𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝

AHHHHH I LOVE IT!!!! IT WAS AMAZING 10/10 the different text next to the hours were interesting to read.

I can’t wait to read the other members parts whenever they come out. keep up the amazing work <3

✗ blood in the clouds ✗ | KIM HONGJOONG

pairings ✃ mafia leader! hongjoong x flight attendant! fem! reader

genre ✃ mafia au, non-idol au, SLOW BURNN

synopsis ✃

it’s finally your last day as a flight attendant. you wanted nothing more than to laze on your couch and watch netflix - just to find out that one of your passengers blew out the brains of your pilot with a gun.

in which hongjoong to hijack a plane that his rival’s daughter is on.

w.c ✃ 10.5k (yes im a yapper im sorry)

c.w ✃ dark themes, vivid descriptions of gore, guns and knives, kiss scene but no smut, use of the nickname ‘brat’, ‘pretty’ and ONE TIME - ‘princess’, your dad’s a dick oops, vulgar language, reader is smart

author’s note: this is the first oneshot of my mafia series! yes it is long but i promise you that it does eat and that you’ll enjoy it. remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed, any and all feedback helps!

not proofread!

masterlist

white clouds drifted by the airplane window as the sky turned from a soft blue to a deep orange.

it would’ve been a pretty sight if it weren’t for the gun to your head.

you’d called in sick or put in your two weeks notice earlier if this was how your last day of being a flight attendant would end - but apparently, life hates you too much to let you catch a break.

HOUR 1 OF 7 - TAKEOFF

‘god- i can’t take this anymore,’ you thought to yourself. you hated waiting, despised it actually. 

after today, no more jet lag, rushed goodbyes or missing celebrations. you can finally unpack that suitcase for good, find someplace quiet and actually live in it. the thought alone was enough to keep you excited, but something bothered you at the back of your mind.

this trip didn’t feel right.

it wasn’t the plane itself, but your passengers? only 2 showed up in a plane that could seat at least 50 people. 

not that you were complaining. fewer passengers meant less work - which was a good thing. 

but the uneasiness you felt kept rising in your chest, no matter the times you tried to push it down. 

‘just 6 more hours,’ you thought. ‘then this will all be behind me.’

HOUR 2 OF 7 - MEALTIME

meal service started like any other: boring. 

after handing out the trays, you pushed the trolley back to its place and returned with beverages. you plastered on your most professional smile as you walked over to your passengers. “would you like a drink?”

the man in sunglasses turned to you lazily, his eyes shifting from the trolley to your face. “what do you have?”

you sighed, quietly but deeply. you had that stupid list engraved into your mind by now. “water, coffee, tea, coke, spri-” 

“-do you have alcohol?” he cut you off. 

your eye twitched. this dickhead.

first of all, he interrupted you. and secondly, you didn’t mention the alcohol on purpose. it was stored at the back of the plane and you did not have the energy to drag it out. 

“uh hongjoong- i mean, boss-“ the guy next to him whispered hurriedly. “i don’t think that’s a good idea-“

“-i think it is,” hongjoong interrupted before turning back to you. “where’s the menu?”

you gave him a forced smile as you pushed the alcohol menu towards him. he took his time with it, flipping through the pages slowly before finally saying, “two shots of whiskey.”

“sure thing,” you snatched the menu back. with a swift turn, you fetched the whiskey and the glasses, returning back to his seat.

you poured and placed the two shots on his tray table. he took the glass and drank it in one go, setting it back down with a thud. 

hongjoong then turned his head towards you, eyebrows raised. “what?”

you blinked. ‘what’? just ‘what’? where's the ‘thank you’? 

you were losing your mind.

“nothing,” you muttered through clenched teeth, moving away before he could ask for anything else.

grade A asshole.

