwavering—is breaking down.

But still, Mike doesn’t respond.

✩

A bitter smirk curls on your lips. Even as pain burns through your body, you refuse to look away.

"You’re in control? Why didn't you say the same to Hannah?"

The air in the room shatters.

Everything stops.

Mike’s breath stills. His grip on your hair freezes.

Then, without warning—

His hands snap around your throat.

The force slams your head against the floor. White bursts across your vision, pain shooting through your skull. His fingers dig into your skin, cutting off your air in an instant.

Your body jerks, instincts taking over as your hands claw at his wrists, but he doesn’t budge.

"Don’t—" His voice is raw, feral. "—say her fucking name!"

Your lungs burn, chest heaves, but nothing comes in.

You can’t breathe.

A choked, gurgling sound escapes your lips.

For the first time—true, undiluted fear slams into you.

This time, he’s really going to kill you.

✩

The muffled sounds of struggle are alarming enough. But the silence that follows—the eerie, heavy pause—makes Dann’s stomach drop.

She lingers in the hallway with the other maids, hushed whispers mixing with the tense air. The entire house staff is frozen, eyes darting toward the closed door..

Then she hears it—

A sharp thud. A desperate, choking gasp. And the suffocating, terrifying silence.

Just as she is about to move and help, one big man that she never saw before, shoves her aside, frantically searching for something, anything, to break the door down.

“Get back!” He shouts, and then with a final, desperate push, he manages to get the door open.

The sight that greeted them inside is nothing short of horrific.

Mike is on top of you, his hands wrapped around your throat. Your body jerks violently, fingers clawing at his arms, legs kicking weakly against the floor trying to fight back, but his strength is above yours.

Everyone's face turned a terrifying shade of red.

"Oh my god..." Dann breathes, horror flooding her veins.

This is not what she signed up for. She wanted to hurt you, to knock you down from your pedestal, to humiliate you. But this?

This is fucking murder.

Your eyes are wide, body twitching, struggling to hold on.

And Dann’s stomach twists violently at the sight.

"Mike, stop!" Your mother screams.

He doesn’t flinch. His grip doesn’t loosen. His body doesn’t move. It’s like he’s completely gone.

You let out a strangled, rasping noise. Your movements are slowing.

Dann’s heart slams against her ribs. He’s really going to kill you. But she can't move… she can't do anything.

Desperate, your father and some male staff lunges forward and grabs at Mike’s arms, trying to yank him away.

"You’re going to kill her!" Your mother sobs, panic clawing at her throat.

Nothing.

Mike doesn’t even acknowledge her. His expression is blank—twisted—like he isn’t even there anymore.

Suddenly, your body stops jerking.

Panic shoots through everyone in the room.

And Dann doesn’t think—she just acts.

With everything she has, she runs to where the scene is happening and sinks her nails into Mike’s wrist and bites down on his arm, hard.

Mike roars in pain. His grip finally snaps open, and your body heaves as air rushes back into your lungs.

You collapse onto the floor, coughing violently, gasping for breath.

"Sweetie! Get out of my way, Mike!” Your mother says, her voice icy as she moves to check on you.

But Mike doesn’t move. He just stands there, watching them all like they are beneath him.

“My baby…” She cries, pulling you to her lap.

Mike stumbles back, chest heaving. His dazed expression flickers between confusion and rage, pupils blown wide.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Your father shrieks, voice shaking "You almost killed her!"

Mike barely even looks at him "She deserved it."

The words hit Dann like a slap.

She stumbles back, unable to speak. Her thoughts racing, but none of them make sense.

She had never seen Mike like this before. She had never seen him hurt anyone like this before. The boy who had always been tough—yes—but this? This is something else.

“You crossed the line, Mike!!” This time your mother shouts.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” He mutters, voice low and trembling.

Dann’s legs give way, and she sinks to the floor, tears spilling down her face.

She had helped him. She had believed in him.

But now, in the midst of all this chaos, she realizes that she has been wrong. She has been an accomplice in something that she can't even begin to justify.

Dann can’t help but feel the full weight of what she has done—the guilt, the shame, and the realization that she has let the worst happen under her watch.

A tall man rushes in, followed by security, followed by more maids whispering in hushed, horrified tones.

The room erupts into chaos.

Dann reaches out, hands trembling as she tries to touch you, to help you.

But you, still coughing, still shaking, slap her hand away.

"Don’t touch me." You rasp, voice hoarse.

Even in your state you seek to be closer to your mother, and so you do, you get closer until her arms are tightly around you. You turn slightly, looking straight at Mike.

Your expression is unreadable, your lips are swollen, skin bruised, but your eyes—

Your eyes are filled with something deadly.

And then you do something that makes Dann’s blood freeze.

You smile.

It’s slow, broken—full of bitter, quiet rage.

"Now that was dramatic," Your rasp voice is laced with mockery "All because of a name?"

Mike’s face twists. For a second, he looks like he might attack again. But security grabs him, forcing him back.

Your mother turns to the guards, voice sharp with panic "Get him out of here!"

Mike thrashes for a moment, then suddenly stills. His expression remains unreadable, but his eyes stay locked on you.

And for the first time since the night began—

Dann sees fear in them.

You have won.

Not by fighting back. Not by screaming.

But by surviving.

And as you sit there in your mother's arms, breathless, broken, smiling—Dann realizes something terrifying.

It’s not the first time this has happened.

Your way of acting is not in accordance with what has just happened. It's almost like you're used to it by now.

And she is sure that you aren't going to let this go. You’re going to destroy him.

And Dann?

Dann just picked the losing side.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The mansion is eerily quiet after the chaos. The tension lingers like an unshakable presence, seeping into every corner of the house.

You sit on your massive bed, your mother beside you, dabbing a cold cloth against your bruised throat. The older woman’s hands tremble slightly, her usual composure cracked by today’s events.

Your father stands near the window, arms crossed, his face unreadable as he stares outside.

In the kitchen, the maids whisper in hushed voices, and their faces pale as they recount what had just transpired.

Dann sits frozen with her mother at her side, both overwhelmed by what they’ve learned.

"This isn't the first time," One of the older maids murmurs "Mister Mike has always had... temper issues. But he used to just slap Miss YN when they argued. Never like this. Never... this violent."

Dann’s breath catches in her throat. Slaps? Before he left for Germany? Her stomach churns. She was aware of Mike being intense, but she never considered that he might have actually hurt you before today.

Another maid, older and wise beyond her years, sighs, shaking her head.

"I remember the last time it happened. Miss YN didn't cry. She never does. She just took it, and when he was gone, she smiled like nothing had happened. But this time... this time was different. He went too far."

“Our little girl it’s been through a lot because of her brother.”

Dann’s mother tightens her grip on Dann’s arm, impressed by the information. Never in all her years of working for the upper class had she witnessed such a scene

Therefore, Dann keeps thinking about your reaction—about the way you smiled. A slow, broken, bitter smile that sent chills down her spine.

You weren't just going to let this go.

✮ ⋆

Inside your room, you finally move. You reach for your phone with shaky fingers and open a group chat that only has two contacts—Wooyoung and Mindy.

YN♡: It 's happening again.

A few seconds later, they respond.

Babe Min: That motherfucker!

Brat Woo: We’re on our way, babydoll.

You smile, click out of the chat, and call one of the maids who usually attends the front door.

"Do not let anyone in except Wooyoung and Mindy. No one. Understand?"

"Yes, Miss YN."

You sigh, exhausted. Your phone keeps buzzing—dozens of missed calls and messages from Hongjoong since yesterday night.

Joongie♡: YN, please answer me.

Joongie♡: Let me explain everything to you.

Joongie♡: Please, pretty. I’m so sorry.

You stare at the screen before shutting your phone off entirely. You aren't in the mood to talk to him.

Not now. Not today.

You lean back against the pillows, your fingers grazing the bruises on your neck.

You close your eyes.

Mike had made a mistake today, and you aren't going to let this go.

✮ ⋆

When Mindy and Wooyoung arrived, they didn't need anyone to guide them through your house. They had been here a thousand times before—through grand parties, sleepovers, and nights of shared secrets.

But today, the air feels different. Heavy. The grandeur of the mansion, usually welcoming in its cold luxury, seems suffocating.

The maids barely acknowledge them as they walk in, a clear sign of the chaos that had unfolded just hours ago. Wooyoung gives a small nod to one of the familiar staff members, but she only bows slightly before hurrying away.

Neither him nor Mindy speak as they ascend the wide marble staircase. They know where to find you.

Your room is at the end of the hall, the massive double doors usually standing slightly ajar when you are in a good mood.

Today, they are shut tight. Wooyoung and Mindy exchange a look before Mindy knocks lightly.

No answer.

Woo sighs, twisting the handle and pushing the door open.

The dim lighting cast soft shadows across the space, the only source of real illumination being the faint glow from the lamp by the bed. You are lying there, curled on your side, back to the door.

You aren't asleep. They can tell by the way your shoulders tensed slightly at the sound of them entering.

Mindy walks over first, sitting on the edge of the bed. Wooyoung follows, standing at the foot, arms crossed.

“Babe,” Mindy says softly.

For a moment, it seemed like you wouldn’t answer. Then, your voice came, quiet but steady.

“It happened again.”

Mindy and Wooyoung share a glance. They know exactly what you meant.

Wooyoung clenches his jaw “Tell us everything.”

You inhale deeply before rolling onto your back, staring at the ceiling. They look in horror at the bruises that cover your neck and the slight wounds on your face.

This went beyond what it usually was.

“Since he returned.” You start, voice eerily calm “He has done nothing but make horrible comments and make my life almost impossible.”

Woo exhales sharply. He had always known about Mike’s temper, but hearing you say it so plainly—so matter-of-factly—makes his stomach churn.

Mindy, quiet and attentive, reaches for your hand “When was the first one?”

You let out a dry chuckle “A month ago at his party, after his grandiose speech I went out to the courtyard to smoke a little.”

Mindy nods, her grip tightening “That night?”

“He caught me, and slapped me across the face like I was some misbehaving child,” You say bitterly “He said I was embarrassing him and our family.”

Wooyoung swears under his breath, pacing slightly.

“Then the next time, someone sent him a video of me smoking weed at the club a couple of days ago. I dont know who the fuck sent him that, we were the only ones in the vip room. Anyways; he cornered me when I arrived, and called me a cheap whore, and when I talked back—” You gesture vaguely at your cheek “Another fucking slap.”

Mindy’s jaw tightened “I didn't believe your story of falling on the stairs at all, I already suspected that Mike had done something. Why didn't you just tell me that my suspicions were correct, YN?”

You shrug “Not like you could have stopped him.”

Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair, frustrated “But today—today was different, wasn’t it? He's slapped you before, but this is being a fucking asshole.”

Silence stretches between them, thick with unspoken words. Then, you sit up slightly, your tone shifting.

“And as if that wasn’t enough, Hongjoong has been acting differently, too.”

Mindy frowns, nodding “We have noticed, what's wrong with him?”

You scoff “Since I gave him a chance and since we fucked.” You scoff “The stupid rumor at school became true.”

Wooyoung raises a brow, but says nothing.

“He’s been weird. Distant sometimes. Sweet other times. I don’t know what to make of it,” You admit, frustration creeping into your voice “And then yesterday, he invited me on a date to explain everything, but never showed up.”

Mindy’s brows furrow “Did he say why?”

“No… But Seonghwa sent me something.”

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, unlock it, and hand it to them. On the screen is a picture—a blurry yet unmistakable image of Hongjoong in a café, hugging a girl.

Wooyoung stiffs immediately, his eyes narrowing “That place… that’s a café Hwa likes to go to.”

“You recognize it?”

Wooyoung nods slowly, his mind working “And that girl… she looks familiar.”

Mindy leans in, squinting “Where do you know her from?”

Wooyoung exhales, rubbing his temple “I don’t know. I know that she works in that cafe, I've seen her elsewhere, but I can’t remember where.”

You groan in frustration, flopping back onto the bed “Great.”

Mindy places a hand on your arm. “Babe… Do you think Seonghwa is messing with you? It’s strange that he sent you that photo.”

“Maybe. But I don’t trust Hongjoong either.”

Woo crosses his arms “So what now?”

You turn your head to look at both of them “Now?” A slow, bitter smirk spreads across your face “Now, I play my own game. Woo, I need you to go to that place and find out who that slut is. Also, try to remember where you've seen her.”

“Got it, babydoll.” He nods with a sly smile.

“Babe, try to find who sent that video to Mike and have Seonghwa in your sight… I don't know why, but since you said he talked with Dann at the party, it concerned me.”

“Sure thing, babe.”

“Thanks, guys. For everything.” You say sincerely as you open your arms.

They smile as they lean in, carefully embarrassing you in a hug.

“No worries, babydoll. We will help you with that fucking brother you have.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Hongjoong stands outside the grand gates of Clarke’s estate, his hands clenches into fists. The cold iron bars seem more impenetrable than ever, as if they are physically barring him from your life.

He has been trying to reach you all week, but every call went to voicemail. Every text remained unanswered.

He exhales sharply and walks up to the main entrance, where one of the maids, an older woman with a neutral expression, steps forward to greet him.

“Hi, Can I see YN?” He asks politely, although he already knows what answer he will receive.

The maid hesitates before giving a slight bow “I’m sorry, but Miss YN has ordered that no visitors be allowed.”

His jaw tightens “I just need five minutes, I really need to talk to her.”

The maid’s face remains unreadable, she has seen him almost every day this week and he is still firm on seeing you.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”

Frustration surges through him “Can you at least give her a message? Tell her I—”

“She will not receive messages either.”

Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. He had expected you to be upset, but not to shut him out completely.

He wasn’t giving up. Digging into his pocket, he pulls out a small, carefully wrapped box.

“Fine,” He mutters “At least, can you give her this, please?”

The maid hesitates before nodding, taking the gift from him. Without another word, she turns and disappears into the house.

Hongjoong stands there for a moment longer, hoping—praying—that you would change your mind and come to see him. But the doors remain closed.

With a frustrated sigh, he turns and walks away.

He is not going to give up.

✮ ⋆

When you receive the package, you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at it in silence.

A gift.

Just like every time your parents had done something wrong, and instead of real apologies, they showered you with expensive gifts to make up for it.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you unwrap it, revealing a delicate silver necklace with a small charm—a butterfly.

It 's beautiful and thoughtful, but it isn’t what you need.

Tears prick your eyes as you set the necklace down beside you, your stomach twisting with a familiar pain.

You close your eyes, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

You aren’t going to let yourself be bought by him.

Not Hongjoong.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Dann grips the strap of her bag tightly as she stands in the empty hall of the big house, her heart hammering.

Mike leans against the grand piano, his usual mask of cold confidence in place, fingers lazily tapping against the polished wood.

“I was wondering when you’d stop avoiding me,” He says casually, though there’s a sharpness underneath.

Dann swallows “I wasn’t—”

He tilts his head, cutting her off “You were.” His eyes narrow “And I don’t like being ignored.”

Dann clenches her fists “What do you want?”

Mike’s lips curve into something that might look like a smile to someone who didn’t know better.

“What do you think I want? I want you to stop acting like you suddenly grew a conscience.”

Dann’s throat tightens “YN didn’t deserve that. You—”

“I what?” His voice turns ice-cold, and he pushes off the piano, stepping toward her “Are you going to tell me what a monster I am, Dann? How unfair I was to my dear little sister?” His voice drips with mockery.

Dann takes a step back. Mike watches her with something like amusement, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Let’s not forget our arrangement.” Dann stiffens “In case you need reminding,” He continues smoothly, “My parents gave your mother a job, and I'm the reason your scholarship even exists. And just as easily as I gave you all of that…” His voice lowers, full of quiet threat “I can take it all away.”

Dann’s breath catches “You wouldn’t.”

Mike raises an eyebrow “Wouldn’t I? You see what happened to YN. right?”

Silence stretches between them, suffocating. Dann feels like she’s being held under water, forced to swallow the reality of her situation.

“…What do you want me to do?” She finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles again “That’s more like it. Start finding more info about YN, I don't care what, but give me something to make her break completely.” Dann feels sick, she meets Mike’s expectant gaze “Find out what you can, and make sure you tell me first.”

Dann exhales shakily, she has no choice.

At school, she feels lost, she feel like throwing up everytime she thinks of Mike and his threats. How did you handle him all these years?

Her stomach churns.

She should have expected this. She did expect this. Mike was never going to let her walk away. But after what he did to you… after what she helped him do…

Her hands shake. She tells herself she didn’t really have a choice. That it wasn’t her who locked you in that room, who let that horrible scene unfold.

But wasn’t it?

Wasn’t she the one who fed Mike information in the first place? The one who stood by while you screamed on the other side of that door?

A lump forms in her throat, and she presses her back against the cold metal lockers, squeezing her eyes shut.

You didn’t deserve that.

You, who—despite everything—have a reason to act like you do.

And now, Mike wanted her to do it all over again.

A soft laugh escapes her, bitter and humorless. She thought this deal with Seonghwa was her using him, that she was playing the game instead of being a pawn.

But the truth is…

She was never going to win against people like them.

But here she is, throwing you to the wolves.

Again.

But if she doesn’t her mother loses her job. Her scholarship is gone. Everything she fought for—everything she sacrificed—wasted.

A deep, shuddering breath. Dann closes her eyes.

I’m sorry, YN.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡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 @lezleeferguson-120 @beabatiny @yothangie @lover-of-fics @mingipessego @Ycuhugi @posseup @0407files @cheolright @yeorisanaxox @innocygnet @a-tiny-thing @sannieily @maplelilly05 @ddeonugu @niaee @yunhogrippers @unbroken-shadows

☆○☆○☆○

All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.

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 ⋆｡°✩

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AHHHHHHHHHH MY BABIES 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

strangers by nature | vii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.4K Warnings: angst, character d*ath, feelings of despair

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a/n: if I cried writing this chapter, ya'll are going to cry too 😭

“This morning, we bring you breaking news about the arrest of a 48-year-old woman involved in a harrowing incident connected to one of the nation's most prominent families. The woman, identified as the former nanny of the Choi Group heiress, was apprehended late last night following her mistaken discharge from Utopia Mental Health Facility.

According to investigators, the woman, whose identity is being withheld due to privacy laws, had been institutionalized after multiple previous incidents involving obsessive behavior toward the heiress and an attempted kidnapping of another six-year-old girl earlier this year…”

You sat quietly at the long wooden table in the conference room, your gaze fixed on the polished floor beneath your feet. The low hum of the news droned on in the background, the anchors’ voices a static blur. Your bandaged arm rested on the table, the gash beneath the wrappings a painful reminder of how wrong everything had gone.

“What are we going to do!?” your mother paced around the room, her voice rising with every word. Your father sat silently at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. San and Jongho exchanged knowing looks, clearly expecting another one of her tirades.

“The press won’t stop hounding us!” she exclaimed, her voice nearly cracking. “They’re everywhere—outside this building, near our home—they’re relentless! I mean, we can’t even breathe without someone taking a picture or shouting questions!”

San leaned forward, his tone calm but firm.“Kira and the firm are already doing everything they can to handle the situation. The best thing we can do now is to have Y/N lay low while the investigation continues. We need to let the lawyers and PR team do their job.”

Your mother whirled around to face him, her frustration palpable. “Lay low? How exactly do you expect her to do that when her face is on every news channel right now?”

She grabbed this morning’s paper from the edge of the table and waved it in the air, the motion so aggressive it crinkled the front page. Your face stared back at you, frozen in a manufactured smile that you hated with every fiber of your being. It wasn’t you—it was the version of you your family wanted the world to see. 

You looked down at your hands, your bandaged arm resting awkwardly on the table. The memory of the attack flashed in your mind, sharp and vivid, as though it had just happened. This wasn’t the kind of attention you wanted—this wasn’t the life you’d ever asked for. Yet here you were, front and center in a drama you had no control over, and it was tearing you apart from the inside out.

“We’re already managing the narrative,” Jongho interjected. 

“The new cycle will shift, it always does. By this afternoon, Kim Namjoon’s official announcement for his political run will dominate headlines. It’s a matter of hours. Security at all your properties has also been significantly tightened, as you requested.”

Your mother’s laugh was bitter, almost hysterical. “How could security have been tightened when Y/N was still attacked in a public place!?” your mother shrieked, her voice growing shrill.

“You were supposed to keep an eye on her, and–”

That was it. You stood up so abruptly your chair scraped against the floor, catching everyone off guard.

“It was my fault,” you said, your voice shaking but growing stronger with every word. 

“I asked Kira to let me go out with her because I didn’t want to be locked away in the penthouse anymore. I made that decision. This is my mess, my problem, and no one else’s. Pointing fingers won’t undo what happened, so can we stop pretending it will?”

Your mother stood frozen, her face pale, her mouth gaping like a fish gasping for air. She searched for a retort, an argument, anything to regain the upper hand, but you didn’t give her the chance. Without another word you stormed out of the room, ignoring the calls from your family in your wake.

You didn’t stop until you were in the corridor, far from their judgmental stares and suffocating expectations. Slowly, you slid down to the ground, your legs folding awkwardly beneath you. The tears you’d been holding back pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision as you stared blankly at the ceiling. You hated crying, especially over this, over them. But it wasn’t just the argument with your mother or the media circus that broke you down. 

It was the loneliness. 

The crushing realization that no one in that room really saw you or understood what you were going through. To them, you were an asset, a liability, a problem to solve. Not a person.

Your fingers trembled as you fumbled for your phone. But the moment you turned it on, your breath caught in your throat. Maro’s face stared back at you from your lock screen, a photo you’d taken just weeks ago.

His tiny tongue hung from the side of his mouth, his fur slightly disheveled from spinning in circles on the couch, chasing his own tail. You’d taken the photo in the middle of laughing so hard you could barely hold your phone steady. You could almost hear the soft jingle of his collar as he burrowed into the cushions, glancing up every now and then to make sure you were watching.

But the laughter felt like a distant memory now, replaced by the crushing weight of grief. Your free hand moved to your bandaged arm and your fingers curled over the wound instinctively.  

You sat hunched over in the waiting room of the emergency animal hospital with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every second dragged on like an eternity, Every sound made you flinch, hoping it was someone coming to tell you he’d pulled through, that he’d be okay. But as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, your hope began to waver.

“Y/N!”

You looked up to see Yeosang rushing toward you after you had called him on the way to the clinic. 

“They took him back to the operating room, but—but they wouldn’t let me go with him,” you whispered as he crouched down next to you. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he squeezed your shoulder. “He’s a fighter. Maro’s tough, and he loves you. He’s not going to give up that easily, okay? And neither should you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without him,” you admitted. 

“He’s the only one who’s ever been there for me. He’s a dog but through these last few months he never judged me, never made me feel like I wasn’t enough. He just… loved me.”

“I can’t lose him,” your voice cracked, and just like that, the dam broke. Tears spilled freely down your cheeks, unguarded, as your body shook with uncontrollable sobs.

“He’s all I have, Yeosang.”

“I know,” Yeosang replied quietly. “I know, Y/N. And it’s not fair. But you can’t blame yourself. You did everything you could to protect him.”

His soft exhale filled the heavy silence that followed. Yeosang understood that no words could fix this. So, he simply stayed with you, letting your anguish fill the space, offering nothing but his quiet presence as you crumbled.

The sound of a door opening made you lift your head, your heart leaping into your throat. A vet in scrubs approached you, her expression solemn, and your stomach dropped. Her words were a blur, muffled by the roar in your ears, but you didn’t need to hear them to know. 

The look in her eyes said everything.

You curled in on yourself, your sobs muffled now as you pressed your face against your knees, as if trying to hold together the pieces of your shattered heart.

You let the grief take over, let the tears fall freely, because no one was there to see. You didn’t know how long you stayed there, but when the tears finally slowed, leaving you drained and empty, you lifted your head and stared blankly ahead.  

You were so tired. Tired of carrying everything alone, tired of being left behind. But no matter how much it hurt, you knew there was no one coming to share the weight. It was just you.

No one was coming. No one ever did.

It had always been just you.

⋆

Mingi sat in the garden, his small paws tucked neatly under him as he watched Hongjoong tend to his flowers. The garden was a vibrant burst of life and color. Golden marigolds lined the cobblestone pathways, nestled between the soft hues of blooming roses and sprigs of lavender. The gentle garden was otherworldly, which was appropriate considering where they are.

The afterlife was serene. Quiet. Too quiet, Mingi thought, though he’d never admit it. A part of him didn’t want to accept that this was how everything would end.

That this was it.

That he wouldn’t have the opportunity to make amends. That he wouldn’t get to see you smile again. He wouldn’t get to prove to you that he was worth forgiving, worth believing in, worth something at all.

He felt like he was suspended in a world that didn’t quite belong to him—a visitor overstaying his welcome.

Mingi sat atop a stack of books piled high with a cushion, his small, fluffy body perched precariously as his tail swayed lazily behind him. His ears twitched as he watched Hongjoong move around the cozy cottage.

“Comfortable up there?”

Mingi let out a soft huff. “I guess.”

The table was low enough for him to rest his paws on the edge, and he did so now, leaning forward as Hongjoong placed a small dish in front of him. Inside was a portion of scrambled eggs and bits of roasted sweet potato, the steam curling up in tendrils. 

“I think these are dog friendly foods, but since you’re in the afterlife now, I guess anything goes.”

Mingi sniffed the dish suspiciously, then gave an approving wag of his tail before diving in, the mess from the food around his snout making Hongjoong laugh.

“It’s good, right?” he teased, watching as Mingi polished off every last bite.

Mingi responded with an enthusiastic wiggle of his behind, his entire body vibrating with happiness. Once the dish was licked clean, he flopped onto his side with a contented sigh, his paws stretching out dramatically.

The fullness from the meal brought a fleeting sense of comfort. For a moment, everything felt simple, like when he’d curl up beside you after a long day and your presence putting him at ease. 

As his tail slowed and his breathing steadied, a hollow ache settled in his chest, heavier than the satisfaction of a good meal could counter. Mingi stared at the faint glow of the afterlife’s sky out the window.

He missed you.

The thought that he might never get to tell you how sorry he was, how much he regretted every cruel word, every moment of neglect, made his chest tighten painfully. 

Hongjoong moved among the flowers, humming a tune under his breath as he trimmed roses and pulled at weeds. Mingi’s eyes drifted to a bouquet of marigolds lying nearby, vibrant their bold orange and yellow petals standing out against the green backdrop.

His ears perked up as he stared at the flowers, a memory of you flickering to life in his mind. He remembered the day you brought home a similar bouquet, cradling it in your arms. You’d smiled softly with a distant look in your eyes, and then you disappeared again, taking the flowers with you. He realized now that those marigolds were for Hongjoong’s grave.

“Can you see what happens in the human world?”

Hongjoong chuckled softly, as if the question didn’t surprise him in the slightest. His hands stilled over a rose bush, as he turned slightly to glance over his shoulder at Mingi. 

“Sometimes,” he admitted, his gaze drifting upward, as if he could see past the skies and into another realm entirely. “It’s different for everyone. Some people can see glimpses, others nothing at all. It depends on what they hold on to when they’re here.”

“What about you?”

“I made peace with the fact that I was going to pass. Maybe a flicker here or there, but it’s never clear.”

Mingi’s paws shifted against the dirt, unease settling in his chest. That meant Hongjoong might have seen the way he treated you. Maybe not everything, but enough. Enough to know how much he hurt you in ways he could never take back.

“Do you hate me? For how I treated Y/N?”

Hongjoong didn’t respond. His expression remained unreadable, but Mingi could feel the weight of his scrutiny. Of course, Hongjoong hated the way Mingi had treated you. The way he dismissed you, how he walked away when you needed him most, leaving you to fend for yourself in ways you never should have had to. He hated the thought of you standing there, waiting for someone who never looked back.

And yet, Hongjoong also pitied Mingi. Because for all of his mistakes, for all of his cruelty and neglect, Mingi had been hurting too. As the saying goes, hurt people, hurt people.

“No, Mingi. I don’t hate you.”

Mingi’s ears twitched slightly waiting for the rest of his response.

“More than anything, I just wanted you to know what it’s like to love someone and be helpless to stop their suffering. Because that’s how I felt whenever I had the opportunity to glimpse into the human world.”

Hongjoong’s fingers trailed along the edge of a wilting petal, plucking it free and letting it drift to the ground. “But…” he murmured, his gaze flickering back to Mingi.

“What matters now is what you do with the time you have left.” 

Hongjoong’s smile turned wistful. He didn’t push for a response. Instead he gave Mingi the space to lean into his own thoughts. Mingi closed his eyes, his ears drooping as the weight of his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. 

“I…” Mingi started, but his voice wavered. He swallowed thickly, lowering his gaze to the ground as though afraid to meet Hongjoong’s eyes. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to tell her how sorry I am. I just wanted to be good for her. To show her that I can be better. That I want to be better.”

He turned to Hongjoong, the desperation tinged in his voice. "I want her to see me as someone she can trust. Not someone who always messes things up or leaves her behind." Mingi blinked back tears as he met Hongjoong’s gaze. 

“I miss her. I want to see her, but this time as myself.”

Hongjoong didn’t reply right away. Instead, he leaned back, his gaze drifting lazily toward the sky, where soft, golden light filtered through the clouds. 

“I don’t think it's over for you yet.”

Mingi’s ears flicked slightly, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean? I’m here, aren’t I? There’s nothing left for me to do. Nothing I can do."

He let out a quiet hum, neither confirming nor denying Mingi’s words. Instead, he stood, brushing stray petals from his sleeves before turning toward the small stone path leading away from the garden.

“It’s getting late, what do you want to have for dinner?”

You sat curled up on the couch in the suite, your chin resting atop your knees as you stared at Mingi’s body. Your fingers traced mindless patterns against the fabric of Maro’s collar. Sleep had been a stranger these past three days. The collar was a lifeline in your trembling hands, keeping you grounded as the weight of everything around you crushed you—the incessant calls from reporters, your family’s worried texts, the suffocating guilt.

The attack had turned your life into a circus. All you wanted was to disappear.

This room, though sterile and suffused with antiseptic air, was the only refuge you had left. Here, in the stillness of your husband’s hospital suite, you didn’t have to pretend to be okay.

“What do you think dogs do in heaven?” 

Your gaze dropped to your hospital slippers, the thin fabric worn down from countless restless nights pacing the suite. A sad smile tugged at your lips as you shook your head and set aside the collar. 

This was your reality now: sneaking away from the penthouse just to sit beside your comatose husband, pouring your heart out to someone who, if and when he woke up, would probably scoff and dismiss you for wasting your time on him.

“I heard they all go to heaven,” you continued, as your voice grew quieter. “At least…that’s what the movie says.”

A lump formed in your throat, making it harder to breathe, harder to swallow the ache.

“I think they get to run forever.”

You stared down at your hands, your fingers curling into the sleeves of your sweater.

“And…” 

Your voice wavered slightly as you struggled to find the words. 

“And there’s an endless amount of treats.”

The first tear slipped down your cheek, warm and unbidden, as if your body couldn’t contain the sorrow any longer. It was the smallest thing, but in that single tear, it felt like the world was coming apart. Your shoulders shook with a quiet sob, your chest tightening as you inhaled sharply. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to stop the flood, but it only made it worse.

“J-Just big o-open fields where it’s s-sunny all the time.”

And maybe it was silly, this imagining of dogs in heaven, free and happy, without the pain or heartbreak that followed you here. 

“God, I just feel so alone, Mingi. I had the worst fucking week of my life,” you cried into the emptiness, your hands trembling as you clutched your chest, hoping you could physically hold yourself together.  

“If I hadn’t begged Kira to let me go to that stupid store with her, this wouldn’t have happened. None of it.”

The words came out like a confession, one you hadn’t been brave enough to say aloud until now. 

“It’s all my fault. Everyone leaves me and it’s m-my fault!” 

Your sobs filled the room, echoing back at you like a cruel reminder that no one was there to answer. No one was there to tell you that you were wrong, that it wasn’t your fault, that the universe didn’t conspire against you with every loss. But the silence gave no comfort. 

“This is getting ridiculous.”

Unseen, Wooyoung sat perched on his bench in the courtroom, watching over you with a weary expression. His chin rested on the back of his hand, fingers idly tapping against his jaw as he observed the way your body trembled from the weight of grief.

He had seen countless souls in despair, had judged and guided those lost between life and death. But you, your suffering was different.

It was the kind of sorrow that settled into a person’s bones, an ache that would not fade with time. And as much as Wooyoung pretended he had grown numb to such things, this…this he could not ignore.

His thoughts drifted to the one soul tied to yours, the one whose fate he had carefully molded with his own hands. A certain puppy who was at the center of your suffering, both the cause of it in his human form and, ironically, the brightest light in your life now.

If Wooyoung had to guess, Mingi had made you happier than you had been in your entire life. It was a miracle, really, considering who he had been before all of this. But for all of his faults, he had taken to his new form with an earnestness Wooyoung hadn’t expected. He had tried.

The judge had watched him bumble his way through this second chance, a puppy who didn’t quite know what to do with himself. It had been amusing at first: the way Mingi stumbled over his own paws, the way he wagged his tail a little too eagerly, desperate for your affection.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

He had seen the way Mingi softened, the way he clung to you like you were his home. The way he curled against your side as if he could take away your pain and carry it for you. 

“Song Mingi, you idiot!” Wooyoung sighed, ready to pull his hair out. 

This wasn’t supposed to be the way things ended. Mingi’s final task was to make you truly happy, to undo the damage he had done. It was the last step before he could return to his human form. But no, he had to play the hero and sacrifice himself to protect you.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He hated to admit it, but there was something admirable about it. For all his faults, for all the pain he had caused you, Mingi had finally learned how to love you the way you deserved. He had given up everything—his second chance, his future—just to make sure you were safe.

Now you were left behind, drowning in the weight of his sacrifice and Wooyoung couldn’t bear to see how miserable you were. 

With a flick of his wrist, the air around him trembled, the very foundation of his courtroom bending to his will. The air split with a sharp crack, and in the blink of an eye, the room dispersed into smoke, replaced by the glow of the fireplace.

“Alright, Song Mingi,” he muttered, propping his feet on the dining table. “It’s time to go home.”

⋆

“You’re late.”

Mingi blinked, his vision still adjusting as he lifted a paw to rub at his eyes, as if that would somehow make sense of what he was seeing.

“W-Wooyoung!?”

The judge sat comfortably at the dinner table, tapping his fingers lazily against the polished wood. His presence alone was jarring and Wooyoung never just showed up. If he was here, it meant something.

“It’s rude to keep guests waiting,” Wooyoung huffed, tilting his head in exaggerated disappointment. “I’ve been sitting here for ages.”

“You didn’t have a reservation,” Hongjoong deadpanned, unimpressed as he set his basket of gardening tools onto the counter. Unlike Mingi, he wasn’t startled by the unexpected visit. Instead he hummed a tune and busied himself around the cottage, grabbing ingredients for dinner. 

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung whined.

“Can it wait until after dinner?” he replied. He set a pot of water on the stove, as if the all powerful judge of the afterlife wasn’t currently lounging at their dining table.

“Fine!” he groaned, kicking his feet up onto the chair beside him.

His gaze flickered to Mingi again, and suddenly, his expression shifted.

“Oh my god.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I forgot how small you are!”

Mingi flinched. “What?”

“No wonder Y/N was so smitten with you,” he cooed, practically vibrating with excitement. “You’re so cute!”

Mingi’s eyes went wide with horror. “No, wait—”

He didn’t stand a chance. Wooyoung lunged, faster than Mingi could react, scooping him up in one swift motion. Mingi let out an undignified yelp as he was lifted clean off the ground as his little legs flailed uselessly in the air.

He spun Mingi around in his arms, cradling him like the most precious thing in the world. Hongjoong, unbothered, continued chopping vegetables in the background, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board the only indication that he was even listening. 

“I can see why all those women refused to leave you alone,” Wooyoung mused, studying Mingi as if seeing him for the first time. 

Mingi let out a strangled noise of protest. “Put me down!”

Wooyoung ignored him, instead stroking the fur between his ears with a contemplative hum. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Mingi froze, sensing the shift in Wooyoung’s tone. It wasn’t teasing anymore. There was something thoughtful—almost wistful—beneath his words.

“I sent you there to right your wrongs,” Wooyoung said softly. “That was the deal. But instead, you sacrificed yourself like an idiot. Do you know how miserable that made her?”

Wooyoung sighed, shifting Mingi so that they were eye to eye. “You should see how sad Y/N is, I can’t stand seeing her cry anymore.”

Mingi’s ears flattened as he processed Wooyoung’s words. That didn’t make sense, did it? He had spent so much of his life pushing you away, saying the wrong things, hurting you without even meaning to. Even in the end, he had only caused you more pain by leaving.

Mingi swallowed hard, ears flicking. “But… I always made her cry.” His voice was small. “How could I have made her happy?”

Wooyoung huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You really are hopeless,” he muttered. “She was happy because you were there, dummy. Because you stuck around. Because, for the first time, you weren’t just someone passing through her life. You stayed.”

Had he really made you happy just by being there? By choosing to stay by your side, even when he thought he didn’t deserve to?

“You didn’t just make her smile a few times. You made her feel safe. You made her laugh. You made her happy without even realizing it. And you did it without asking for anything in return. I guess that's what dogs do.”

Wooyoung reached out, flicking him lightly on the nose. “And that’s why you’re going back.”

“Eh?”

“That’s right!” Wooyoung declared triumphantly, placing him on the ground. He grinned, straightening up and placing his hands on his hips.

“Even if you are an idiot who charged in without thinking, what you did was the purest act of love you could’ve shown. You held up your end of the bargain so… a deal’s a deal.”

“I’m…I’m going back?”

Mingi’s tail wagged furiously, his entire body practically vibrating with excitement. He was going back. Back to you. He could see you again, hear your voice, feel your touch. He could fix things and make things right. He wouldn’t waste this second chance.

“Eat first,” Hongjoong interrupted, scooping up a bowl of stew for the puppy.

“You won’t get far on an empty stomach.”

Mingi let out a tiny huff, his tail flicking in mild protest, but the rich aroma of the stew was too tempting to resist. He sniffed hesitantly before lapping at the bowl. The warmth of the broth spread through him instantly, soothing in a way he hadn't realized he needed. His stomach grumbled again, this time in appreciation, and he begrudgingly continued eating.

Between bites, his gaze flickered up to Hongjoong. Something about him seemed… different. His expression was just as calm and composed as ever, but there was a certain wistfulness in his eyes.

Mingi’s little tail wagged as he padded closer, tilting his head. “Are you okay?”

Hongjoong blinked, seemingly caught off guard for just a second before his lips curved into a small smile. Mingi peered up at him, and noticed the longing in his eyes. Not for something lost, but for something he once cherished.

Hongjoong reached out, ruffling Mingi’s fur with a gentle touch. “Even if things get difficult,” he murmured reassuringly, “I know everything will work out in the end.”

His hand lingered for just a moment longer before he pulled away.

“You just have to fight.”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of the alarm blaring from your phone. The shrill tone cut through the silence of the hospital room, a jarring contrast to the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. Blinking blearily, you forced yourself upright, disoriented for a moment before remembering you had set it for 8 AM, the time you usually fed Maro.

You exhaled slowly, rubbing the sleep from your face. You hadn’t meant to doze off here again, but exhaustion clung to you. You needed to go home. There were things to do. You needed to eat, too—had you even eaten since yesterday? Probably not.

“Y/N…”

Your mind moved sluggishly through a mental checklist. Feed Maro. No, he’s not here anymore. Answer texts. Call Kira. Had you remembered to bring a change of clothes? You should grab something on the way home. Maybe coffee, too.  

“...Y/N.”

For a second, you thought you were hallucinating. There was no way—no way—you heard your name. Maybe you were just overtired, running on empty. Maybe it was your mind playing cruel tricks on you. 

You shrugged, shoving your belongings into your overnight bag, preoccupied with gathering the blankets you’d let slip to the floor in your sleep. 

A strange sensation washed over Mingi as his eyes fluttered open. His body felt heavier and his senses, once heightened, dulled. In the distance, he heard the faint chime of an alarm, followed by the soft shuffling of your footsteps. The sound was muted, like a memory being replayed from another life, but it was real. 