HOUR 4.5 OF 7 - POINT OF NO RETURN

the shitty in-flight wifi was a joke as always. why did you even try?

with an annoyed sigh, you shoved your phone into your back pocket when suddenly-

static.

its piercing sound followed by faint garbled voices on the intercom startled you. you frowned as the sound continued, getting louder and more distorted.

with a groan, you stood up, straightening your uniform. ‘what are they doing?’ you thought as you walked towards the cockpit.

but when you passed by the first-class cabin, you paused. the seats were empty. both passengers were gone. ‘weird…’

things only got weirder as you approached the unlocked cockpit door. 

concerned, you pushed it open.

the smell hit you first - a metallic tang that twisted your stomach.

then your eyes caught up.

blood splattered the walls and windows in chaotic streaks, dripping down to the controls and the carpeted floor. the pilot and co-pilot laid in a gruesome pile to the side, the jagged holes in their skulls grotesque. 

a guy sat at the controls, steering the plane as though he wasn’t surrounded by horrors. 

grade A asshole- no, hongjoong, sat cross-legged on the floor, his sunglasses shattered at his feet. a gun rested in his hand and his lips curled into a smirk as he watched you enter.

“you’ve got to be kidding me..” you breathed out. 

pieces of brain and organ matter clung to the control panel as a simple blinking green light above that indicated that everything was, somehow, still functioning.

hongjoong tilted his head, amused. the gun shifted to point at what you now noticed was the crumpled bodies  of your pilots, their faces mangled in unrecognisable masses of flesh and bone.

“these your friends?”

you shook your head as you stepped back, wiping your sweaty hands on your uniform. hongjoong seemed to enjoy your reaction, his grin widening into something sickening. 

he smirked. “don’t worry, i won’t spoil that pretty face of yours.”

you coughed at the wretched smell as the crimson-stained carpet squelched beneath your heels, your mind begging you to leave.

“well-” you said, turning to the door. “i’m sure you don’t need me here, i’ll just-”

an audible click cut you off.

you froze.

slowly, you turned back to see a gun aimed directly at you.

“leaving so soon?” he raised an eyebrow. “let’s talk.”

HOUR 5 OF 7 - SKYDIVING DOESN’T SEEM TOO BAD

hongjoong dragged you to the first-class section to ‘talk’. it was the first time you’ve ever sat there and to be completely honest, this was not how you imagined yourself ‘enjoying’ it.

well, not like it mattered. you had other issues - like handcuffs locking you to the chair.

he stood infront of you, one hand gripping the gun while the other held a file. “‘____’, am i right?” he asked. 

you nodded slowly. “..that’s me.”

“3.6 GPA in university..” he muttered. “flunked out of med school during your first year..”

..how the hell did he get that information?

“you ended up as a flight attendant because your father owns the airline.”

“..yeah,” you reluctantly admitted, your stomach churning. “uh- was the med school part necessary?”

hongjoong ignored you, flipping to the next page. you watched his eyebrows shoot up as his eyes narrowed. “how close are you with your father?”

you blinked, confused by the weird question. “i mean- he’s my dad,” you replied. “but i haven’t seen him in years.”

“hm,” the sound came from him. hongjoong studied you for a moment longer before he spoke again, but this time, his voice was cold.

“do you know what he’s been doing during those years?”

your brows furrowed. “no, i-”

“killing. my. men.”

you didn’t even have time to process his words because he leaned forward when he said them, the gun uncomfortably close to your face. 

you swallowed the lump in your throat. “...are you sure you have the right person?”

his smirk widened into something eerie. “i have a gun pointed to you, don’t i?”

your pulse quickened. you couldn’t decide which was worse: the possibility that he was telling the truth or the fact that he was clearly enjoying your reaction.

“i always wanted to get back at that pig..” he held the gun up to the bottom of your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “and look at how kind the world is- blessing me with his daughter.”

you struggled to breathe, to think. the handcuffs dug into your wrist as you unconsciously tried to break out of them, a clink against the metal arm of the chair.

your voice trembled. “..what do you want from me?”

hongjoong didn’t answer immediately. instead, he leaned in even closer, so close that you could feel your foreheads touching.

“what i want,” he said slowly, eyes locked onto yours. “is for your dad to suffer.”

HOUR 6 OF 7 - SURPRISINGLY ALIVE

the stuffiness of the plane did little to calm your nerves. you sat quietly in the seat, staring at the shattered remains of your phone on the floor.

hongjoong snatched it from your hands a few minutes ago, grumbling about how ‘you don’t need devices’. great. just great. 

the sound of the cockpit door creaking open drew your attention. the other guy - or ‘pilot’, stepped out, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “boss.”

hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “what?”

the ‘pilot’ moved closer to hongjoong, lowering his voice. “air traffic control was notified of our path,” he said quietly. “they know something’s off about the plane, but i have no idea how.”

hongjoong’s eyes darkened as he processed the information. then, he glared at you, like he was accusing you.

you scoffed. “you shot my phone, how would i even contact anyone?”

for a moment, the two of you locked eyes and you swear that you could see him debating whether to believe you.

the ‘pilot’ cleared his throat. “what should we expect?” he asked nervously.

hongjoong leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. “the police.”

HOUR 7 OF 7 - SHIT IS GETTING REAL

“what the hell…” you whispered to yourself as you peered out of the window.

SWAT teams and federal agents stood in rows, their weapons pointed directly at the plane. flashing lights of red and blue lit up the empty airport. 

you turned away from the window, watching hongjoong pull out a burner phone from his jacket. his fingers typed something out before he suddenly snapped the phone in half, tossing the remains on the floor. 

“…who are you?” you asked quietly.

he raised an eyebrow. “you don’t need to know, pretty.”

your survival instincts told you to move, to do something. but the second you tried to stand, hongjoong shoved you back down. 

“stay seated until we land,” he said before tilting his head. “isn’t that your job?”

you rolled your eyes, gripping the armrests as you tried to calm yourself down and steady your breathing. 

but that was when you heard it - gunshots. 

“they’re shooting us?” you panicked, flinching with each sound. 

no answer.

“hey-“ you tried again, but was cut off by the tires hitting the terrain. 

the landing was rough - harsher than anything you’ve experienced as a flight attendant. the plane rattled like never before.

your chest tightened when it rolled over something particularly large. “what was that?” your voice cracked. 

no answer. 

when the plane finally came to a halt, you barely had time to catch your breath when hongjoong moved. in a blink, he uncuffed you from the chair, only to secure the handcuffs on your wrists once more. 

he brought you to your feet, pulling you so close that you could feel his breath against your ear. “don’t do anything stupid,” he hissed. 

the cockpit door opened and the ‘pilot’ appeared. he quickly unlocked the emergency exit and you saw the makeshift ramp that had been attached to the side of the plane. 

a van rested just outside of it, hongjoong dragging you towards the vehicle. you descended the ramp, the cool air hitting your face as you looked around. 

but that was when you saw it. 

blood. 

on the wheels of the plane, the dark colour leaving a fresh trail on the ground.  

“did you..” you gulped, your voice barely above a whisper. “did you run over them?”

hongjoong glanced at you. “i didn’t,” he shrugged. “the plane did.”

you stopped in your tracks, your feet stuck rooted to the ground as you stared at him in horror. how could he say that like it was no big deal? just who was this man?

“move,” hongjoong ordered. but when you didn’t, he clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “god- you’re such a brat.”

before you knew it, you were shoved into the back of the van. the ‘pilot’ closed the door with a loud slam and sat in the driver’s seat while hongjoong took the passenger’s seat up front. 

you met hongjoong’s eyes through the rearview mirror. his glare was sharp, acting as a warning to keep your mouth shut. you didn’t need to be told twice.

the van drove forward and you caught glimpses of city lights in the distance, slowly growing closer. civilisation - maybe you could get help. 

but against your mind’s wishes, you felt your eyelids getting heavy - and you did something that no one should ever do when they’re in a car with armed strangers.

you fell asleep.

HOUR 14 OF 7 - HIP HIP HOORAY YOU’RE NOT DEAD

you heard a voice whine. “why can’t we kill her?” 

“do you want boss to kill us?” you heard another reply.

your eyes fluttered open. your head felt heavy as the room came into focus, your stomach twisting. 

the space was dingy, poorly lit by a bulb hanging from the ceiling and an unnecessarily tall lamp on the ground. the walls were stained and the air stunk of blood.

you tried to move, only to feel tight ropes against your wrists and ankles. you were tied to a chair.

“i can’t believe we have to babysit the pig’s daughter,” a man with a knife groaned.

“calm down, wooyoung,” the other one sighed.

“calm down?!” wooyoung exclaimed. “yeosang got to fly a plane! how is that fair?”

“he has a license,” the second man rolled his eyes. 

“it’s still a plane, jongho-”

“shut up,” jongho interrupted. “the girl’s awake.”

both men turned their heads to look at you, the sudden attention sending a shiver down your spine. wooyoung’s grin stretched across his face as he got to his feet, jongho following behind.