"Be good, okay?" Wooyoung's voice was light, but there was a tightness to it, as if he was holding something back. His hands moved with gentle care, adjusting the small bandana around Mingi’s neck. 

"I don’t want to see you for another 70 years!"

Beside him, Hongjoong let out a soft chuckle, crouching down to run his fingers behind his ears. "Take care of Y/N," he murmured. 

"But most importantly, take care of yourself, okay? Give yourself some grace.”

“I will,” Mingi replied, determination settling into his voice. He wanted to hold onto this moment, to express his gratitude, but time was already pulling him away as the gate for the human world was beginning to close. 

The path before him stretched endlessly, lined with delicate white flowers that glowed under the light of the afterlife. With each step, he could feel the ground beneath his paws become less solid, as though he were walking on the edge of a dream. His body tingled, his heartbeat echoing in a different rhythm now, one that matched the pull of reality waiting for him beyond this place.

As the world around him dimmed, as his senses faded into something familiar, one thing remained unchanged—

You.

Your presence.

And the moment he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was you. 

Not the flowers piled up in the corner of the suite. Not the wires draped across his chest or the monitors keeping him alive. Not the light of morning spilling through the window, chasing away the shadows of the night before.

Just you.

“Y/N.”

Still, you didn’t hear him.

Mingi watched as you flitted around the room, smoothing down your wrinkled clothes, sighing at the thought of stepping outside this room and facing reality again as you grabbed your bag. 

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name was sharper and more insistent and you knew for sure you weren’t imagining it. 

You froze.

Your breath caught as something inside you, some instinct, screamed at you to turn around. Slowly, hesitantly, your head snapped toward the hospital bed.

Mingi was watching you.

His eyes were tired and heavy with exhaustion, but they were focused. Determined. His brows drew together, as if mustering every ounce of strength he had left just to make you look at him.

Your bag slid from your shoulder and hit the ground as your legs struggled to keep up. A sharp gasp tore from your lips as your chest constricted with a surge of emotions you thought you had long buried.

Relief, disbelief, and something unnamed swelled within you as you staggered forward with tears in your eyes.

Mingi’s fingers twitched again. A little stronger this time, shaking as they lifted just an inch from the bed. For a moment, they faltered, wavering midair. Then, slowly, they stretched toward you.

Reaching.

Wanting.

Your fingers trembled as you reached out, letting your hand hover over his for a moment before finally brushing against his cold skin. His hand stilled beneath yours and his fingers curled weakly as you closed yours around them.

Mingi’s eyes softened, and for a second, you thought he might try to speak, his lips parting slightly, but no sound came. His fingers squeezed yours weakly in response, and despite his weakened state, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes held yours and were filled with something that made your heart ache in the best way.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough.

Because this time, Mingi had reached for you first.

<< vi | viii >>

taglist: @syubseokie @koyagifs @sunnysidesins @thedistractedwriter @notevenheretbh1

@molberto @litolmochi @intowxnderland @yn-reincarnate @lemonkait00

@corgilover20 @randomgworlypop @taegi1016 @almondtofu006 @ateezaddict24

@desi2go @beabatiny @sangilov-r @roomsofangel @symmieangela

@dumplingsyum @etaerealboy @fairylover68 @foxinnie8

@yoonrixx @jean-swolo @silent-potato @jiwoongsblondehair @sanriomilk

@sanniesbum @tyudearyous @kang-ulzzang @scary-thingz @painted-hills

@kyomiingi @tournesol155 @bee-gremlin @sutskyu @fleuresjay

@http-gyu @ishz @park-simphwa @moonsanshine @drinkingrumandcocacola

@innocygnet @jaeyunlvrs @shanabtsarmy @soso59love-blog @plum-stxr

@vcutparis @kaituyyn @blvckarabixnvoid @amazaynaastha

I’m about to super mario 64 jump into my phone and fight mike and dann, haven’t liked mike from the beginning and dann I’m trying to be understanding cause of what happened, but also i care too much about reader and hongjoong.

speaking of hongjoong my boy be honest with reader please, this is only gonna get worse and i’m gonna end up throwing my phone in frustration cause it’s gonna be a bunch of build up lies.

anyways I enjoyed the chapter like always the next one worries me (all the next chapters are gonna worry me), but first heartbreak ahhhhhhh

keep up the great work! <3

Popular, Boy

☆08: The first lie.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader

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

wc: 8,5k

Summary: Your relationship with Hongjoong takes a new turn, but sooner after, things start to feel off.

Rumors spread, and frustration will consume you.

Warnings: Smut (MDN!!) Switch!Hongjoong, Switch!reader, oral (f receiving) slight handjob, hair pulling, riding, pet names (good boy, pretty, baby) suggestive.

Series masterlist Taglist

☆07 ☆09: The first heartbreak.

You and Dann.

The Clarke mansion is always buzzing with activity, but tonight, Mike had a plan to ensure it was completely empty—except for two specific people.

You sit at the grand dining table, smiling at the photo on your phone screen and the short message attached.

HN: She says: thank you for the toys!!

You let out a soft smile before scrolling through your social media.

On the other side of the table, Mike watches your parents with a casual smile. Your father, ever the businessman, is flipping through his tablet, barely paying attention to his meal, while your mother delicately cuts into her filet mignon.

"You know," Mike begins smoothly, setting down his glass, "It's been a while since we went out together for dinner. Why not go somewhere special tonight? Just us."

Your father lifts an eyebrow "A night out? That's rather sudden, Son."

“Yeah, let's have dinner tonight to celebrate all our achievements as a family.”

“That sounds so nice, Mike.” Your mother says with enthusiasm as she turns to you “Sweetie, we can match our outfits, what about emerald and pearls tonight.”

Before you can say something Mike’s speaks again.

“Actually, I was inviting only you two. YN can do other things.”

You can sense the bitterness in his tone, so you just roll your eyes. Isn't like you want to waste your time at dinner with him.

“But, Mike—” Your mother starts, but you interrupt her.

“Don't worry, Mommy. I don't feel like hanging out today.” You give her a smile waving off.

Your father finally glances up "Where do you have in mind?"

Mike leans forward, feigning nonchalance.

"I made a reservation at The Imperial Orchid at seven. It’s exclusive, elegant, and I hear their sommelier is outstanding. Consider it a small token of appreciation for everything you do."

Your mother exchanges a look with her husband, a subtle curiosity flickering in her eyes. Mike knows them too well.

Your father enjoys luxury, your mother enjoys exclusivity. He had picked the perfect bait.

Your father nods slowly "It does sound appealing."

"Well, that’s very thoughtful of you, dear. I suppose we could use a quiet evening out."

Your mother looks at you with concern but you smile again, so she can go out without worries about you feeling left out.

Mike smirks internally.

Perfect.

✮ ⋆

As the last of the evening sunlight fades, Dann arrives at Mike’s studio, her face still clouded with remnants of anger from earlier. Mike is waiting for her, his usual smirk firmly in place as he watches her enter.

“You’re just in time,” He says, pouring himself another drink “I have one more task for you tonight.”

Dann crosses her arms “What now?”

Mike steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“I know it’s cruel of me to force you into this, Dann, but you have to make sure they have sex.”

Dann’s breath catches in her throat “What?”

“You heard me,” Mike continues smoothly, tilting his head “YN is predictable. She’s been waiting for the perfect excuse to pull Hongjoong in closer. And now, with an empty house and him eager to have her forgiveness, it’s going to happen.”

Dann swallows hard, torn between hesitation and the deep-seated anger still burning inside her.

He leans in just a little “Only if they do, we can move forward with the plan.”

Dann clenches her fists but nods “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Mike grins, satisfied. Everything is falling into place.

“Good, see you later then.”

✮ ⋆

YN♡: Come over tonight. You still owe me an apology.

The moment your mother announces that she, your father and Mike won’t be back until later, you seize the opportunity.

An empty house—well, if you ignore the maids—is something you can’t let go to waste.

You smirk as your phone vibrates with a response. You already knew what it would say. He never could resist you.

Joongie♡: I’ll be there in thirty.

Satisfied, you set your phone down and head to the shower, letting the warm water soothe your skin. You take your time, indulging in a long, relaxing bath before stepping out, your mind already set on what comes next.

A pretty white lingerie set—delicate lace, soft satin—makes you look innocent, almost angelic. The irony makes you smile.

You add lacy stockings, white heels, the perfect complement to the illusion of purity you’re crafting. With a final touch of mascara and lip gloss, you stare at your reflection, knowing exactly the effect this will have on him.

Are you putting in all this effort for a gorgeous nerd?

Yes, you are.

A silk robe drapes over your body, shielding the little surprise you’ve prepared. You don’t even know why you’re trying so hard—why the thought of him seeing you like this sends an unfamiliar flutter through your stomach.

A soft knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts.

His voice follows, hesitant but warm "Pretty?"

One last glance in the mirror, one deep breath, and you step toward the door.

The second you open it, Hongjoong’s sweet smile falters. His eyes widen, sweeping over you in stunned silence. Leaning casually against the doorframe, you look effortless, untouchable—until you decide otherwise.

"Took you long enough, nerd." You tease, stepping aside to let him in.

He swallows hard, quickly averting his gaze "I had to make sure my mom believes my lie."

You arch a brow "You lied to your mom? What did you tell her?"

"Pretty, it’s almost eight," He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck "If I told her I was coming here, she’d start making assumptions. So I told her I was going to the movies with Yunho and Yeosang."

You tilt your head, amused "So you lied… just to make it up to me?" You step closer, fingers lightly tugging at the collar of his shirt "Right?"

Hongjoong exhales sharply, his resolve crumbling under your touch.

"Yeah…"

A victorious smile curves your lips

"Then prove it."

You turn and walk to the bed, sitting at the edge with slow, deliberate ease, watching as he hesitates. You pat your thigh, tilting your chin up

"Kneel."

His breath catches.

For a second, he doesn’t move, like his brain short-circuited at the command. You can practically hear his internal battle—his nerves screaming at him to overthink, to doubt, but his obsession with you outweighing everything else.

Then, as if pulled by an invisible string, he obeys.

Hongjoong kneels between your legs, hands clenched at his sides, gaze locked onto yours with a mixture of awe and pure, unfiltered longing.

He looks so shy, so adorably uncertain, like he can’t believe he’s here, like he doesn’t know where to start.

"You’re nervous," You murmur, your fingers trailing along his jawline.

He exhales shakily "You… You make it hard to think."

"Good."

You lean in, your lips ghosting over his, teasing but not quite giving in. He whimpers—an actual whimper—his fingers twitching against his thighs as if fighting the urge to touch you.

You smirk, dragging your nails lightly down his arms.

"Relax, Joongie."

But he’s trembling, overwhelmed, his whole body wound tight like a spring.

"I— I don’t wanna mess this up," He admits, his voice laced with vulnerability.

That softens you.

You cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek before trailing down, lower, your touch both gentle and deliberate.

"You won’t," You assure him "Just stop holding back."

And when you finally kiss him—really kiss him—he melts.

Because no matter how nervous he is, no matter how much he overthinks, there’s one thing he knows for sure.

He’d do anything to prove himself to you.

The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, and you feel the way he shivers beneath your touch. His hands, still hesitant, finally find your waist, gripping the fabric of your robe as if grounding himself.

You pull back just enough to study him—flushed cheeks, parted lips, pupils blown wide with desire and uncertainty.

God, he’s adorable.

Then, your fingers reach up, and before he can react, you slide his glasses off.

Hongjoong stiffens "W-Wait—"

You hush him with a finger against his lips "You won’t need these tonight."

You fold the glasses and set them aside on the nightstand, watching the way he blinks rapidly, disoriented.

Without them, his gaze is softer, more vulnerable, as if you’ve stripped away yet another layer of his defenses.

"I… I can barely see you," He admits, flustered.

You smirk, running your hands through his hair before tugging lightly.

"Then feel me."

A strangled sound escapes him, and you swear you can see his last bit of restraint snap.

His hands tighten on your waist, his lips crashing back onto yours with newfound desperation. This time, he isn’t hesitating. He’s learning, exploring—his touch still unsure, but eager.

His kisses grow bolder, and when you shift, pulling him closer, he groans against your mouth, a sound so raw it makes your stomach flip.

"YN…" He breathes, your name falling from his lips like a plea, like a prayer.

You grin against his skin, dragging your nails lightly down his back, and he shudders, pressing himself closer.

"Good boy," You murmur, and the way his breath hitches tells you everything you need to know.

He’s completely, utterly yours and lost in you now.

The moment you murmur ‘Good boy,’ Hongjoong practically melts against you, his grip tightening, his breath uneven. His entire body responds to your touch, to your words, as if he’s been waiting for this—for you—to finally consume him.

His lips trail down your neck, hesitant at first, then bolder when you don’t stop him. Every movement is cautious, like he’s afraid to mess up, but you guide him effortlessly, tilting your head to give him more access.

"You're thinking too much," You whisper, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging slightly.

A soft groan escapes him, and his hands tighten on your waist.

"I just… I wanna do this right," He admits, his voice thick with emotion.

You lean back slightly, taking in the sight of him—flushed, breathless, pupils blown wide with desire and uncertainty. He’s so desperate to prove himself to you, to show you that he can be enough.

That he is enough.

Your fingers trail down his chest, slow and deliberate.

"You already are."

Hongjoong exhales shakily, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He’s still nervous, still overthinking—so you do what you do best.

You take control.

With a push, he’s on his knees before you, his hands resting on your thighs, looking up at you with something between awe and devotion.

"YN…" His voice is barely a whisper, but the way he says your name sends a shiver down your spine.

You cup his face, tilting it up so he has no choice but to look at you.

"You're mine, nerd."

Your voice is soft but firm—a quiet promise, a claim.

Hongjoong’s breath stutters, his hands tightening around your legs as if anchoring himself. His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted in something between reverence and disbelief.

"Yours," He breathes, like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever said.

And that’s all you need.

You pull him back up, claiming his lips once more. This time, there’s no hesitation, no restraint. You feel the shift in him—the anticipation, the desperation, the sheer need.

His hands tremble slightly as they slide up your arms, fingertips ghosting over the silk of your robe before carefully pushing it off your shoulders. It pools onto the mattress, forgotten.

When he pulls away, he doesn’t speak. He just looks at you, drinking you in, his breath caught somewhere in his throat.

Your lingerie leaves little to the imagination, and yet, to him, it’s everything.

He doesn’t know where he finds the confidence, doesn’t know what possesses him to move the way he does—but suddenly, his grip on your hips tightens. In a swift, uncalculated motion, he pushes you up the bed, his strength surprising even himself.

Your breath catches.

Fuck, that was hot.

"So you want me to apologize?" His voice is lower now, rougher, laced with something unfamiliar yet thrilling.

You blink, caught off guard. His shyness is gone, replaced by something bold, something raw. And you like it.

A smirk curves your lips "Yeah… Show me how much you want my forgiveness."

His answering smile is slow, teasing, almost wicked. It makes heat pool in your stomach, makes your fingers curl against the sheets.

And then he’s kissing you again—harder, deeper. This time, there’s no hesitation, no second-guessing.

Lust fuels every movement, every touch. His hand finds the curve of your waist, gripping just enough to make you gasp against his mouth. The other stays planted beside your head, keeping him steady.

When he pulls away, his breathing is ragged, his lips swollen and pink.

"Can I touch you?" His voice is barely above a whisper, yet it sends a shiver down your spine.

You blink up at him, momentarily confused—until you feel the light brush of his fingers at the hem of your lacy panties, tentative, seeking permission.

Your pulse skips.

He’s still your nerd, still the same awkward, blushing boy who would do anything for you.

But tonight, he wants to prove that he’s more.

And you’re going to let him.

You nod without hesitation, anticipation shimmering in your eyes. A slow, confident smile tugs at Hongjoong’s lips—one that sends a shiver down your spine.

His hands move with newfound boldness, sliding the fabric down your hips. You lift yourself slightly, helping him discard the last barrier between you.

Kneeling between your legs, he takes a shaky breath, his fingers grazing over your thighs, tracing the delicate lace of your stockings before pressing into your skin with a firm squeeze.

He has a perfect view of your already wet folds, he tilts his head, his eyes locked in your sticky core. His gaze is fixed—entranced—as if memorizing every inch of you.

You squirm under his stare, warmth creeping up your neck, but when you instinctively try to close your legs, he stops you, his hands tightening around your thighs.

"Don't hide from me," He murmurs, his voice lower than usual, filled with something deeper. Something reverent.

Your breath hitches as he leans in, his lips ghosting over your skin, leaving a trail of heat. You fist the sheets beneath you, trying to steady yourself, but when his tongue takes the first taste of your arousal, a soft gasp escapes your lips, fingers immediately tangling in his hair.

“Joong—” His name falls from your lips in a breathy moan, the sensation making your stomach coil with pleasure.

He hums against you, the vibration sending sparks through your veins. His movements are slow, careful, savoring every drop, every reaction, every shiver he pulls from you.

Your back arches, desperate for more, but before you can beg, he pulls away.

Your protest dies the moment he crashes his lips against yours, stealing your breath in a kiss that’s all tongue, heat, and desperation.

You taste yourself on him, the intimacy of it making your head spin.

"You taste so good, pretty." Hongjoong mutters against your lips, his voice husky. You whimper, trying to chase his lips again, but he chuckles softly "What do you need, baby?"

His words send a new wave of heat through you, your body reacting before your mind can catch up. His voice, his touch—everything about him is intoxicating.

"I need you," You breathe, nails dragging down his back "I need you to fuck me."

Hongjoong’s confidence wavers for the first time tonight. His grip on your waist trembles slightly, his breath uneven.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, hesitation flickering behind his dark-rimmed glasses.

Hongjoong has never done this before—at least, not like this. He has no sexual experience, the only experiences he's had are with you, but you didn't go beyond.

Every intimate moment you’ve shared up until now has been a slow buildup of tension.

But this? This is something else. Something bigger.

His fingers twitch against your skin as he exhales shakily, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I don’t want to mess this up.” He confesses, voice barely above a whisper.

Your expression softens. Reaching up, you cup his cheek, brushing your thumb over the flushed skin.

"You won't," You promise, kissing him gently, reassuringly "Just trust me."

And as he looks into your eyes, his nerves slowly melt away, replaced with something else entirely—something that makes your pulse quicken.

Because tonight, he isn’t just the shy nerd who worships you.

Tonight, he’s yours.

You notice the shift in his body language—how his muscles tense, how uncertainty flickers behind his dark eyes.

You know why.

Without hesitation, you shift positions, guiding him onto his back until he’s lying beneath you. Your thighs bracket his hips, your hands resting lightly on his chest as you straddle him.

Hongjoong stares up at you, wide-eyed, breath caught somewhere between surprise and anticipation.

You giggle softly, leaning down so your lips hover just above his.

"Don’t worry, Joongie," You murmur, tracing your fingers over his collarbone "I’ll teach you how to fuck me properly later."

His lips part slightly, but before he can respond, you close the distance, capturing his mouth in another kiss. Slow. Deep. Reassuring.

You pour everything into it—every bit of desire, every bit of unspoken reassurance—silencing any lingering doubts he might have.

You need him to understand that his inexperience doesn’t matter. That you don’t care. The only thing that matters is this.

Him. His first time—his first experience—with you and only you.

You feel him relax beneath you, his hands finally moving, trailing up your sides with a newfound confidence. His grip tightens slightly on your hips, fingers pressing into your skin as if grounding himself in the moment.

Encouraged, you reach for the hem of his jeans, unfastening the button, lowering the zipper with deliberate slowness. He tenses again—but this time, not from hesitation.

His breath hitches when your fingers brush against his already hard crotch, and his grip on you tightens as you start to ease his jeans down, taking his underwear with them.

Fuck, this is really going to happen.

Hongjoong’s mind starts to race in negative thoughts as you take his length in your hand.

‘Don’t mess this up. Where does he put his hands? Is this okay? Should he ask? No, asking sounds lame. But what if—’

“Hongjoong.” You call him, noticing his demeanor. Of course, you do. You always see right through him.

He lets out a shaky breath, looking up at you with nothing but need in his gaze, you know—he’s yours.

“Yes?”

Your fingers brush against his jaw, tilting his face up so your eyes meet. You smirk, your voice low and teasing.

“Relax, nerd. You think too much, if you are nervous you're not going to enjoy it.” You say with tenderness as you lift his shirt, Hongjoong noticing your intentions, sits down to help you to remove it “It’s okay, it’s your first time and I know you are overthinking it.”

You murmur leaning closer to press a soft kiss in his lips, trying to calm him, and it works. He hums kissing you back, his hands now on your thighs and his hips jerking a little.

Your hand never stopped stroking him, making Hongjoong gasp in your mouth.

He closes his eyes lying down again, letting the pleasure invade his body, letting your touch calm him.

You bit your lip at the sight, his pretty face with a grimace of pleasure, his bare chest, his hands gripping your flesh, and his long dick, tip bright red dripping pre-cum.

Shit, you could cum only by seeing him like this.

“Are you ready, babe?” You ask softly, raising your hips to rub his tip in your sticky folds.

He opens his eyes, breathing heavily and locking his eyes with yours. He slowly nods, he's ready to do this, he's ready to give you all of it.

You can see a hint of nervousness in his eyes, so you lean back to kiss him to distract his mind from the first time.

As you kiss you slowly place his tip on your tight hole, you close your eyes at the stretch, it's been a long time since the last time you got intimate with someone.

And that someone was Seonghwa.

Completely sinking on his length, both of you moan. The stretch is exquisite, his long cock filling you completely.

You gasp out his name as you stay still for a moment, letting Hongjoong process it and adjust. His eyes are close and his hands grip your thighs.

“Are you okay? Can I move?” You murmur against his parted lips.

“Y-yes.. you can move.”

He nods, opening his eyes, watching you straighten up and place your hands on his chest for support. Hongjoong lets out a choked whimper when you start moving, the pace is slow but firm.

Immediately his head collapses on the pillow, eyes shut and hands rushing to grab your hips.

Holy fuck, this is better than he imagined the sex would be.

Your hips moving deliciously, your hands on his chest, your head tilting back in pleasure, your little whimpers, the light sound of slapping everytime your bodies connect.

Shit, this is heaven for him.

“Fuck, J-joong… You feel so good.” You pant almost urgently, you take one of his hands to place it directly on one of your breasts “Please touch me, babe..”

And he does, without hesitation he kneads your breast with a firm grip as his other hand gently helps you guide your hips upward.

For Hongjoong the sight is amazing, as you move up and down he is able to see how his cock disappears in your tight cunt.

"Fuck, baby." Hongjoong groans, his voice rough, strained with desire.

Before you can fully process it, he moves—swift and instinctive—flipping you onto your back, his body pressing down against yours.

A surprised gasp leaves your lips, but there’s no hesitation, no resistance. If anything, the shift only sends a new wave of heat flooding through you.

He hovers over you, breath uneven, eyes dark with something raw and unfiltered. His hands find your thighs, gripping tight as he spreads them further apart, settling between them like he was always meant to be there.

The way he looks at you—like he’s seeing you for the first time, like he wants to memorize every inch of you—sends a shiver up your spine.

His lips crash onto yours again, but this time, there’s no hesitation, no uncertainty. Only hunger. A desperate need to be closer, to feel you, to lose himself in you. The kiss deepens, all tongue, heat, and breathless moans.

He pulls away just enough to look at you, his forehead pressing against yours, his grip on your hips tightening as he pushes his dick inside your cunt again.

A broken moan slips from your lips, your fingers immediately flying to his back, nails digging in as he stretches you open.

He groans at the feeling, at the way your body welcomes him so perfectly, so warmly.

“Shit,” Hongjoong gasps, voice trembling as he buries himself deeper “You—fuck... you feel so good.”

Your legs wrap around him, pulling him impossibly closer, your body arching into him as pleasure blooms in waves.

You don’t even have words—just whimpers, just gasps, just the sound of his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

He starts moving, slow at first, as if savoring every second. But the more you moan, the more you beg for more, the faster, rougher, deeper his thrusts become.

The room is filled with the sound of bodies moving in sync, breathless cries, the rhythmic creaking of the bed beneath you.

And in this moment, nothing else exists—just him, just you, just the overwhelming pleasure of finally having each other like this.

✮ ⋆

Outside, just beyond the door, Dann lingers in the shadows of the hallway. Her heart pounds in her chest as she listens, her fingers curled tightly around the hem of her sweater.

She feels sick. Angry. Humiliated all over again.

But she has a job to do.

She inches closer, careful to keep her footsteps silent against the polished floors. The muffled sound of movement reaches her ears—the rustle of sheets, the creak of the bed frame, your muffled moans.

Her stomach twists.

Carefully, she opens the door, letting a little space to see inside.

She immediately put her hands over her mouth while tears formed in her eyes. That scene in front of her eyes just makes her feel worse than that day at Wooyoung’s party, this time it feels more intimate, something that she shouldn't have been watching…

Something that she would never get to do with him.

‘Make sure they go through with it. We need this to work.’

Dann swallows hard. She shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be watching, shouldn’t feel like her entire world is crashing down around her.

But she closes the door, she stays.

Because this is just the beginning of your end.

✮ ⋆

Your hands tremble as you cling to him, his body pressed against yours, his warmth surrounding you like a force you never knew you needed this desperately.

“H-hongjoong…”

His name falls from your lips over and over, each syllable carrying the weight of everything you feel—the longing, the surrender, the undeniable connection weaving you together in ways neither of you fully understands yet.

Hongjoong moves above you with a newfound confidence, no longer hesitant, no longer doubting.

He follows the rhythm of your bodies, of your moans, of the way you gasp his name like it’s the only word you know.

His body begins to get tired, but he doesn’t stop—doesn’t dare stop—not when you feel this good, this right beneath him.

"Pretty..." He groans, forehead pressed to yours, voice thick with something more than just lust "I can't—fuck, I’m gonna—”

You can feel him unraveling, just as you are. It builds like a slow-burning fire, the pleasure coiling tight, higher and higher, until there’s no stopping it.

His fingers find yours, interlocking, pinning your hands above your head, grounding you to him. He kisses you—deep, desperate, like he wants to pour every unspoken emotion into it.

And when you fall apart, it’s not just pleasure that washes over you—it’s him. It’s the way he worships you with every touch, every thrust, every whispered moan against your lips.

You shatter together, his name a soft cry on your lips, his breath a broken gasp against your skin.

He collapses on top of you, breathless and with a dumb smile, he holds you as if afraid you’ll disappear, his arms wrapped around you like you’re something sacred.

And in that moment, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, whispering your name like a prayer, you realize—this isn’t just about desire.

This is something more.

Something deeper.

Something that neither of you can walk away from.

After a couple of minutes, the room is quiet now, except for the soft sounds of your mingled breaths, still uneven, still recovering.

Your bodies are tangled in the sheets, his warmth pressed against you as if he has no intention of letting go. His skin is slightly damp, and you can feel his heart racing beneath your palm, its rhythm slowing as the moments pass.

Neither of you speaks right away. There’s no need. The silence is comfortable, wrapped around you like the soft glow of the dim bedside lamp.

Hongjoong shifts slightly, just enough to press a lazy kiss against your shoulder before letting out a deep, satisfied sigh.

“You’re so pretty.” He mumbles, voice husky and thick with exhaustion.

You smile, brushing your fingers through his tousled hair.

“You always say that, Joong.”

He huffs, lifting his head just enough to look at you. His eyes, even in the dim light, are full of something so soft, so unguarded, it makes your heart clench.

“I mean it every time.” He murmurs.

Your chest tightens, and instead of answering, you cup his face, guiding him into a slow, lingering kiss. It’s different from before—no urgency, no desperation.

Just warmth. Just the quiet reassurance that this moment is real.

Hongjoong hums against your lips before pulling back, resting his forehead against yours.

“I feel like I should say something cool right now,” He admits, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckle, running a thumb over his cheek.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Something suave. Like in the movies.” He pauses “But my brain is kinda mush right now.”

You laugh, and he grins, obviously pleased with himself for making you do so.

For a while, you just lay there, exchanging kisses, whispering about nothing and everything—your favorite movies, how ridiculous Hongjoong looks when he squints without his glasses, how the ceiling has a tiny crack that you’ve never noticed before.

Eventually, the night catches up to you both, and your eyelids grow heavy.

Hongjoong lets out a small sigh, shifting slightly, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he tightens his hold around you, burying his face in your hair.

“I should probably go home.” He mumbles, though he makes no effort to leave.

You hum in response, tracing small patterns on his back.

“You could stay.”

He goes still for a moment before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“If I do, I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave.”

Your heart stutters at his words, and instead of responding, you just hold him closer.

Eventually, with a reluctant sigh, Hongjoong forces himself to sit up. You watch as he searches for his clothes, his movements slow, almost hesitant.

Before he can put his glasses back on, you reach out, grabbing his wrist.

“Hey,” You whisper.

He looks at you, and for a moment, you just stare at each other. Then, without thinking, you pull him back down for one last kiss—soft, sweet, and lingering.

When you finally pull away, he smiles against your lips.

“You’re dangerous.”

You smirk “And you love it.”

He laughs, shaking his head as he finally gets dressed. But just as he’s about to leave, you sit up, biting your lip, feeling something unfamiliar and terrifying tighten in your chest.

“Hongjoong.” You say, and he pauses at the door, turning back to you.

You hesitate for a moment, the words sitting heavy on your tongue. It’s not easy for you to be vulnerable—not like this.

But with him, it feels… safe.

“Maybe,” You start, voice softer than usual “Maybe we could try something.”

He blinks “Something?”

You swallow, forcing yourself to hold his gaze “You know… something more. Like, actually trying.”

Understanding dawns on his face, his mouth parts slightly, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag as if grounding himself.

Then, slowly, a smile—small, disbelieving, but full of something devastatingly tender—spreads across his lips.

“Are you serious?” He asks, voice careful, like he’s afraid you might take it back.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms “Forget it, nerd.”

“No, no, no!” He’s quick to step back toward the bed, hands raised in surrender “I just—I wasn’t expecting that.”

You huff, looking away, but he reaches out, gently tilting your chin back toward him.

“I want that,” He says, voice steady now “I want you.”

Something inside you melts, and before you can second-guess yourself, you pull him into another kiss.

When he finally leaves, there’s a different kind of warmth in your chest—one that has nothing to do with what just happened in bed.

And for the first time in a long time, the idea of something real, something more… doesn’t scare you as much as it used to.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The night air was cool as Hongjoong slipped back into his house, the door creaking softly as he closed it behind him.

This night with you was incredible, the night lingering in his mind like a sweet memory he never wanted to fade.

But as he entered the living room, the atmosphere felt heavier than usual.

His parents sat together on the couch, their faces drawn, their eyes clouded with worry. His mother’s fingers trembled around a cup of tea she hadn’t touched, and his father’s usually composed demeanor was cracked.

“Dear, there you are,” His mother says softly, her voice tight with concern “We need to talk.”

Hongjoong’s stomach drops. He’d never seen them like this before “What’s wrong?”

His father clears his throat, looking at him with a mixture of sadness and determination.

“I lost my job today.”

Hongjoong frezee. His mind can’t immediately process the words. His father had always been the pillar of stability in the house.

“What? But… I thought everything was going well.”

“It was,” His father replies, rubbing his temples “But the economy’s taken a toll, and the company had to make cuts. I’m part of that.”

Hongjoong’s heart sank as the weight of the situation began to settle in. His family wasn’t rich. They managed, but losing one income meant things would get tight.

They needed a solution.

“We’ll need to figure something out, Honey,” His mother adds, her voice breaking “We can’t cover everything without a steady income.”

Hongjoong clenches his fists, frustration bubbling up inside him. He doesn’t want to see his parents struggling.

“I’ll get a job,” He says quickly, the words tumbling out before he has time to think them through “I’ll work. I can help.”

His parents exchanged a look, but his mother smiled faintly, her eyes filled with pride.

“Joong, you don’t have to—”

“No,” He interrupts, “I want to. I can help with expenses. Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something.”

His parents look at him with a mixture of pride and sadness, but they don’t argue.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Morning light filters through the grand windows of the estate, casting long shadows across the pristine floors. Dann moves through the halls like a ghost, her steps light, her eyes hollow.

The weight of last night clings to her like a second skin, suffocating, unbearable.

She barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it again.

The way he touched you. The way you let him. The way he whispered your name like it meant something.

Her stomach churns, and she grips the strap of her bag tighter, forcing herself to focus. She just needs to get out of here, get to school, get some air—

“You look awful.”

Dann freezes.

Mike stands at the end of the hallway, leaning casually against the doorframe of his bedroom, dressed in his usual expensive attire, a cup of coffee in one hand. He looks well-rested, refreshed.

Completely unaffected.

Her pulse stutters, but she doesn’t stop walking “I need to go.”

But Mike doesn’t move. Instead, he lifts his coffee to his lips, takes a slow sip, and smirks.

“Not before you tell me what I need to know.”

Dann clenches her jaw, her feet slowing to a reluctant stop. She doesn’t want to talk about this. She doesn’t want to think about it.

But Mike doesn’t have patience for hesitation. He tilts his head slightly, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Did it happen?”

Her throat tightens. The words taste like poison

“Yes.”

Mike hums, pleased “Good.”

Dann grips her bag harder, her nails digging into her palms. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how humiliating it was, how painful it was to watch.

And then, just as she feared, he leans in slightly, voice lowering conspiratorially.

“Now, you need to start talking.”

She frowns “Talking?”

“You know how these things go, Dann,” He says, waving a hand lazily “Whispers spread faster than fire in that school. All you need to do is plant the seeds.”

Dann swallows “What are you saying?”

Mike smirks, stepping closer “Make sure everyone knows that the nerd finally got what he wanted. That once he got YN into bed, he lost interest. That he only chased her because she was a challenge—nothing more.”

Dann stiffens, her nails pressing into her skin “That’s not true.”

“Who cares?” He chuckles “Truth is irrelevant. What matters is perception.” He takes another sip of coffee before adding, “And as for YN? Well… make sure they see her for what she really is.” He pauses, then smirks cruelly “A desperate little whore.”

Dann flinches. Her stomach churns.

Miek studies her reaction, then sighs “Don’t tell me last night was too much for you.”

She lifts her chin, forcing her expression into something cold, detached.

“I’ll do it.”

He grins, satisfied “Perfect.”

And with that, he steps aside, letting her pass like he didn’t just shatter the last piece of her heart.

Dann forces herself to walk away. To keep moving. To pretend that she doesn’t feel like she’s falling apart.

Because this is just the beginning.

And there’s no turning back now.

✮ ⋆

The library is quieter than usual, the murmur of hushed conversations barely filling the vast space between the shelves. The scent of old books lingers in the air, but Dann barely notices it as she walks in, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

She spots them instantly—Jongho, Yunho, and Yeosang—huddled together at a corner table, deep in conversation over an open textbook.

They don’t notice her at first, too focused on whatever pointless discussion they’re having. But they will.

Taking a slow breath, Dann straightens her shoulders and approaches their table. She places her hands flat against the polished wood, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest.

“Guess what.”

Jongho looks up first, brows raising in mild surprise. Yunho and Yeosang follow, exchanging glances before turning their attention to her.

“What is it, little one?” Yunho asks, leaning back in his chair.

Dann lets the silence stretch just long enough to draw curiosity. Then, with careful precision, she says.

“It’s about Joong.”

That gets their attention. Yeosang frowns, setting down his pen, while Jongho’s expression turns wary.

Yunho, however, snorts “What, YN banned him again?”

Dann forces herself to look hesitant, conflicted. Then she exhales and shakes her head.

“No, nothing like that. But…” She glances around, lowering her voice just enough to make them lean in “But I heard something last night. Something about him and YN.”

Yeosang tilts his head “What do you mean?”

Dann bites her lip, like she’s debating whether or not to say it. And then, just loud enough for the surrounding students to hear, she murmurs.

“I heard them.”

Yunho blinks “Heard them?”

She leans in, just slightly “Having sex.”

Silence crashes over the table like a tidal wave. Jongho’s eyes widen, Yeosang shifts uncomfortably, and Yunho lets out a low whistle.

Around them, the subtle rustling of books ceases. The library isn’t silent anymore—not really. Not when whispers have already started creeping through the aisles.

“No way,” Yeosang mutters.

Dann shrugs, feigning nonchalance “I was at the house. I heard everything.” Then, after a pause, she adds the final touch, the poison that will spread like wildfire “And you know what’s funny? He hasn’t even talked to her today.”

Jongho frowns “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Dann lowers her voice, but she knows they’re listening—everyone is listening.

“That maybe Hongjoong only wanted one thing. Maybe he was chasing her for a reason. And now that he got what he wanted…” She lets the words linger before shaking her head, looking almost pitying “Well, you can figure out the rest.”

Yunho looks uncertain “Dann, Hongjoong isn’t like that.”

Jongho, however, doesn’t seem convinced. He narrows his eyes at her.

“Why are you telling us this?”

Dann meets his gaze evenly “Because you’re his friends. And friends deserve to know the truth.”

She doesn’t wait for their response. She just turns on her heel and walks away, leaving behind a table of stunned boys and an entire library already buzzing with the news.

And just like that, the seed is planted.

✮ ⋆

The cafeteria hums with the usual morning chaos—laughter, the clatter of trays, the low murmur of gossip weaving through the air like an unshakable presence.

You sit at your usual table, gracefully stirring your iced matcha with a straw, your expression relaxed.

After yesterday night you have been feeling like that, relaxed. You don't know if it's because you got laid or because it was with Hongjoong.

Your phone sits next to you, Hongjoong’s message from earlier still lighting up the screen. You tap your nails against the table absently, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

Joongie♡: Good morning, pretty. I won't go to school today :c

Joongie♡: See you tomorrow. Love you ♡

You don't mind that he isn’t here today. If anything, it keeps things interesting—gives him a chance to miss you.

But the moment of peace doesn’t last.

Wooyoung slides into the seat across from you, his face twisted in something between amusement and hesitation. Mingi follows right after, dropping his bag onto the bench with a sigh.

"You won’t believe what we just heard during practice, babydoll." Woo starts, resting his chin on his hand, eyes flicking over you carefully.

You don't look up from your drink "If it’s about last season’s failures, I really don’t care."

Mingi exhales, shaking his head "It’s about you. And the little nerd."

That catches your attention. You raise a perfectly arched brow.

"What about us?"

Wooyoung exchanges a glance with Mingi before leaning in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it sound more scandalous than necessary.

"Apparently, half the school thinks little Hongjoong finally got what he wanted from you… and now he’s done with you."

You blink. For a second, you just stare at him, then let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

"That’s ridiculous, guys."

"Yeah? Because it’s spreading like wildfire, babydoll." Woo says, voice more serious "People are saying he just wanted to sleep with you, and now that he has, he’s gonna drop you."

You roll your eyes, completely unbothered "You’re actually listening to this nonsense?"

Mingi tilts his head "I mean… The nerd is mysteriously absent today."

You scoff "He told me this morning that he wasn’t coming. He’s busy. This rumor is stupid."

But Mingi doesn’t look convinced "I’m just saying, doll, people are talking. You know how fast things spread in this school."

"I don’t care what people say," You cut in smoothly, picking up your drink again "Hongjoong wouldn’t do that. He’s—"

You pause.

He’s been sweet, devoted, always there. Hongjoong wouldn’t do that. Right?

Still, you push the thought away and fix them with a sharp look.

"Who started this stupid rumor?"

Mingi shrugs "Not sure, but people are saying Dann was the one who heard… something."

You still for half a second before exhaling slowly "Dann?"

Woo nods, stirring his own drink "Yeah. Apparently, she’s been telling people she heard you two…" He waggles his brows suggestively.

Your jaw tightens, your grip on her cup firm.

That bitch.

You knew Dann had always been lurking in the background, watching, waiting. But this? Spreading rumors about you and Hongjoong? That was low—even for a pathetic nerd.

But it doesn’t matter.

You exhale, letting your usual confidence settle back over you like armor.

"Let them talk," You say coolly, taking a slow sip of your drink "They’ll get bored soon enough."

But deep inside, a nagging feeling lingers.

And for the first time, she wonders. What if they’re right?

✮ ⋆

Hongjoong steps out of his house early, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets as he walks down the quiet streets of his neighborhood. His parents had already left—his mom to work, his dad to search for a new job.

He exhales, determination settling in his chest. He needs to help.

Skipping school wasn’t something he’d normally do, but this was more important. Finding a job meant easing the burden on his parents, making sure they didn’t have to worry so much.

He starts at a small convenience store a few blocks away.

“Sorry, kid. We’re not hiring right now.” The owner says with an apologetic smile.

Hongjoong nods, forcing a polite thank-you before heading to the next place.

A bakery.

“No positions open.”

A bookstore.

“We’re looking for someone with experience.”

A restaurant.

“Come back in a month. Maybe.”

By the afternoon, exhaustion creeps into his bones. He’s been walking around the city for hours, hearing rejection after rejection. His feet ache, his stomach grumbles, but he keeps going. He has to.

He checks his phone—past three o’clock. School was almost over. You had texted him earlier, but he hadn’t checked it yet.

He didn’t want you to worry, so he’d told you he’d see you tomorrow.

With a sigh, he rubs his face and glances around. His house is too far, but he decides to check one last place before heading home.

That’s when he spots it—Café Aurora.

A small, warm-looking café tucked between two buildings, the scent of coffee and pastries spilling into the air as a customer steps out.

He hesitates for a second, then pushes the door open.

The café is cozy, filled with soft chatter and the clinking of cups. A few students sit in the corner, studying. A couple shares a quiet conversation over steaming mugs.

Hongjoong walks up to the counter, his heart pounding slightly.

A girl stands behind the counter, wiping down the surface. She looks up at him, and her eyes widen slightly before she flashes him a bright smile.

“Hey there! Welcome to Café Aurora. What can I get you?”

She’s short, wavy brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail, bright eyes, a dimple on one cheek. Her name tag reads ‘Jina.’

Hongjoong clears his throat “Uh, actually… I was wondering if you guys are hiring?”

Jina blinks, then grins “Oh, really? Hang on.”

She disappears into the back, and Hongjoong lets out a breath. Please let this work.

A moment later, she returns with a middle-aged man in a dark apron.

“This is Mr. Lee, the owner.”

“You’re looking for a job?” Mr. Lee asks, crossing his arms.

“Yes, sir. I can work after school and on weekends.”

“You ever worked as a waiter before?”

Hongjoong shakes his head “No, but I’m a fast learner.”

The girl giggles “He looks like a fast learner.”

He glances at her, thrown off by the teasing tone. But Mr. Lee doesn’t seem to notice.

“We could use someone in the evenings. Can you start tomorrow?”

Hongjoong’s eyes widen slightly. Really?

“Yes! I mean—yeah, I can.” He says quickly.

Mr. Lee nods “Jina will train you. Don’t be late.”

Hongjoong exhales in relief “Thank you.”

As Mr. Lee walks away, Jina leans on the counter, resting her chin on her palm.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.” She says suddenly.

Hongjoong blinks. What did she say?

“I—uh—thanks?” He stammers.

She just grins “See you tomorrow, newbie.”

He leaves the café with a new job and a strange feeling in his chest. He finally found work. That’s all that should matter.

So why does he feel like things just got a little more complicated?

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The usual morning buzz fills the hallways—students chatting by their lockers, laughter echoing from different corners, the occasional shout of someone running late to class.

You walk through the hall with your usual confidence, heels clicking against the polished floor.

You’re aware of the lingering stares, the hushed whispers—the rumor hasn’t died down completely.

But you don't acknowledge them. You act as if nothing is out of the ordinary. Because to you, it’s ridiculous.

Hongjoong wouldn’t use you. Joong isn’t like that.

You spot him near his locker, talking with Jongho and Yunho. He’s laughing at something Yunho said, his head tilted slightly as he shakes his head.

Something warm blooms in your chest at the sight of him.

You saunter up to them, flipping your hair back “Morning, nerds.”

Hongjoong looks up, and just like always, his face softens when he sees you.

“Hey, pretty.”

You smirk at the nickname, ignoring how Yunho and Jongho exchange knowing looks.

You step closer to him, slipping your fingers into the front pocket of his leather jacket like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Hongjoong doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into your touch, his free hand brushing against your waist in a casual, familiar way.

They’ve always been close. But now, their closeness is undeniable.

Jongho clears his throat, smirking “You two look… cozy.”

“Yeah, should we give you some privacy?” Yunho teases.

You roll your eyes “You guys are so annoying, that's why we cannot be friends.” Hongjoong just chuckles. You turn to him, tilting your head slightly “Do you wanna do something after school? Maybe go to that new place downtown?”

You expect a quick yes. He never says no to you.

But this time, he hesitates. Just for a second.

Then, he rubs the back of his neck and says “I can’t, pretty. I’ll be busy.”

You blink “Busy?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t elaborate.

It’s… weird.

Hongjoong always makes time for you. Even when he had schoolwork, even when he had plans with his friends.

You come first.

And now, suddenly, he’s busy?

But you don't press. You just shrug, masking any hint of curiosity or doubt.

“Okay. Your loss.”

He chuckles, leaning down slightly “You mad?”

You scoff “Why would I be mad?”

He grins “Because you’re used to getting what you want.”

You roll your eyes but don't deny it. Instead, you lean up and press a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping back.

“Fine, I’ll let you off the hook—just this once.”

Hongjoong watches you with something unreadable in his eyes, but before you can question it, the bell rings.

“See you later, nerd.” You wave, walking off.

He watches you go, a small smile on his lips. But in the back of his mind, he knows—This is the first time he’s ever lied to you.

And it won’t be the last.

The following days felt different. Hongjoong kept his distance from you, his mind consumed with work and worrying about how to help his family.

He didn’t want to burden you with his struggles. You had your own world—one he wasn’t sure he belonged to anymore.

You, of course, didn’t know. Hongjoong kept his family’s situation quiet, not wanting anyone, especially you, to feel sorry for him. But it was hard.

The afternoons you used to spend together seemed further away now, and Hongjoong didn’t know how to bridge the gap that was forming between you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Taglist: @mrskill2 @stayatinykatsy @badbitch69420sworld @lunaryoongie @certifiedmoa @jilxxasu @alliecoady98 @maidens-world @Lemonkait00 @yulsr @justconniez @luvvvash @zaynsfl4m3s @nkryuki @boomzen @silenttrxxs @blue5ummer @khaskl08 @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 @m0onchild-98 @l0vjoongie

☆○☆○☆○

All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.

i’m gonna crash out we need to end dann and mike i’m serious i’m going to throw a car at them or something, reader, hongjoong, get behind me

I’m not ready for the next chapter i can’t i need reader to be happy and i need them to be with hongjoong oh I’m sick

great chapter, I can’t wait for the next one <3

Popular, Boy

☆07: The first breakdown

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader

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

wc: 9,8k

Summary: Humillation and disappointment from others always leave you more isolated than ever. The tension grows and unresolved emotions linger.

But unexpected plans could change everything in your little world.

Warnings: Cursing, verbal abuse, manipulation, just Mike being a bastard.

Note: This chapter has important info that will develop in the next chapter, just want to say that next chapter is more spicy than aespa's song!!!

Series masterlist

☆06 ☆08: The first lie

The grandeur of the Clarke Mansion is still evident in the moments before they leave. The staff bustle around, making sure every detail is in place, as you, your family, and Dann prepare to depart for the lavish event at the Ritz.

The golden light of the chandelier in the hallway spills out into the driveway as the sleek black cars pull up, their engines purring softly in the night air. The elegance of the mansion stands in stark contrast to the wild, pulsing energy of the celebration awaiting them—a night meant to showcase Mike’s latest achievement.

You walk down the grand staircase, a vision in your red dress. As you descend, every step is deliberate, measured, meant to captivate.

Your parents, who were already waiting near the entrance, can’t help but pause in admiration at the sight of their daughter.

But you are too preoccupied with the swirling thoughts in your head to fully bask in their praise. Your brother's harsh words still echo in your ears, but you've done everything you can to mask the weight of them.

Tonight, you need to be untouchable.

Your father approaches you, voice full of pride.

“You look stunning, darling. No one will be able to take their eyes off you tonight.”

“And you better make sure they don’t, sweetie.” Your mother in an elegant black dress says brushing a strand of your hair.

You force a smile, though your gaze flicks to Mike standing near the door. You know he’s already prepared for what he perceives as your inevitable fall tonight.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

“Maybe you should focus on not embarrassing yourself, YN. There’s no room for mistakes tonight.” He smirks.

You feel your pulse quicken, the familiar sting of his condescending tone cutting through you like a knife. But you don't respond. Not tonight. you've already made up your mind—you will be perfect, no matter what he says.

Dann, standing quietly in the background, watches everything unfold with a mix of disdain and curiosity. She can feel the heat radiating off you, and for the first time, she’s not sure if she envies you or resents you.

Still, there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to get swept up in the endless cycle of praise and punishment that seems to define your world. As the last person to make their way out the door, Dann glances at her mother, who gives her a sweet smile, waving her goodbye.

When the cars finally pull up to the Ritz, the atmosphere shifts entirely. The event is already in full swing, lights glittering, the hum of conversation and laughter spilling out into the cool night air. The building itself looks like a monument to luxury—tall, majestic, with every surface reflecting the opulence that the Clarke family holds dear.

Inside the car, your family sits in quiet anticipation. Your parents speak in hushed tones, planning their approach to tonight’s gathering, while Mike remains distant, his eyes fixed on the glowing windows of the Ritz.

As the car doors open, the flood of sounds from the celebration pours in—cascading music, the clinking of glasses, and the rhythmic beat of life beyond the door.

You step out first, followed by Mike, parents, and Dann. They make their way up the steps to the grand entrance, where the doormen usher them in with professional smiles. Inside, everything is extravagant—gleaming chandeliers, velvet drapes, and golden accents everywhere.

It feels like a different world entirely.

You adjust your posture, and for a moment, you feel the weight of all eyes on you. This is your world, a place where you can thrive, even with Mike’s shadow looming over you.

As you step into the grand ballroom, the scent of roses and expensive perfume mixes with the faint aroma of hors d'oeuvres being passed around on silver trays.

The room is alive with conversation and laughter, the hum of wealth and power weaving through the air. You’re used to this—this is where you belong, where you’ve always shone. You adjust your dress, a subtle yet powerful statement of the season’s trends, and scan the room.

Your friends spot you almost immediately, their polished appearances as perfect as always. They weave through the crowd with ease, their heels clicking against the marble floor as they make their way toward you.

“Babe!” Mindy exclaims, her eyes sparkling “You look stunning, as always.”

“Of course she does,” Samantha chimes in with a sly grin “What else is new?”

You smile, a perfect blend of warmth and confidence “It’s all about keeping up appearances, isn’t it?”

Mindy’s gaze shifts past you, her brows arching in curiosity “Wait a second… Is that Dann?”

All turn, spotting Dann lingering awkwardly near one of the side tables. She’s holding a glass of sparkling water like it’s a lifeline, her lavender gown catching the light in a way that draws just enough attention.

“Oh my God, it is her. What’s she doing here?”

You shrug with a practiced air of indifference “Mother invited her. You know how she gets—always so kind and generous. She thought it would be nice to show some appreciation for Dann helping around the house.”

Mindy’s lips press into a thin line, and the others barely hide a snicker “Kind of her,” She says, her voice dripping with sarcasm “But seriously, babygirl, what were you thinking, letting her wear a dress from a collection from years ago? She looks ridiculous.”

You feign innocence, a soft laugh escaping your lips “Who am I to deny her a chance to feel special?”

Sam smirks “You’re a saint, baby. Truly. She really sticks out, doesn’t she? Like she doesn’t belong here.”

“That’s not my problem,” You reply smoothly, brushing off the comment with a flick of your hair “Mother wanted her here, and I’m doing my part. Whether or not she fits in is up to her.”

You glance across the room, your eyes narrowing as they settle on Seonghwa. He’s standing with his family, dressed impeccably as always, his confident smile lighting up the space around him.

For a brief moment, your polished demeanor falters. There’s a lot unsaid between the two of you—more than anyone in this room could ever guess.

After Wooyoung’s last party you haven't talked.

“Shall we mingle?” Someone asks, breaking your train of thought.

“Of course,” You reply, slipping your arm through Mindy’s “Let’s remind everyone who really runs this town.”

As you move through the crowd, your presence commanding attention as always, you can feel the weight of the evening settling in.

Tonight isn’t just about appearances—it’s about control, power, and making sure everyone, including Mike and Dann, knows exactly where they stand.

✮ ⋆

As the evening progresses, the hum of conversation and laughter fills the air, but Dann lingers near the edges of the room, keeping to herself. Her glass of sparkling water trembles slightly in her hand as she tries to blend into the background.

The soft lavender gown you gave her feels alien on her body, and she’s keenly aware of every glance sent her way.

What she doesn’t realize is that many of those glances are judgmental, the dress silently announcing her as out of place.

It doesn’t take long for Mindy and the other girls to leave you with your parents and notice Dann standing awkwardly by the refreshments table. They exchange a quick look, their eyes gleaming with amusement, and saunter over, their movements purposeful and predatory.

“Dann? Oh my god, hi.” Mindy says, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

Dann startles slightly but nods, trying to smile “Um, hi.”

Samantha tilts her head, feigning curiosity “That’s such a… unique dress you’re wearing. Where did you find it? A vintage shop?”

Dann’s cheeks burn, but she forces herself to meet their gaze.

“Actually, YN gave it to me. She thought it would be appropriate for tonight.”

Their smiles widen, eyes sparkling with malicious delight.

“Oh, our babygirl always so generous. Did YN let you borrow it from her last season’s wardrobe? Or was she just trying to make you look like a charity case?"

"I mean, you must feel so lucky to be here with all these important people in such a... dated dress."

“Very retro, not something anyone else here could pull off, but good for you for trying.”

Dann’s grip tightens around her glass, her stomach twisting. She knows they’re mocking her, but she refuses to let them see her falter.

“Thank you,” She says evenly “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Mindy arches an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the response, but Sam isn’t done yet.

“It’s just so sweet of YN to give you something she wouldn’t wear anymore. Such a generous friend, don’t you think?”

Before Dann can respond, Seonghwa’s voice cuts through the conversation like a blade.

“Ladies, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

He appears at Dann’s side, his presence commanding, and tone light but with an edge that makes your friends instantly fall silent.

“Hwa,” Mindy says with a wide smile “We were just admiring YN’s generosity in lending Dann one of her dresses. So thoughtful of her.”

Seonghwa’s lips curve into a polite but icy smile “Of course,” He turns to Dann, his expression unreadable “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Dann hesitates, but nods “Yes, thank you.”

“Good.” His eyes flick to your friends, his smile never wavering “If you’ll excuse us, I promised to introduce Dann to some of my friends.”

All the girls exchange glances but step aside.

“Sure, have fun.”

Seonghwa grabs Dann’s arm and leads her away, his steps measured and graceful. Once they’re out of earshot, he leans in slightly, his voice low enough that only Dann can hear.

“Don’t let them get to you. They’re just bored.”

Dann glances at him, unsure whether to trust the sudden kindness.

“Thanks, I guess.”

Once they’re seated with a drink in hand, Hwa turns to Dann, his expression serious.

"So, how’s everything going with Mike? What’s the plan for tonight?"

Dann glances around nervously, making sure no one is listening.

"Mike told me to tell Hongjoong a fake address so that he wouldn’t come tonight... he wanted YN to be left alone, humiliated. He said he was going to make sure she felt small in front of everyone during his speech."

Seonghwa nods, pleased with the progress of the plan, but there’s a certain coldness in his smile.

"And you’re sure he’ll follow through? Mike doesn’t usually miss a chance to put YN in her place."

Dann sighs, her hands trembling slightly as she grips her glass.

"I don’t know if I can keep doing this... but he’s promised that tonight, it’ll all come together. YN will feel what it’s like to be cast aside."

Seonghwa watches her for a moment, assessing, before leaning back and taking a sip of his own drink.

"Good. Just remember, if you want to be part of this, you have to follow through. All of us are in this together now."

Dann nods, but the weight of her actions starts to sink in. She knows she’s in too deep to back out now, and yet the guilt gnaws at her.

As Seonghwa continues to chat with her about their plans, she can’t shake the uneasy feeling that the lines between revenge and her own humanity are beginning to blur.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Hongjoong adjusted his cufflinks in the mirror, his expression thoughtful as he glanced at his reflection. The evening was meant to be a special one—an elegant celebration at the Ritz, an event where he would finally step into the world you navigate so effortlessly.

But something didn’t feel right. Why did your family decide to change the venue so suddenly?

Confused but trusting, Hongjoong went along with the information, believing it was just a miscommunication. He got ready, dressed in the suit you bought him, ready to experience a world beyond his usual scope.

But as he drove, the city fell behind him, the roads winding into quiet, unfamiliar countryside. There was no Ritz, just a few ordinary homes and farmland stretching into the distance.

Panic started to settle in his chest as his phone buzzed, showing no signal. He tried calling you, Dann, and even Wooyoung, but no calls went through.

The further he drove, the more he realized Dann had played a cruel trick—luring him away, leaving him isolated and alone.

Anger surged through him as he realized the intent. Dann had deliberately ensured he wouldn’t make it to the party, making you feel abandoned, unsure, and hurt.

His fists clenched around the steering wheel, frustration boiling to the surface. He needed to get to you, to make sure you knew it wasn’t his choice to stay away.

Desperate, he took a U-turn, his tires screeching slightly on the gravel as he headed back toward the city.

The night was dark, and the streets were eerily quiet as he raced toward the first address you had given him.

✮ ⋆

The party was in full swing, and you had slipped into your role effortlessly. Your laughter echoed through the room as you sipped champagne, your friends and guests hanging on your every word.

Mindy, Sam, Wooyoung, and a few others surrounded you, chatting about the latest gossip in the city, and the music played softly in the background, setting a festive mood.

You looked around the grand ballroom, admiring the luxurious décor, the chandeliers that sparkled overhead, and the gentle hum of conversation filling the air.

It was everything you had grown accustomed to—the perfect night of glamour, elegance, and being the center of attention.

But as the evening wore on, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in your chest. It was as though something was missing, and that something was Hongjoong.

You glance at your phone again, noting that the time is slipping away, and Hongjoong still hasn't arrived. The champagne, which had initially made you feel warm and confident, now seemed to weigh on you, making you restless.

“Where is little Hongjoong, babydoll?” Wooyoung asks you.

“Don't know, he should be here by now.”

“Maybe he doesn't know how to get here.”

“Maybe, let me call him.” You excused yourself from the group and wandered toward a quieter corner.

Your heels click softly on the marble floor. You unlock your phone and send a quick text to Joong.

YN♡: Joong, are you coming? It’s getting late.

You bite your lip, anxiously staring at the screen, waiting for a reply. But the familiar bubble showing that he is typing never appeared.

Frowning, you call him next, holding the phone to your ear as the ringing tone echoed in your eardrum. But when the call goes straight to voicemail, your anxiety deepens.

Where is he?

You make sure to include him in this world you live in, and now, you are starting to doubt if he’d actually show up.

There had been no signs of trouble earlier, but now the silence from Hongjoong’s end is unsettling.

You pace slowly, trying to calm your racing thoughts, but it's hard to ignore the tightness in your chest. You know you shouldn’t be worried—he might be caught up in traffic, or maybe something had come up—but deep down, a quiet voice is telling you it isn't that simple.

You text him again, hoping for any kind of response.

YN♡: Kim Hongjoong. Where are you?

Nothing.

The seconds stretch into what feels like minutes, and your stomach twists. You don’t like this feeling.

You don’t like being uncertain.

You don’t like being let down.

You return to the party but find yourself unable to focus on the conversations around you. Your gaze flickers back to your phone as the minutes tick by. Your thoughts keep drifting back to Hongjoong.

What is keeping him? Is he really on his way? Or has something happened?

You take a long sip of your champagne, trying to shake the unease, but it lingers.

You just wanted him here, wanted to be with him.

You force yourself to rejoin the party, plastering on a faint smile as you move through the crowd. Mindy and Wooyoung are still chatting nearby, but their laughter feels muffled, distant.

The sparkle of the chandeliers seems dimmer now, the glamour of the evening dulled by the absence of the one person you were hoping to share it with.

“Sweetie, there you are,” Your mother’s voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. “Mike’s about to give his speech. Come, stand near the front.”

You nod, following her to the center of the ballroom, where Mike is standing on a small stage. The guests quiet down as he takes the microphone, his charismatic smile commanding attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” He begins, his voice smooth and confident “First, thank you all for being here tonight. It means the world to me to celebrate this milestone with my family and our closest friends. As most of you know, I’ve recently been entrusted with a significant position in our family business, and I am honored to take on this responsibility.”

The crowd applauds, a few cheers breaking out. Mike raises a hand, his grin widening.

“I want to take a moment to express my gratitude for the opportunity to step into this role and carry the legacy of the Clarke family forward. My parents have worked tirelessly to get me here, and I will do everything in my power to uphold the values of this company. It’s an honor to follow in the footsteps of my father and grandfather.”

A round of applause erupted, and you force a smile, applauding with the crowd, even though a sense of dread fills your chest.

You can already feel where this is going.

“But before I move forward,” He continues, his voice gaining an edge of sarcasm “I have to acknowledge someone who’s always been there for me, even if she doesn’t always realize how much of a burden she’s been.”

His eyes flick to you, and for a moment, the entire room seems to pause.

Your heart skips a beat. You try to keep your composure, but there is an unsettling feeling settling deep in your stomach.

You force yourself to stand tall, but the quiet murmur of the crowd around you makes you feel exposed, like a target under a spotlight.

“As my sister, YN has been… well, how should I say this… a distraction,” Mike says, his voice dripping with mock affection “She’s been more focused on parties and… friendships than actual responsibility. And I think it’s time she learns that life isn’t all about being the center of attention.”

You feel your cheeks burn, the words piercing through you like ice. You can feel the eyes of the guests on you, the weight of their silent judgment. You try to maintain your composure, but the sting of Mike’s words make you feel small.

Like you don’t belong here.

Like you are nothing more than a plaything in the shadow of your perfect, golden brother.

Mike’s gaze never wavers from yours as he delivers the final blow.

“Maybe one day, she’ll realize that success isn’t about what you can get from people, but about what you can give back. I can only hope that she grows up soon enough.”

A few uncomfortable chuckles rip through the crowd, and your chest tightens. The blood rushes to your ears, and for a brief moment, you feel like you can’t breathe.

You look around, trying to find someone’s gaze—anyone who might offer you some comfort—but they all seem to look away, as if they have already accepted Mike’s harsh truth.

Your father is smiling, nodding as if it’s all just a joke. Your mother is watching you with a mixture of concern and hurt.

But you feel entirely alone.

The crowd clap hesitantly, you manage to give a tight smile, though it feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders.

You stand still, trying not to let the tears welling in your eyes break free.

You have no idea where Hongjoong is—if he is even coming—but right now, you need him more than ever.

You need someone who sees you for who you truly are, not the image that Mike and everyone else had constructed for you.

“Excuse me,” You murmur to no one in particular, slipping away from the crowd.

✮ ⋆

The party had begun to mellow out after Mike’s speech, the guests turning their attention to the endless flow of wine and hors d’oeuvres. In one of the quieter corners of the room, Dann sat alone, her champagne glass untouched on the small table before her.

She fiddled with the hem of her dress, her eyes flickering toward the laughter and conversation swirling around her.

Mike, ever the picture of confidence, approached her with a sly grin, his glass of scotch in hand.

“Well, Dann,” He says smoothly, sliding into the chair beside her. “How much did you enjoy YN’s little… public humbling?”

Dann hesitates, caught off guard by the directness of the question. But then, her lips curl into a faint smirk.

“I can’t say it wasn’t satisfying,” She replies, her tone measured but laced with an undercurrent of bitterness.

He chuckles darkly “I thought you’d appreciate it. After all, you’ve had a front-row seat to her antics, haven’t you?”

She shrugs, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass “I’m around her every day, every hour. I see more than anyone else does.”

Mike’s brows lift, his curiosity piqued “Really? And where is our dear YN now? Have you seen her?”

Dann’s eyes darted toward the balcony doors “Probably outside, drinking, smoking, who knows.”

Mike leans forward, his voice dropping slightly “Smoking?”

“Yeah,” Dann replies casually “She does it often. You wouldn’t notice, but I do. She hides it well.”

He studies her for a moment, as if trying to gauge the truth in her words. Then, with a smirk, he straightens up.

“Interesting. Well, I suppose I should go check on her, make sure she hasn’t set anything on fire in her dramatics.”

Dann let out a small laugh, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She watches as Mike rose and headed toward the garden doors, his steps purposeful and unhurried.

✮ ⋆

The garden is quiet, the cool night air wrapping around you as you step outside. The soft glow of the party lights spills onto the garden, but you move further into the shadows, needing to be alone.

You clutch your champagne flute tightly, the glass cold against your palm. Your chest feels heavy, the weight of Mike’s words pressing down on you.

Why does he always do this? Why can’t he just let you be?

You take a deep breath, the crisp air biting at your lungs, and tilt your head back to look at the stars. They’re beautiful, distant, and unattainable—just like the life you’ve always wanted.

Your hands shake slightly as you sip champagne, the liquid sloshing around in the crystal flute as you bring it to your lips. You don’t care if that is already your fifth glass.

You need something to numb the ache in your chest, something to drown out the sting of Mike’s words.

You fumble for a cigarette, pulling one from the pack with a trembling hand. The sweet strawberry scent fills the air as you lit it, inhaling deeply as the smoke curls around you like a shield. It doesn’t help.

The words he’d said—how you aren’t good enough, how you would never live up to his expectations—replays in your mind over and over.

You try to focus on the cool air, the quiet of the garden, but the ache in your heart doesn't go away. You felt completely exposed out here, the vulnerability that had crept in from Mike’s public humiliation gnawing at your insides.

You didn’t care that you were smoking in a garden meant for guests, you didn’t care about anything at all right now.

How long have you been out here? An hour? Two? You don’t even know anymore. Your head is fuzzy from the alcohol and the smoke, and all you want is for someone to make it stop.

But no one is coming.

Your phone buzzes in your purse, but you don’t bother looking at it. It can be anyone—your parents, Mindy, maybe even Seonghwa.

But the person you truly want to hear from is nowhere to be found.

The door to the garden creaks open behind you, the sound sharp and jarring. You flinch, not needing to turn around to know who it is.

The anger in the footsteps, the unmistakable tension in the air—it could only be Mike.

“YN.” His voice cuts through the night like a blade.

You take another drag from the cigarette, your back stiffening.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to stop acting like an embarrassment!” His words are sharp, accusing “What the fuck are you doing out here, smoking and drinking like some common—”

You whip around to face him, your own anger rising like a tide.

“I don’t need you to lecture me, Mike.”

“Clearly, you need someone to remind you of your place,” He shoots back, his tone venomous “You’re out here, embarrassing the family, and you don’t even care.”

Your lips curl into a bitter smile, your fingers still wrapped tightly around the cigarette.

“You’ve made it clear enough how you feel about me. Why don’t you just get lost and leave me the fuck alone?”

Your voice is raw, but your words are sharp and final.

Mike’s jaw clenches, his anger bubbling over. Before you can react, he steps forward, his hand lashing out and landing across your cheek with a sickening crack.

You gasp, your head snapping to the side from the force of the slap.

For a moment, everything goes still. The sting spreads across your face, your vision blurring, but it isn’t just the slap—it’s the realization that he didn't change during these years and his knack of hitting you when he's upset is still there.

That he can hurt you again, in front of everyone, and no one would stop him.

Your lip splits, the taste of blood mixing with the bitterness in your mouth. Your eyes fill with tears, but you blink them back, refusing to show weakness.

“You'll always be the same, right?” Your voice trembles with the weight of the words.

Mike’s chest heaves with anger, but you don't care. You aren't afraid of him anymore. His cruelty has pushed you to the edge for too long, and now, something inside you snaps.

But as much as you want to say more, to lash out at him for everything he has ever done, your throat tightens. You swallow the lump in your throat, clenching your fists at your sides.

“Get back inside, YN,” He sneers, turning on his heel “You’re making this family look pathetic.”

You stay silent, watching him walk away, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty garden. You sink back onto the bench, hands trembling.

You hadn’t expected him to hit you again—but it doesn’t matter. Nothing about this night matters anymore.

What is left for you? Where is Hongjoong?

As you sit there, all you can feel is the weight of his slap and the suffocating silence of the garden.

✮ ⋆

The mansion looms in the distance as you step out of the car, the cold air biting at your skin through your thin dress. The chauffeur doesn’t say a word, and you don’t acknowledge him.

You didn’t say goodbye to anyone at the party—didn’t even care if anyone noticed you slipping out.

You push open the front door, the familiar creak echoing in the grand, empty hall. The house is silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen and some maids doing errands.

It’s late, but a light glows faintly from the far side of the room. Dann’s mother is there, cleaning up, as she often does late into the night.

She looks up as you enter, her expression softening into concern the moment she sees you.

“Miss YN?” She says, her voice cautious yet kind “What happened to your lip?”

You touch your fingers to your mouth, wincing slightly at the sting of the torn skin. The dried blood cracks under your touch, but you force a small, dismissive smile.

“It’s nothing,” You say, your voice hoarse and detached.

She frowns, setting the dish towel down “It doesn’t look like nothing. Are you sure you’re alright?”

You nod, unwilling to engage any further “I’m fine. Goodnight.”

Without waiting for a reply, you make your way upstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. By the time you reach your room, the weight of the night is unbearable.

You close the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment before letting out a shaky breath.

The room is exactly as you left it—immaculate, pristine, and entirely too cold. You slip out of your dress, trading the suffocating fabric for a pair of loose sweatpants and an oversized hoodie.

Crawling into bed, you stare at the ceiling, the events of the night playing over and over in your mind.

Mike’s humiliating speech, the slap that still burns on your cheek, and the conspicuous absence of Hongjoong.

Hongjoong.

You held onto the hope that he would show up, that he’d swoop in and make everything feel bearable, but he didn’t. Not a call, not a message. Just silence.

Your chest tightens, and your throat feels raw as the urge to cry threatens to consume you.

But you don’t. You won’t.

You clench your jaw, swallowing hard against the lump that’s risen in your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away furiously, refusing to let them fall.

Crying feels like defeat, like letting Mike, Hongjoong, and everyone else see how much they’ve gotten to you.

You curl up on your side, staring blankly at the wall. The ache in your chest is suffocating, but you press your lips together, forcing yourself to stay composed.

Mike’s words echo in your ears—his sneer, his disdain. And the silence from Hongjoong—the boy who is supposed to be on your side, who is supposed to see you, really see you—is deafening.

But you won’t cry. You won’t give them that power.

You take a shaky breath and close your eyes, trying to block it all out. The humiliation, the loneliness, the betrayal—they’re all too much, but you won’t let them break you.

You are a Clarke. And YN Clarke doesn’t cry.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Hongjoong bursts into the venue, his heart pounding from the frantic drive. The event is still lively, guests milling about in elegant attire, but his eyes scan the room for one person only—you.

He pulls out his phone, scrolling to your name, his thumb hovering over the call button. With a shaky breath, he presses it, raising the phone to his ear as he moves through the crowd.

“Come on, pretty. Pick up.” He mutters under his breath.

The line doesn’t even ring—it goes straight to voicemail. His stomach sinks, and a fresh wave of panic washes over him. He tries texting instead:

Joongie♡: YN, I’m so sorry. I’m here now. Where are you? Please let me explain.

He hits send and watches the message sit undelivered, the grey checkmark mocking him.

“Damn it,” He hisses, running a hand through his hair.

“Hongjoong?”

A familiar voice cuts through the din. He turns to see your mother standing a few feet away, her brows knitted together in mild surprise.

“Mrs. Clarke,” He says, relief flooding his tone as he quickly approaches her “Have you seen YN? I’ve been trying to find her.”

Her expression softens, though there’s a trace of sadness in her eyes. She sighs, folding her arms across her chest.

“I haven’t seen her in a while. She might’ve left already.”

Hongjoong’s face falls “Left? Why would she leave?”

Mrs. Clarke hesitates, clearly choosing her words carefully.

“You know how these events can be… overwhelming. Sometimes, she just needs space.”

His heart twists. He can sense there’s more she isn’t saying, but he doesn’t press her. Instead, he nods, his mind racing with worry.

“Did she… say anything before she left? Did she seem okay?”

Her lips press into a thin line, and she glances away briefly “She didn’t say much. But…” She pauses, then shakes her head “I think it’s best if you talk to her yourself. Maybe she is at home.”

Hongjoong nods again, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Thank you. I’ll find her.”

The elegant woman gives him a small, almost apologetic smile before stepping away, leaving Hongjoong standing amidst the glitz and glamour of the party.

The lights feel too bright, the laughter too sharp. He dials your number again, and when it goes straight to voicemail, his frustration bubbles over.

“Pretty, please, call me back,” He says into the phone, his voice strained “I need to talk to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier. Please, just… let me know you’re okay.”

He hangs up, his chest heaving. Every second that passes feels like an eternity. He starts pacing, determined, Hongjoong sets off toward the exit, hoping against hope that he’s not too late to make things right.

After a twenty minute drive, Hongjoong pulls up to your house, his heart pounding as he steps out of the car. The sprawling mansion looms in the moonlight, its grandeur only amplifying his anxiety.

He jogs up the stone steps and rings the doorbell, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

After a moment, the door creaks open, and a maid greets him. Her expression brightens slightly when she recognizes him.

“Oh, Mr. Hongjoong, you’re a friend of Miss YN, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” He says, his voice laced with urgency “Is she home?”

The maid hesitates, then nods “I think she is in her room now, come in.”

Hongjoong exhales, his chest tightening “Thank you.”

He makes his way through the elegant hallways, his footsteps echoing faintly on the polished floors.

When he reaches your door, he finds it closed. He pauses, then knocks softly.

“YN? It’s me, Hongjoong,” He says, his voice trembling slightly “I… I need to talk to you. Please.”

There’s no response.

He knocks again, this time with more urgency “YN, I’m so sorry. I need you to know what happened. Please, just give me a chance to explain.”

Inside, you sit on the edge of your bed, your knees pulled up to your chest. You can hear every word he’s saying, the emotion in his voice tugging at your heart.

But you don’t move, your resolve firm. You can’t face him right now—not like this.

Hongjoong presses his forehead against the door, his fists clenching at his sides.

“I was tricked,” He says, his voice breaking “Dann… she gave me the wrong address. I thought I was going to the party, but it was all a lie. By the time I realized it was too late. I’m so sorry, YN. I didn’t mean to let you down.”

Still, you remain silent, staring at the door with a mix of anger, sadness, and exhaustion.

You want to believe him—you really do—but the weight of the evening keeps you rooted in place.

Hongjoong leans back, running a hand through his hair “I hate that I wasn’t there for you,” He continues “I know tonight was important to you, and I messed it up. But please, pretty… I care about you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

Your heart aches at his words, but you can’t bring yourself to respond. Maybe it’s the humiliation still fresh in your mind or the sting of feeling abandoned when you needed him most.

Either way, you decide to stay quiet.

After a long silence, he sighs heavily “I get it, you don’t want to talk to me right now. That’s okay. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

He lingers by the door for a moment longer, as if hoping for a miracle. When none comes, he finally steps away, his footsteps retreating down the hallway.

Inside, you exhale shakily, your hands gripping the edge of the bed. You feel torn, caught between your desire to open the door and the overwhelming need to protect yourself.

Maybe when you feel better—when the pain isn’t so raw—you can talk to him.

But for now, you stay where you are, letting the quiet of the room envelop you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The next few days pass in a haze. You keep to your room, the curtains drawn and the world shut out. You don’t want to face anyone—Mike, your parents, your friends, and especially Hongjoong.

The humiliation from the party still lingers like a wound that refuses to heal, and you can’t bear the thought of their pity or judgment.

Your mother knocks on the door each morning, her voice soft and tentative, but you always feign a cough or complain of feeling unwell. It works, for now.

They let you stay hidden away, though you know it’s only a matter of time before they stop accepting your excuses.

By Wednesday, the isolation is starting to feel suffocating, but you still can’t bring yourself to leave.

The knock on your door comes earlier than usual, followed by your mother’s voice.

“Sweetie, it’s me. Can I come in?”

You hesitate, considering pretending to be asleep, but before you can answer, the door creaks open. She steps in, her expression a mixture of worry and sadness as she closes the door behind her.

She sits on the edge of your bed, smoothing the blanket with her manicured hands.

“You’ve been in here for days,” She says gently “I’m worried about you, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine,” You murmur, your voice hoarse “I just need some rest.”

She reaches out, brushing your hair “You don’t have to pretend with me, YN. I know how hard that night must have been for you.”

Her words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you feel your resolve waver.

But instead of breaking down, you pull the blanket tighter around yourself.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

She nods, her gaze softening “That’s okay. But I need you to know that… I’m here for you. No matter what.” You don’t respond, your eyes fixed on the wall. After a moment, she sighs and leans forward, kissing your forehead “I’ll let you rest. Just… don’t shut yourself off completely, okay?”

Later that evening, another knock sounds at your door. This time, it’s your father.

He doesn’t wait for permission before entering, holding a small black box in his hand.

“Darling,” He says, his tone unusually bright “I thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”

You glance at him warily as he places the box on the bed beside you.

“What is it?”

“Open it and see,” He says, his smile strained.

You sit up slowly, pulling the box closer. Inside, nestled on a velvet cushion, is a sleek key fob. Your breath catches as you recognize the emblem—your father’s favorite luxury brand.

“A car?” You ask, looking up at him.

He nods, his smile faltering slightly “It’s parked in the driveway. I thought… after everything, you deserve something special.”

You stare at the key, a mix of emotions swirling inside you.

This isn’t the first time he’s done this—tried to smooth over their failures with expensive gifts. When you were a child, it was toys, then clothes, then trips abroad.

Now, it’s cars.

“Thanks,” You say quietly, your fingers curling around the key.

Your father seems to relax at your response, as if the gesture has absolved him of guilt.

“Take your time, darling. Whenever you’re ready, we can go for a drive.”

You nod, watching as he leaves the room. The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re alone again.

You stare at the key in your hand, the weight of it heavier than it should be. It’s a beautiful gift, but it doesn’t fill the emptiness inside you.

It doesn’t erase the memory of Mike’s words or the ache of feeling like you’re always second best.

You set the key down on your nightstand and lie back against the pillows, closing your eyes. Maybe tomorrow, you’ll feel strong enough to face the world.

But for now, you stay cocooned in your room, the only place where you feel safe.

✮ ⋆

The next morning, you wake up before your alarm, determination burning in your chest. You’ve spent days locked away, hidden from the world, but that ends today.

No one at school knows what really happened that night, and you intend to keep it that way. As far as they’re concerned, you were just under the weather.

Also, after four days, you decide to turn on your phone, which immediately fills up with notifications of missed messages and calls. You decide to take a moment to review it.

10 missed calls from Mindy.

7 missed calls from Brat Woo.

2 missed calls from Hwa.

1 missed call from Mingi.

28 missed calls from Joongie.

486 unread messages.

You don't want to read so many messages, so you prefer to shut it down and start to get ready for the day.

You pull open your closet door and scan through the racks of designer clothes.

After a few moments, you settle on a pearl-white blouse that hugs your frame perfectly, paired with a plaid mini-skirt that shows off your legs, and your favorite jimmy choo’s high heels complete the look, adding the perfect touch of glamour.

Your makeup is flawless, of course. You conceal every imperfection, erasing any hint of the chaos you’ve endured.

The faint scab on your lip vanishes beneath a carefully chosen red lipstick, and the flush of blush gives your cheeks a healthy, radiant glow.

The girl staring back at you in the mirror looks exactly as she should: untouchable, effortless, and every bit the queen bee.

Outside, your new car gleams under the morning sun, a symbol of your parent’s guilt and their way of fixing everything with a price tag.