“aw look who’s finally awake,” wooyoung approached, his voice childish. “you slept like a baby- and we didn’t even drug you!”

your heartbeat quickened as he leaned in close, his grin widening as he studied your face.

“i read your file,” he began. “you’re smart…” wooyoung paused, his eyes inspecting you and your ridiculous uniform. “and hot.”

your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to respond. “thank you-?”

“-what’s your favourite feature about yourself?” he asked, twirling the knife in his hands.

“uh-” your mind scrambled for an answer as he got nearer, the knife glinting. “i- my eyes?”

“your eyes,” wooyoung repeated, the grin stuck to his face. “good choice.”

he brought the knife closer, the cold steel trailing down the side of your face. you flinched as the blade hovered near your eye, your breath hitching.

“you’re going to answer all our questions,” he stated, almost in a sing-songy way. “and if you dont-”

he tilted the knife, now directly above your eyeball. “-i’ll dig those lovely pearls out of your sockets.”

your chest tightened, terror paralyzing you from head to toe. you couldn’t even breathe, every cell in your body pleading you to stay still.

“hey-” jongho tapped wooyoung on the shoulder, whispering. “uh.. boss said we can’t scratch her..”

“are you serious?” wooyoung scoffed. “then what’s the point?”

jongho bit the inside of his cheek, avoiding eye contact with his friend.

wooyoung groaned, throwing the knife to the ground with a strength that made it bend. “fuck this- torture isn’t even fun anymore.”

he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

silence was in the air until jongho cleared his throat awkwardly. he turned to face you. “uh..” he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“change of plans.”

HOUR 15 OF 7 - DAY DRINKING IS FUN

you never imagined yourself in a hideout, drinking vodka with one of your captors - yet here you were. 

the whole thing felt absurd: a shaky barstool beneath you and a scuffed counter separating you and jongho. he poured you a shot he claimed was ‘very expensive’, before proceeding to chug most of the vodka from the bottle in a long gulp. 

your legs were untied now, though your wrists were still bound, the rope loose enough for your hands to rest infront of you. “what are we waiting for?” you asked. “hongjoong?”

jongho froze, his eyes snapping to yours. “don’t say his name,” he whisper-shouted.

you raised your tied wrists in apology. “okay.. what should i call him?”

“call him boss.. or mr kim.. or anything that isn’t his first name,” jongho said, his words rushed. 

you nodded slowly, looking at the man infront of you with mild concern. he looked even more scared than you did. 

then suddenly, the door slammed open. 

both you and jongho flinched, watching two figures stumble in. 

the first was a tall man - storming into the room. the second was him, hongjoong, clutching his side in pain.

“mingi- boss!” jongho panicked instantly as he ran to help the injured man. “holy- you’re hurt!”

“the pig called for backup,” mingi sighed heavily. 

you blinked, stunned as the sound of hongjoong coughing violently brought your attention back to the injured man. 

blood seeped through his fingers, staining his sleeves and skin. you don’t know what took over you, but you pushed yourself off of the barstool and rushed towards him. 

“what do you think you’re doing?” mingi stepped infront of hongjooong, his hand resting on his gun protectively. 

you glared at him. “do you want your boss to bleed out?”

mingi studied you. after what felt like ages, he exhaled sharply and stepped aside. “fine,” he muttered, keeping a hand on his weapon. 

you knelt next to hongjoong, trying to make him face you as you grabbed his arm. though, he snatched himself away from you quickly. 

you rolled your eyes. “i’m trying to help you. let me see it.”

hongjoong’s eyes pierced your soul. you could see the cogs in his head turning on whether he could trust you. 

a few moments passed before he finally faced you with a sigh, revealing a large gash on the side of his stomach - a wound created by knife. 

“i need water.” 

jongho blinked, clearly thrown off. “what?”

“to clean his wound..?” you explained. “get me water. now.”

jongho hesitated before snatching a bottle of water from a mini fridge. he pushed it to you, the little amount of liquid sloshing inside. “you should stay still for this,” you said before slowly pouring the water over the wound. 

crap- a gash this big needed a stitch. 

“untie me,” you said, holding your wrists up to your captors. 

jongho glanced at his boss worriedly for permission. hongjoong gave a small nod and jongho quickly pulled out a small knife to cut the rope. 

once free, you quickly looked around for something to stitch his wound with. when nothing looked remotely useful, your eyes dropped to your uniform - a skirt with a yarn trim. it wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.

you began to unravel the yarn from the hem.

“what are you doing?” mingi asked, frowning.

“stitching him,” you sighed as your fingers worked hurriedly. “or do you want him to get an infection?”

hongjoong let out a groan, shifting uncomfortably. “just hurry.”

you finished unravelling it, but now you needed a needle. your hand instinctively reached up to your hair - pulling out a small bobby pin. it was definitely not as sharp as a needle, but you’re sure that hongjoong can handle his pain.

“shit- i need to sterilise this,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

“vodka,” jongho said instantly, grabbing the bottle and handing it to you.

you poured the small amount over the pin, letting it drip onto the floor. then, threading the yarn through the makeshift needle, you glanced at hongjoong.

“this will hurt,” you warned.

he looked at you with clenched teeth. “i don’t care.”

you placed a hand on his side to steady him, feeling the tension in his muscles as he tried to not flinch. carefully, you began to stitch the gash, each pull making him wince. 

when the stitching was complete, you tied the yarn and tore it off with your teeth - but the wound was still bleeding slightly.

you glanced down at your sleeves. without hesitation, you tore a strip of fabric free. you used it to dab away the excess blood, then folded the remaining fabric to wrap it around his side. 

“that should work. for now,” you sat back as you wiped your forehead with your arm.

“...you know how to treat people?” hongjoong asked, wincing slightly. 

you nodded slowly. “yeah.. i know the basics.”

“hm,” he tilted his head. “you’re more useful than i thought.”

you blinked. was a good thing or a bad thing?

“wooyoung,” he yelled out. 

a loud crash was heard in another room, followed by the muffled sounds of frantic movements. within seconds, wooyoung appeared in the doorway. 

“yes, boss?” wooyoung said out of breath, brushing off his shirt as he lookedaround the room. 

hongjoong didn’t respond immediately. instead, he looked you up and down, his lips twitching into what seemed like a smirk. “get her some actual clothes. we have an event to catch.”

HOUR 17 OF 7 - WORDS TALK BUT GUNS TALK LOUDER

“woah..” your eyes took in the building before you. glittering lights and an impressive exterior that was way more extravagant than anything you imagined hongjoong to be involved in.

he parked the car, the engine coming to a stop. before you could say anything, hongjoong stepped out of the car, closing the door shut. you scrambled to follow him, your heels clicking against the pavement as you caught up.

the two of you approached the man stationed at the door - a bouncer with a pen and clipboard.

without warning, hongjoong’s hand snaked around your waist, pulling you snugly against his side. you flinched at the sudden contact, but with how tight his grip was, there was no room for protests.

“ah, mr kim,” the bouncer greeted. “you made it.”

hongjoong offered a brief, fake smile before dropping it immediately. “let us in.”

“hold on now,” the bouncer said, flipping through the papers on the clipboard. “we can’t let her inside.”

hongjoong’s brows furrowed. “why?”

“new policy,” the man sighed, pretending to sound disappointed. “no more plus-ones.”

hongjoong rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond. instead, he reached into his blazer, about to pull out a-

“nevermind!” the bouncer’s face turned pale. he stepped aside with a nervous laugh. “you’re all set- enjoy the night.”

the interior was breathtaking - chandeliers hung from high ceilings and round tables were scattered across the venue, draped in pristine white table cloths. 

“don’t eat or drink anything here.”

you blinked, nodding slowly at hongjoong’s words. “okay.. but why-”

“-and if you really want to stay alive,” he interrupted, his lips brushing your ear. “don't leave my sight.”

his voice sent a chill down your spine. “okay,” you mumbled as he brought you further into the room.

he led you to a seating area - though it looked more like a conversation pit, where an old man sat waiting. 

hongjoong released his grip on you to sit across the man, gesturing for you to follow. you hesitated briefly before settling next to him.

“mr kim,” the old man greeted gruffly. his eyes shifted to you, studying your face. “i see you brought someone.”

hongjoong gave a nod, glancing at you. “introduce yourself, brat.”