You don’t care. Today, it’s a weapon, and you know exactly how to use it.

The engine purrs as you pull into the school parking lot, catching everyone’s attention. Heads turn, conversations falter, and by the time you step out, all eyes are on you.

You move with purpose, your heels clicking against the pavement as you stride toward the entrance.

You can feel the weight of their stares, hear the murmurs of curiosity.

“Is that YN’s new car?”

“Didn’t she call in sick for the past few days?”

“She looks gorgeous!”

You smirk inwardly, keeping your expression neutral. Let them wonder. Let them speculate.

None of it matters.

Inside, your friends are waiting near your locker, their faces lighting up as they spot you.

“Babe! You’re back!” Mindy exclaims, her voice tinged with relief “We were so worried about you!”

“What happened? Are you feeling better?” Another friend chimes in.

You shrug casually, opening your locker as if this is just another normal day.

“I’m fine. Just needed a few days to recover from the flu. Nothing serious.”

Mindy’s eyes flicker to your car keys, which you’re holding deliberately in your hand.

“And the car? Is that new?”

You flash her a small smile, dangling the keys for emphasis “A little gift from my parents. They thought I deserved a pick-me-up.”

The group erupts into compliments, fawning over your car and your outfit. It’s almost too easy to redirect their attention.

But as you glance around, your gaze lands on Hongjoong in the distance entering the library.

Maybe it’s time to talk with him about that night, he owes you an apology.

“I see you in class, girls.”

Without waiting for a response, you make your way to the library.

The library is quiet, the faint rustle of pages and soft whispers creating a cocoon of calm. You scan the room until your eyes land on Hongjoong, sitting at a table with a few of his friends.

He looks up just as you approach, his face shifting between surprise and relief.

“YN,” He starts, rising from his seat, “I—”

“Save it for later, Hongjoong,” You cut him off sharply, your tone leaving no room for argument “We need to talk about what you said that night.”

He hesitates, glancing awkwardly at his friends, but your unwavering stare makes him nod and follow you to a secluded corner of the library.

Once you’re alone, you cross your arms, your eyes narrowing.

“Why didn’t you show up at the party? I waited for you for almost three hours, Joong.”

“I know, I know, pretty,” He says immediately, reaching out to steady your waist, his tone pleading “But like I told you that night, Dann tricked me—”

You cut him off again with a scoff, pulling back “Dann? You promised me you wouldn’t talk to her again.”

“And I didn’t start the conversation!” He protests, frustration creeping into his voice “She approached me that day at the mall.”

“What?” You blink, momentarily thrown off. The situation sounds ridiculous, almost laughable.

“That day, I was shopping, and out of nowhere, Dann appeared, asking what I was doing there. When I mentioned the party—” He pauses, sighing heavily as his hand rakes through his hair, “She told me the venue had changed and said she’d send me the new address. I thought it was odd, but when she mentioned your mom inviting her, I believed it.”

Your jaw tightens “And then?”

“I drove to the address she gave me,” He continues, his voice dropping with guilt “It was in the middle of nowhere. No signal, no way to contact you or anyone else. By the time I realized what was going on, it was too late. I rushed back to the Ritz and then to your house as soon as I could, but…”

You’re silent for a moment, processing his words. None of it makes sense.

Dann, sweet, shy, unassuming Dann, pulling off a plan like this? The thought feels absurd.

Then again, you remind yourself, people aren’t always what they seem.

“And why did you trust her? Why didn’t you call me after she told you that?” You press, your tone sharper now.

Hongjoong’s hands tighten briefly around your waist before he mutters.

“She said maybe you were busy and forgot to tell me. I... I trusted her because she was my friend.” His voice is barely above a whisper, the admission dripping with shame.

“Oh my god, Joongie.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head “I thought you were smart. But I understand. She was your friend, and you didn’t think she’d trick you like that.”

He bites his lip, clearly embarrassed, but when you reach out to cup his cheeks, lifting his gaze to yours, he softens.

“Now you owe me an apology,” You murmur, your lips brushing his lightly “You left me all alone.”

He smiles at your pout, a playful glint in his eyes “I know. What about dinner after school?”

You shake your head, frowning “I want another kind of apology. You know what I mean, Kim Hongjoong.”

And of course, he knows. But he can’t resist teasing you, just a little.

“We can’t do anything indecent here, pretty,” He murmurs, his hands slipping lower to rest on your hips as he pulls you closer “I don’t want to get us in trouble.”

You roll your eyes but let the moment linger for a breath longer before stepping back, a plan already forming in your mind.

“Fine,” You say, straightening your posture and fixing him with a determined look “But this isn’t over. And speaking of people owing me, I’m going to have a little chat with Dann. She has some explaining to do.”

Hongjoong stiffens, his playful demeanor vanishing “YN—maybe you should let it go. You know how Dann is. She’ll twist things, make it worse.”

“Not this time.” Your voice is steady, cold “She went too far, and I’m not letting her get away with it. If she wants to play games, I’ll show her how it’s done.”

He watches as you stride out of the library, determination radiating from every step.

He knows better than to argue when you’re like this, but even he can’t help the twinge of unease at the thought of what’s coming next.

✮ ⋆

The final bell rings, and students rush to leave the school. The hallways are alive with chatter, but you remain by your locker, surrounded by her entourage—Mindy, Wooyoung, Samantha, and a few others. Hongjoong lingers close by, his face a mixture of anticipation and tension.

As the crowd thins, you spot Dann walking down the hall, clutching her books, her head low as if trying to make herself invisible.

Your lips curl into a sharp smile, eyes glinting with cold determination.

“Dann!” You call out, voice slicing through the noise like a whip.

Dann freezes, her face draining of color. Slowly, she turns, her eyes wide as they meet yours.

It's been days since that day at the party and she’s been so nervous about you finding out what she did.

You saunter toward her, your friends following closely, their presence an unspoken threat.

“YN, I have to—” Dann begins, but you cut her off.

“Don’t even try, Dann. I’m not in the mood for your pathetic excuses.” You step closer, your gaze narrowing “I just have one question for you: What made you think you could lie to Hongjoong and me and get away with it?”

Dann swallows hard, glancing at the others, who are watching her like predators sizing up their prey.

“What—”

“Oh, don’t give me that!” You snap, throwing her hands up dramatically “You know what you did that day.” Dann’s panic builds, and her breath catches in her lungs for a moment “You didn’t mean to send Joongie to some random, deserted place? You didn’t mean to ruin my night?”

Dann’s grip tightens on her books “I wasn’t trying to—”

“You weren’t trying to what?” You interrupt, voice dripping with mockery “You weren’t trying to sabotage me? You’re such a bad liar, Dann.”

Mindy smirks, chiming in “I mean, seriously, Dann. Did you really think you could pull this off? You’re so… gullible.”

“And desperate,” Wooyoung adds with a chuckle, earning a snicker from the others.

You cross your arms, your expression one of feigned hurt.

“You know, I even gave you that dress for the party. That expensive designer dress. Because I thought, ‘Hey, maybe Dann deserves a chance to feel special for once.’” You pause “Guess I was wrong.”

Dann’s eyes well up with tears, but she shakes her head, trying to muster a defense.

“YN, I didn’t mean to ruin anything. I just—”

“Just what?” Your voice rises, drawing the attention of a small crowd of lingering students. “Just decided to be so dumb and submissive that you’d believe anything someone told you? Or are you working with someone?”

The accusation hangs in the air, and Dann’s lips part as if to respond, but she quickly closes them, her silence speaking volumes.

To everyone's surprise; Hongjoong steps forward, his jaw tight.

“You know what, Dann? I can’t believe I trusted you. You used to be my friend. I thought you were better than this.”

Dann flinches at his words, her composure slipping further.

“Joong, I…” Dann looks down, her tears threatening to spill over.

You smirk, stepping closer until you’re towering over Dann.

“Did you want me to be mad at him?”

Dann’s face flushes with humiliation, and she shakes her head vehemently.

“No! That’s not what I—”

“Save it, you’re pathetic, Dann. And you’re not just a liar—you’re a bad one. Honestly, I doubt you came up with this plan on your own. Someone must’ve put you up to it. Who was it?”

“Maybe it was Seonghwa, I saw them talking at the party.” Mindy snaps with a grin “Right, Dann?”

Dann remains silent, her lips trembling as she clutches her books tighter. She won't say a word about it, and you frown at the mention of Seonghwa’s name.

Seonghwa talking with her, What the fuck?

“No answer?” You laugh bitterly “I see, you’re too scared to even admit it. Well, let me give you some advice: Stay out of my way. You’re not in my league, Dann. You never were, and never will.”

Wooyoung steps forward again with a grin “You owe YN and Hongjoong an apology.”

“A real one. Not that half-hearted excuse you tried earlier.” Sam adds.

Dann’s tears finally spill over, and she whispers “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

You roll her eyes, turning to your friends.

“Let’s go. I’m done wasting my time on her.”

As they walk away, you glance over your shoulder one last time, lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

“Oh, and Dann? Don’t ever think about messing with me again. Next time, you won’t get off so easily.”

The crowd disperses, leaving Dann standing alone, her face streaked with tears. Behind her trembling exterior, a flicker of something else—anger or determination—takes root.

✮ ⋆

Dann steps are heavy, her hands trembling slightly as she clutches her bag. Tears still cling to her lashes, but her face is set in a grim determination.

The humiliation at school burns fresh in her mind, your cutting words replaying over and over like a cruel mantra.

By the time she reaches the front door of Clrarke’s mansion, her shame has transformed into anger—a searing, all-consuming fury.

She pushes open the heavy doors without hesitation, her steps echoing through the grand foyer.

There is Mike, sitting comfortably reading something.

“Mike.” She says, her voice firm despite the lump in her throat.

Mike looks at her, his expression cool and calculating as always. He closes the book, his sharp eyes scanning her face.

“Well, well,” He drawls, his lips curling into a smirk “You look like hell. Let me guess—Queen YN had her fun at your expense?”

Dann glares at him, dropping her bag onto the floor.

“She humiliated me again. In front of everyone.”

Mike chuckles, crossing his arms “That’s her style. Did you expect a thank-you card for all your hard work?”

“I expected her to be human for once,” Dann snaps, her voice trembling with emotion “But she’s not. She’s a monster. And I’m done being her punching bag.”

Mike’s smirk widens, a glint of approval in his eyes “Finally. I was starting to wonder if you’d ever grow a backbone.”

Dann takes a deep breath, forcing herself to steady “You were right. About everything. YN needs to be taken down. For good.”

He raises an eyebrow, intrigued “And you’re ready to do what it takes?”

“Yes,” Dann says without hesitation, her fists clenching at her sides “I want to destroy her. Her reputation, her relationships, her entire world—I want it all gone.”

Mike stands up, and walks directly in front of her “Now you’re speaking my language. But do you have a plan, or are you just here to vent?”

Dann lifts her chin, meeting his gaze with newfound determination.

“I thought you might have some ideas. You’re the one who’s been watching her for years, waiting for her to slip up.”

“I do have a few ideas. But if we’re going to do this, we’ll need to be smart. YN’s not stupid—she’ll see a direct attack coming from a mile away.”

Dann nods, her anger simmering just below the surface.

“So what do we do?”

Mike gestures for her to follow him, leading her to a luxurious sitting room where he pours himself a drink.

He takes a slow sip before speaking.

“We chip away at her. Little by little. She’s built this image of perfection and control, but all it takes is one crack for the whole thing to shatter.” He leans against the bar, his eyes gleaming with malice “We start with Hongjoong. Make YN doubt his intentions.”

Dann swallows, the weight of his words settling over her.

“How do we do that?”

Mike swirls his drink lazily, watching Dann with a satisfied smirk.

"Simple," He says "We make her think the one person she trusts most is betraying her."

Dann frowns, confused "Hongjoong? But he’s loyal to her."

He chuckles, shaking his head "Loyalty is fragile. YN’s world is built on power and control—she doesn’t trust anyone completely. If we plant the right seeds, she’ll start questioning even him."

Dann crosses her arms "How? He barely even talks to anyone outside of their little circle."

Mike leans forward, his voice lowering conspiratorially.

"I’m pretty sure that after that nerd missed the party, he will apologize to her, right? Maybe this time he will fuck her as an apology.” He smiles, his words full of venom.

Dann shifts uncomfortably at Mike’s crude words, but she doesn’t argue. He’s right—Hongjoong will go crawling back to you, desperate to make it up to you.

He’s like a lost puppy when it comes to you, willing to do anything to stay by your side.

Mike watches her reaction carefully, then smirks “And when that happens, we’ll act.”

Dann furrows her brows “What do you mean?”

He sets his glass down with a soft clink, straightening up.

“I’ll tell you later, now go.”

Dann hesitates, a flicker of uncertainty passing over her face, but she does what he ordered. She turned around and left the room.

Whatever Mike is planning must be good.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.

Dude…let’s kill Mike

I’M SICK OF THIS MAN I SWEAR!

CHAPTER STARTED OFF SO CUTE WITH READER AND HONGJOONG GOING ON A DATE AND NOW I CAN FEEL IT SENSE THAT JOONG GONNA SHOW UP AT A DIFFERENT VENUE AND READER GONNA BE UPSET AHHHHHHHH

We need to kill Mike we gotta stop him i’m so serious i need reader or someone to hit him if future chapters preferably i want reader to hit him

moving on, I’m excited for the next part even thought it’s literally titled "the first breakdown" and i just know i’m gonna feel sad for reader more than I already do especially after this chapter

keep up the amazing work! <3

Popular, Boy

☆06: The first move.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader

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

wc: 10,8k

Summary: You and Hongjoong grow closer, but in your world, trust is a dangerous thing. Mike's cruelty lingers, and in the shadows, a plan unfolds... One designed to break you.

Break your heart, and make you question everything... especially Hongjoong.

Warnings: Verbal abuse, past trauma (?), power dynamics, fluff, suggestive.

Series masterlist

☆05 ☆07: The first breakdown.

The low rumble of the engine fills the quiet evening air as you glance out the window. The car is nothing like the sleek, expensive vehicles sitting in your family’s garage. It’s modest, a little old, and the faint smell of worn leather lingers in the air.

“You borrowed this from your dad?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as you turn to Hongjoong.

He shrugs, his hands gripping the steering wheel with a mix of focus and nervousness. “Yeah. Figured it’s better than taking the bus.”

The bus? Hell no, you have never been in one and you hope it never happens.

You glance at him, a small, amused smirk playing on your lips. The whole thing is… endearing in a way you don’t expect.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?” You cross your legs and adjust your pink leather jacket.

“Nope.” His lips quirk into a smile, but he keeps his eyes on the road “Just sit back and enjoy the ride, pretty.”

You roll your eyes but don’t press further. There’s something about his excitement that keeps your curiosity piqued.

When the car finally comes to a stop, you step out and immediately catch the sound of distant laughter and the faint scent of fried food in the air. Turning toward the neon-lit entrance ahead, your brows knit together.

“An amusement park?” Your voice is tinged with surprise.

Hongjoong steps around to your side, his hands in his pockets and a slightly nervous look on his face.

“You said you’d never been to one, so…” He gestures toward the brightly lit rides.

You glance down at your outfit—high heel boots, a sleek skirt, and your leather jacket—then back at him.

“And you didn’t think to mention that I might want to dress for this?”

He grins, his nervousness fading into a playful confidence “You’ll be fine. You look beautiful and you could rock a runway in a park if you wanted to.”

You shake your head, unable to suppress a smile “Fine. Lead the way.”

The ticket booth is up ahead, and you instinctively reach for your purse, already accustomed to paying for yourself—and for others. But before you can even unzip it, Hongjoong steps forward, pulling out his wallet.

“Two adults, please.” He says, handing over the cash.

You blink, momentarily stunned. People don’t usually pay for you. They just assume you’ll foot the bill, given your family’s wealth. But here Hongjoong is, without hesitation, handling everything.

“Thanks.” You say, your voice softer than usual.

He shoots you a small, reassuring smile “It’s a date, isn’t it?”

The park is alive with energy—bright lights, music, and the unmistakable hum of excitement in the air. You’re not sure what to expect, but as the night unfolds, you find yourself swept up in the moment.

Hongjoong pulls you from ride to ride, his enthusiasm contagious. You scream on the roller coasters, laugh uncontrollably on the spinning teacups, and you surprise yourself by enjoying the bumper cars, laughing uncontrollably as Hongjoong tried—and failed—to outmaneuver you.

Hongjoong made a great effort to win a small stuffed bunny at one of the carnival games, he handed it to you with a triumphant grin.

“For you,” He says, holding it out.

“Seriously?” You ask, but there is no hiding the smile that tug at your lips “It’s so tacky.”

“Tacky but adorable, just like you.” He counters with a pretty smile.

And you find yourself clutching the fluffy bunny tightly as you continue through the park.

At the snack stand, you try to insist on paying, but Hongjoong beats you to it again, handing over the cash before you can protest.

“You’re really committed to this, huh?” You tease.

He shrugs, offering you a bag of popcorn “I like treating you. You’re worth it.”

The words catch you off guard, leaving a strange warmth in their wake. You look at him, the boyish grin on his face, and wonder how he can be so… genuine.

As the day turns into evening, the park’s lights flicker on, casting a magical glow over everything. You stand in line for the carousel, the soft music adding a nostalgic charm.

You climb into one of the ornate horses, your laughter echoing as Hongjoong chooses the one beside you.

“You’re having fun, admit it.” He says, his voice filled with mock accusations.

You tilt your head, a playful smirk on your lips “Maybe a little.”

The carousel begins to move, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in the moment. The weight of your pride, your fears, and the persona you had carefully crafted seems to fade.

It’s just you and Hongjoong, spinning in a world that feels oddly perfect.

As the evening wears on, you realize something else—you’re having fun. Real, uncomplicated fun. It’s a feeling you’re not used to, and it’s equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

When you finally board the Ferris wheel, the city sprawls out below you, glittering in the night. The car sways gently, and Hongjoong’s arm rests casually on the back of your seat.

“You’ve been quiet,” He glances at you “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitate, your fingers toying with the hem of your jacket “I guess… I’m not used to this.”

“To what?”

“To someone doing all of this just for me.” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks at you, his expression softening “You deserve it, pretty. All of it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, unsure of how to respond. The gnawing doubt in the back of your mind refuses to let go.

What if this isn’t real? What if he’s just playing along, trying to climb some invisible ladder to the top?

The Ferris wheel car rocks gently as it halts at the top, giving you a perfect view of the glowing amusement park below. The world feels smaller up here, the laughter and music from the park blending into a soft hum. But your focus isn’t on the view.

Hongjoong’s hand brushes against yours, hesitant yet deliberate “YN,” He begins, his voice soft but firm, breaking the fragile silence. You turn to him, caught off guard by the serious tone in his voice “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” His eyes locking onto yours “Something I should’ve said a long time ago.”

You blink, unsure of where he’s going with this “What is it?”

He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair “Do you remember the first time we met? On the first day of college?”

You frown slightly, trying to recall “I remember you asking me for a pen and I told you not to speak to me again and get lost.” Both of you chuckle at the memory “You were… different back then.”

He smiles faintly, though there’s a sadness to it “I was, and I remember everything about that moment. How you walked into the lecture hall like you owned the place, and every single person in the room noticed you. Including me.”

You tilt your head, curious now.

“I knew I didn’t stand a chance,” He continues, his voice quiet “You were… YN. Popular, beautiful, confident—everything I wasn’t. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I guess, in some way, I thought if I could change myself, maybe you’d notice me.”

“Change yourself?” You echo, your brow furrowing.

He nods, a faint, self-deprecating chuckle escaping his lips “The clothes, the hair, trying to fit in with your world—it was all for you. Even when I begged you to make me popular, it wasn’t really about the popularity. I just wanted to be enough for you. To have a chance with you.”

His words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say.

“You hated me back then.” You murmur, though your voice lacks conviction.

“I didn’t hate you,” He says firmly, his gaze unwavering “I hated how you treated me sometimes, yeah. But I didn’t hate you. How could I, when I was in love with you?”

Your breath catches “In love with me?”

“Since that first day,” Hongjoong admits, his voice barely above a whisper “It didn’t matter that you barely knew I existed. It didn’t matter how hard it was to watch you humiliate me or use me as a punchline. I just wanted you to notice me, YN. Even if it hurts.”

A lump forms in your throat as you stare at him. His words are raw, honest, and so unlike the Kim Hongjoong you’ve grown accustomed to.

“Hongjoong…” You trail off, your voice faltering.

He shakes his head, his hand tightening around yours.

“I know how it sounds. And I get it if you don’t feel the same way. But I had to tell you. Because all of this? It’s real for me. You’re real for me.”

You feel your chest tighten, the weight of his confession pressing down on you. Part of you wants to believe him, to let yourself fall into the warmth of his feelings, but the doubts linger.

“What if…” You begin, your voice trembling “What if you’re wrong? What if this isn’t real?”

“I’m not wrong,” He says with quiet determination “And I’ll prove it to you, pretty. Every day, if I have to.”

His words stir something deep inside you, but the echoes of your brother’s voice resurface: ‘Once the thrill of the game wears off, they’ll both be exactly where they belong—crumbling.’

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the turmoil within you.

“I don’t know if I can trust this.”

Hongjoong leans closer, his eyes searching yours “You don’t have to trust it all at once. Just… let me show you. Let me prove to you that I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, you hesitate, your heart warring with your mind. But then, as if on instinct, you lean in and press your lips to his.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, but then it deepens, his hands cupping your face as yours find their way to his shoulders. For a moment, the world around you disappears, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

When you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, Hongjoong’s eyes are wide, his expression filled with awe.

“Does this mean that we are…?”

“It means,” You interrupt, your voice trembling but steady “That I’m giving you a chance to prove it, then we discuss what will happen. Don’t make me regret it.”

He smiles, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes and lights up his entire face.

“I won’t. I promise.”

The Ferris wheel begins to move again, but this time, as it descends, you feel lighter, the weight of your doubts momentarily lifted.

Maybe this is reckless. Maybe it’ll all fall apart. But as Hongjoong’s hand finds yours again, lacing your fingers together, you decide—for now—you’ll take the risk.

✮ ⋆

The hum of the car engine fades as Hongjoong pulls up to your family’s grand estate, its sprawling driveway illuminated by soft outdoor lighting. He steps out of the old car and quickly moves to your side, opening the door for you with a charming smile.

“Such a gentleman.”

You tease, stepping out in your heels, clutching the medium-sized plush bunny he’d won for you at the amusement park. Its soft, floppy ears brush against your arm, and for reasons you can’t quite explain, holding it makes you feel… warm.

“Well, tonight was special. You deserve the whole VIP treatment.” He quips, offering his hand to steady you.

As the two of you walk toward the front steps, the soft chill of the evening air wraps around you, but you barely notice it. The warmth of the evening lingers, and you’re not quite ready to let it go.

“I had fun tonight.” You admit, your voice softer than usual.

“Yeah?” He asks, his eyes lighting up “You’re not just saying that because I let you beat me at the ring toss, are you?”

You roll your eyes, a laugh escaping as you hug the bunny tighter.

“You didn’t let me win. I’m just naturally talented.”

Hongjoong grins, leaning slightly closer “Naturally talented, huh? I’ll remember that next time I’m getting crushed at bumper cars.”

A comfortable silence falls between you for a moment as you both reach the front door.

“Thank you, Hongjoong,” You say, turning to face him fully “For everything. I mean it.”

He scratches the back of his neck, his cheeks tinged pink under the porch light. “You don’t have to thank me. I just… I wanted you to have a good time.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” You reply, your smile lingering.

The moment feels charged, like the quiet pause before a firework explodes. Slowly, he steps closer, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips.

“Goodnight, pretty.” He says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, Joongie.” You reply, leaning in.

Your lips meet in a tender kiss, warm and unhurried, the kind that feels like a promise. The bunny slips slightly in your grip, but Hongjoong steadies it with a hand, his touch lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter.

When you pull back, there’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, as though he’s reluctant to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school.” He murmurs, his hand brushing yours one last time before he turns and walks back to his car.

You watch him drive away, the sound of the engine fading into the night. For a brief moment, you stand there, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

The plush bunny in your arms feels oddly comforting, and you catch yourself smiling at the memory of him insisting on winning it for you. He’d been so focused, so determined, as though nothing else in the world mattered.

But the warmth is short-lived.

As you step inside, the soft click of your heels echoes in the dimly lit foyer. The house feels quiet, almost too quiet, and a sense of unease prickles at the back of your neck.

“Late night, huh?” You freeze. Mike’s voice cuts through the silence like a knife, cold and taunting.

He steps out from the shadows of the living room, his arms crossed, and an infuriatingly smug look on his face.

“So, did Prince Nerd sweep you off your feet?”

You roll your eyes, trying to keep your composure “Go to bed, Mike. You’re not my keeper.”

He chuckles, the sound low and mocking “Oh, but it’s so entertaining watching you play house with your little project.”

You glare at him, your defenses rising “He’s not a project. And you don’t know anything about him.”

Mike raises an eyebrow, stepping closer “Don’t I? Let’s see… Hongjoong, the reformed nerd. The guy who suddenly started hanging out with the queen bee… How curious, don't you think?” Your jaw tightens, but he doesn’t stop “You think that’s love, YN? Or is it desperation?"

"Face it, dear sister. He’s obsessed with you because you’re a trophy. The queen bee who gave him the time of day. Do you really think that’ll last? Once he realizes he can’t keep up, he’ll snap back to reality. And where does that leave you?”

“Stop it,” You snap, your voice shaking slightly.

But Mike only smirks “You’re scared, aren’t you? Scared that I’m right. Scared that once the shine wears off, he’ll remember who he really is—and leave you behind.”

His words sink in like claws, dragging at the fragile hope you’d started to build tonight. You open your mouth to fire back, but the lump in your throat stops you.

Mike leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper “Enjoy the fairytale while it lasts, little sister. Because when it ends, it’s going to hurt.”

Without another word, he turns and disappears into the shadows, leaving you standing there, clutching the bunny tightly to your chest.

The warmth of Hongjoong’s kiss feels like a distant memory now, overshadowed by the weight of Mike’s cruel words.

As you climb the stairs to your room, the doubts creep in, unbidden and relentless.

You set the bunny down on your bed, its soft, innocent face staring back at you as though mocking your turmoil.

Tonight was perfect. But now, you’re not so sure how long perfect can last.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

March, 2008⋆｡

You were five years old, standing in the middle of the schoolyard with a bouquet of cheap plastic flowers and a small silver medal hanging around your neck. The other kids were swarmed by their parents, showered in hugs, kisses, and congratulations.

You stood apart, your smile faltering as you scanned the crowd again and again, hoping to find a familiar face.

But your parents never came.

By the time the babysitter arrived to take you home, the festival had already ended, and the school grounds were nearly empty. You sat quietly in the car, clutching the medal tightly in your small hands, determined not to cry.

You had worked so hard for the performance, staying late after school for weeks, practicing the routine over and over. You had wanted your parents to see you, to be proud of you.

When you finally got home, the house was dark. Your parents weren’t there, of course. They had told you that morning that they might be "a little late," but you hadn’t realized it meant missing the entire festival.

The babysitter gave you a sympathetic smile before heading upstairs. You sat at the dining table, the silver medal still around your neck, as you stared at the empty chairs where your parents should’ve been.

It wasn’t until late at night that you heard the front door open. You rushed downstairs, your little heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Your parents entered, followed by your eight-year-old brother, Mike, who was holding a shiny trophy in his hands.

“Look at this, first place!” Mike boasted, raising the trophy high.

“We’re so proud of you, Mike.” Your mother said, ruffling his hair.

“Mommy, Daddy,” You began hesitantly, clutching her medal “You missed my dance festival.”

Your parents glanced at you briefly, their smiles faltering for just a moment.

“Oh, honey, we’re so sorry,” Your father said, though his tone was distracted “But Mike had his soccer game today, and his team won! It was such an important match.”

“I won too. I won second place, look.” You said quietly, holding up your medal with a smile.

You looked between your parents, hoping for a flicker of pride, of recognition.

Mike snorted “Second place? That’s just the first loser, YN.”

Your cheeks burned, and your grip on the medal tightened “It’s still good,” You muttered.

The oldest exchanged a quick look before your mother knelt down in front of you.

“That's incredible, sweetie. We’re sorry we couldn’t make it. We’ll make it up to you, okay? Tomorrow, we’ll take you to the store, and you can pick out whatever you want. How does that sound?”

You nodded slowly, but the hollow ache in your chest didn’t go away. You watched as your parents returned their attention to Mike, showering him with questions about his game, reliving every goal and every cheer.

You stood there, forgotten, the silver medal in your hand feeling heavier by the second.

That night, as you lay in bed, you stared at the medal on the nightstand. You thought about the promise your parents had made, the reward they’d offered to soothe their absence.

A reward.

That’s what you were worth to them. Not their time, not their presence, but a material gift to ease their guilt.

And so, even at five years old, you learned a valuable lesson: if you couldn’t earn love, you could at least be compensated for its absence.

✮ ⋆

October, 2017⋆｡

The house was alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Streamers in shades of purple and gold adorned the grand living room, and a three-tier cake stood proudly at the center of the dining table, surrounded by an array of delicately prepared treats.

It was your fifteenth birthday—or at least, it was supposed to be.

You stood near the large bay window, your dress a vision of elegance and sparkle, the kind your mother had insisted on getting for the occasion. But your smile was thin and forced, your eyes constantly darting to the growing crowd around Mike.

Your older brother was the center of attention, as he always seemed to be.

Earlier that evening, just as the guests began to arrive, Mike had announced to their parents that he had been accepted into the most prestigious university in the country. The news was met with exuberant cheers and immediate celebration.

Your parents’ pride radiated like the sun, casting a shadow over everything else—including you.

At first, you tried to hold onto the joy of your own milestone, but as the night wore on, the decorations, the cake, and even the guests seemed to shift their focus.

“To Mike!” Your father’s voice boomed as he raised a glass of champagne “For making us the proudest parents alive!”

A collective cheer followed, and you felt your chest tighten. You glanced at your mother, hoping for a gesture of acknowledgment, but she was too busy beaming at Mike.

The words you had rehearsed to thank everyone for coming stayed locked in your throat.

“It’s okay…” You told yourself, gripping the edges of the dress to steady your trembling hands.

As the hours passed, your birthday transformed into an impromptu celebration for Mike’s achievement. Relatives and family friends crowded around him, offering their congratulations. The gifts that were meant for you sat unopened on a side table, forgotten.

Later that night, after most of the guests had left, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, picking at the remains of the untouched birthday cake. Your parents walked in, their faces still glowing with pride.

“Darling,” Your father said, noticing your somber expression “Why are you here by yourself? It was such a wonderful evening.”

You looked up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“It was supposed to be my birthday party.”

Your mother’s smile faltered “Oh, sweetheart, we’re so sorry,” She said, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder “But you understand how important this is for Mike, don’t you? This is such a big accomplishment for him.”

“I guess.” You mumbled, though the ache in your chest remained.

Mike walked in then, a triumphant grin on his face “What’s this? Pouting because you had to share the spotlight?” He teased, ruffling your hair in that condescending way that always made your blood boil.

“It’s not a big deal. Come on, you should be happy for me. Not everyone gets into a school like this.”

You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to lash out “Happy birthday to me.” You muttered under her breath.

Her parents, sensing the tension, exchanged a quick glance.

“YN, we’ll make it up to you. Tomorrow, we’ll take you shopping and get you whatever you want. Anything at all.”

You forced a smile, nodding mechanically.

“Sure. Thanks.”

But as you lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being invisible. No matter how hard you tried, it seemed you would always come second to Mike—the golden child, the perfect son, the one who could do no wrong.

And so, the seeds of bitterness were planted, watered by years of neglect and overshadowed by a brother who always shone brighter.

You promised yourself then that you would never let anyone make you feel small again.

If you had to be cruel to survive, so be it. Because in a world where everyone else seemed to have the upper hand, kindness felt like a luxury you couldn’t afford.

✮ ⋆

July, 2020⋆｡

The dining room was filled with laughter and the soft clinking of glasses. The long table was adorned with an elegant spread, shimmering under the chandelier’s warm glow.

It was Mike’s farewell dinner, a grand event in honor of his departure to Germany to pursue his master’s degree in business management.

The room buzzed with pride and excitement for the family’s golden boy.

You, now seventeen, sat near the end of the table, quiet and composed, your gaze fixed on your untouched plate. You had learned to blend into the background during these family gatherings, where you knew your presence would be an afterthought.

“To Mike!” Uncle William raised his glass for the third toast of the evening “A true inspiration to us all. You’ve always been the pride of the family!”

“Here’s to making us proud in Germany,” Chimed in Aunt Silvia, dabbing her eyes with a napkin “Our boy is destined for greatness.”

Everyone joined in the toast, glasses clinking, voices filled with admiration. Your grip tightened around the fork, your knuckles white as you forced a polite smile.

“And what about you, YN?” Cousin Andrew’s voice cut through the noise like a blade, drawing attention to her “Any plans to follow in your brother’s footsteps? Or is it still fashion magazines and parties for you?”

The table erupted in laughter, the kind that stung more than it amused. Your jaw clenched, but you kept a neutral expression, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

Your mother’s voice cut through the mockery, firm but not forceful.

“That’s enough, Andrew. YN has her own path, and she’s doing well in school.”

“Well, of course she is,” Mike interjected, his tone smooth but laced with condescension “YN has always been… creative.”

More laughter followed, and you felt the familiar sting of their dismissive comments. Years of enduring this treatment had toughened you, but tonight, it felt heavier, like a weight pressing on your chest.

As dessert was served, Grandpa leaned toward you.

“You should be proud of your brother, Little YN. He’s setting the standard for the family. Maybe one day you’ll find your own way to contribute.”

“I am proud.” You said softly, voice steady despite the lump in your throat.

Your father, noticing the tension, tried to lighten the mood.

“Come now, let’s not overshadow YN entirely. She’s done well this year, too.”

“Sure,” Mike quipped, a smirk tugging at his lips “But tonight isn’t about her.”

You pushed your chair back, movements graceful despite the storm brewing inside you.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll get some air.”

The murmurs at the table quieted as you left the room, heels clicking against the polished floor.

Once outside, You inhaled deeply, the cool night air filling her lungs. Your chest heaved as you fought back the tears threatening to spill.

You wouldn’t let them see your break.

Not now. Not ever.

When your parents found you later, sitting on the garden bench, your father held out a small, velvet box.

“We’re sorry, darling,” He said, his voice soft with guilt “We didn’t mean to make you feel left out.”

You opened the box to reveal a delicate diamond bracelet, the stones catching the moonlight.

“It’s beautiful.” You said, slipping it onto your wrist.

But inside, the gesture felt hollow. No gift could fill the void left by years of neglect and overshadowing.

That night, the bracelet glittering on the nightstand, you made a vow: If the world wanted to underestimate you, you would let it. And then, you would show them all just how wrong they were.

✮ ⋆

Present year (Mike’s return)⋆｡

Hours later, you returned home after dinner at Hongjoong’s house, your mood lifted by the warmth and genuine affection of his parents. But the moment you stepped inside your own home, the oppressive atmosphere returned.

Mike confronted you as always, but you didn’t mind, didn’t talk back. But your chest burned with frustration and hurt.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you passed by your parents’ room. Their voices carried through the cracked door.

“Do you think we should talk to her?” Your mother asked, her tone uncertain.

Her father sighed “She’ll be fine. She always is.”

“I don’t know,” She said softly “Maybe we should get her something. You know how sensitive she can be about these things.”

“A trip, perhaps?” Your father suggested “Or maybe one of those designer handbags she likes. It’s not like she doesn’t enjoy it.”

You froze in the hallway, stomach twisting. Of course. This was how it always went. Gifts instead of apologies. Material things to soothe over their lack of understanding or support.

You leaned against the wall, fists clenching.

As a child, you had cried over these moments, hoping for more, longing for genuine care. Now, you knew better.

You have learned to accept it, even take advantage of it.

If they thought they could buy your affection, you would let them.

Your lips curved into a bitter smile. If they wanted to give you a car, a trip, a bag, or whatever else they thought would ease their guilt, so be it. You’d make sure it was worth their while.

But as you slipped into your room and closed the door, the bitterness remained, gnawing at the edges of your heart.

You should be used to this by now.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The bustling energy of the school hallway feels distant as you walk to your locker. Usually, your heels click with purpose, your presence commanding attention.

But today, something is off. You aren't radiating your usual aura of authority and sharpness. Instead, you move through the crowd quietly, your thoughts heavy.

Your mind has been restless since the night before, replaying old memories you rarely allowed yourself to dwell on. The echoes of the past—your parents’ hollow apologies, Mike’s dismissive words—lingered, intertwining with the warmth you had felt during the date with Hongjoong.

Why now? Why did those memories resurface now, after a day that had been nothing short of… perfect?

As you approach your locker, you feel a presence behind you. Turning, you see Hongjoong standing there, his brows furrows in concern.

“You’ve been quiet.” He says softly.

You tilt your head, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“And that’s unusual?”

“For you? Yeah.” He says, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You smirk faintly but don't respond. Instead, you play with the lock on your locker, your movements uncharacteristically hesitant.

Hongjoong leans against the locker next to yours, studying you.

“Something’s on your mind.”

You hesitate, pride warring with the strange weight pressing on your chest. Finally, you shrug, closing the locker door.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Not everything revolves around you, Joongie.”

Hongjoong chuckles, but his concern doesn't waver “Okay, but if you need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

You nod, taking a deep breath, trying to shake off the unease.

“Today I planned a little meeting at my house, bring a swimsuit.”

✮ ⋆

The sun cast golden reflections over the pool as music pulses through the speakers. Laughter and chatter fill the air as you and your friends lounge around, drinks in hand. Mindy, Samantha, Wooyoung, Seonghwa, San, Mingi, and Hongjoong are all there, the atmosphere lighthearted and carefree.

Dann, ever the obedient little pet, carries a tray of drinks, moving carefully to avoid spilling anything. She approaches the group, her expression unreadable as she sets the drinks down on the small poolside table.

"Finally." Seonghwa smirks, picking up his glass.

"Took you long enough, nerd." Mindy snaps.

"What, did you have to mix them by hand?" Wooyoung adds with a chuckle.

Dann clenches her jaw but says nothing. She had learned that silence is often the best defense. But today, something in her burns hotter than usual.

Maybe it is the sight of you and Hoongjoong sitting so close, his hand around your waist, your chemistry undeniable.

Maybe it’s the way you barely acknowledge her, as if she is nothing more than an accessory in your world.

"You should be more grateful," Dann mutters under her breath "Not everyone is willing to put up with your bullshit."

Silence. Then laughter. You arch an eyebrow, standing up and tilting your head as if you hadn't heard correctly.

"Excuse me?"

Dann swallows, but her resolve doesn't waver "I said—"

But before she can finish, you let out a scoff, exchanging a look with Wooyoung. Without warning, you place a hand on Dann’s shoulder and give her a hard shove. Wooyoung, catching on to the moment, joins in, and together you push Dann straight into the pool.

A loud splash echoes through the air.

Laughter erupts from the group as Dann surfaces, coughing and sputtering, her soaked hair plaster to her face. Wooyoung doubled over, wiping tears from his eyes. Even Hongjoong chuckles along with the others.

Dann wipes water from her eyes, her face burning—not just from humiliation but from something deeper. Something sharper.

As the group continues to laugh, none of them notices the figure watching from the mansion’s balcony. Mike stands at a distance, his expression unreadable, his grip tightening around his glass as he observes everything in silence.

The laughter has barely settled when Dann storms away, her soaked clothes clinging to her like a second skin, her face burning with humiliation.

She can still hear their amusement echoing behind her, but she doesn’t turn back. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Just as the group is about to move on from the incident, a familiar voice interrupts.

“Sweetie,” Your mother’s elegant tone cut through the chatter, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Yes, mommy?”

Your mother looks over the group with an approving nod “I see you’re all having fun,” She says pleasantly “I wanted to extend an invitation to all of you. This Saturday, we’re hosting a celebration for Mike’s accomplishments. It’ll be a grand affair.”

The mention of Mike makes your stomach twist, but you keep your expression unreadable.

Your mother’s gaze then lands directly on Hongjoong “And you, young man, I would love for you to attend.”

Hongjoong blinks, clearly caught off guard. He isn’t sure if that is true or just a polite formality, but he nods nonetheless.

“Uh, thank you, Mrs. Clarke. I’d be honored to come.”

“Wonderful.” She said smoothly, and with that, she excused herself, leaving the group with murmurs of intrigue about the upcoming event.

✮ ⋆

As the night stretches on, one by one, your friends depart, leaving only you and Hongjoong by the pool. The energy has shifted. The teasing, the careless fun—it all faded into something quieter, something heavier in the air between you.

The water is cool against Hongjoong’s skin, a welcome contrast to the heat radiating between you. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, feeling the warmth of your sun-kissed body against his own. You straddle his lap, your fingers threading through his hair as you talk.

“And your friends… what are they like?” You ask, your voice softer now, genuinely curious.

Hongjoong chuckles “A bunch of nerds, really,” He admits “Yunho is always energetic, making jokes and annoying. Yeosang is quiet but he is also a weirdo.” You both laugh, you can see in his eyes how much he appreciates his friends “On the other hand, Jongho is reserved and always listening, sometimes scary, but in general we spend way too much time debating books lore and analyzing sci-fi movies like it’s a science.”

You smirk, tilting your head toward him “That’s kinda cute.”

He raises an eyebrow “Cute? You wouldn’t last five minutes in one of our discussions.”

“Try me, I know much more than just fashion and pop culture gossip.”

And for a while, you simply talk. About things that don't matter, about things that do. And for the first time in a long time, you aren't thinking about your reputation, about expectations, or about proving yourself.

You are just there, with him.

At some point, you drift closer, and Hongjoong notices. The way your eyes soften under the dim lights, the way the water reflects off your skin. The way you look at him—not like he is some nerd trying to reach too high, but like he is just Hongjoong.

Without overthinking, he leans in, brushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re different when it’s just us.” He murmurs.

“And you don’t mind?”

He shakes his head “Not even a little.”

Your lips meet, tentative at first, then deeper. The warmth of the water, the way your bodies press against each other—it’s intoxicating. Your fingers curl around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.

His hands trace slow, lazy circles on your bare waist, and for that moment, nothing else exists.

"You always talk about your nerdy friends," You murmur as you pull back a little, your breath catching against his lips "But you never really tell me about you."

Hongjoong lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head "And here I thought you didn’t care."

You roll your eyes, but there’s something different now. The barest hint of a smirk touches your lips.

"Maybe I do."

His breath hitches at the sound of your voice, and you feel the faint tremor in his hands as they hover on your waist. There’s hesitation, a slight uncertainty, as if he’s not sure how far to go or whether he’s doing it right. You like it. It’s endearing.

You know exactly what’s on his mind, that quiet nervousness, and it only makes you want him more.

You reach out, tracing your fingertips slowly down his arm beneath the water, deliberate and teasing. He shivers slightly under your touch, his pulse hammering.

When your hand drifts to his chest, you linger there, pressing your palm flat against his skin, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your fingers.

“Let's go shopping tomorrow after school. You need a suit, and you have to impress my mother.”

“Only your mother?” He teases, making you scoff.

“Think what you want, but you need something that screams ‘I belong to YN Clarke’.”

Hongjoong laughs but nods “All right then, pretty.”

"You’re warm," You note absently, your breath shaky as you let your touch wander.

Hongjoong exhales sharply, his hand lifting, skimming over the curve of your waist. His fingertips brush over your bare skin, and you can feel his uncertainty, the way he pulls back just a fraction when you press closer.

His breath is uneven, like he’s trying to keep up with the rhythm of your touch, trying to suppress the nerves coiling in his gut. He swallows hard.

"YN—"

You cut him off before he can say more, leaning in to kiss him again, your lips meeting his with an urgency that both surprises and excites him.

The kiss is slow at first, teasing, but as Hongjoong slides his hand to the small of your back and pulls you closer, something inside both of you snaps.

The moment his grip tightens, pulling you flush against him, you gasp softly, feeling the heat between you intensify. Hongjoong's kiss becomes deeper, rougher, his hands gripping you like he’s been starving for you, his touch becoming bolder, more eager.

His muscles tense beneath your hands, the slight tremor in his touch betraying his inexperience, but you don’t mind. If anything, you find it charming, knowing you’re the one who can pull this reaction from him.

The water around you suddenly feels too cool compared to the heat of his body against yours. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers threading through his damp hair as he presses you against the edge of the pool.

He kisses along your jaw, over the damp skin of your throat, sucking lightly before flicking his tongue over the spot to soothe the sting. You shudder at the sensation, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist beneath the water.

"Joong—" You breathe, your voice barely above a whisper, lost in the warmth of the moment.

But he swallows the rest of your words with another kiss, drowning you both in the heat of it, in the desperation, the raw hunger that feels so real and unrestrained.

His hands roam lower now, gripping your thighs beneath the water, and you arch into him. You can feel his self-control hanging by a thread, the way he stifles every urge to push harder, faster, the way he almost overthinks each move. It’s a mix of hesitance and hunger.

He wants you so badly, but he’s not sure if he’s doing it right. But the more you respond, the more he realizes that’s not what matters. It’s the way you want him that matters.

You guide him without saying a word—your body melting against him, soft sighs escaping your lips as he becomes more confident with each touch. His kisses deepen, and the passion between you escalates.

There’s nothing awkward about this anymore. The hesitation fades, and what’s left is raw, real, and completely right.

"God, you drive me crazy," He murmurs against your lips, voice hoarse with the effort of holding back.

You smirk, brushing your fingers along his jaw "I know, nerd."

Hongjoong groans, his grip tightening as he nips at your lower lip in retaliation. You laugh, but it quickly fades into a soft sigh when he dips his head, kissing along the curve of your shoulder, his lips gentle but insistent.

For a moment, you can feel him stiffen slightly, unsure whether he’s moving too fast, and then you pull him closer, urging him to follow your lead. His hands move with more certainty now, exploring with a quiet passion, and the way his body reacts to yours is nothing short of electrifying.

The beauty of it is not just in the physicality—the way his hands and lips touch you—but in the way he’s learning.

Hongjoong is not perfect, and he’s not experienced, but he’s here.

He’s with you, and the more he responds to you, the more he learns what you need, the more you find yourself consumed by him.

It’s the way he forgets his nervousness, the way he becomes sure of himself because of you.

And you know, deep down, that this isn’t just about the touch, the heat, the kissing. It’s about the way he’s learning to be confident in himself. Because of you.

And that, in the end, makes all the difference.

For once, you let yourself get lost in it. In the way Hongjoong touches you, the way he wants you, the way he holds you like you’re something precious.

It 's intoxicating.

And yet, hidden in the shadows, Dann stands frozen, her chest tightening, her fingers clenched into fists as she watches the scene unfold.

Dann hadn’t meant to stay. She hadn’t meant to see.

But there she is, standing by the edge of the terrace, her heart sinking lower and lower.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It wasn’t just some game you were playing.

This is real.

She has told herself she doesn't care. That it doesn’t matter. But the painful sting in her heart tells her otherwise.

And it hurt.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The next day, you and Hongjoong find yourselves strolling through an upscale shopping mall. The polished marble floors gleam under the soft glow of designer store lights.

As usual, your style is impeccable—heels clicking in rhythm, and your hair flowing with the air. Beside you, Hongjoong is a stark contrast, casual yet charming in his plain sweater and jeans.

You lead him into one of the most exclusive stores, where racks of tailored suits and elegant ensembles line the walls.

The sales assistants greet you with knowing smiles, instantly recognizing your status.

“Do you even know my size?” He teases, watching you confidently pull out a dark navy suit with subtle pinstripes.

You smirk, holding the suit up to him “I don’t need to know your size. I have an eye for perfection.”

He shakes his head, chuckling as he takes the suit from your hands “You know I don’t need something this expensive, right? I can just wear the stuff I have at home.”

“Not if you’re going to a party as my date.” You say firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Hongjoong smiles softly but doesn’t press further. He disappears into the fitting room, and while he’s gone, you wander the store, your gaze drifting over the luxurious displays.

The weight in your chest hasn’t eased since yesterday. If anything, it feels heavier under the bright lights and polished surfaces.

It’s not about the suit. It’s not about the party. Shopping, spending, indulging—it’s the only thing that ever distracted you from the hollow ache inside. It always has been.

“YN?” Hongjoong’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You turn, and for a moment, your breath catches. The suit fits him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean frame.

He looks… confident. Polished.

Yours.

“What do you think?” He asks, doing a half spin for effect.

You step closer, your fingers brushing over the lapel of the jacket “You look…” You pause, searching for the right word, then smirk “Like someone who belongs to me.”

He laughs, shaking his head, but there’s a hint of pink in his cheeks “I should’ve known you’d say that.”

After the purchase is made—your card, of course—you both leave the store. You’re holding onto a medium-sized bag containing some clothes as Hongjoong holds a bag with his new suit that costs more than some people make in a month.

As you walk through the mall, Hongjoong’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He glances at the screen, and a small smile spreads across his face.

“What is it?” You ask, curious.

“It’s Jongho, Yeosang, and Yunho,” He says, showing you the message “They’re asking if I want to hit the arcade with them tonight. It’s been ages since we’ve hung out.”

You notice the way his eyes light up at the mention of his friends, and for a moment, your heart clenches.

You nod, keeping your expression neutral.

“You should go.”

He hesitates, slipping his phone back into his pocket “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” You say with a small smile “Go have fun with them. You deserve it.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, studying your face.

“Yeah,” You reply, tilting your head slightly “I’ll just go home and relax. Maybe binge some show or something.”

Hongjoong doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push.

“Okay, but only if you promise me something.”

“What?”

“That you’ll call me if you need anything.”

You roll your eyes, your lips curving into a smirk “Relax, Joong. I’m not helpless.”

“I know you’re not,” He says softly “But I care about you, pretty. A lot.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. You can’t help but wonder if it’s only a matter of time before those words—his care, his affection—turn into something else.

Something colder.

He leans down and kisses your forehead, his hand briefly brushing yours.

“I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay,” You whisper, watching him walk away.

You clutch the bag in your hand, the weight of the expensive items nothing compared to the familiar emptiness settling in your chest.

✮ ⋆

The arcade was alive with the sound of laughter, the ping of game machines, and the occasional cheer of someone winning.

Hongjoong walked in, spotting the boys huddled near the air hockey table.

“Hongjoong!” Yunho calls, waving him over.

“About time you showed up,” Yeosang teases “We thought YN had you on a leash or something.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, grinning “Very funny.”

Jongho smirks “For a moment we thought you'd say no, since you've only spent time with her.”

“I also have a life apart from being with her and she also needs her space, so she let me come.”

“She let you come? I didn't know you had to ask permission to go out with your friends.” Yunho snorts mockingly.

“We’re kind of a thing now.” Hongjoong murmurs shyly.

The boys look confused at each other before looking at him.

“What do you mean with that, Joong?”

He hesitates before shrugging, a small smile tugging at his lips “We had a date.”

Yunho drops the joystick he was holding “A date?!

“Wait, wait,” Yeosang says, laughing “YN Clarke? Like, the queen bee had a date with you?”

“The same one.” Hongjoong replies, scratching the back of his neck.

Yeosang and Yunho exchange a look before breaking into wide grins.

Jongho let out a low whistle “I thought you were joking about liking her. She actually went out with you?”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong says, his smile growing “It was amazing. I took her to the amusement park. She even let me win her a prize—a stuffed bunny.”

Yunho grinns “Aww, how romantic. Joongie the Casanova.”

“More like Hongjoong the miracle nerd,” Jongho adds “Seriously, dude. YN Clarke? That’s insane.”

Yunho’s grin widens “Dude, you’re living the dream. A date with the queen bee of the school? You’re officially a legend.”

Hongjoong chuckles, his face reddening slightly. Before he could respond, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Joong?”

He turns to see Dann standing a few feet away, clutching a soda.

“Dann?” He says, confused “What are you doing here?”

“Yunho texted me,” Dann says, glancing at the boys “Thought it’d be nice to hang out.”

Hongjoong stiffs slightly “Oh... Uh, cool.”

Dann steps closer, her gaze lingering on him “It’s been a while. You’ve been… busy.”

He scratches the back of his neck, glancing at his friends for support “Yeah, I guess I have.”

Dann smiles, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes “With YN, right?”

“Yeah,” He answers, his tone cautious.

Yeosang, sensing the tension, jumps in “Hey, let’s hit the games. Air hockey, anyone?”

“Sure,” Dann says quickly, stepping closer to Hongjoong “We can team up.”

Hongjoong hesitates. He knows you don’t like Dann being around him—and he can't blame you. Dann’s feelings for him are obvious, you told him from the beginning and he can already confirm it.

He doesn’t want to hurt Dann, but he also doesn’t want to disrespect you.

“Actually,” He starts, his tone gentle but firm “Why don’t you play with Jongho? He’s unbeatable.”

Dann’s smile falters “Oh. Right. Sure.”

Yunho raises an eyebrow at Hongjoong, but doesn’t comment. They are all aware of the feelings of both, Dann in love with Hongjoong and Hongjoong with you, they just hope that things don't get awkward in the future.

As they move toward the air hockey table, Dann hangs back, watching Hongjoong laugh and joke with the others.

Her chest tightness. Hongjoong was pushing her away—kindly, yes, but it was still rejection. And she knows why.

It 's not fair. She had been there for him when no one else was. She had defended him when people mocked him for being a nerd. And now, he was choosing you. Again.

Her phone buzzes, breaking her thoughts. She pulls it out to see a message from Mike:

Mike C: Stay focused. Remember our deal.

Dann clenches her jaw, her fingers tightening around the phone.

If Hongjoong wants to choose you, fine. But you don’t deserve him. And Dann is going to make sure he sees that—no matter what it takes.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The cafeteria is alive with its usual energy, but the corner table claimed by you and your entourage buzzes with a more refined excitement. The topic of the day? Saturday’s celebration for Mike at the Ritz.

“So,” Mindy begins, twirling a strand of her perfectly styled hair “Who’s already stressing about their outfit? Because I may or may not have gone a little overboard at Valentino yesterday.”

“Only yesterday?” Wooyoung teases, smirking “Some of us have been planning for days. I’m bringing the tux my dad wore to that gala in Monaco. He swears it’s vintage gold now.”

You scoff, taking a delicate sip of your iced coffee “Monaco tux or not, just don’t embarrass me, Woo.”

“Moi? Embarrass you? Never, babydoll.” He grins, leaning back in his chair.

Mindy sighs dramatically, resting her chin in her palm “I still think about the last party. The lighting, the flowers, the champagne towers. Do you think they’ll top it this time?”

“They’d better,” You reply nonchalantly, though your gaze flickered briefly “My parents love to ‘impress.’ It’s practically their brand.”

“And what time should we grace them with our presence?” Another of your friends, Samantha, asks, pulling out her phone.

“Seven-thirty, at the Ritz. And be punctual. This isn’t one of those parties you can show up fashionably late to.”

“Noted,” Wooyoung says, tapping the time into his calendar “And little Hongjoong? Are you ready to make your grand debut into the Clarke world of extravagance?”

Hongjoong, who has been quietly observing the banter, chuckles softly “I think I’ll survive. YN’s already dragged me through the whole shopping process.”

“Oh, please,” You cut in, smirking “Dragged? You should be thanking me, Joong.”

He raises his hands in surrender, laughing “All right, all right. I owe you one.”

“Just one?” Wooyoung teases again, winking.

Mindy’s eyes lit up as she leaned forward “Wait, what did you go with? Armani? Tom Ford?”

“Tom Ford, It suits him. And trust me, he’ll be turning heads Saturday night.”

“Can’t wait to see it.” Woo says, smirking at him.

“So, how many bottles of champagne do you think your parents are bringing out this time? Ten? Twenty?”

You snort, leaning back in the chair with an air of practiced nonchalance “If it’s less than twenty, I’ll personally tell the caterers to triple the order.”

Wooyoung laughs “Forget the champagne. I’m more interested in how many pastries they’ll have. Last party, I swear I had a religious experience with those chocolate eclairs.”

“Oh, the eclairs,” Sam sighs dreamily “I’ve been thinking about them since then. And don’t even get me started on the tiramisu.”

Hongjoong chuckles, glancing at you “So, is this a party or a dessert buffet?”

“It’s both. A Clarke family event is always an experience. You’ll see.”

“Damn right,” Woo said, raising his water bottle like it was a champagne glass “To YN Clarke and her family's amazing parties!”

The group laughs, the easy camaraderie filling the space. Hongjoong looks at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. You caughting his gaze and, for a brief moment, your confident exterior softened.

The party was just days away, and for now, everything seemed perfect.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The air in the Clarke mansion was a flurry of activity, with staff bustling through the grand halls, preparing for the evening’s event. The clinking of silverware and the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the dining room, where the family had gathered for breakfast.

You sit at the table, scrolling through your phone, your polished nails tapping lightly against the screen. Across from you, Mike is casually flipping through the day’s paper, looking as composed as ever. Your father is already grumbling about last-minute details while your mother sips her tea, the picture of elegance amidst the chaos.

“Dann, can you help me with this?” Dann’s mother’s voice echoes softly from the kitchen.

Dann, trying to stay invisible, hesitates before hurrying to her mother’s side. Together, they carefully carry trays of food into the dining room.

Your father raises an eyebrow, glancing at Dann as she places a platter of fruit on the table.

“Quite the multi-tasker, aren’t you?” He remarks, his tone hovering between sarcasm and indifference.

Dann stiffens slightly, her cheeks coloring “Just helping my mom, sir.” She says quietly.

Before anyone can say more, your mother sets her cup down with a delicate clink.

“You know, I’ve been watching how hard you work around here, Dann,” She says warmly “Always helping your mother, always polite. I think it’s only fair that we extend an invitation to you for tonight’s party.”

The room falls silent. your head snaps up, eyes narrowing slightly, while Mike’s smirk barely conceals his amusement.

“Mom,” You begin, voice sharp “I don’t think—”

“Nonsense, sweetie,” She interrupts smoothly “It’s about time we show a little appreciation. Don’t you think so?”

Dann blinks, surprise evident on her face “Oh, Mrs. Clarke, that’s… I mean, thank you, but—”

“Of course,” Your father interjects, his tone dry “Just make sure you’re aware of the dress code. It’s black tie, not… casual.” His eyes flick briefly over Dann’s simple attire, and the implication hangs heavy in the air.

Your mother’s jaw tightens, and shoots her husband a pointed look “Which is why, sweetheart, you’ll be lending her something appropriate to wear. I’m sure you have plenty of dresses that would look lovely on her.”

Your lips curve into a slow, calculated smile “Of course, Mommy.”

After breakfast, you guide Dann into your walk-in closet with a sweeping gesture, the dazzling array of dresses catching her wide-eyed attention.

She's already entered the closet next to your room, but this one is much bigger. Her fingers trail hesitantly over the delicate fabrics, her expression a mix of awe and discomfort.

She’s never been surrounded by such luxury, let alone been invited to wear it. The second-hand clothes she normally wears couldn’t be further from this.

“You’ve got so many.” She murmurs, her voice tinged with wonder.

You smile, tilting your head “I know, it’s almost a problem, right? Too many choices. But don’t worry—I’ll help you find something that’s just right for tonight.”

Dann nods quickly, her unease flickering across her face. She’s not used to this kind of kindness from you, and it’s unsettling.

But as much as she doesn’t trust it, she can’t exactly refuse either.

You reach into one of the last racks, where the clothes you no longer wear are stored, you pull out a shimmering emerald gown with a slit up the side.

“Here’s a favorite of mine. It’s gorgeous on, trust me. And it’ll definitely help you stand out.”

Dann takes the dress with both hands, handling it as though it might dissolve in her grip “It’s beautiful,” She says, her tone genuine “I’ve never worn anything like this before.”

You smile, masking your amusement “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Moving through the racks, you select another gown, this one a deep crimson with delicate lace detailing.

“Or maybe this one? It’s a classic. Wore it to a charity auction, and let me tell you—it turned heads.”

Dann stares at the dress, wide-eyed “Wow. It 's amazing.”

She’s completely oblivious to the fact that these dresses, as stunning as they are, are from last year’s collections—now outdated by anyone with even a passing knowledge of fashion.

To Dann, they’re the height of elegance.

You pull a lavender gown from the back of the rack, its soft beading catching the light.

“This one’s a little more subtle,” You say, handing it over “It’s sweet and sophisticated. I think it’s perfect for you. You can keep it, take it as a gift.”

Dann nods enthusiastically, her unease momentarily forgotten as she clutches the gown to her chest.

“Thank you, YN. This is… this is so kind of you.”

You wave off her gratitude with a bright smile “Of course. It’s my pleasure. Go try it on, let’s see how it looks.”

She disappears into the dressing room, and you lean against the doorway with a smug tilt to your lips.

The plan is unfolding perfectly. These dresses, while stunning in their time, are no longer the kind that command admiration—they invite quiet judgment.

But Dann doesn’t know that, and that’s exactly the point.

When she steps out in the lavender gown, her face lights up “It fits perfectly,” She says, her voice tinged with shy excitement.

You study her for a long moment, your smile never faltering.

“It looks wonderful on you, just wait until you see everyone’s reaction tonight.”

Dann beams, completely unaware of the double meaning behind your words.

“I can’t thank you enough, YN.”

You wave her off again “No need to thank me. I’m just glad you’ll have something to wear.”

Inside, you’re already picturing the whispers and raised eyebrows at the party. Tonight will be a night she’ll never forget—for all the wrong reasons.

As Dann leaves the room clutching the dress, you lean against the doorway, arms crossed. Your mother’s unexpected invitation throws you off, but if Dann is going to attend, you will make sure it’s on your terms.

✮ ⋆

Dann holds the lavender dress against herself, staring at the delicate fabric in awe. She hurries to the kitchen, where her mother is wiping down the counters.

“Mom, look at this,” Dann says, holding the gown up for her mother to see “It’s beautiful, but I don’t have the right shoes or makeup to match it.”

Her mother glances at the dress, her expression softening with a mix of pride and concern.

“It’s lovely, sweetheart, but you’re right. You need to look your best if you’re going to that party.”

Dann frowns “But… I don’t have anything like that.”

Her mother thinks for a moment, before leaving the kitchen she smiles at her “Why don’t you go shopping? Find a nice pair of shoes and maybe some makeup. You deserve to feel special tonight.”

As Dann mulls over the idea, Mike enters the room, his usual air of confidence trailing behind him. Overhearing their conversation, he leans casually against the doorframe.

“Shopping for the party, Dann?” He asks, his tone dripping with feigned interest.

Dann straightens, clutching the dress tighter “I don’t have shoes or makeup, so I thought—”

“Perfect.” Mike pulls out his wallet, flipping through the neatly arranged bills and credit cards. He holds out a black credit card “Here. Get yourself something nice. Consider it a little thank-you for… being cooperative.”

Dann hesitates but eventually takes the card, murmuring a quiet “Thanks.”

Mike’s smirk widens “While you’re at it, I’ve been thinking. Wouldn’t it be amusing if Hongjoong accidentally ended up at the wrong address tonight?”

Dann’s brows furrow “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know.” His tone is casual, but his eyes gleam with mischief “If YN’s little nerd showed up at the wrong place, it’d be quite the embarrassment. Don’t you think?”

Dann bites her lip “How would we even do that?”

Mike’s smirk sharpens “Simple. We just need YN’s phone. Once you’re back, we’ll figure out the details.”

Dann nods slowly, the plan settling uneasily in her mind. She doesn’t like deceiving Hongjoong, but the thought of disrupting YN’s perfect evening is too tempting to resist.

Later, at the shopping mall, Dann wanders through the perfume section, marveling at the elegant bottles and their enticing scents. She is about to make her selection when a familiar voice catches her attention.

Turning, she sees Hongjoong standing a few feet away, examining a cologne bottle. His brows furrowed in concentration as he sprayed a tester onto a card.

“Joong?” Dann calls, her voice carrying a hint of surprise.

He looks up, a smile breaking across his face “Dann? What are you doing here?”

“Just… shopping,” She says, holding up a small bag “You?”

“Same,” He says with a laugh “YN told me I needed to step up my game for tonight, so here I am.”

Dann’s mind races. This is her chance to plant the seed of doubt. She steps closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

“By the way, did YN tell you about the venue change?”

Hongjoong blinks “Venue change? What are you talking about?”

“Oh,” Dann says, feigning surprise “I thought she’d have mentioned it. YN’s mother invited me to the celebration because I’ve been working for YN, so she told me earlier that Mike decided to move the party to that new place downtown, I'll send you the address, but she said something about Mike wanting a more modern vibe.”

Hongjoong frowns, confusion flickering across his face “Why didn’t YN tell me?”

Dann shrugs “She’s probably just busy with everything. You know how these rich people's events are—chaotic.”

He nods slowly, though uncertainty lingers in his expression “Yeah… maybe.”

Dann smiles sweetly, placing a hand on his arm “Don’t worry. Just show up at. You’ll be fine.”

As Dann walks away, a pang of guilt surfaces. But it’s quickly overshadowed by the thrill of watching the plan unfold.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 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 07:30 pm - @woncon idol!poly!yunwoosan x gn!reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 08:00 - @mimikittysblog husband!poly!yunsan x wife!reader (timestamp) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 21:40 - @mimikittysblog poly!ot8 x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 23:55 - @mimikittysblog poly!ot8 x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Alien In My Living Room - @potatomountain alien!hongjoong x reader x cowboy!san (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 [ 20.08 ] - @yizhou-time mafia!hongjoong x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 A Little Friendly Competition - @snwusberry dad!hongjoong x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 A Momma’s Boy - @acciocriativity idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 After School Discipline [Part One] [Part Two] - @wwooyology professor!hongjoong x reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Beginning Of The End [Part One] [Part Two] - @yeomongi bf!hongjoong x reader (two-parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Cherry Lemons [Part One] [Part Two] - @altxrrmelancholy biker!seonghwa x reader (two-parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Corrupted Thoughts - @planet-hwa roommate!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Embarrassingly Cute - @xuchiya non-idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Head Over Heels - @iannmin heel obsessed!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Hot Chocolate - @sugawhaaa bf!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 [1:15 pm] - @yuyusgirlie husband!yunho x wife!reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 2U - @joongieology non-idol!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 A Funfair Date - @mysteriousrainsworld bf!yunho x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Bad Girl Syndrome - @hotteokyu outlaw!yunho x outlaw!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Bodyguard!Yunho & Spoiled Nepobaby!Reader | Bodyguard!Yunho Puts You In Your Place - @seobinghard bodyguard!yunho x nepobaby!reader (two-parts) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 12:05am - @planet-hwa bf!yeosang x reader (timestamp) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Birthday - @sweetiesicheng bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Die With A Smile - @koyagifs non-idol!yeosang x reader ft.seonghwa (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Hidden in Polaroid: His Secrets, Her Obsession - @champagnecherryblossom idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 How Quick Things Can Change… - @hee0soo serial killer!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 A Goodfella's Moondance - @itstheghostofmypast husband!mafia!san x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Echos Of Fame - @scoupsakakitty idol!san x idol!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Glowing Caverns - @wwooyology lifeguard!san x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Honey, Baby - @i-like-loserz husband!san x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 I'm Okay! Gwenchana! - @itstheghostofmypast husband!non-idol!san x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Finals Week - @yeomongi bf!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Raving With Best Friend ! Mingi - @seobinghard best friend!mingi x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Unfair Nostalgia - @xuchiya ex-husband!mingi x ex-wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 You Gonna Pick Up The Phone? - @outlawinthisworld1117 neighbor crushl!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Your Little Monster - @bvidzsoo mafia heir!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 [11:59 pm] - @m1ngkis wooyoung x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 A Road Trip - @littlefireball bf!wooyoung x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Blistering Heat - @wwooyology fox hybrid!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Chosen Appa - @dancinglikebutterflywings best friend!wooyoung x single mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Cookies For Santa - @snwusberry dad!wooyoung x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Blood Stained Words - @dae-chwiita non-idol!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Jongho As Your Boyfriend's Best Friend - @haechanhues non-idol!jongho x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Ornament Odyssey - @lilacmingi santa!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Soft Cheeks, Softer Hearts - @xuchiya bf!jongho x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Tension & Release - @yeomongi bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞

so much happened this chapter and so much is going to happen next chapter oh reader you are so much better than me cause I would’ve leaped across that table like a frog and punch mike

I HATE THAT MAN!

It was cute seeing reader and hongjoong talk and now everything gonna go downhill probably due to miscommunication or reader getting in their own head.

AHHHHH I CAN’T

i’m excited for the next part keep up the great work! <3

Popular, Boy

☆05: The first fracture.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader

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

wc: 10,5k

(sorry, lot of important things)

Summary: Mike's return brings back old wounds, family cruelty, and impossible expectations. Amidst it all, you find solance on Hongjoong.

But alliances form, and the game shifts... you have no idea what's coming.

Warnings: Verbal abuse, family being mean, manipulation, power dynamics, fluff, suggestive.

Series masterlist

☆04 ☆06: The first move.

The living room of the Clarke residence gleams with quiet opulence. Everything is meticulously arranged—vases of freshly cut lilies, trays of delicate hors d'oeuvres, and glasses of sparkling champagne.

Your mother flutters around, checking every last detail, while your father adjusts his tie for the third time.

You sit stiffly on the cream leather sofa, arms crossed. Your outfit—an expertly styled designer ensemble of a short skirt, matching crop top, cropped jacket, and high boots—screams confidence, but your body language betrays your discomfort.

Dann lingers near the edge of the room, notebook in hand, trying to blend in with the staff. She glances between you and your parents, who seem almost giddy with anticipation.

“He’ll be here any moment.” The elegant woman says, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on her skirt.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway cuts through the room. The staff lined up near the entrance, their postures straight and practiced. But you, you don't move.

The front door opens, and Mike strides in, flanked by a crisp breeze. He’s tall and impeccably dressed, his tailored suit hugging his broad shoulders perfectly. His dark hair is slicked back, and his smile is radiant.

“Mike!” Your mother exclaims, rushing to embrace him.

“Mom,” Mike says warmly, wrapping her in a hug “It’s good to be home.”

Your father steps forward, shaking Mike’s hand firmly “Welcome back, son. You’ve been missed.”

Mike turns his charm on the staff next, shaking hands and thanking them for keeping the house in order. He’s polite, almost disarmingly so, his every word and gesture oozing charisma.

Dann watches in awe. She’s heard about Mike because of Seonghwa—YN’s perfect older brother—but seeing him in person is something else entirely. He’s like a prince stepping out of a storybook, all confidence and charm.

“YN,” He says, his tone casual but pointed “You’re quiet.”

Your jaw tightens, but you force a smile “Welcome back.”

There’s no embrace, no handshake. Just those two words, cold and clipped. The air between you hums with unspoken tension, and Dann notices the flicker of amusement in Mike’s eyes.

“Thank you, little sister,” Mike says, his tone condescending despite the warm words “It’s good to see you.” His gaze flicks over your outfit, and his smile tilts “You’ve certainly… embraced your personal style. Very bold, YN.”

“Speaking of outfits,” Your mother interjects, her tone brisk, “Sweetie, I expect you to wear the dress I picked out for you tonight. This isn’t just any dinner, it’s a celebration for Mike’s return, and you need to look the part.”

You scoff, crossing your legs “I think I’m dressed just fine.”

Mike’s gaze lingers on your short skirt and boots, his smirk widening “Oh, you’re definitely making a statement. Not sure it’s the one family would approve of, though.”

You shoot him a glare “Thanks for the unsolicited advice, brother.”

The tension between you two is palpable, and Dann feels caught in the crossfire. To her, Mike seems perfect—charming, kind, and everything you aren't. But the sharpness in your voice and the smugness in Mike’s eyes tell a different story.

“Let’s not bicker,” Your father says quickly, trying to diffuse the moment “Tonight is a family celebration. Son, go get some rest before dinner. Darling, you’ll change, won’t you?”

You don't answer, your lips pressing into a thin line.

“Of course she will,” The tallest says, his tone dripping with condescension “YN always knows how to make an impression.”

As your parents and staff begin leaving the room, Mike lags behind for a moment, catching your eye.

“Still bratty, I see,” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Still idiot, I see.” You snap back under your breath.

Dann catches the exchange, her stomach twisting. There’s more to this ‘perfect brother’ than meets the eye, she realizes, but for now, she pushes the thought aside and trails after the staff, notebook in hand.

Something feels… off.

✮ ⋆

The grand dining room sparkles under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers. Every corner of Clarke’s mansion is dressed to perfection, as though the house itself is eager to impress Mike upon his long-awaited return.

The scent of roasted lamb and decadent desserts fills the air, mingling with the low hum of polite conversation.

You sit at the far end of the polished mahogany table, fingers tapping against your wine glass. You're dressed immaculately in a tailored navy dress that your mother picked out for the occasion. Everyone around you gushes over Mike’s accomplishments—the glowing pride of the family.

“Three years, and you’ve outdone yourself, Mike,” Your grandfather says, beaming “A master’s degree from Germany, and already planning your next move. We couldn’t be prouder.”

Mike, seated comfortably at the head of the table like a king, offers a modest shrug, though the grin on his face betrays his satisfaction.

“It’s been a long journey, but worth it. I just want to make sure I uphold the family name.” He gives you a look before he smiles.

Your jaw tightens. You know what’s coming next.

“YN.” Your aunt, Silvia, chimes in, turning to you with a saccharine smile “You’re still in school, right? How’s the business program treating you?”

Fucking business program, you hate it.

You force a smile, your heart racing “It’s… going well. Challenging, but rewarding.”

Mike chuckles, drawing all eyes back to him “Challenging? Business? Come on, YN. You’ve been in undergrad for what, three years now? I could teach you the basics in a week.”

The table erupts into polite laughter, but your cheeks burn. You know the jab isn’t just playful—it’s calculated, meant to belittle you.

“Everyone can go at their own pace and that's okay.” You say, voice sharp enough to make your mother glance at you warningly.

Mike leans back in his chair, swirling his wine “It’s not about pace, YN. It’s about discipline. Focus. Something you’ve always struggled with.”

“That's true, Mikey!” One of the younger cousins laughs “I'm just in my first year of college and it's all too easy, it's not ‘challenging’ as YN says.”

“Maybe the career is only made for men, we are the ones who dominate business in companies.” Your father's brother, William, comments by drinking his wine elegantly.

Everyone laughs at his sexist comment.

"Don't say that, honey!" His wife slaps his arm with a giggle "Your daughter studies the same thing."

"But my daughter is smart and focused." He blurts out with mockery as he gives you a look, and you save yourself the urge to roll your eyes.

"YN is also focused, she has good grades." Your mother says sweetly, defending you.

"But 'good' is not enough, you always have to strive for perfection and not settle for mediocre grades." Mike adds with a shrug.

And the whole table laughs like it's the funniest joke they've ever heard. Your mother shakes her head disapprovingly but says nothing.

Your father clears his throat, trying to shift the conversation, but the damage is done. Mike’s words hang in the air.

Your hands curl into fists under the table. You’ve had enough.

“You always know how to make someone feel bad.” You mutter, just loud enough for Mike to hear.

“What did you say?” He asks, his tone faux-innocent, leaning forward slightly.

“Enough, kids.” Your mother says with an awkward smile.

But Mike isn’t done. He leans closer, his voice low and cutting “You’re a disappointment, YN. You always have been. Pretending to study business when you’re off chasing some frivolous dream.”

You hold your breath when you hear that, that fucking idiot "You don't know anything."

“Fashion design, really? What are you going to do with that, sew costumes for kids’ plays?”

Your parents look at Mike in terror. The topic of your study preferences was always private, so that the rest of the family wouldn't gossip and intrude.

Yes, your parents knew and know about your passion for fashion, since you were a child your dream was to be a designer and create your own brand, but due to the family business they forced you to study business management, and you had to accept without being able to reproach.

Mike knew it too, and still decided to talk.

The table falls silent, and your chest tightens when everyone looks at you with surprise and mockery.

Without noticing, your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“I—excuse me.” You stammer, pushing your chair back abruptly.

Your mother calls after you, but you are already halfway to the door. Heels click against the marble floor as you grab your car keys and storm out of the house.

You don't know where you’re going until you’re halfway across town, your phone clutched in your trembling hand. The only person who crosses your mind is Hongjoong, you need Hongjoong right now.

You don't text or call him, you don't need to. You know he’ll be home.

When you reach his house, you knock on the door, heart pounding as you wait.

Hongjoong answers, his hair disheveled and his face scrunched in confusion.

“YN?”

“Can I come in?” You ask, your voice breaking.

Hongjoong watches as you step inside, the soft click of your heels on the polished floor breaking the quiet of the hallway.

Your dress gleams faintly under the light, the kind of fabric and craftsmanship that scream exclusivity. The subtle sheen of your makeup and the designer heels complete the look, making you seem almost out of place in the cozy, modest home.

His heart clenches. He doesn’t ask questions, not yet. Instead, he offers a small, reassuring smile.

“Come in, pretty.” From the dining room, the clinking of cutlery and quiet conversation filters through. Hongjoong glances toward it, hesitating “Uh… we’re having dinner. My parents are home.”

You straighten, brushing your hair away as if steeling yourself “Okay”

He nods and leads you to the dining room. His parents, mid-conversation, look up as you enter.

“Oh.. who’s this beautiful lady?”

You smile shyly at her, and Hongjoong puts his hand on your bare shoulder.

“Mom, Dad,” He says, clearing his throat “This is YN.”

His parents exchange a look, surprise flashing in their eyes. Hongjoong’s mother, a petite woman with a kind face, recovers first.

“YN, it’s nice to meet you. Would you like to join us for dinner?”

You smile politely, your usual sharpness softened “If it’s not too much trouble, thank you.”

“No trouble at all.” His father says, though his gaze lingers briefly on your dress, shoes, even your watch—items that likely cost more than their monthly mortgage.

You glide into the chair with practiced elegance, every movement drawing attention. The table is set simply—a far cry from the elaborate spreads you’re used to—but something about the simplicity feels oddly grounding.

Hongjoong pulls out the chair next to yours, sitting close but not too close. His parents exchange another glance before his mother breaks the silence.

“So, YN, how do you and Hongjoong know each other?”

Your posture stiffens slightly, and Hongjoong tenses, too. If only they knew how you met and the things that Hongjoong has done under your orders and all those humiliations, they would surely kick you out.

You both share a fleeting glance, silently agreeing to tread carefully.

“We’re in the same business program.” Hongjoong says, his voice steady.

You nod, your hands resting lightly on the table “Yes, we’ve worked on a few projects together. Joong’s very… dedicated.”

Hongjoong’s parents smile, though his father’s expression is tinged with curiosity at the way you call his son.

“That’s wonderful,” He says “It’s good to see you making connections, Hongjoong. Your school’s not an easy one to get into.”

You smile faintly, but there’s an underlying tension “It’s very competitive.” You add.

The pretty woman serves the meal—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and a crisp salad. The aroma is inviting, but you hesitate for a moment, the simple fare so unlike the complex, perfectly plated dishes you’re accustomed to.

As you eat, Hongjoong’s father can’t help but notice the way you hold the fork, the delicate way you cut the food.

Very elegant and sophisticated.

“So, YN,” He says, his tone conversational but probing “You must be quite driven to be studying at such a prestigious school.”

You pause, your fork halting mid-air “I suppose so. It’s… a good school.”

Again, Hongjoong’s parents share a glance, clearly trying to reconcile the poised, elegant girl in front of them with their down-to-earth son.

“Did you always want to study business?” The female asks gently.

Your hand tightens on the fork, but your smile remains “It's the common choice in my family.”

You say vaguely, your voice betraying none of the resentment you feel. Hongjoong, noticing the slight tension in your posture, jumps in.

“YN’s really good at presentations.” He tries to shift the conversation “She knows how to keep everyone attentive.”

The praise makes you glance at him, your expression softening “And he’s increrible in everythig.” You add a rare note of warmth in your voice.

As the meal winds down, you find yourself surprisingly at ease. The food, while simple, is filling and comforting. The warmth of the room, the unpretentious conversation—it feels like a stark contrast to the cold, high-stakes environment you’re used to.

“You’re welcome here anytime.” Hongjoong’s mother says as they finish, her smile is genuine.

You look at her, and for the first time in a long while, you feel the ache in your chest ease just a little.

“Thank you… that means a lot.”

As Hongjoonng leads you to the living room, you sink into the sofa, the tension in your shoulders finally dissipating.

“Thank you.”

Hongjoong sits beside you, close but respectful “Anytime, pretty.”

After a quiet moment, Hongjoong decides to speak again.

“YN, you don’t have to tell me everything, but… something’s bothering you. Was it your brother? The dinner?”

Your head tilts back, staring at the ceiling as if trying to collect yourself before responding. Your thoughts race, but you don't know how to express them.

You've always been the type of person who keeps your concerns and problems to yourself, not wanting to be a nuisance to others with your stuff. But Hongjoong gives you enough peace of mind to want to tell him a thousand things.

Finally, you sigh, the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders.

“It was just… the same thing.” You sigh again “My family acting like Mike is perfect. It’s like nothing I do is ever good enough for them. It’s always ‘Mike this, Mike that,’ and I…” You trail off, your throat tightening “I hate it.”

Hongjoong’s heart twinges with sympathy, and he shifts closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder.

“You don’t have to prove anything to them, YN. You’re incredible the way you are. You don’t need to be him. You’re your own person.”

You smile faintly but it doesn’t reach your eyes “I don’t even know who I am sometimes,” You admit softly “I pretend to be what they want me to be, but I hate it. I hate pretending.”

He leans in slightly, his hand moving from your shoulder to gently cup your face, lifting it so you meet his gaze. His voice is tender, but firm.

“Pretty, you don’t have to pretend. You’re not alone in this, okay? You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. I’m here for you. I promised you I'd do anything for you, remember?”

You laugh a little knowing what he means, but you know that he didn't promise to do anything just because it's you. He did it because he wanted to come out of the shadows, to be popular.

Your eyes shimmer with unspoken emotion as you watch him, lips parting slightly as if to speak but then closing again. The vulnerability in your gaze makes his heart ache, and without thinking, he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

The moment is warm, comforting, and safe. It’s like nothing else in the world matters right now.

Just then, in the kitchen, Hongjoong’s mother steps back into the shadows, her heart aching for you. She had heard everything—the quiet, broken words, the tenderness between the two. And in that moment, she sees beyond the image you project.

Beneath the designer clothes, the perfect façade, you’re just a girl, trying to navigate the weight of your family’s expectations.

Her heart aches with a kind of pity for you who has everything and yet, nothing at all. She quietly wipes a stray tear from her cheek, then retreats further into the kitchen, giving you the space you need.

Your voice is almost lost in the soft quiet of the room as you look at him once more, a gentle smile beginning to form.

“Thank you, Joongie.” You whisper, eyes reflecting the depth of your unspoken gratitude.

Hongjoong smiles back, his heart full “Always, pretty. Always.”

And for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not as alone as you thought.

✮ ⋆

The quiet of the house wraps around you as you step inside, the weight of the night still lingering in your bones. It’s late—almost twelve PM—and the house is eerily silent. No one is waiting for you in the hallway.

The fancy dinner is long over, and you haven't bothered to text them to let them know where you were, knowing they wouldn’t care.

You take off your heels, the cool hardwood of the floor brushing against your feet, and walk slowly into the living room.

There, sitting on the couch with his back straight and arms crossed, is Mike.

“Look who finally decided to come back,” He says, his tone as sharp as a knife “Having a little fun, were we? How nice of you to finally come home.”

Your chest tightens as you stop in the doorway. You haven't seen him like this in a while—his arrogance and superiority seem to grow with every moment he’s home. His sharp gaze cuts through you like a blade, but you stand tall, trying to control the fluttering in your stomach.

“Don’t look at me like that,” He sneers, his eyes narrowing as he stands “You think you can just walk in late after disappearing for hours? You’re pathetic.”

Your heart sinks, but you keep a neutral expression “I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

“Wait?” Mike scoffs, pacing in front of you “You think I care about waiting? I care about you making a fool of yourself in front of the family. You’ve always been a brat, and you still haven’t learned. You’re not a child anymore, YN. You need to grow up.”

Every word he spits feels like venom, but you know better than to show weakness. You know what he’s doing—tearing you down, making you feel small.

This isn’t new. This is just who he is.

“I’m just trying to live my life, Mike.”

Mike pauses, his smirk widening as he leans closer “Live your life? You’ve been living in a fantasy, little one. You think you can just pretend everything’s fine? Everyone thinks you’re studying business because you'll be part of Dad's company, but you never really think about doing it. You’ve been a joke this whole time. You’re nothing like me. You’ll never be good enough.”

You take the words in, letting them sink in as you have done for so many years. It’s painful, but you know how to endure it. You know how to ignore the voice inside telling you you’re not worthless, that you’re more than what he says.

But tonight, it feels heavier.

“I don’t know why Mom and Dad think you’re this perfect little angel.” You say with mockery, looking him up and down.

He laughs bitterly “Because I am perfect. I’ve done everything right. I’m successful. I’m smart. And unlike you, I know how to get what I want. They should be proud of me. But you, YN? You’re just a spoiled child who’s going to get everything handed to her. And still, you fail. You’ll never be me.”

Your fists clench at your sides, but you don't respond. Instead, you bite your lip, trying to keep your composure. The words are harsh, but you’ve heard them all before. He’s always been the same—deceptively charming and cruel when it matters most.

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not perfect like you,” You say quietly, Hongjoong's sweet words resonate in your mind “It's just… I don't want to be like you.”

Mike looks down at you with disdain, his expression unreadable for a moment before he sighs.

“Not even in your dreams could you be like me, pathetic thing.”

You can’t help the flare of anger that rises in your chest at his words, but you suppress it quickly.

Without saying another word, you turn and walk toward the stairs.

From the shadows of the hallway, Dann, who had been listening from the hallway leading to the staff rooms, feels a tightness in her chest. She’s overheard everything, and the way Mike speaks to you… it makes her happy.

Finally someone is taming you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The next few days feel like a strange game of charades to you, your home transformed by the presence of your brother. It’s almost like he’s a perfect guest who’s come to stay indefinitely—charming, polite, and always acting like he’s the model son.

He plays the part well, and even the staff, including Dann, are entranced by his manners and wealth. You watch it all from the sidelines, a bitter knot tightening in your chest every time her brother flashes that smile, every time your parents look at him with eyes full of admiration.

And then there’s Dann. She continues her errands around the house, doing what you ask, but now there's an air of something different. She’s captivated by Mike’s presence, stealing glances at him whenever he’s nearby.

She doesn’t know much about him, but the way he carries himself—with that effortless confidence and charm—makes her heart skip.

One afternoon, Dann is walking through the hallway, balancing a tray of snacks for you. As she turns a corner, she almost runs straight into Mike.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Dann stammers, gripping the tray tightly to steady it.

Mike catches the edge of the tray, steadying it with ease “No harm done,” He says with a kind smile. His eyes flick to the contents “For me?”

Dann blinks, flustered “Uh… no, for—uh—someone else.”

“Pity,” Mike teases lightly “But still, it’s impressive. Not everyone takes the time to look after others like this. What’s your name?”

“Dann,” She manages, her cheeks heating.

“Dann,” He repeats, his tone smooth, as if committing it to memory “A beautiful name for a beautiful soul.”

Her breath catches “I-I should go. This is for—”

He raises a hand, cutting her off gently “No need to rush. Take a moment to breathe. You deserve it.”

His smile deepens, and for a moment, Dann feels like she’s the only person in the room. She mutters a shy thank-you and hurries past him, her heart pounding.

Mike watches her go, his expression unreadable. Then, as he turns back toward the study, he chuckles to himself, amused by how easily people fall for a kind word and a smile.

Later, when Dann brings you the tray, Dann’s unusually quiet, and you notice her flushed cheeks and the faint smile she tries to hide.

“What’s with you?” You ask sharply, taking the tray.

“Nothing,” Dann says quickly, shaking her head.

You narrow your eyes “Let me guess—my brother said something to you?” Dann’s face goes red, betraying her “Unbelievable,” You mutter under your breath, setting the tray down “He’s not what you think, Dann.”

Dann hesitates, confused “He’s… he’s nice.”

You let out a bitter laugh “Sure, he’s nice. Keep believing that.”

Dann doesn’t respond, her mind too wrapped up in replaying Mike’s words. To her, he was kind and genuine, a stark contrast to your sharp edges.

You, watching her, feel your frustration boil over. You know your brother’s game too well, and know exactly what he’s doing. But you also know trying to warn someone like Dann would be pointless.

For now, you let it go, biting your tongue as the tension simmers beneath the surface.

✮ ⋆

The next few days, Mike couldn’t help but notice Dann more often. She moved through the house quietly, always carrying something or running an errand.

At first, he assumed she was just part of the household staff, but something about her demeanor didn’t quite fit. She seemed too young, too out of place among the polished, uniformed employees.

One afternoon, as he lounged in the garden sipping coffee, he spotted Dann hurrying across the lawn with a pile of books. He called out to her.

“Hey, Dann!”

She froze mid-step, the books wobbling precariously in her arms. Turning slowly, she offers a hesitant smile.

“Yes, sir?”

Mike winces at the formality. “No need for that. Just Mike is fine.” He gestures to a nearby chair “Come, sit for a moment. Those books won’t run away.”

Dann hesitates, glancing back toward the house “I… I really should get these to—”

“Sit,” Mike insists gently, flashing the same disarming smile he used with everyone “I’m curious about you.”

She reluctantly obeys, setting the books down on a nearby table before perching nervously on the edge of the chair.

“So, Dann,” He begins, leaning forward slightly “I’ve noticed you’re always running around doing things. Are you part of the staff here?”

Dann’s eyes widen “No! I mean—” She fidgeted with her hands “I’m not a staff. I’m… I’m the maid’s daughter.”

“The maid’s daughter?” He echoes, raising a brow. He studies her closely, sensing there is more to the story “Then why are you always doing errands?”

Dann hesitates, clearly uncomfortable. Finally, she sighs, her shoulders slumping. She doesn't think anything will happen if she tells him, he is very kind and understanding.

“It’s because of miss YN.”

“Miss YN?” He repeats with mock.

“She… she ordered me to work for her,” Dann admits, her voice dropping to a whisper. “At a party I accidentally spilled my drink on her dress...”

Mike tilts his head, his smile fading slightly “She ordered you to work for her? What dress?”

“It's a pretty expensive one… I heard her mention something like Chanel.” She explains quickly “She told me to choose between paying for the cost of the dress with money or with small tasks. I don't have the money to pay for the dress, so I’ve been helping her out with errands.”

Mike leans back in his chair, processing this information. A slow smile spread across his face, though there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes.

“So, let me get this straight. YN, my little sister, is making you work off the cost of a dress?” Dann nods, glancing down at her hands. Mike lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head “How long have you worked for her?”

“Maybe, a month ago.”

“Well, Dann, you’ve given me a lot to think about.” Before she can respond, he stands, brushing invisible lint from his pants “Better get back to your books. Wouldn’t want YN to get upset.”

Dann nods quickly, standing to retrieve the books. As she hurries away, Mike watches her go, his expression unreadable.

“Interesting,” He murmurs to himself, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The grand dining room gleamed with elegance, the long table lined with intricate floral arrangements and flickering candlelight. You sit at one end, your mother to your left, and Mike across from you. Your father presides at the head of the table, quietly savoring his wine.

In the shadows of the kitchen doorway, part of the chef’s staff, is there observing the scene as the family begin their meal.

“Sweetie, When will Hongjoong come? It's been more than a week since I saw him.” She smiles kindly while sipping from her cup “Such a lovely boy.”

You smile at the mention of the guy who has been occupying your thoughts lately.

"Tomorrow we have to do an essay for business management class, so he is coming."

Your mom claps her hands with enthusiasm "Amazing! I would love to say hello."

You laugh a little at her sigh, it seems that she likes it more than you would like to admit.

Mike raises an eyebrow in confusion, who the fuck are they talking about?

“Who’s Hongjoong?”

“YN’s close friend. He’s been here many times.” Your mom responds right away “He’s polite, respectful, and always so helpful. And he’s clever, too. I remember when they were working on that literature project. He explained everything to me when I asked.”

Mike smiles mockingly, doing a project together? You, working with someone... It's silly, to Mike this sounds like you taking advantage of a nerd. But his mother is a ray of light, she has no idea.

“I'm sure it's your personal nerd, doing your homework and that, right?”

And he's all right, but that was before everything you went through together during this time.

“Of course not.”

Mike leans back, grinning “No? So why does he always do work with you? Don't you have more friends who want to do projects with you?”

Your mother gets a little upset hearing that “That’s enough, Mike. Hongjoong is a good influence on YN. You could stand to meet him before passing judgment.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s delightful. Just the kind of guy to fit right in at the nerd club.”

“Son, that’s enough. You haven’t even met the boy. Give him a chance before making assumptions.” This time your father says.

“Whatever. But I’m curious… What is his last name? Is his family part of a company or why are you defending him so much?" He asks with mockery.

You glare at him, your jaw clenches “That doesn't matter Mike, don't meddle in my business.”

“Mike, that's enough. I'm not going to allow you to talk like that about a boy as cute as Hongjoong." For the first time your mother speaks seriously to him.

“Sure…”

“Let's change the subject. Mike, you have to prepare your speech when you take your position at the company. The party will take place next week.” Then he looks at you, "You can invite Hongjoong and your other friends, my dear."

You nod while your mother applauds happily again, but Mike only rolls his eyes.

“Instead of focusing on your ‘friends’, you should catch up with college.”

“Mike.” Your father warns him.

“Also, what about that girl running up and down like her personal servant?” He asks with false curiosity.

Your father clears his throat, his gaze landing on Mike “Dann working for YN was agreed upon by us. She’s working for her to settle her debt. There’s nothing more to discuss.”

“Agreed upon by you, maybe,” Your mother interjects, her voice softer but laced with unease. She doesn’t look up, carefully slicing her steak as if her plate demands all her attention “I still think it’s a bit... unorthodox, forcing a young girl into such an arrangement. Just an apology and letting it go would’ve been more appropriate.”

Your father frowns “And what about the consequences of such acts, my love? This way, everyone benefits. Dann gets experience, YN gets help, and the debt is paid.”

Mike’s smirk widens as he watches the exchange, clearly enjoying the tension.

“Experience, huh? Interesting choice of words for running errands and taking verbal beatings.”

“Mike, don’t say that!” Your mother snaps, finally looking up “The staff could misunderstand it.” She murmurs with panic.

“What?” He holds up his hands, feigning innocence “I’m just saying, let’s not sugarcoat it. We all know YN isn’t exactly... sweet.”

You grip your fork tightly, the metal digging into your palm “Just shut your mouth and eat, Mike. Nobody asked for your opinion.”

“YN,” Your father warns, his tone sharp.

Mike chuckles, ignoring him “See, little Dann must be so scared of her.”

Your mother sighs heavily, setting down her knife and fork “Enough of this. We’re not discussing Dann or her situation any further. It’s settled.”

But the older son isn’t done. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze locking with yours.

“You should be careful, YN. People like Dann have limits. Push her too far, and she might push back. Harder than you expect.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, the table falls silent. Your father glares at Mike, but he doesn’t say anything. Your mother busies herself with her glass of wine, avoiding your gaze.

You stand abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor “If we’re done with this delightful family bonding session, I’ll be going now.”

As you leave the dining room, your mother’s voice follows you, tired and resigned “Sweetie, wait—”

But you don’t stop. Mike’s words echo in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if there’s truth in them.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“Hongjoong!”

Your mother’s enthusiastic voice fills the grand hallway as the front door swings open to reveal Homgjoong, standing there with his usual boyish grin.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Clarke!” He says, matching her energy. His warm tone makes her giggle in delight.

“She’s upstairs,” Your mother replies, stepping aside to let him in “She mentioned something about working on an essay. You two have been quite busy with school, haven’t you?”

He nods, the picture of politeness “Yes, ma’am. Lots of group projects lately.”

From the top of the grand staircase, Mike’s deep voice cuts through the air like a blade.

“Is this him?” His gaze analyze Hongjoong up and down. His outfit was very different from what Mike expected from a nerd.

Of course the glasses scream ‘nerd’ in all the letters, but the denim jacket over a gray turtleneck shirt with an abstract print, black cargo pants, a gray beanie on his head, and a black crossbody bag complete the look…

Mike didn't know that nerds had evolved during these three years, that now they can mix with others and you wouldn't know they’re a freak..

Hongjoong’s gaze snaps upward, and your brother appears, descending the staircase with a calm but predatory aura. His tailored suit and sharp features radiate authority, the kind that seems designed to make people feel small.

“Yes, this is Hongjoong,” Your mother chimes in, her cheerful tone unwavering.

Hongjoong extends a hand, smiling “Nice to meet you.”

Mike eyes the hand for a moment before taking it. His grip is firm—calculated, even.

“So, you’re the charity case,” He says smoothly, his words laced with a thinly veiled insult.

Hongjoong’s smile falters slightly, but he quickly recovers “I guess you could say I’m lucky to have YN as a friend.”

Mike raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk “Friend?”

The tension is palpable, but before it can escalate, your mother interjects “Mike, be nice. Hongjoong is here to help your sister with schoolwork. Don’t scare him off.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Mike replies, though the gleam in his eyes suggests otherwise.

Just then, you appear at the top of the staircase, dressed casually but impeccably as always.

“Joong,” You call, your voice warm, though your eyes flick to Mike in a silent warning.

Hongjoong visibly relaxes at the sight of you “Hey, YN.”

You make your way down, shooting a quick glare at your brother before slipping your arm through Hongjoong’s.

“We’ll be in the study room.” You say pointedly, guiding him away.

Mike watches the two of you go, a bemused expression on his face.

✮ ⋆

The study is bathed in the soft afternoon light streaming through the large windows. Papers and books are spread across the table, though most of it remains untouched.

Hongjoong sits comfortably in the large red sofa, pen twirling absentmindedly between his fingers as he watches you pace the room, clearly distracted.

“Are we actually going to work on this essay,” He teases lightly, “Or are you going to wear a hole in the floor?”

You pause mid-step, shooting him a mock glare “Excuse me for needing to think while I walk.”

Hongjoong chuckles, setting his pen down “Thinking about the essay, or something else?”

You sigh and drop into the seat opposite him “Both, maybe.”

For a moment, there’s silence as you both glance at the notes in front of you. Hongjoong flips through the pages absentmindedly before he leans back and studies you.

“You know,” He starts “This is kind of funny.”

“Uh?”

He smirks “The fact that we’re doing an essay on entrepreneurship, and I remember you telling my parents you’re studying business just because it’s a common choice in your family.”

You blink, caught off guard “You remember that?”

“Of course I do,” He says, his tone softening “It was hard to miss how uncomfortable you looked when they asked about it.”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.” You lie, crossing your arms.

Hongjoong tilts his head, giving you a knowing look “Pretty…”

You sigh, dropping the act “Fine. I was uncomfortable. Happy?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table “Not really. I mean, it’s not every day you see Miss pretty YN Clarke—queen bee of the school—looking out of her element. What was that about, anyway?”

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to the notebook in front of you. After a long pause, you speak, your voice quieter than usual.

“I didn’t choose to study business. My parents chose for me.”

He blinks, taken aback “Seriously? But I thought you—”

“Thought I was passionate about business?” You interrupt with a bitter laugh “No. I wanted to study fashion design.”

“Fashion design?” Hongjoong’s eyebrows shot up, his curiosity piqued “You? The future CEO of Clarke Enterprises wanted to design clothes?”

And he can see your potential. You have impeccable taste in fashion, not just in the way you always dress, but also in how you can identify others' styles just by looking at them. And he’s a witness to it—whenever he went shopping with you, you always picked things that matched the style he chose after his research on the subject. Your sense of fashion was enviable.

“Laugh it up,” You mutter, though there’s no heat in your tone.

“I’m not laughing,” Hongjoong assures you. “I’m just surprised. You’ve never mentioned this before.”

“Why would I?” You snap, but your irritation isn’t directed at him “It’s not like it matters. My parents made it clear that ‘passion projects’ don’t pay the bills. Clarke family members study business. That’s just how it is.”

Hongjoong frowns, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by concern. “That doesn’t sound fair.”

You shrug, forcing a nonchalant tone. “Life isn’t fair, Joong. Besides, it’s not like I had a choice. My father practically enrolled me himself. My mother didn’t say much, but she didn’t exactly fight for me, either.”

He watches you carefully, his brows furrowed “Do you... regret it?”

“Every day,” You admit quietly “But regret doesn’t change anything. My life’s been mapped out for me since the day I was born. I just… deal with it.”

The silence that follows feels heavy, and for a moment, neither of you knows what to say. Finally, Hongjoong breaks it.

“YN… you don’t have to be what they want you to be.”

You scoff, though his sincerity tugs at something deep inside you “You don’t get it, my family isn’t like yours. I can’t just decide to go against them and do what I want. It’s not that simple.”

Hongjoong leans forward, his voice steady and kind “Maybe it’s not simple. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

You look at him, surprised by the determination in his eyes “Why do you care so much, anyway?”

“Because I hate seeing you like this,” He admits “You’re always so confident, so in control. But when you talk about this, it’s like… you’re not yourself.”

You swallow hard, his words hitting closer to home than you’d like to admit.

“I’m just saying,” He continues, his tone gentler now “if you ever want to talk about it, or, you know, vent or anything, I’m here.”

A small, genuine smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“Thanks, Joongie.”

“Anytime,” He says with a grin. Then, with a playful tone, he adds “Now, can we actually write this essay? Because I’m not about to fail this class just because my partner has a secret dream of designing couture.”

You roll your eyes, but for the first time that day, you feel a little lighter “Fine. Let’s get to work.”

As the two of you finally turn your attention to the assignment, you can’t help but glance at Hongjoong. For all his flaws, he has a way of making you feel like, just maybe, you don’t have to be alone in this.

And that makes you feel happy and secure.

A couple of minutes later—ten minutes to be exact— starting the draft of your essays, you and Hongjoong are supposedly working, but your proximity makes it clear that focus is not the priority. Papers and pens are scattered across the desk, completely forgotten.

You start talking about other stuff until you settle yourself on his lap, and his hands resting on your thighs as he gazes up at you, clearly captivated.

“You really shouldn’t let him get to you.” Hongjoong says softly, his voice tinged with concern.

Once again the topic of your annoying brother.

You smirk, trailing a finger along his jawline “Mike gets to everyone. It’s his specialty.”

Hongjoong’s hand tightens slightly on your leg “Well, not to me.”

You lean closer, your faces mere inches apart “Good.” You whisper before kissing him.

The moment is charged, but neither of you notices the shadow just outside the door.

Dann stands there, hidden in the hallway, her heart sinking as she watches the scene unfold. Your laughter, Hongjoong’s rapt attention—every detail feels like a dagger to her chest.

Her grip on the doorframe tightens as she fights back tears, her mind racing with anger and jealousy.

As you pull back slightly, your fingers lingering on Hongjoong’s jawline, he gazes up at you with a rare softness. The silence stretches between you, not awkward but charged with unspoken words.

“Pretty,” He begins, his voice a little hoarse as if gathering courage.

You tilt your head, teasingly brushing a strand of his hair back “What is it, nerd?”

Hongjoong chuckles softly, but the sound is nervous. He looks away for a moment, his thumb absently tracing small circles on your thigh.

“I was thinking... Maybe we could go out this weekend. Like, just us. A real date.”

Your breath hitches, though you manage to keep your expression neutral. A date. The word sets off a flutter in your chest that you quickly smother. You can’t let yourself feel this way—not for him.

He’s sweet, in a way that disarms you. And yes, there’s something undeniably magnetic about the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

But there’s also a voice in the back of your mind, sharp and cynical, whispering warnings.

What if he’s just like everyone else? What if he’s only here because being with you makes him feel important?

You’ve seen it before—the fake smiles, the shallow affections of people who only want something from you. It’s always been easier to keep your guard up, to let the world think you’re untouchable.

Still, as you look at him now, with his nervous grin and earnest eyes, a part of you wonders if Hongjoong is different.

“A date, huh?” You echo, a playful smirk tugging at your lips “Are you asking me out, Joongie?”

His grip on your leg tightens ever so slightly as he nods “Yeah, I guess I am.”

You tilt your head, studying him, trying to find some crack in his sincerity. But there’s none. He’s genuine—almost painfully so.

“Alright, you’ve got yourself a date.” Your tone is flippant, casual, as if it doesn’t matter. But the faint blush creeping up your cheeks betrays you.

Outside the door, Dann halts mid-step. She had intended to leave, to distance herself from the painful scene, but Hongjoong’s words froze her in place.

A date.

Her breathing stops, and her mind reels, repeating every look, every silly smile he used to give you every time you passed by his friends' table, even before he sat down with your ridiculous social group, and she can't deny how much Hongjoong likes you, even now.

Dann had told herself that he didn’t really mean it, that he was just infatuated, that you didn’t deserve him. But hearing him now, so sincere, so devoted—it feels like a knife twisting deeper into her chest.

She takes a shaky step back, her vision blurring with tears. Her mind is a storm of anger, heartbreak, and self-loathing.

Why her? Why not me?

Dann quietly slips away, her steps quick and silent. But her expression hardens with every step she takes. If there was any doubt before, it’s gone now—she won’t let you keep humiliating her.

Dann rushes down the hallway, her chest tight and her mind swirling with emotion. She doesn’t even notice Mike leaning against the wall near the corner, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, well,” He drawls, his smooth voice stopping her in her tracks “What’s got you running off in tears, Cinderella?”

Dann stiffens, quickly wiping at her eyes and turning to face him “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Mike raises an eyebrow, his sharp gaze flicking to the study door she just fled from. His curiosity piqued, he steps past her without another word.

Dann doesn’t try to stop him, her head hanging as shame and frustration bubble within her.

Quietly, Mike approaches the slightly ajar study door. His keen eyes take in the scene inside:

YN, sitting on the nerd's lap, whose hands rest possessively on her thighs as they kiss.

Your closeness, the intimate way your fingers trail along Hongjoong’s hair, makes Mike’s smirk widen.

He glances back at Dann, who’s standing frozen in the hallway, her shoulders tense. His mind pieces the puzzle together.

Dann’s crushed expression, your little display with the nerd in his designer clothes, that obviously, Mike knows that you bought for him, and the underlying tension he’s noticed between the two girls.

A cruel but amused thought settles in his mind. Of course, you're using that poor guy to hurt Dann. Classic YN. It’s vicious, but… beautifully done.

Pushing the door slightly closed so you and Hongjoong remain unaware, Mike strides back to Dann. He tilts his head, studying her, his tone feigning concern.

“Looks like my sister is having quite the fun time in there, doesn’t it?” He says casually.

Dann’s head snaps up, her wide eyes filled with panic. “You—you saw?”

Mike shrugs, his smirk softening into something almost comforting.

“It’s hard to miss, really. She does know how to put on a show.” He pauses, letting his words sink in before stepping closer “You like him, don’t you?”

Dann’s face burns, and she quickly shakes her head “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Dann. Don’t insult me by lying,” He says smoothly, his voice low and persuasive. “You like that nerd, it’s written all over your face. You’re smitten, and YN? Well, she knows it. And judging by what I just saw, she’s enjoying rubbing it in.”

Dann’s lips tremble, but she says nothing. The truth in his words stings too much to deny.

Mike’s expression shifts, his voice softening. “It’s cruel, isn’t it? After everything you’ve done for her, she still treats you like this. Like a pawn in her little games.”

Dann bites her lip, her anger and hurt bubbling to the surface “Why are you telling me this? What do you want?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “What I want is irrelevant. What you want, though… That’s what matters, doesn’t it?” He steps even closer, his tone conspiratorial “You want to stop her, don’t you? Make her see what it’s like to be humiliated, to lose everything she holds dear.”

Dann looks at him, her eyes narrowing “Why would you care? She’s your sister.”

Mike smirks again, his gaze hard. “Oh, I care, Dann. But not in the way you think. YN’s gotten away with far too much for far too long. It’s time she learns that actions have consequences. And I think you and I? We can make that happen.”

Dann hesitates, her emotions warring within her. Mike leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Think about it, Dann. Do you really want to keep being her servant, watching her parade around with him, knowing she’s using you? Or do you want to take back some control?” He pulls back, straightening his tie as if the conversation is no more than business.

“The choice is yours. But if you’re tired of being her shadow… You know where to find me.”

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving Dann standing there, her heart pounding and her thoughts racing.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Dann sits at the back of the school library, nervously twisting the strap of her bag. The place is nearly deserted, the only sounds are the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of a page turning.

She checks her phone for the third time, anxiously glancing at the clock.

Finally, Seonghwa strides in, his usual air of confidence intact. Spotting her, he saunters over, dropping into the chair across from her.

“You’re lucky I don’t hate this place,” He mutters, propping his chin on his hand “Now, what’s so urgent?”

Dann hesitates, her gaze darting around to ensure no one’s within earshot “It’s about Mike.”

Seonghwa’s brow furrows slightly, but he maintains his calm demeanor.

“What about him?”

Dann leans closer, lowering her voice. “He… approached me yesterday. After YN and Hongjoong—” Her voice falters, and she shakes her head, willing herself to stay focused “He saw me upset and, um, he offered me a deal.”

Hwa’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, there’s an unreadable flicker in his expression.

“A deal?”

Dann nods quickly “He said he knows YN’s been using Hongjoong to hurt me, and he wants to help me… to bring her down.”

A smirk slowly spreads across Hwa’s face, but there’s a calculating glint in his eyes.

“Well, isn’t that interesting?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Dann admits, her voice shaking slightly. “I mean, I hate YN for everything she’s done, and he’s kind. I trust him, but I don’t know…”

“Well, you shouldn’t trust him,” Seonghwa says bluntly “Mike’s not the kind of guy who does anything out of the goodness of his heart. He’ll want something in return, probably something you’re not ready to give.”

Dann bites her lip, her uncertainty clear. His words sound similar to what you told her days ago.

'He's not what you think, Dann.'

“Then what do I do? If I say no, he’ll probably find another way to mess with her. But if I say yes…”

Hwa leans back in his chair, his smirk growing. “You'll say yes.”

“What?” Dann looks at him in shock.

“Think about it,” Hwa says smoothly. “This is an opportunity. Mike’s already got a grudge against YN, and he’s offering you a chance to take her down. Why waste that?”

“But…” Dann hesitates. “He’ll know I’m working with him. He might use me, too.”

Hwa leans forward, his voice low and firm. “That’s where I come in. You agree to his deal, play along with whatever he asks, but you don’t let him know about me. I’ll guide you from the sidelines, help you navigate whatever mess he pulls you into.”

Dann looks at him uncertainty “Why do you want to stay hidden? You and Mike… You know each other, don’t you?”

Hwa’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by a more serious expression.

“Our families are close. Too close. If he knows I’m involved, it’ll complicate things. And trust me, you don’t want him digging into your allies.”

Dann frowns, still unsure “So, I’m supposed to be his pawn, but secretly working for you?”

Seonghwa nods “Exactly. Let him think he’s in control, but we’ll be the ones pulling the strings.” He leans back again, his smirk returning. “And when the time comes, we’ll let the golden boy deal with his sister, then make sure he doesn’t come out unscathed, either.”

Dann hesitates for a moment longer before finally nodding.

“Okay… I’ll do it.”

“Good girl,” Hwa says with a grin “Just remember, no matter what Mike says or does, you keep me out of it. Understood?”

“Understood,” Dann says quietly, her resolve hardening.

As Seonghwa gets up to leave, he gives her a final glance.

“Don’t let him intimidate you, Dann. You’re stronger than you think. And with me in your corner, YN won’t stand a chance.”

Dann watches him walk away, her heart pounding. She feels a flicker of hope, but it’s laced with fear.

She’s stepping into dangerous territory, and she knows there’s no turning back now.

✮ ⋆

The evening air feels heavier as Dann makes her way to the agreed meeting spot. Seonghwa’s proposition lingers in her mind, but now, standing face-to-face with Mike, your seemingly perfect older brother, she feels a renewed sense of purpose.

“You’re late.” He remarks, his tone sharp and businesslike.

His piercing gaze studies her, assessing her worth as an ally. Dann crosses her arms defensively.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Mike smirks faintly, leaning back against the wall “Fair enough. So, you’ve decided to take me up on my offer. Good. Let’s not waste time—tell me everything you know about YN and this… Hongjoong guy.”

Dann hesitates, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. Is she really doing this? Betraying her values?

But then she recalls the laughter, the dismissive looks, and the countless times you made her feel small.

Her jaw tightens “Hongjoong used to be normal,” She begins, her voice steady but bitter “He had his own friends. He was part of that freak crowd. Good grades, nothing special. Just a regular guy trying to get by.”

Mike arches an eyebrow, intrigued “And now?”

“Now?” Dann scoffs, bitterness seeping into her tone “Now, he’s your sister’s lapdog. But before that, he was part of the ‘slaves’—as your sister and her friends called them. The kids who did their homework, their projects, whatever they didn’t feel like doing themselves.”

A flicker of surprise crosses Mike’s face, though he quickly masks it.

“Go on.”

“YN and her crew, they humiliated him. Constantly. He was a joke to them. They used him, mocked him, and then, one day, out of nowhere, YN decides he’s worthy of her attention. He just… sat with her at lunch one day, like it was the most normal thing in the world. After that, he started hanging out with them, ditching his old friends. Forgot about them completely.”

Mike’s expression hardens as he listens. He processes the information quickly, the gears in his mind already turning.

“So, you’re saying she picked him up like a… project?”

Dann nods “That’s exactly what it looks like. But the weird part is… he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s completely loyal to her. It’s like she has him wrapped around her finger.”

The older man chuckles darkly, his smile cold “That sounds like my little sister, all right. Always taking what she wants without a second thought.”

Dann swallows hard, her hands clenching into fists “She doesn’t deserve him. And he doesn’t deserve to just… get away with forgetting where he came from.”

Mike leans forward, his voice low and commanding “You’re absolutely right. That’s why we’re going to remind him—and her—that actions have consequences. But I need more. Details, patterns, vulnerabilities. I want to know everything she’s hiding.”

Dann hesitates, her mind flicking briefly to Seonghwa’s warning not to involve him. She decides to steer clear of mentioning her.

“The others, Mindy, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung, they’re all in her circle, part of the same game. They cover for her, laugh at her jokes, make sure no one crosses her. They’re as bad as she is, if not worse.”

Mike nods slowly. He knows all of your friends, but where is little Park Seonghwa? You used to be inseparable.

His expression is one of calculated determination “Good. That’s a start. Keep watching, keep listening. I want updates on every little thing. The more I know, the easier it’ll be to tear her down.”

Dann feels a chill run through her as she realizes just how serious Mike is. But she doesn’t back down. Dann bites her lip, glancing at him.

“There’s something else—something about Hongjoong.” His eyebrows lift slightly, urging her to continue “He… he always feels like he has to stay on YN’s good side,” She says slowly, her voice tinged with both resentment and a hint of sadness “Even when she’s wrong, even when she’s downright cruel.”

Mike narrows his eyes “What do you mean?”

Dann looks away, the memory of that day in the cafeteria flooding back “There was this one time. It wasn’t long after he started sitting with her, maybe a couple of weeks. YN was in one of her moods, and she was picking on me—making me carry her bag, fetch her coffee, stupid stuff like that.” Her voice trembles slightly, but she forces herself to keep going. “Hongjoong... He didn’t say a word.”

“Typical YN. But Hongjoong? That doesn’t sound like the hero type you’re making him out to be.”

“That’s the thing,” Dann says bitterly. “He’s not. Not really. He just… stood there, watching, like he didn’t want to risk making her angry.” She pauses, swallowing the lump in her throat. “But one day in the cafeteria, something happened. YN took it too far.”

“What did she do?” He asks, his tone colder now.

“I dropped her drink over her purse, Mindy made me get on my knees and beg YN's forgiveness...” Dann says quietly, her cheeks flushing with humiliation even at the memory. “And when I refused, YN stepped on my hand mercilessly. Everyone was laughing, pointing, but Hongjoong defended me… he told her to stop, and after he went after me.”

Mike tilts his head, intrigued “He stood up to her?”

“For a moment,” Dann says with a dry laugh “But you know what happened after that? She ignored him. For days. Didn’t talk to him, didn’t look at him. And Hongjoong? He couldn’t handle it. After a few days…. He apologized to her. For defending me that day in the cafeteria.” Dann says softly, bitterness slipping into her tone.

He arches an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued “And how do you know that?”

Her cheeks flush, and she looks away, remembering the explicit scene she saw that night, debating whether to answer.

“Because… I saw them.” She mutters.

“Saw them?” He presses, leaning forward slightly.

“At Wooyoung’s party,” Dann explains, her voice shaking, “They went upstairs together. I—I didn’t see everything, but when they came back, YN looked… satisfied. And Hongjoong looked…”

Her voice trails off, the implications hanging in the air. Mike’s lips twitch into a smirk, the pieces clicking together in his mind.

“Ah,” He drawls, a hint of amusement in his tone “So that’s how he managed to crawl his way into her good graces again.”

Dann bites her lip but says nothing, her face burning with a mix of shame and jealousy.

Mike chuckles, crossing his arms “Poor little Hongjoong. He’s so desperate to stay on YN’s good side, he’ll do whatever it takes, won’t he?” His smirk grows wider, more cruel “I’m almost impressed. Almost.” Dann looks down at her hands, refusing to meet his gaze “Sounds like he’s more afraid of being cast out than he is of losing his integrity. That’s good to know.”

Dann looks at him, frowning slightly “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that we can use that. If Hongjoong’s loyalty to YN is built on fear of losing her approval, it’s only a matter of time before he breaks.” He steps closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper “People like that are easy to manipulate. You just have to know where to push.”

Dann hesitates, her gaze darting to the floor before meeting Mike’s calculating eyes.

“There’s one more thing,” She says cautiously.

“Go on.”

“Hongjoong… he asked YN out on a date,” Dann reveals, bitterness lacing her tone “I don’t know when or where, but he did.”

Mike’s expression darkens, a smirk curling at his lips.

“Now he’s inviting her on dates, playing the doting ‘boyfriend’ while she pulls the strings. It’s almost… poetic.” He leans forward again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper “You know this fairytale won’t last, right? Once the thrill of the game wears off, they’ll both be exactly where they belong—crumbling.”

Unknown to Dann or Mike, you have just rounded the corner, your footsteps halting as you overhears your brother’s mocking voice. You step back into the shadows, your breath catching in your throat.

How does he know about the date?

Your stomach churns. You are drawn to Hongjoong—his warmth, his loyalty, the way he looks at you like you’re the center of the universe—but you can’t bring yourself to admit it.

Pride keeps your walls up, but fear builds them higher.

Fear that Hongjoong’s interest is just another way to climb to the top, that he’s using you like everyone else in your life seems to.

You clench your fists, forcing yourself to keep listening as Mike chuckles darkly.

“Well,” He continues, leaning back against the wall “Let them have their little fairytale moment. Let them hold hands, kiss under the stars, and pretend it’s all perfect.” He pauses, his smirk turning cruel “Because once it ends—and it will end—it’s going to crash down so hard they won’t know what hit them.”

You feel your chest tighten, your brother’s words hitting a nerve you didn’t even realize was raw. You press your back against the wall, your breathing shallow as you fight the urge to burst in and confront them.

Instead, you slip away quietly, mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Hongjoong asked you out…

But what if Mike’s right? What if it’s all just a game to him?

The idea sends a pang of vulnerability through your chest, one of you quickly smothering with anger.

No one uses you, you think fiercely, even as your heart betrays you with the smallest flicker of hope.

As you leave, Dann and Mike have done their chant. As Dann turns to leave, Mike’s voice stops her.

“Oh, and Dann,” He says, his tone almost casual but laced with menace “If you try to cross me or withhold anything… you’ll regret it.”

Dann doesn’t respond. She just walks away, her heart pounding in her chest.

She’s in too deep now, and there’s no turning back.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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☆○☆○☆

All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.

this was so wholesome I love it so much 🥰 i can’t wait to read more from the other members! keep up the amazing work <3

✗ sugar and sin ✗ | PARK SEONGHWA

pairings  ✃  mafia! seonghwa x fem! reader

genre  ✃  mafia au, non-idol au, SLOW BURNN

synopsis  ✃  

seonghwa goes above and beyond to eliminate his targets: going undercover in places they go to most. when you happen to spend your time in a secluded bakery, seonghwa decides to bake your treats with doses of poison - yet somehow, you keep surviving.

in which you thought you made a new friend in your local bakery, when in reality - your ‘baker’ keeps mistaking laxatives for poison.

w.c  ✃ 9.1k

c.w  ✃ dark themes, some desc of gore, poison, drink-spiking, kiss scene but no smut very very slight yandere behaviour, cursing, reader + seonghwa are in their 20s (not too relevant to plot), reader wants to be an architect.

author’s note: ngl, this story ended up a little more wholesome than i anticipated but oh well. remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed, any and all feedback helps!

not proofread!

masterlist

it was official. you were a walking, unkillable creature sent to test seonghwa’s patience. 

you had to be at this point. that was the sixth poisoned-cream puff he’d given you this week and you were still talking on the phone about some guy you met at work. 

seonghwa’s fingers curled around the register, his knuckles turning white. when was the last time it took him this long to kill someone? five years ago?

time flies by fast - and yet it’s going painfully slow to take. you. out. 

“oh my god, no way-“ you laughed suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. 

seonghwa sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. he turned around and headed for the kitchen. if you weren’t going to die quickly, the least he could do was distract himself. 

“back to baking,” he muttered through clenched teeth. 

1 MONTH AGO - SIGHTSEEING

the early morning was cool, damp and filled with the scent of rain. the light drizzle from the grey sky above pattered against the balcony railing as birds chirped louder than the traffic below.

seonghwa sat on the metal chair, placing his steaming cup of tea onto the small table next to him. 

the balcony door slid open. 

a yawn was heard from behind him. “are you people-watching again?” hongjoong asked, rubbing his eyes. 

seonghwa didn’t look back, only nodding in response.

“you’re on food duty now, remember?” hongjoong stepped onto the balcony, sitting on the chair beside his friend. “you don’t need to look for targets..”

seonghwa leaned forward, mumbling, “is it wrong to have hobbies?” 

the morning rush was in full swing - people running with umbrellas over their heads, cars splashing through puddles and delivery workers speeding on bikes. it was oddly satisfying to watch, especially when you weren’t a part of any of it.

hongjoong rested his chin on his hand. “i don’t pay you to kill anymore. i hope you know this.”

“yeah, yeah,” seonghwa said absentmindedly, like he’d done many times before - though something caught his attention.

his eyes narrowed, focusing on a girl - must be in her early 20s, hurrying down the sidewalk with a large stack of papers in her arms. her steps were rushed, nearly bumping into the people ahead of her.

and then it happened.

she tripped over her own foot, causing her to stumble forward. the papers flew out of her grasp, scattering onto the crowded pavement. she dropped to her knees, scurrying to gather them.

but before she could, a gust of wind swept most of them down the street.

seonghwa got up from his chair abruptly, his tea long forgotten.

hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “did you see something?”

seonghwa didn’t answer. his attention was fixed on you, your hands moving as fast as possible to salvage the remaining papers. just as you managed to grab a few, a van sped through a nearby puddle, splashing you from head to toe.

you froze, shivering. and to make things worse, the light rain turned into a heavy downpour. “...fuck!”

seonghwa’s eyes lit up in fascination. 

he’d never seen someone as unlucky, unfortunate and pathetic as you in all of his years. 

you were perfect.

“seonghwa-?”

a slow, almost predatory smirk spread across seonghwa’s lips. he couldn’t take his eyes off of you - the defeated and helpless girl that stood frozen on the pavement, completely drenched. 

“i found my target.”

2 WEEKS AGO - IT’S CALLED EMPLOYMENT 

the smell of fresh bread and melted butter greeted you as you pushed the bakery door open, the small bell jingling. 

“ah ‘____’!” the old baker, mrs earl, said with a smile. “it’s good to see you again.”

you gave her a bright grin. “i brought you the new crossword,” you placed a folded newspaper on the counter.

“oh honey, you’re an angel,” she thanked.

you waved off the praise, already making your way to the display case. you grabbed your free muffin (it wasn’t technically free, but mrs earl adored you enough to turn a blind eye) and took a bite.

as you ate, she wiped her hands with a dishcloth. “you know, a boy came in today. said he wanted a job.”

you raised an eyebrow. “someone applied?” 

“mhm,” she nodded, her smile widening. “i was quite shocked, he’s very young- around your age.”

“..huh,” you said, unsure of how to respond. it was hard to imagine someone else your age showing interest in such a bakery.

mrs earl’s eyes twinkled as she giggled, “he was such a gentleman, too. handsome, if i may add.”

you grinned. “mrs earl, are you into him?”

she laughed heartily. “of course not! i still have my boys at the country club..”

“..anyways,” she continued, slightly softer. “with him around, i don’t need to come in anymore.”

“...really?”

she nodded firmly. “why not? i think he’s capable enough to manage things while i go on vacation.”

“..if you say so,” you replied, a little doubtful. 

you’ve grown so attached to mrs earl that the idea of someone else stepping in felt.. strange. even then, you quickly pushed those thoughts away. you weren’t going to stop her from having her well-deserved break.

but little did you know - across the street, seonghwa sat on a weathered bench, his eyes following you. 

you were an open book, he realised. your patterns were consistent, your routine almost boring in its predictability. lunch breaks at the bakery. post-work visits for a chat and a muffin. your world revolved around this tiny little bakery that it made you so so easy to track.

it was perfect.

and now all he had to do was wait.

1 WEEK AGO - HEY I JUST MET YOU, AND THIS IS CRAZY

holy shit. 

mrs earl wasn’t kidding when she said the new hire was handsome.

a man stood behind the counter, arranging pastries with meticulous care. his hair fell perfectly, right out of a shampoo commercial, while his skin looked impossibly flawless and clean. 

“...wow,” you breathed out before you could stop yourself.

the man turned, his sharp features softened by a slight tilt of his head. 

you blinked rapidly, scrambling to recover. “i mean- hi!” you blurted with a nervous laugh. “i’m ‘____’, i’m a regular here,” you stuck your hand out.

it took a second before he shook your hand, giving you a small, polite smile. “mrs earl told me about you.”

your rubbed the back of your neck. “good things i hope..” you chuckled, earning a nod. 

“you’re..” you looked down, squinting to read the name tag pinned neatly to his apron. “seonghwa..?”

“correct.”

as seonghwa moved to the display case, you couldn’t help but watch him. everything about him was so polished, so graceful - it was like he belonged in the movies. 

when you saw the row of pastries he was arranging, you raised an eyebrow. that’s different. 

he glanced at you. “sorry, i don’t make muffins as good as mrs earl,” he admitted sheepishly. “but i think my cream puffs are up there.”

you stared at the tray of golden, perfectly piped pastries, your mouth watering. “c-can i take one?”

his lips curled into a faint smirk, his eyes darkening slightly. “of course.”

PRESENT - PLOT ARMOUR GOES CRAZYY

outside, the world bustled with its usual chaos, but inside the bakery? everything felt calm - too calm for seonghwa, whose patience was wearing dangerously thin.

from behind the counter, he had an excellent view of you. you chatted animatedly on the phone, the sunlight streaming in making you look annoyingly serene for someone who shouldn’t be here. 

“girl- the guy at my office is cutee,” you said as you stirred the remnants of your coffee.

seonghwa’s jaw tightened. the coffee you were sipping had enough poison to kill a sumo wrestler. you should’ve been dead on the floor by now.

so how the hell were you still alive?

blissfully unaware of his glare, you laughed at something your friend said. “are you crazy? why should i make the first move?”

when he first saw you, seonghwa thought you’d be his easiest target yet. he almost pitied you. your sheer unluckiness practically screamed death. 

yet here you were, as if life itself decided to mock him.

as you hung up the call, you stood up and strolled to the counter, rummaging through your bag. “how much do i owe you?”

seonghwa shook his head, sighing. “it’s on the house,” he said. 

you paused, slipping your phone into your pocket. “seonghwa, you really need to stop giving me free food,” you pulled out a ten-dollar bill.

“but i want to,” he shrugged. 

you studied him for a moment, tilting your head. “then can i get another coffee to-go, please?”

his eye twitched.

it was such an harmless request, something seemingly so simple. yet it felt like an insult to his entire career.

still, seonghwa forced a smile, taking the cash. “of course.”

turning to the coffee pot, he poured another cup. when you looked away to check your phone, he sprinkled a little extra poison into the drink - just to be sure.

“thank you so much,” your face lit up as you took the cup from him. “you’re a lifesaver.”

the irony hit him like a truck, but he simply nodded.

as you turned to leave, he stared at the coffee pot, his mind spinning.

how? how?

you were unkillable. immune. an anomaly wrapped in plot armour so thick and absurd it made his chest ache with something he couldn’t name. 

obsession, frustration, fascination - it all blurred together into one singular thought:

he needed stronger poison.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“..helloo?” a hand waved in front of seonghwa, snapping him out of his thoughts.

seonghwa blinked, turning to find wooyoung standing beside him, wooden spoon in hand, his apron splattered in sauces. 

“you’re sanding the plate,” wooyoung smirked before turning back to the bubbling pot on the stove. 

the sound of running water filled the hideout’s small kitchen, together with the clanging of pots and pans. seonghwa stood over the sink, yellow rubber gloves on his hands as he washed the dishes.

seonghwa looked down - and to his horror, he’d been scrubbing the same spot on the plate for who knows how long. a noticeable mark formed, the glaze nearly wearing off. 

wooyoung glanced over his shoulder. “you okay?”

“yeah,” seonghwa replied.

a short silence followed before wooyoung spoke up again. “…you still haven’t killed that girl.”

seonghwa rolled his eyes, nearly breaking the ceramic in his hands. “don’t remind me. she’s invincible.”

“invincible?” wooyoung barked out a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “to you?”

seonghwa’s lips pressed into a thin line, sighing. the memory of the coffee earlier was still fresh in his mind. “my poison doesn’t work on her.”

wooyoung paused. “we have poison?”

“yeah,” seonghwa muttered, rinsing the plate and setting it on the drying rack. “the blue ones in the cupboard.”

wooyoung’s face shifted slowly from confusion, to realisation, to then poorly concealed amusement.

“seonghwa..” he began carefully, facing him. “you know those are laxatives, right..?”

the sponge in seonghwa’s hand nearly slipped into the soapy water. “..what?”

“they’re laxatives,” wooyoung repeated. “i mean, they do look the same, but they’re laxatives.” 

seonghwa stared at him. “those are the only ones left- what happened to my poison?”

“we uh-” wooyoung hesitated, shifting on his feet. “we crushed it up and made paint..”

the air in the kitchen turned deathly still.

“you what?”

“i thought no one used it-!”

“i use it-! who makes paint with pills?” seonghwa snapped, his hands gripping the edges of the sink. he exhaled deeply, forcing himself to stay calm. “now i have to get more from that dealer.”

“uhh..” wooyoung cringed.

seonghwa turned to him, narrowing his eyes. “don’t tell me..”

wooyoung gulped, nodding slowly. “...san killed him.” 

WEEK 3 - TOUCH GRASS

the sound of your best friend’s voice echoed from your phone as you sat by the window, nibbling on the cream puff seonghwa gave you - again.

“i know this is TMI,” you said quietly. “but i’ve been shitting a lot lately. i don’t know if it's my period or lactose intolerance acting up.”

as you took another bite, the cream puff melted in your mouth, its sweetness making you temporarily forget about your bowel issues. 

rejecting it felt stupid - it was free. sure, it was weird that seonghwa kept giving you free food, but mrs earl trusted him, so why shouldn’t you?

still, you couldn’t quite figure him out. the man had a habit of glaring at you from across the bakery. were you that pretty? yes. but his glares didn’t feel like he was admiring you. they leaned more towards… anger.

your friend on the other end of the call burst out laughing - and you joined her for a moment. but before your friend could reply, your phone screen went black. 

“ugh, seriously?” you grumbled, tapping the screen repeatedly. with an annoyed sigh, you stuffed the dead phone into your bag.

with nothing else to do, your attention shifted. your eyes eventually landed on seonghwa, who was watching you with a blank face. 

it wouldn’t hurt to get to know him, right? after all, you see him everyday - and since your phone died, maybe it’s finally time to get some real human interaction in.

you gave him a wide smile. “hey, seonghwa.”

he blinked, visibly startled. “i uh-”

“-why don’t you sit with me?” you asked. “you’re not busy, are you?” 

for a moment, he seemed frozen. but somehow, you managed to convince him to sit across from you.

“so...” you began. “how are you?”

“good.”

you blinked. this wasn’t the riveting conversation you were hoping for.

unfazed, you continued. “how’s work been? stressful?”

he exhaled softly, shaking his head. “it’s fine. how about you? how’s work?”

“it’s alright,” you shrugged. “it’s gotten better since i started coming here. the vending machines at work are always broken.”

he nodded, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “yeah- it’s even more convenient since it’s walking distance, right?”

you paused. 

“...how do you know that?”

seonghwa’s fingers froze mid-tap. 

“mrs earl,” he said finally. “she said a lot of her regulars work in the area.”

“oh, that makes sense,” you said, your suspicions fading quickly. you glanced out the window, your face softening. “i miss her..”

seonghwa let out a quiet sigh of relief, nodding as though he agreed with you.

but inside, his mind was screaming. that was way too close. 

focus.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you kicked your shoes and slumped onto the couch, letting out a long sigh. the day had been.. something. your chat with seonghwa was pretty awkward, but more than anything, it made you miss mrs earl.

reaching for your phone, you dialed her number.

“‘____’! my favourite customer,” she greeted cheerfully, the background noise filled with chatter and clinking glasses.

“mrs earl!” you replied. “how are you? are the boys at your country club treating you well?”

“oh, you know how they are,” she giggled. “trying to impress me with golf and fancy dinners. it’s nice to relax for a change.”

you chuckled, sinking deeper into the couch. “that sounds perfect. you deserve it.”

the conversation flowed easily unlike the one earlier. you updated her on the usual - work and office gossip. but eventually, the topic drifted to the bakery.

“i hope the new boy hasn’t burned the place down,” mrs earl began.

“he’s actually a pretty good baker,” you said. “his cream puffs are unreal-”

you paused for a moment before you added. “though i have to say, they make my stomach hurt whenever i eat them.”

the line went quiet.

“...please elaborate,” mrs earl chuckled softly.

“i mean- i don’t know,” you shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. “after i eat his pastries, my trips to the toilet are… traumatic.” you let out a small laugh. “but they’re so tasty, it’s worth the lactose intolerance.”

another silence followed, longer this time. you frowned slightly, shifting on the couch. 

“mrs earl?”

her voice finally came through, slower this time. “that’s.. impossible, my dear.”

“what do you mean?” you asked, sitting a little straighter.

“well,” she began carefully. “the bakery strictly uses oat milk. we don’t use any dairy products in our pastries.”

“...what?”

“the cream, the milk- everything is plant-based,” she continued. “it’s been that way for years. didn’t i tell you that when you first came in?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out.

mrs earl’s voice broke the silence again. “it could be something else. you’ve been stressed, haven’t you?”

“yeah..” you replied automatically, though your thoughts were far from the conversation.

“take care of yourself, honey,” she said gently. “i have to go, but call me again soon, okay?”

you nodded. “okay.. bye, mrs earl.”

“stay well, ‘____’.”

the call ended, leaving you sitting on the couch, phone in hand. for a long moment, you stared at the screen, her voice echoing in your head. 

the bakery strictly uses oat milk.

MONTH 1 - I WAS SPACING OUT

you sat at your regular table by the window, flipping through your notebook while sipping on your coffee.

you tapped your pencil against the table. yes, ‘traumatic’ was probably an exaggeration for your bathroom trips - but if there was no dairy in seonghwa’s cream puffs, then what was messing with your stomach?

you quickly shook your head, a sigh escaping your lips. ‘too weird to think about,’ you thought to yourself. whatever it was, the food was worth it.

you returned back to sketching, taking out your ruler to make straight lines. but as you drew, you couldn’t help but feel a certain someone’s eyes on you. 

“you’re staring again,” you said without looking up. 

a long pause settled over the bakery before you heard a, “..no, i wasn’t.”

you glanced up, a smile tugging at your lips. “wanna see what i’m working on?” 

and that was how seonghwa found himself unusually close to you, sitting beside you as you showed him your sketches - clean lines forming buildings, bridges and intricate floor plans. 

“you like drawing?” he asked.

“yeah,” you nodded, flipping to another page. “i wanted to be an architect.” 

seonghwa’s brow furrowed slightly. “then why aren’t you doing it?” 

you let out a laugh. “because i’m broke,” you said simply. “i’d rather work in an office than take out student loans.” 

you flipped through more sketches - some labelled with small notes in the margins while others had more detailed calculations. “it’s just a little hobby of mine.”

seonghwa’s eyes darted between you and the notebook. “this doesn’t look like a hobby,” he muttered.

you raised an eyebrow. “what does it look like then?”

“it looks like something you’re serious about.” 

you paused, blinking at him before leaning closer. “i’m serious about a lot of things, seonghwa- but that doesn’t mean i make a career out of them.”

the silence between you stretched as you flipped through the pages. the energy shifted to something you couldn’t quite explain - and as you tilted the notebook to show him a certain sketch, you realised that his eyes weren’t even on the paper anymore, they were on you. 

you sighed, closing the notebook. as you slipped it into your bag, you noticed how his eyes were still following you, sharp yet strangely soft with concern.

“don’t worry-” you said, smoothing out your clothes. “i’m perfectly content with where i am now.”

“are you?” he asked.

you met his eyes for a moment longer than usual. “yep,” you finished the last sip of your coffee. “how could i not be? free cream puffs and all, right?”

seonghwa didn’t respond.

“thanks for looking at my sketches,” you smiled, turning away. “hope i didn’t bother you.”

as he watched you walk out the door, he let out a slow sigh he didn’t realise he was holding, running a hand through his hair.

he stared up at the ceiling, leaning back into the chair. and for the first time in a long time, seonghwa felt sympathy. 

MONTH 2 - FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC 

over the past few weeks, you developed the habit of waving seonghwa over to join you whenever you stopped by the bakery. what started as polite small talk turned into embarrassing work stories you had.

this afternoon was no different. you sat across from him, coffee in one hand and a half-eaten cookie in the other, complaining about your friends’ latest questionable decision.

“yeah, she doesn’t listen to me,” you took a bite out of the cookie. “like- why fuck him if you hate him, y’know?”

behind his usual composed self, you caught the faintest twitch of seonghwa’s lips, followed by a sound so soft you almost missed it - a low chuckle.

you froze mid-bite. “did you just.. laugh?”

seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “yeah..?”

you leaned forward, eyes wide with excitement. “i’ve never seen you laugh before.”

“i’m sure you have,” he blinked.

“no, i would’ve remembered it,” you shook your head, grinning. “i like it.”

seonghwa choked, caught off guard. before he could even respond or process what you said, his phone buzzed in his apron pocket. he glanced at the screen and frowned.

“excuse me,” he said, heading to the small kitchen in the bakery, leaving you slightly confused.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

seonghwa pressed the phone to his ear. “what?” he asked.

“i got your poison ready,” san’s voice came through.

seonghwa nearly dropped his phone, swallowing the lump in his throat. “...really?”

“yeah- you wanted it extra strong, right?” san continued. “it took some tweaking, but it’s ready to go.”

the baker’s eyes darted to the half-open kitchen door. he could almost picture you sitting on the other side of it. “right… good.”

this was it. no more laxatives, no more delays.

it’s real now.

the thought of finishing the job left a strange knot in his chest - not dread exactly, but something close to it.

he wasn’t supposed to feel this way - no, he’s never felt this way. his work had always been detached. he never tried to make connections outside of the world of crime, didn’t deal with people who weren’t tied to his web of blood.

not until you came along.

you talked to him like he was.. normal. like he was a regular guy in a regular bakery.

he was finally seen as a person, not a killer. 

it was refreshing. 

“hello?” san’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“i uh-“ seonghwa cleared his throat, realising that he was silent for too long. “just leave the poison on my desk. i’ll get it later.

“sure,” san replied before adding, “but don’t overthink it, okay? just get it done.”

seonghwa hung up, staring at his phone for a moment before slipping it back into his pocket.

just get it done.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

from your seat, you only caught bits and pieces of seonghwa’s call. you didn’t mean to listen in, but your ears got carried away. 

his voice was low and hard to hear, muffled by the thin walls of the bakery - but one word stood out: poison.

your brows furrowed as you leaned back into your chair, the word echoing in your mind. poison? like food poisoning? did he get it? was that what you had?

you pushed those thoughts out of your mind. after all, what were the odds that your new friend seonghwa said something like ‘poison’ in a bakery of all places? you must’ve misheard.

the door creaked open as seonghwa stepped out, dusting his apron off as he walked back to the table.

“sorry about that,” he said, sitting across from you.

you tilted your head. “everything okay?”

“yeah,” he replied - but you swear you caught a hint of guilt in his eyes. “where were we?”

MONTH 3 - THIS ISN’T FUN ANYMORE

you wandered through the aisles that had shelves lined with tools, appliances and decorations. mrs earl invited you out for a little shopping spree, wanting to pick out a few things for her house.

as she inspected a stack of plates, something caught your attention - a small set of colourful forks, each with cute designs of fruits and animals.

“these are adorable,” you muttered as you picked it up.

mrs earl looked over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you liked these things.”

you shook your head, laughing softly. “oh- i do, but this is for seonghwa.”

“for seonghwa?” she raised an eyebrow.

“yeah,” you nodded. “he’s always giving me free food. i just thought it’d be nice to get him something.”

mrs earl’s lips curved into a knowing smile, though she said nothing. instead, she patted your shoulder and moved to examine another shelf.

over the past few weeks, seonghwa had become quite a good friend of yours. after all, you saw him everyday and you started to look forward to his presence whenever you stopped by.

and honestly? you’ve been wanting to pay him back for ages. all the free pastries, coffees and times he let you ramble on about work without looking annoyed. he needed.. compensation, if that was what it was called.

you sighed. what if he thought you were weird? well, it didn’t really matter - you wanted to do this.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the bakery was quiet and empty. seonghwa stood at the counter, his fingers gripping a small packet of crushed pills in one hand and the coffee you ordered in the other.

the poison felt heavier that it should, sinking into his palm as a reminder of what he was about to do. his mind spun, his thoughts fuzzy.

was this really happening?

he stared at the packet, his breathing shallow. it took him longer than usual to go near the wretched thing, let alone hold it. now, standing with the poison scarily close to your coffee, the reality set in.

your life was in his hands.

seonghwa’s chest tightened. he could just stop, throw the poison away, pour the coffee down the sink and pretend that none of this happened. after all, no one was forcing him to do this - except himself.

he sighed shakily, his fingers trembling as he began to shove the poison into his pocket.

but then the door swung open. you weren’t supposed to be back yet.

“hey seonghwa-!”

your voice startled him. his eyes snapped to the door as you walked in with paper bags, followed by mrs earl.

“i got you something-“ you said before your smile faltered, your eyes landing on the packet in his hand. “is that.. wait- is that drugs?”

seonghwa coughed, fully shoving it into his pocket quickly. “no- it’s not-”

your eyes narrowed - and before seonghwa could react, you went behind the counter and reached into his pocket, pulling out the packet.

“wait-”

your lips parted as you read the label. “...poison?” you breathed out.

the words hung in the air.

your eyes darted to the coffee cup still clutched in his other hand. it was unmistakably yours, your drink order obvious. and it didn’t take long for the pieces to click.

“are you-“ you gulped. “...are you trying to kill me?” you asked, your voice trembling.

seonghwa stood frozen, unable to respond. 

mrs earl, who was trailing behind, looked at the packet in your hand, then at seonghwa.

“what is the meaning of this?” she demanded. she stormed over to him, grabbing a nearby towel and smacking it across his shoulder. “i trusted you with my food! my bakery! and this is what you do?!”

seonghwa flinched but didn’t resist. his eyes, however, weren’t on mrs earl - they were on you.

you were completely still, the poison clutched in your hands. 

seonghwa opened his mouth to say something - anything, but the words died before they could form. you couldn’t even look at him, your eyes wide and unfocused.

ignoring how his chest tightened, he turned and dashed - leaving nothing but silence in the bakery.

mrs earl paced angrily, muttering curses under her breath. but you didn’t hear her - you couldn’t. your eyes remained fixed on the packet, your breathing heavy.

you sat down, throwing the poison far away from you. your heart pounded in your chest, each beat louder than the last. 

holy shit.

he was going to kill you. 

MONTH 4 - ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

you leaned back in your seat, stretching your arms above your head. you powered down your computer, your office building quiet - working overtime seemed more tiring than usual.

you grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder when your eyes landed on a small box tucked into the corner of your desk.

the fork set.

for weeks, you avoided looking at it. the sight of it was a reminder of the bakery - your now-dead friendship with seonghwa and the moment you realised he tried to kill you.

why did you even keep this?

you didn’t want to bring it home. you didn’t want to keep it at all. maybe it was time to throw it away and be done with it. 

you stepped out of your office building, the streets eerily silent. the only source of light you had were the streetlights that shined yellow light onto the pavement.

you clenched the fork set in your hands.

poison.

the word did circles around your mind, sending an uncomfortable feeling throughout your body. was that why your stomach always hurt after eating his pastries? was he actually trying to poison you the whole time?

the idea of it stung. you thought back to all the times you trusted him, to all the times you talked.

was any of it even real?

your thoughts were interrupted by the faint sight of movement you caught from the corner of your eye.

you stopped, glancing to the alley to your left. at first, it was hard to make out what you were seeing, the shadows dark. but then you froze.

a man stood there, holding a gun.

and someone else was infront of him, pinned against the wall.

your breath hitched when you realised who it was.

seonghwa.

his eyes locked onto yours, wide with fear as the gunman barked something you couldn’t hear. his face was bruised, blood smeared along his jaw and soaking his shirt.

you gulped.

this man tried to kill you. you could just.. walk away, pretend this didn’t happen.

you took a step back, everything in your body telling you to leave. but then, seonghwa’s trembling hand reached toward you, his fingers shaking as he silently pleaded.

shit.

you don’t know what compelled you - pity or something else entirely, but your grip tightened on the box in your hand. quickly, you opened it, grabbing the first fork you saw.

without thinking, you chucked it at the gunman.

the fork struck his shoulder with a dull thud, making him whip around in shock, pointing the gun at you.

your heart stopped. this was it.

but seonghwa worked fast.

grabbing the fork, he lunged forward with all the strength he had, driving it into the gunman’s neck.

the man stumbled, choking as he clawed at his throat, slumping to the ground.

seonghwa collapsed to his knees, panting heavily as the fork clattered from his hand to the pavement. blood dripped from his fingertips, pooling around him as he pressed a hand to his side, trying to stop his wound from bleeding.

“...thank you,” he managed to say, his voice hoarse.

you stared at him, your chest heaving. you stepped closer, looking down at his bloodied state. “damn it.”

seonghwa glanced up at you, his eyes filled with… gratitude? sincerity? relief? or was that desperation?

you sighed, shaking your head. “you’re lucky i’m a nice person.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“i’m sorry-”

“don’t talk to me,” you cut him off, shoving a cold can of soda into his hand.

you brought seonghwa to your office, the only place you could think of where he wouldn’t be found - or bleed out. he sat in your coworker’s chair, guilt written all over his face.

with a heavy sigh, you sank into your own chair across from him, leaning back as you tried to catch your breath.

for what felt like an eternity, the two of you sat in silence, your eyes locked in an unspoken fight. dark red tissues piled up beside seonghwa as he pressed another one to the cut on his cheek, wincing.

you didn’t want to feel sorry for him. you didn’t want to care. but seeing him like this - injured, his clothes stained with the horrid look of blood, made it impossible to ignore the way your stomach twisted.

“...how did you end up like this?”

your words cracked, betraying the hurt and confusion you tried so so hard to bottle up.

“i-” began before stopping himself, his voice faltering. he pressed his lips into a thin line, looking away from you. 

EARLIER THAT DAY

“wha-? you can’t say no, seonghwa,” hongjoong snapped. “this is your job.”

seonghwa slouched deeper into the couch, arms crossed over his chest. his eyes followed his boss as he paced around the room. “i don’t want to go.”

“‘i don’t want to go’,” hongjoong mocked, stopping mid-step to glare at him. “i’m not asking you to go, i’m telling you.”

seonghwa stayed silent.

“come on,” hoongjoong ran a hand through his hair. “we got a tip they’re loitering around these streets. the least you could do is check it out.”

‘they’.

aka the drug cartel that had been bothering hongjoong and the group for months. even then, seonghwa shook his head, refusing his boss’s orders.

hongjoong let out a frustrated sigh. “you’ve been like this ever since you failed to kill that girl. you’re depressed- go outside.”

seonghwa’s head snapped up. “i’m not depressed,” he glared.

“right,” hongjoong chuckled dryly. “because moping and lazing around is normal behavior for you. wake up.”

seonghwa bit back a retort, his nails biting into his palms. he wasn’t depressed. he wasn’t.

was he?

a heavy silence settled over the room. sure, the last few weeks have been.. off. he hadn’t been sleeping well. his appetite was nonexistent. and everytime he thought about you, he felt an ache in his heart that he couldn’t quite shake.

it wasn’t depression. it was just a.. slump.

he was not depressed. 

seonghwa sighed, rolling his eyes. “whatever,” he muttered finally. he pushed himself up. “i better be paid good for this.”

PRESENT

seonghwa gulped, staring at the bruises on his arms. finally, he met your eyes, shifting uncomfortably. “...it’s just my job.”

you crossed your arms. “your job?”

he said nothing.

“seonghwa-” you began, leaning forward. “what kind of job leaves you looking like this?”

his shoulders stiffened, and for a moment - you thought he wouldn’t answer. but then he sighed, wiping his bloody hands on his shirt. 

“if i tell you,” he said. “you need to promise me something.”

you raised an eyebrow. “promise what?”

“that you won’t tell anyone.”

a dry laugh escaped your lips. “i’m not promising anything. spit it out.”

“...i’m in a gang.”

“wha-” you stared at him, your face blank for a second before you let out a snort and cackle. “you’re joking, right?”

but when he didn’t laugh, you froze.

“wait- you’re not joking?” you asked, your voice quieter.

he shook his head.

his words hit you like a wave. your mind spun, connecting the dots - the poison, his sketchy behaviour, the guilty look in his eyes - it all fell into place.

“...is that why you tried to kill me?” you asked after a long pause. “what did i do?”

“that’s..” seonghwa trailed off, looking away. “unrelated.”

you rolled your eyes. “of course it is.”

his face softened into something almost remorseful. “i don’t really know how to talk about this,” he said. “but i know i’m sorry.”

“you didn’t have to save me, but you did,” he leaned forward. “and i keep wondering why- because if it was the other way around, i don’t think i would’ve done the same.”

you raised your eyebrow.

“i’m sorry, really,” he said, quieter now. “i don’t know what else i can say, but i just.. i don’t want you to think i’m taking any of it lightly.”

you stared at him, surprised by how sincere he was. “seonghwa..”

“i know an apology won’t fix anything,” he said. “but i’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

“whatever it takes?” you asked, furrowing your brows. 

he nodded quickly.

you scoffed, leaning in closer, your eyes piercing his. “if you really mean that, prove it.”

“i will,’ he said immediately.

“…uhuh,” you looked him up and down before standing, grabbing your bag. “you can start by cleaning the blood off of my coworker’s chair.”

he let out a faint chuckle, though it was more self-deprecating than anything. before you walked away, you paused, turning back to him.

“seonghwa?”

“yeah?”

you stepped closer, grabbing his collar and pulling him towards you. “before you try anything stupid, remember this: i still have that poison of yours.”

MONTH 5 - WALK HIM LIKE A DOG

you had to admit - it was convenient having your own personal assistant, even if the circumstances were… complicated.

it wasn’t like you asked for this arrangement. seonghwa brought it upon himself, showing up whenever you called. 

printer jammed? he’d be there in ten minutes. out of pens? he’d have a pack delivered to your desk. of course you didn’t trust him with tasks involving your drinks or food, but even then - he made himself useful with other things.

over time, you got used to calling him for simple errands - and he never complained. 

it was most definitely awkward though, especially when he tried to make small talk with you.

“..your hair looks nice,” he said once as he stood by your desk.

“thanks,” you replied, not looking up from your screen.

a moment passed. you glanced over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow when you noticed he was still standing there. “...do you need something?”

he quickly shook his head, turning away as he muttered an apology.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it amusing. as much as you hated to admit it, having him around wasn’t unbearable. 

as days turned into weeks, the distrust you held so tightly began to loosen its grip. it wasn’t like you forgot what he did, there were just moments when he seemed normal.

“you’re terrible at this,” you smirked, watching him struggle to assemble the new office chair you ordered.

he looked up at you. “i might be terrible, but at least i can read the instructions.”

you laughed.

but then you’d remember.

you’d remember the poison, the fact that this man tried to kill you for what seemed like no reason. 

and everything goes back to square one. 

MONTH 5.5 - T.G.I.F BY KATY PERRY

that friday, your coworkers insisted on dragging you out for a night at the club.

“let’s get wasted!” they said. “it’ll be fun!” they said.

that was probably a lie, but you gave in, changing your clothes before heading out.

neon lights shined erratically, painting the crowd in shifting shades of red, blue and green. bass-heavy music filled the club, so loud that it felt like waves went through your body. it was chaotic and packed to the brim with bodies swaying and stumbling.

it’d only been ten minutes and you already lost sight of your coworkers in the sea of people.

“shit,” you muttered under your breath, trying to find the exit. 

you pushed through drunk, clumsy dancers, finally spotting the door. but as you approached it, two towering men stepped infront of it, their shoulders forming an impenetrable wall.

“wha-?” you frowned, stopping. “i can’t leave?”

they didn’t respond.

“fine, whatever,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. if you were going to be stuck here, might as well grab a drink.

you made your way to the bar, squeezing between a group of rowdy patrons to get the bartender’s attention. but just as you opened your mouth to order, you heard a voice behind you.

“hey, angel.”

you paused, glancing behind to see a man standing way too close. he was quite well-dressed, but an unsettling smirk settled on his face.

“excuse me?” you raised an eyebrow.

“can i buy you a drink?” he purred, leaning closer. “i think i’ll regret it if i don’t.”

you blinked. “no, it’s okay-“

“-two shots of tequila,” he called out to the bartender, cutting you off. 

you stared at him, barely processing his words before a shot glass was placed infront of you, the clear liquid weirdly fizzing. 

“thank you, but i don’t-“

“drink.”

before you could react, his hand was at the back of your head, tilting it back as he pressed the shot glass to your lips. the liquid burned as it slid down your throat - making you cough violently while the heat seared your chest. 

“wha- what is happening?” you mumbled. your limbs felt heavy and your head was spinning as your vision blurred. 

the man’s smirk deepened, his face inches from yours as he gripped your wrist. “let me ask you something, angel.”

you blinked, your thoughts sluggish and messy.

“what do you know about a man named park seonghwa?”

the name hit you in the face, your breath hitching. “i-”

his grip on your wrist tightened painfully. “answer.”

“he’s just a baker,” you said quickly.

the man chuckled darkly, the sound sending a chill down your spine. “are you sure?”

you nodded, unable to form a response.

he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “then why did he poison my boss a few months ago?”

poison. 

that stupid stupid word haunting you again. 

the man laughed again, low and ominous. “you had a reaction there- you know something i don’t?”

you shook your head weakly, the motion making your dizziness worse. your knees buckled slightly, making you grip the edge of the sticky counter to steady yourself.

suddenly, the man’s phone buzzed in his pocket. he pulled it out, still holding you firmly in place.

“yeah,” he said after a moment. “i got his girlfriend right here.”

your eyes widened. “i’m not his girlfri-”

before you could finish, his hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your words.

“sleep,” he whispered, your world fading to black.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

seonghwa laid in bed, staring at the ceiling where his fan spun. with a sigh, he shifted under the covers, letting sleep take over him.

but just as he closed his eyes, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. his brows furrowed as he reached for it.

he swiped to answer it, not looking at the screen. “yes?”

“hey seonghwa,” a low, gruff voice was heard on the other end.

instantly, he was wide awake, sitting upright in the bed. his grip on the phone tightened. “...who is this?”

the voice chuckled. “i got your pretty little girlfriend right here- knocked out like a light.”

seonghwa paused. “...girlfriend?”

“yeah,” the man replied. “the chick you’re always hanging around. surprised you weren’t with her, thought i’d have to put up a fight.”

seonghwa’s blood turned cold as the realisation hit.

you.

he didn’t waste another second. he hung up immediately, throwing off the covers as he leapt out of bed, grabbing his jacket.

his footsteps echoed through the hideout as he stormed toward jongho’s room. he barged through the door without knocking, startling jongho who was hunched over his gaming setup.

jongho spun around in his chair. “what the hell-?”

“trace this number. now,” seonghwa shoved the phone into jongho’s hands.

jongho blinked. “i’m in the middle of a game.”

“i don’t care.”

jongho groaned, taking his headset off as he tapped the phone screen. “fine.”

seonghwa paced around the room like a caged animal - his fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to calm himself down. if they’d taken you, it was most definitely his fault. 

“got it,” jongho said after a while, typing something into his laptop. “you want me to track the phone too?”

“yes-” seonghwa snapped. “hurry.”

jongho glanced up at him, his brows furrowed. “what’s going on?”

“someone has her,” seonghwa muttered.

jongho’s eyes widened slightly, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “i thought you were over her?”

“wha- no,” seonghwa glared at him. “just find her.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you slowly woke up, your head throbbing. your first attempt to open your eyes was met with darkness. no - something pressed against your face. a blindfold. 

your body felt stiff, the coarse bite of rope digging into your wrists and ankles. inhaling shakily, you realised something else: your mouth was muffled by a towel, trapping your cries before they could escape.

panic ran around your mind as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. the surface beneath you swayed gently - and you could hear the occasional creak of metal together with muffled voices. a vehicle. you were in a moving vehicle.

but out of nowhere, you heard a shout.

“shit!”

the vehicle swerved violently, the tires screeching against the asphalt with a sound sharp enough to make you wince. your body jerked with the motion, the restraints keeping you in place. tears spilled beneath your blindfold, your breaths shallow and rapid against the towel.

the screeching came to an abrupt stop, followed by the jarring slam of a door.

what came next was a symphony of screams and the sickening, wet sounds of a blade piercing flesh, bodies hitting the ground. you clenched your fists, trembling.

the next door opened. 

another scream. 

another stab.

then silence.

your chest heaved, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. was this it? were you next?

then your blindfold slipped away.

your eyes fluttered open, the tears caught in your lashes making your eyelids feel heavy. when your vision eventually cleared, the first thing you saw was him.

seonghwa. his face splattered with blood, his dark eyes wide as he searched yours. his chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath.

“are you okay?” he asked, removing the towel from your mouth.

tears spilled down your cheeks faster now, your emotions overwhelming you in a way you’ve never felt before.

seonghwa’s face softened as he wiped your tears with his thumb, the blood on his hands smearing across your skin.

he moved to the ropes binding your wrists and ankles, his hands working quickly. 

“i’m sorry,” he said softly. “i’m so sorry- shit. i should’ve stayed away from you.”

the moment you were free, you threw your arms around him. he stiffened at first, caught off guard, but then his hands moved to your back.

your body shook against his as you cried. over his shoulder, you saw the man at the bar - his lifeless body crumpled on the ground, stab wounds dotting him.

“i’m so sorry,” seonghwa whispered again, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. “this is all my fault.”

you pulled back slightly, your face still wet with tears. his hands stayed on your shoulders. “did they hurt you?” he asked softly.

you shook your head.

the vehicle fell into a heavy silence, the only sounds being your sniffling.

seonghwa gulped. “i’m sorry-”

“-thank you,” you said at the same time.

both of you froze, your words overlapping.

you chuckled, tears still clinging to your lashes.

“i’m really sorry,” he said once more, his voice cracking.

you studied him for a moment, taking in his disheveled hair, the blood on his skin and the exhaustion in his eyes. 

“...were you sleeping?” you asked, noticing the pajama shirt peeking out from under his jacket.

“yeah, i was about to.”

your eyes widened. “you saved me even though you were about to sleep?”

he raised an eyebrow. “was i not supposed to?” 

you stared at him, stunned. “...thank you.”

MONTH 6 - JUST DO IT

you’ve been staring at the text for hours, the words glowing on your phone screen.

let’s meet up.

seonghwa sent it to you that morning. no follow-up, no explanation, just those three words. and yet, they felt more heavy than you could even imagine.

what could you even say?

you tried to distract yourself, grabbing your laptop and scrolling through social media, but nothing held your attention for more than a second. your mind kept drifting back to the message.

your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with another notification. not him. but you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at the text again.

let’s meet up.

‘he saved you-’ you reminded yourself. ‘-but he also tried to kill you.’

it should’ve been simple. black and white. a clear boundary between trust and mistrust. but nothing about seonghwa was simple.

when you thought about him, the first thing that came to mind wasn’t the poison or the lies. 

it was his hands, trembling as he untied you. 

it was his voice, breaking with regret as he apologised. 

it was the way he looked at you, like he didn’t deserve your forgiveness but was desperate for it anyway.

you hated it.

you hated that he saved you. hated how jumbled your feelings were.

and most of all, you hated how much time you spent thinking about him and his stupidly flawless face. 

you groaned, tossing your phone onto the couch. “this is ridiculous.”

this wasn’t what you needed right now. you grabbed your bag and went out the door. maybe grocery shopping would clear your head.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the store was crowded, filled with after-work shoppers. you walked aimlessly, picking up a few essentials here and there, but your mind was still on that text.

you stopped at the fridges, grabbing a drink. but as you turned to place it in your basket, you collided with someone. “watch it-” you began.

your words fell short when you realised you bumped into seonghwa, his phone in one hand and an awkward expression on his face. his eyes widened - and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“hey,” he said finally.

you blinked, letting out a nervous chuckle. “hey,” you raised your free hand in a small wave.

“...can we talk?”

you nodded slowly. “yeah,” you put your drink into your basket. “what’s up?”

seonghwa glanced around, looking at the other shoppers nearby. “maybe not here.”

you nodded, heading to the checkout line without another word.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you sat beside seonghwa on a wooden bench, your grocery bag resting at your feet. the both of you settled down in a park, a quieter and less busy place where you could actually breathe.

you reached for your drink, opening it. “thirsty?” you asked, holding it out to him.

he shook his head.

“i didn’t poison it,” you smirked.

seonghwa gave you a look, his ears turning pink. “you know i feel bad about that,” he muttered.

you chuckled softly, taking a sip. “sorry, sorry,” you said, turning to face him fully. “what did you want to talk about?”

he paused, hesitating as he fiddled with the edge of his jacket. “i just wanted to apologise,” he said finally.

you sighed setting the drink aside. “seonghwa- this is the hundredth time you’ve said that.”

“i know but-”

“i forgive you,” you said, your mouth moving faster than your mind.

his head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. “what?”

“i forgive you,” you repeated, more confidently this time.

“...really?” he asked, completely shocked.

“yeah,” you shrugged. “you saved me. and it’s not like i can stay mad at you forever.”

seonghwa blinked. “you definitely can,” he said. “i wouldn’t blame you for it.”

silence fell between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. 

his fingers brushed against yours accidentally - and he instantly pulled his hand back, his face turning a shade of red. “oh my god- i’m so sorry-”

“seonghwa,” you interrupted, reaching for his hand and holding it gently - his fingers slightly calloused. “stop apologising.”

“i can’t help it,” he admitted quietly.

everything seemed to come to a standstill.

the distant sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling faded into the background. your eyes locked, time pausing.

neither of you spoke.

slowly, almost unconsciously, you both leaned closer. the faint warmth of his breath brushed against your lips, uneven and nervous, mirroring your own.

you blinked, your breath caught in your throat when you realised just how close his face was to yours. “woah..” you whispered.

seonghwa immediately leaned back, clearing his throat. “sorry-”

before he could retreat any further, you reached out instinctively, your fingers curling around his jaw - his skin hot under your touch. “stop saying that,” you mumbled, your thumb brushing lightly against his cheek.

he froze, his eyes searching yours for something - permission, reassurance or maybe a blend of both.

you saw how he looked down at your lips for a split second, his adam’s apple bobbing. “...is this okay?” seonghwa breathed out shakily. 

you smiled softly, your thumb tracing slow circles on his jaw. “of course.”

the moment his lips pressed against yours, the world disappeared. 

his shoulders relaxed as he leaned into you, his hand rising to cup your cheek. his touch was careful, as if he was afraid of hurting you in some way.

your lips moved together in a soft, slow rhythm, the warmth of him spreading through you like a comforting fire. 

the sensation was intoxicating - and you found yourselves melting into each other’s touch. 

seonghwa’s breath hitched as he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss. his heart pounded against yours, a blush creeping up his neck, leaving him lightheaded.

when you finally pulled back, your lips were tingling. and before you could say anything, seonghwa leaned forward again, leaving a trail of kisses along your jawline.

“hey!”

a voice broke the moment like a needle popping a balloon. both of you jumped, your heads snapping toward the sound.

a parent stood not too far away, their hands clamped over their child’s eyes. “please do this at home or something,” they said, glaring at the two of you before walking away quickly.

you and seonghwa exchanged a look, your cheeks flushing as you tried to stifle your laughter.

“yeah,” he said, looking into your eyes, then at your lips. “let’s do this somewhere else.”

series taglist [OPEN] - @hanoishere @scuzmunkie @sinfullygay @arusio @midnightrebel1028 @neemaxx @seungminsrighthand @arilevenatz @ateezswonderland @beabatiny @lemirabitur @sunnyhokyu @frzzenfrxg @cylovesmg @txtsoobean @seonghwasslytherin @sundaybossanova @sweetinsaniiity @cybrnaya @choisanchwego @mrskill2 @devilzliaison @scary-thingz @gaonashi @jonghosbrainrot @mintchocoyum

BONUS SCENE - CUE THE MARIACHI BAND

you stirred awake to the faint aroma of something tasty wafting through the air. groggily, you rubbed your eyes open, only to find seonghwa standing by the bed, a tray in his hands.

“happy anniversary,” he said softly, his lips curving into a smile.

you pushed yourself up on the pillows, your eyes wide with surprise as you took in the tray - a plate of freshly baked bread and scrambled eggs.

“thank you..” you mumbled, half-asleep but touched by the gesture.

seonghwa stepped closer, carefully placing the tray on your lap. he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “eat quickly,” he said with a hint of excitement. “i got you something.”

you raised an eyebrow. “i thought we said no gifts this year.”

he shrugged, smirking. “i lied.”

you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop a smile from forming on your lips. you grabbed a piece of bread and started eating. it was perfect, just like everything he made.

when you were finished, you slid out of bed, wrapping your cardigan tighter around yourself. you walked to where seonghwa was, sitting next to him.

“seonghwa,” you began. “we agreed- no gifts.”

“i know,” he said, reaching for something on the coffee table. “but i changed my mind.”

your eyes landed on the envelope in his hands. you stared at it as he handed it to you, your brows furrowing slightly. “what’s this?” you asked, taking it hesitantly.

“open it.”

sliding your finger under the seal, you pulled out a letter. as your eyes skimmed the words, your jaw dropped.

“...is this-?”

“yeah.”

“you paid for my school?!” you exclaimed in disbelief.

he nodded. “you wanted to be an architect, right?”

“i do but..” you looked at him in shock, the letter trembling in your hands. “isn’t it expensive?”

“so?” he leaned closer to you, pulling you gently towards him.

your lips parted, trying to form words. “but you paid in full-”

“it doesn’t matter,” he cut you off softly, pecking your cheek. “i wanted to do it. for you.”

you searched his eyes, completely stunned. he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. 

when you eventually pulled away, he didn’t let you go fully. instead, he smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “happy anniversary.”

deleted scenes | other fics

THE CLIFFHANGER?!?!??

I need the next part (of course take your time)

strangers by nature | vi

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 6.6K Warnings: angst, character d*ath, attacks on animals, mentions of blood, swearing, mentions of mental health, only half proofread, use of crude language

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a/n: it hurt me to write this chapter 😭

You weren’t particularly close to your father. His life revolved around his work—the family business he hadn’t wanted but had accepted out of obligation when your uncles, San and Jongho’s fathers, stepped aside, unwilling to subject their sons to the challenges of running a conglomerate.

Sometimes you wished he had done the same too. 

He was often away, traveling to meet clients or locked in endless board meetings. He wasn’t the type of man to swoop in with comforting words or a warm embrace. Instead, he listened without interrupting, nodded without judgment, and spoke only when he felt it was necessary. Despite the distance between you, his steady presence had a way of making you feel oddly secure.

And maybe that was why, as you paced the length of your penthouse, you found yourself dialing his number. Mingi followed your every move, his small body glued to your side. He kept glancing up at you, occasionally tripping you with how close he was.

“Come on, pick up, pick up…” You muttered to yourself. Your pacing carried you in a loop—through the kitchen, into the dining room you barely used, and then into the living room. Then, you wandered back into the kitchen, your footsteps quickening with every unanswered ring.

“Y/N?”

Your shoulders sagged in relief, and you stopped pacing, planting yourself in the middle of the kitchen as Mingi bumped up against your ankles. 

“Dad!”

“Is everything alright?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the phone. How were you supposed to explain everything that had transpired the last few weeks without sounding unhinged? 

What were you even supposed to say? Hi, Dad. Quick question: Are you sure the woman you’re married to is actually my mother?

Your parents’ marriage had always seemed like a curious thing to you. It was a product of an arrangement. Yet, over the years, your father’s quiet gestures of affection seemed to keep your mother content, even happy.

Surely, he couldn’t have had an affair.

The idea felt absurd, but then again, you’d always felt like a stranger in your own home, an outsider looking in at a family that didn’t quite seem to know where you fit.

“I-I need to talk to you about something. I didn’t want to call mom because…you know how she gets.”

Your mother had a flair for theatrics, a tendency to turn even the smallest inconvenience into a grand production. If you’d called her instead, the situation would have escalated before you even finished explaining. 

“What’s going on?”

“I…” You faltered for a moment, running a hand through your hair before continuing your train of thought.

“There’s this woman who I think has been stalking me. A friend of mine was dogsitting Maro when she approached him at the park.” Your voice dropped slightly, recounting your conversation with Yeosang. 

“She recognized Maro…and referred to me as her daughter.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you took a moment to crouch down and stroke Mingi’s fur as he leaned into your side. 

“I don’t know who she is,” you admitted softly. “But…something about her felt wrong. And it’s been bothering me ever since.”

“Did she hurt you or Maro?”

“No, but she tried to abduct a little girl a few weeks ago. We stopped her and she fled.”

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me carefully,” he said, his tone suddenly firm. 

You froze mid-step, his words rooting you in place. “Okay,” you said hesitantly, your voice small.

“I need you to stay put,” he continued. “Don’t do anything or go anywhere, especially not alone. I’m going to call the lawyers and have them review the court order and police files.”

“Court order?” you repeated, confusion rising in your chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Call either San or Jongho,” he said instead, his tone softening just enough to sound like a plea. 

“Let them know I’ve asked one of them to stay with you until we sort this out.”

“Dad, what court order?” you pressed, gripping the phone tighter as your heart raced. 

Mingi, sensing your distress, pawed at you insistently, his soft whines urging you to sit down. But you couldn’t move, couldn’t tear your focus away from the ominous edge in your father’s voice.

“There was an incident when you were three. If she is who I think she is, she’s someone we dealt with a long time ago.”

“Who?”

“Your former nanny,” he admitted, his voice steady but grim. “She tried to take you,” he said bluntly. 

“At first, she seemed fine. Kind, attentive, everything you’d want for a child. But things started escalating. Your mother noticed something was off right after she lost her own daughter in an accident. She’d grown too attached to you. Too possessive. We let her go, but before we could take any legal action, she attempted to abduct you.”

“She tried to kidnap me?”

“She managed to evade security at first. It was like any other day. But by the time we realized what was happening, she was already on her way to the airport with you.” 

The room spun, and before you realized it, you had sunk to the floor. The color drained from your face as the weight of the revelation hit you. Mingi froze, his small body going still as he struggled to process the gravity of what he was hearing.  

He let out a soft whine, curling closer to you. He hadn’t fully understood your fears, the reasons behind your walls, the way panic sometimes overtook you without warning.

Now, as a dog, powerless to do anything but sit beside you, the weight of guilt felt almost unbearable.

“We caught her in time,” he continued quickly, his tone shifting, as if trying to calm you. 

“She didn’t make it far. Security intercepted her at the gate just as she was preparing to board a flight. We filed charges immediately and she was arrested.”

“But?” you scoffed. “Your money and influence couldn’t keep her behind bars?”

“We didn’t think she’d ever get out, Y/N. The charges were serious, and the evidence was solid. At the time, we were assured she’d be locked away for decades.” He hesitated, and for a moment, you thought you heard his voice waver. 

“You were so young. We didn’t want to burden you with something you wouldn’t even remember. We thought we could protect you from it all.”

“So much for power,” you muttered bitterly, rubbing your temples. “She seems to be escalating. She’s openly trying to kidnap children now. Who knows what else she’s capable of?”

Your father’s sigh was heavy. “Which is why you’re not to go anywhere alone, Y/N. Not until this is resolved.”

“Dad—”

“I’ll be increasing the security presence around the penthouse as well. And before you ask, yes, I'll be coordinating with Mingi’s family to ensure their resources are aligned with ours.”

The mention of your in-laws made your stomach twist. They were probably unaware of the situation, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. You could already imagine your mother-in-law spinning the story to her social circle about her damsel of a daughter-in-law and how her poor son was unable to save her. The thought of being the centerpiece of their gossip left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Make sure there’s a secure presence at the hospital too,” you said, cutting in before the conversation could linger on your in-laws. 

“She might try something there.”

Your father arched a brow. He knew you didn’t particularly like being married to Mingi—he wasn’t blind to the strain in your relationship. Truthfully, he regretted agreeing to the arrangement in the first place. He’d witnessed firsthand the coldness with which Mingi had treated you, most notably the way he’d rebuffed your birthday gathering that first year of marriage. It had been a bitter reminder that not all alliances were worth the price they came with.

But upon hearing your request, it made him realize that you had always been kinder, and more compassionate than those around him. While he had always seemed distant, caught up in his own world of business and power, moments like these reminded him that you had grown into someone he was proud of. Someone who cared, even for those who didn’t deserve it.

“Is there anything else that you need?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head slightly. “But I’m not going to live in fear forever. She doesn’t get to have that power over me.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just want you to be safe.”

The line disconnected and you set the phone down, your hand lingering on it for a moment before turning back to Mingi. You felt a surge of emotions–anger, frustration, fear, and a flicker of determination. 

But when you saw him sitting patiently on the floor, watching you intently with his big eyes, fluffy ears, and wrinkled nose, everything inside you softened. The weight of the world seemed to melt away in that moment, and your heart ached with affection. 

“You’re so cute, I can’t stand it,” you squealed, the intensity of your emotions spilling out in a completely unexpected way. 

Without thinking, you scooped him into your arms, pressing your face against his soft fur as you swayed back and forth with him. Mingi melted into your embrace, his small body going limp as he relished your warmth. 

“I just want to squish you!” you exclaimed, giggling as you kissed him between the ears. 

Mingi let out a soft, rumbling growl, not out of annoyance but because he didn’t know how else to respond to the flood of emotions washing over him. If only you knew how deeply he wanted to protect you, not just as a dog, but as the man who had failed to see your worth for far too long.

“I should probably text the group chat,” you murmured, reaching for your phone while balancing Mingi securely in your other arm.

[Y/N]: My dad said I can have a sleepover

[Grumpy Bear]: fuck yeah

[Mountain Mayne]: Can Kira come too?”

[Y/N]: Only Kira, you stay home

⋆

Mingi found himself scowling, scooped up in San’s arms, as the four of you lounged in your living room, covered in mountains of blankets, pillows, and snacks. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in this situation, but he was definitely not thrilled when your cousins and San’s fiancée came crashing into the penthouse after you summoned them with a single text.

“Why isn’t the dog distribution system working for us?” San asked, holding Mingi out toward Kira like he was some kind of offering. Mingi shot him a glare, but the effect was somewhat lost given his tiny size and the way his fur poofed up around his face.

“Because we already have three cats at home,” she replied, chomping on a piece of cheese without looking up from her phone. San sighed dramatically, pulling Mingi back to cradle him like a baby. 

“Don’t worry, Maro, I'll save you from your owner and her evil husband.”

Mingi bristled, his fur puffing out even more. He barked indignantly, but it only made San laugh as he nuzzled Mingi’s fluffy face.

“Yeah, if the evil husband ever wakes up,” Jongho snorted from under his fortress of blankets. 

The room fell silent, save for the faint sound of Howl’s Moving Castle playing in the background. Mingi froze, his small body tensing in San’s arms. His ears flattened against his head as Jongho’s words echoed in his mind. 

Sure, he hadn’t been a perfect husband. He wasn’t even sure he’d been a good one. But…evil?

“Oh come on, that’s not fair,” you replied, albeit with an edge to your tone. 

“What?” Jongho raised his hands defensively, his expression a mix of guilt and awkwardness. 

“It was a joke. I mean, come on, the guy cheated, publicly humiliated you… you can do so much better, Y/N.”

“I know a good divorce lawyer,” Kira added, waving her phone as if the solution to your problems was just a call away. 

The truth of their words clawed at Mingi, a painful reminder of everything he’d done wrong. He wanted to bark, to growl, to defend himself, but what could he even say? That they were wrong? They weren’t. Not completely.

You inhaled sharply, your lips pressing into a thin line as you plopped down next to San. He glanced at you, but you ignored it, your focus entirely on the small dog curled stiffly in his arms.

“I get it,” you said finally, your voice clipped as you reached out and gently plucked Maro out of your cousin’s arms. He went still in your hold, his small body tensing as he waited for what you’d say next.

“Mingi has his own problems, but right now, he doesn’t have anyone in his corner. I don’t know what will happen when he wakes up, but it’s not fair to say things like that when he’s not here.” You cradled him closer, your touch instinctively protective as if shielding him from their judgement. 

Jongho exhaled loudly, his earlier confidence deflating as he sank deeper into the pile of blankets. “Fair point,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. That was out of line.”

Mingi stayed silent, nestled in your arms, his mind racing. You could have left him at the hospital. You could have walked away, started over. Hell, maybe you should have. You could have even entertained the thought of dating Seonghwa, or Yeosang, or anyone else. Anyone but him.

But you hadn’t.

You spent countless nights in that hospital room, talking to him, even when he couldn’t say anything back. You stood up for him, even now, when he didn’t deserve it.

Mingi could picture it so clearly: someone else making you laugh, someone else holding your hand, someone else seeing the best parts of you. 

Maybe they were right, he thought bitterly. Maybe you really could do better. 

But even if that was true, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. Not when there was still a sliver of hope that he might wake up, make amends, and find a way back to being the man you once believed he could be.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” you announced, rising to your feet with an exaggerated stretch. “It’s way past bedtime.”

“I’ll stay here,” San declared. “In case your stalker tries anything.”

“Good for you, honey,” Kira patted his shoulder. “But I’m going into one of the guest rooms because that’s what sane people do.”

“You’ve got this covered,” Jongho muttered sleepily, dragging himself out of the blanket pile. He stretched with a loud yawn and shuffled toward his room without even waiting for a reply.

“We’re supposed to be in this together,” San grumbled, throwing a pillow halfheartedly at Jongho’s retreating figure. It missed by a wide margin, flopping harmlessly to the floor.

As you slipped into your room, the shift was immediate. The air turned quiet and soft, a reprieve from the playful chaos outside. You closed the door gently and set Mingi down on the bed, his fluffy body sinking into the plush comforter.

He sat perfectly still, watching you move around the room. You pulled back the covers on your side of the bed and fluffed the pillows before finally settling in.

Patting the space beside you, you called softly, “Time for bed.”

He padded over, his small paws making barely a sound as he climbed onto the blankets and curled up near your side. When he tucked his nose into the crook of your neck, you giggled.

“I love you. Night night, puppy,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

As you drifted off to sleep, Mingi stayed awake, tracing the gentle slope of your nose to the soft curve of your lips. It all seemed so fleeting, like everything could slip away in the blink of an eye. 

He sighed softly, rolling onto his back and then to his side again, unable to find a comfortable position. San’s snores rumbled faintly through the door, a reminder of the others nearby. But Mingi’s mind was too restless to relax.

His mind drifted to his last task: What did it mean to offer you happiness without expecting anything in return?

Isn’t it about giving you what you wanted? Protecting you, making you laugh, or ensuring you were never alone? But the more he thought about it, the more complicated it became.

How could he possibly give you that when so much of his past had been spent hurting you?

He remembered the times he’d chosen his own pride over your feelings, the cruel words he couldn’t take back, the moments he’d walked away when you needed him most. He had made you feel small, like you were the one who didn’t belong, the one who wasn’t good enough for him, all while he continued living his life while you were left to pick up the pieces of your own. 

“You’re home all the time, don’t you have any friends?”

Your response had been blunt, cold, almost dismissive. 

“No, they’re dead.”

That was all you said to him. No explanation, just a heavy finality that left him speechless. He didn’t know what it meant then, but now, looking back, it felt like a confession, a glimpse into a part of you that was buried beneath the walls you’d built to protect yourself after losing Hongjoong.  

Kim Hongjoong, the ghost of a man who had never left your heart. The man who had held a place there long before Mingi had even existed in your life. And in that moment, jealousy crept in. It was sharp, bitter, the thought of losing you to a ghost threatening to consume him.

He hated that Hongjoong would always carry that piece of your heart he couldn’t touch, a piece that belonged to someone who had once been your everything. Because in this moment, Mingi, more than anything, coveted that place in your heart. 

No matter how much he tried to remind himself that he was here, that he was now, it didn’t quell the sense of inadequacy growing within him. He couldn’t love you with the expectation of erasing your past or taking what wasn’t his to have.

If he was to prove himself, to earn his humanity, it couldn’t be about him. It had to come from a place of selflessness. He had to love you for who you were, even if it meant living in the shadow of a ghost. Even if it meant never being able to fully claim a place in your heart.

Even if it might mean accepting that some parts of you could never belong to him, no matter how much he wanted them to. And as painful as that truth was, Mingi knew it was the only way forward.

He nestled into your side, his fluffy form fitting snugly against you as he placed a paw against your nose. The steady rise and fall of your chest soothed him, reminding him that he was yours, even if it was only as Maro. 

“I’m so bored,” you groaned, hanging your head over the back of the couch dramatically. The ceiling wasn’t particularly interesting, but you were so desperate for stimulation that you started counting the corners of the crown molding.

Kira glanced over from the kitchen, her brow furrowing in concentration as she whisked a bowl of batter with a bit too much vigor. 

“You should try being useful. Come help me bake.”

“I’d rather be anywhere but here,” you muttered, sliding further down the couch until you were almost horizontal. “I’ve seen every corner of this penthouse.” 

“Drama queen,” she said lightly. “You’re safe here. That’s what matters. And besides, I thought you’d enjoy the time off.”

“Time off from what?”

“I don’t know? The hospital? The back and forth must be draining.”

You hummed in response, though that was all you could muster. Draining wasn’t quite the word for it. It was true the days spent at the hospital had a way of blurring together, but you didn’t mind staying there. In some strange way, it felt right.

At the hospital, you had a routine. You’d arrive in the evening, lay on the sofa and stare out into nothingness. Sometimes you’d read, talk to him about trivial things, or just sit quietly, the hum of the monitors filling the silence. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A way to show him that he wasn’t alone, even if he couldn’t respond.

Because deep down, you knew he needed someone on his side.

It wasn’t easy to admit, even to yourself, but a part of you still held out hope for reconciliation. Not the fairytale kind, where everything magically resolved and all wounds were healed, but something quieter. A mutual understanding, perhaps. A moment where he’d open up, even just a little, and let you see the person behind all the walls he’d built.

You knew he was hurting. You’d always known, even when he tried to mask it with anger or indifference. His actions, the coldness, the distance, the biting remarks, were all symptoms of something deeper.  

But there was another part of you, a quieter voice that you couldn’t ignore. The part that braced for no change at all. That prepared for the possibility that when, if, he woke up, he’d still be the same person he was before. That he’d still look at you like you were the problem, the obstacle, the thing standing in the way of his happiness.

That part of you longed for freedom.

You’d spent so much time tangled up in his chaos, in his pain, that you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to just...be.

Maybe, if and when he woke up, he’d be willing to part ways. And maybe that would be for the best.

“I ran out of eggs!”

You blinked, momentarily disoriented. “What?”

“Eggs!” she repeated, holding up the empty carton. “I can’t believe I forgot them. I’m halfway through making this cake, and now I have to stop everything to run to the store.”

“I’ll go with you!” you said quickly, standing up from the couch so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet.

Kira froze, narrowing her eyes at you. “You know you’re not supposed to leave.”

“And you’re supposed to be at the courthouse, but here you are, baking a cake for a man.”

“First of all, it’s called paid time off,” she replied, narrowing her eyes further. “Secondly, San’s stroke game is top tier.”

“Oh my God, stop!” you cut her off, throwing your hands up. 

“I do not want to hear about your sex life with my cousin. He used to eat mud as a kid.”

Kira rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. “Anyway,” she continued, “your dad would absolutely kill me. He gave strict orders to keep you here. And unlike you, I actually follow them.”

“Come on, Kira,” you pleaded. Your eyes landed on Maro, lounging nearby. You scooped him up in one swift motion, holding him up like a fluffy shield. 

“Even Maro thinks it’s a good idea!”

Mingi tilted his head, his dark eyes widening as he gave Kira his best impression of a sad, helpless puppy.

“Look at him. He’s begging you.”

Kira groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s a quick trip. Five minutes, tops,” you promised, your tone bordering on desperate. “I won’t go anywhere, I’ll stay by your side the entire time!”

She sighed, clearly wavering. “Fine.”

The ding of the store’s bell announced your arrival, and the comforting smell of fried food from the deli counter made your stomach grumble. Kira grabbed a basket, striding purposefully toward the back where the eggs were stashed.

“Eggs,” she said firmly, shooting you a warning glance over her shoulder.

“Got it,” you replied, though your eyes immediately wandered to the chip aisle.

The small store was quiet, almost unnervingly still, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. As you followed Kira, your gaze flicked around the store—a habit you’d picked up recently without fully realizing it. Your shoulders tensed, the faint prickling sensation at the back of your neck making you feel exposed. It was probably nothing, you told yourself, trying to brush it off.

Kira tossed a carton of eggs into the basket and turned to you with a raised brow. “Anything else?”

Her voice startled you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before grabbing a bag of chips from a nearby rack and a pack of chocolate-covered pretzels from the next shelf over.

“Alright, ready!” you chirped. 

The cashier rang up your items without much fuss, and soon you were both on your way. But as the store door clicked shut behind you, that sense of discomfort returned. You glanced over your shoulder, your movements slow and deliberate, as if any sudden motion might draw unwanted attention.

Your eyes darted to the empty street ahead, scanning the familiar buildings and darkened windows. It looked deserted, but the nagging feeling told you otherwise.

“You okay?” Kira asked, noticing your hesitation.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, the word tumbling out a little too fast. You forced a smile, hoping it looked convincing. 

You told yourself it was nothing, a stray thought feeding your paranoia. But as you turned the corner toward your apartment, your worst fears materialized. A shadow detached itself from the side of a building ahead, stepping into the weak glow of the nearest streetlamp. Your stomach dropped, and your chest tightened when you noticed the glint of the knife in hand. 

“Y/N.”

Your stalker. Your former nanny. 

Kira froze beside you, her posture immediately tense. Her free hand twitched toward her phone, but her other gripped your arm tightly, as if anchoring you in place. You shook her off with a small, almost imperceptible gesture, your lips moving silently to form the words: Call San.

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t argue. She stepped back, her movements careful as she pulled her phone from her pocket.

“Hey…mom,” you said, your voice trembling but just steady enough to hold its own. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but it was all you could think of to buy yourself time.

The woman’s head tilted, her expression softening into something disturbingly tender. “Oh, my sweet Y/N,” she cooed, taking a step closer. 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” she continued. “You’ve grown so much. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

The delusion in her voice sent ice down your spine. She didn’t just see you as a person. You were a possession—something she believed she owned.

“It’s been a while,” you said cautiously, keeping your tone light, though your hands trembled at your sides. 

“What…what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take you home!”

“Right…home,” you repeated, your stomach churning at the word. You took a step back, careful to keep your movements slow and nonthreatening. 

“Why don’t we go for a walk and catch up? I just ate, and walking helps with digestion. Did you know that?”

The woman blinked, her head tilting further to the side. For a moment, she seemed caught off guard by the suggestion.

“A walk?” she echoed, suspicion flickering across her face before fading into hesitant curiosity. “You want to spend time with me?”

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “O-Of course! I mean, it’s been so long, right? We have so much to talk about.”

Behind you, Kira moved as quietly as possible, her phone pressed to her ear as she whispered into the receiver. The nanny walked ahead, still clutching the knife tightly in her hand as your figures disappeared into the darkness.

⋆

Mingi paced restlessly around the penthouse, his claws clicking softly against the floor. His tail flicked with agitation, and his ears twitched, straining to catch a sound that wasn’t there. Something felt wrong—deeply, inexplicably wrong. You were only supposed to be gone with Kira for five  minutes. 

But those five minutes had turned to an hour. 

The door to the penthouse slammed open, and Jongho burst inside, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. His face was pale and his brow furrowed deeply as he listened to the voice on the other end.

“Yes, I’m here now,” he said hurriedly, his tone clipped and tense. Mingi froze mid-step, his ears flicking forward as Jongho’s words sank in. Looking for you? His heart dropped. Did something happen to you?

“I’ll stay here in case she comes back. Yes, San and Kira are out looking for her along with law enforcement.”

Mingi’s nose twitched, catching the faint remnants of Jongho’s scent. There was something else mingled with it—the sharp tang of fear. A shiver ran down his spine. Jongho wasn’t scared for himself; he was scared for you.

In his frenzy, Jongho forgot to shut the door completely. It clicked behind him, but the latch didn’t catch, leaving it slightly ajar as he retreated further into the penthouse. 

Mingi knew you were most definitely scared, but were relying on your wit to keep your abductor as distracted for as long as possible. But it could only go so far. You needed help. You needed him.

He darted after Jongho, letting out a short, sharp yip that made him turn with a frown.

“Maro?” Jongho’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Mingi barked again, more insistent this time. He jumped in place, then headbutted Jongho's leg with surprising force, urging him toward the hallway. When Jongho still didn’t move, Mingi let out a sharp yip, trotted to the door, and paused to bark over his shoulder. Come on, follow me!

Out in the hallway, Mingi’s incessant barking continued until Jongho relented, reaching out to push the call button for the elevator. 

Jongho stared down at the little dog, confusion etched across his face. “Why are you so interested in the elevator?” 

Mingi stayed silent in an attempt to get this timing right. Then, as soon as the doors began to close, he darted forward, squeezing inside at the last second. Jongho blinked, momentarily stunned, before the realization hit him.

“I just…got played by a dog.”

Outside, Mingi paused just long enough to pick up your scent on the breeze. Darting forward, Mingi weaved through the bustling crowd, his small frame slipping unnoticed between legs and around obstacles. His nose twitched, staying locked on the trail, as he took off into the night with the promise of finding you

“I’m coming,” he whispered under his breath, to keep himself moving. His legs burned, and his lungs ached, but he didn’t stop.

Your nanny stood a few feet away, as you guided her to a nearby park. Her body taut with a kind of unnatural stillness. Her expression was deceptively calm, but her eyes gleamed with something unhinged.

“How have you been? You’re married right? I see the ring on your finger.”

Your fingers twitched involuntarily, brushing against the cool platinum of your wedding band. It felt heavier than usual under her scrutinizing gaze. “I am,” you replied, keeping your tone calm and steady despite the way your stomach churned.

“Almost three years now.”

“Three years? That’s wonderful. What’s your husband like? Oh, I’d love to meet him!”

“Unfortunately, he’s on a business trip overseas. B-But when he comes back, maybe we could have dinner.”

Her smile stretched impossibly wider, her eyes glinting with a strange light as she clasped her hands together. “Dinner? Oh, how wonderful! Just like old times!”

“Y-Yeah, just like old times. You, me, um, Mingi and…dad.”

“Dad?” she echoed, her voice hollow and strained. “Your father?”

The moment the word "Dad" left your lips, her expression darkened and her grip on the knife tightened, turning her knuckles white as the blade trembled in her hand.

“No! Not him! Not while he’s married to that bitch!” she spat venomously. 

“You know, his wife didn’t love you like I did! She didn’t raise you! She wasn’t there for you!”

Her face twisted with fury, her voice rising as she screamed. “She left you behind! Do you remember that? Do you? She didn’t care about you! She abandoned you—threw you away like trash! But me? I stayed. I cared. I’m your family!”

Mingi’s ears perked up at the sound of that voice. It was her—the same woman who had tried to abduct Yena weeks ago. A low growl rumbled in his throat, but he forced his down, shifting his focus to the sights and sounds around him. In the distance, he caught fragments of Kira’s raised voice, as she argued with the District Attorney.

“She should never have been released!” 

“Her delusions weren’t just untreated, they were escalating. And instead of following protocol, the facility discharged her prematurely without an appropriate plan in place.”

Mingi’s ears flicked toward the sound as Kira’s voice grew louder, her pace quickening.

“The ruling was explicit! The family was to be notified of any changes in her care plan. But no one was! And now she’s out here, putting Y/N in danger!”

The echoes of Kira’s tirade faded into the background as Mingi tuned everything else out, his focus narrowing to a single goal. Find you. Protect you.

She won’t hurt you. I won’t let her, he promised. 

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you searched for the right words to diffuse the situation. “You’re right,” you said gently, taking a slow step forward as your eyes stayed locked on the blade.

“I should’ve done more to stay in touch. You were important to me, and I didn’t show that the way I should have.”

Mingi crept closer, staying low and moving with careful precision. His small frame blended with the shadows cast by the trees, his paws silent against the ground. His ears were pinned back as he watched the stalker. For a split second, her grip on the knife faltered. Her expression softened, dimming into something more fragile, almost childlike.

But then her face contorted again. “You’re lying!” she screamed, taking a step toward you. 

“You don’t mean that! You’re just saying that to make me go away.” She took a step closer, the knife jerking with her erratic movements.

His nose twitched, catching the faint scent of your fear mingled with her unbridled rage. Her emotions were spiraling out of control, and with every step she took, the gap between you and danger grew smaller.

“I’m not,” you said firmly, taking a careful step backwards. 

“I mean it. You were there for me when I needed someone, and I want to be here for you now. But I can’t do that if you don’t trust me.”

She hesitated, the knife wavering slightly in her grip. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed like your words might be getting through.

Mingi inched closer, his eyes tracking her trembling hand, and his body tensed, ready to spring.

“You’ll leave me again! Just like her!”

That was his cue. With a burst of speed, Mingi darted forward, his small body a blur of motion. His sharp teeth clamped down on her ankle, eliciting a startled cry. She stumbled, but her fury only intensified. She lashed out blindly, her hand sweeping through the air, the knife flashing dangerously.

“Maro!” you screamed. 

Without hesitation, you lunged forward, your heart pounding as you reached for her wrist. Your grip was firm, fueled by adrenaline and sheer determination as you kicked her back, sending her stumbling slightly. With a swift motion, you scooped Mingi into your arms, cradling him against your chest.

As she steadied herself, her arm swung wildly and you raised your arm to shield Mingi. The knife sliced through your forearm leaving streaks of blood, but you didn’t let go, tightened your hold on him as you focused on the woman in front of you.

“I’m sorry you lost your daughter,” you began, your tone water as you tried to bite back the pain radiating down your arm.  

“I can’t imagine the pain you’ve been carrying, or how much it’s changed you. I’m sure whatever happened broke you in ways no one can see. But trying to replace her won’t bring her back.”

You could see the tears threatening to spill over, but they did nothing to soften her. If anything, they seemed to fuel her anger. Her grip on the knife tightened as she took a shaky step toward you. Your heart pounded and Mingi whimpered softly, pressing his small body closer to yours, and you instinctively held him tighter, bracing yourself.

“Police! Drop your weapon!” 

“Y/N!” your dad’s voice rang out. You turned your head just enough to see him running toward you, San and Kira close behind, flanked by a group of police officers.

The stalker froze, her head snapping toward the source of the commotion. Her grip on the knife faltered, and for a split second, you thought she might comply. But then her face contorted with fury once more, and she tightened her hold, her body tensing as if preparing to lunge.

“Stay back!” she screamed, her voice shrill and panicked.

The officers fanned out, their weapons drawn, their voices calm but firm as they repeated their commands. “Drop the knife! Put it down now!”

Your dad reached you first, his hand gripping your shoulder as he stepped slightly in front of you. “Are you hurt?” he asked urgently, his sharp eyes taking in the blood streaking down your arm and the puppy trembling in your hold.

“She cut me,” you admitted, glancing at the blood streaking down your arm. “It’s not deep, but—” You shifted Mingi slightly in your hold, cradling him closer. 

Mingi let out a soft, sleepy sigh, his head resting heavily against your chest as your dad checked you over. His breaths came slower now, each one softer than the last. His little paws twitched as though he were trying to cling to you.

His mind wandered, a hazy string of thoughts pulling him along. He couldn’t wait to go home, to finally feel safe and warm. He imagined curling up in your lap, nuzzling into your arms while you stroked his fur. He thought about Hetmon and all the running around they’re going to do at the park.

Oh, and snacks, he thought sleepily. Lots of snacks. His little tail gave a faint twitch at the thought, but even that felt like too much effort now.

Just a nap, he thought. I’ll rest for a bit, then we’ll go home. We’ll be okay.

When Mingi woke, the air around him was...different. It wasn’t the plush sheets of your bed or the soft pillow he’d grown accustomed to sleeping on. Instead, he found himself in a small, cozy basket lined with a soft cushion, placed near a gently crackling fireplace. 

He blinked, his vision adjusting to the soft light streaming through the windows of a small cottage. The space was intimate, with wooden walls lined with shelves overflowing with books, plants, and stacks of parchment. The scent of tea and ink hung in the air, faint but familiar, tugging at something deep in Mingi’s memory.

The atmosphere was comforting, nostalgic even, though Mingi couldn’t quite place why. 

“Ah,” the man said, his lips curling into a soft smile. “You’re finally awake.”

Mingi’s ears perked up as he turned toward the sound. A man crouched next to him–his features were sharp but his expression was soft and kind. Mingi tilted his head, his ears twitching as he studied the man. He’d never met him before, but his scent was unmistakable. 

It was audacious and bold, much like the jazz notes he remembered sitting on the piano back at home. 

Kim Hongjoong?

<< v | vii >>

taglist: @syubseokie @koyagifs @sunnysidesins @thedistractedwriter @notevenheretbh1

@molberto @litolmochi @intowxnderland @yn-reincarnate @lemonkait00

@corgilover20 @randomgworlypop @taegi1016 @almondtofu006 @ateezaddict24

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@innocygnet @jaeyunlvrs @shanabtsarmy @soso59love-blog @plum-stxr

@vcutparis @kaituyyn @blvckarabixnvoid @amazaynaastha

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