“oh uh-” you put out your hand reluctantly, forcing a polite smile. “i’m ‘____’.”

the old man’s eyes narrowed before they widened in realisation. “her father-“

“-i’m glad you noticed,” hongjoong cut in. he slowly reached into his blazer again, but this time, he actually pulled out his pistol. 

your eyes widened as he aimed it to your waist, the cold metal brushing your side. “wha-“

“w-what are you doing?” the old man’s face drained of colour, panic flashing in his eyes. 

hongjoong tilted his head. “let’s negotiate.”

“mr kim-“ the old man began, his voice cracking. “as his friend, you do understand that i have to tell him she’s here.”

“do it,” hongjoong shrugged, leaning back. his arm returned to your waist, pulling you to him as he tapped the gun against your side. 

“let’s see if he values his money more than his own daughter.”

HOUR 18 OF 7 - LIFE ISN’T FAIR

a loud crash echoed through the venue, making you jump. the sound of heavy footsteps grew violent with every second.

hongjoong’s hand tightened around your waist as he stood, dragging you up with him. “move.”

“wait-!” the old man called after you, but hongjoong didn’t stop.

his grip on you was firm, the barrel of his gun pressing against your stomach. you tripped over your feet, struggling to keep up his pace.

“where are you taking me?” you panicked as you glanced over your shoulder at the armed men closing in.

“to your father, princess,” he sneered, his voice mockingly sweet. 

“mr kim! stop right there!” 

you froze, whipping your head around. standing at the far end of the room, infront of a small army of armed men, was your father. 

“let go of my daughter,” your father ordered. he pointed a gun directly at hongjoong, his men following suit. 

your eyes glanced around the room - seeing guests cowering against the walls, some injured and others dead.

“i’m not giving up the brat until i get what i want,” hongjoong demanded.

“what you want is an impossible amount of money!” your father yelled, his grip on his gun tightening.

“impossible?” hongjoong’s eyes widened with craze. “you have more than $500 million tied to your name! did you think i’ll forget who you killed to get here?”

your blood ran cold. “dad.. you killed people?” you asked, your voice trembling as you looked at him.

for a split second, your father’s eyes softened, though that quickly disappeared with a scoff.

“if i didn’t, you wouldn’t have a roof over your head,” your father spat. “you were too stubborn to do anything after you dropped med school.”

the world seemed to tilt, your father’s words more piercing than any bullet. “but i didn’t-”

“-you did,” your father interrupted you. “i spent all that money bribing them just for you to fuck up.”

your heart sank as tears welled in your eyes. hongjoong noticed your reaction, his grip on the gun loosening slightly. 

“i’d appreciate it if you didn’t make my hostage cry,” he said. “do you really want those to be your last words to her?”

“shut up,” your father snarled, his finger close to the trigger. “i’ll say what i want. she’s too stupid to argue back anyway.”

the tears you held back spilled over and all you could hear was your dad shouting, “get her!”

HOUR 18.5 OF 7 - THEY WANT YOU SOO BAD

gunshots were heard in every direction, completely deafening. 

the pungent smell of gunpowder burned your nose as you stumbled, your legs barely holding you up. hongjoong shoved you to the ground, his hand against your back. 

“stay down,” he ordered you, raising his gun and firing without hesitation.

you flinched with every shot, watching in horror as armed men fell one by one with his aim. the world felt like it was spinning too fast and you could barely keep up.

suddenly, a hand grabbed your arm.

“stop moving!” your father yelled, his grip painful as he dragged you towards the exit.

“no!” you choked out, your heels digging into the floor in an attempt to resist. panic ran through your veins as your eyes darted around desperately.

your eyes landed on a fallen gun near your feet. you quickly snatched it, hands trembling as you tried to point it towards him.

“don’t make me do this!” you cried.

your father didn’t stop and without thinking-

-you pulled the trigger.

a bang was heard, followed by his rough scream as he collapsed to the floor, clutching his bleeding thigh.

“oh my god,” you whispered, the gun slipping from your hands as tears flowed uncontrollably down your cheeks. you sank to the floor, staring at the blood pouring out of him.

“you bitch!” he shouted in pain.

out of the corner of your eye, you caught hongjoong watching you, something strange flashing across his face. was that.. surprise? pride? maybe he was impressed?

hongjoong fired a shot at an armed man without looking, moving to you quickly. 

“didn’t think you had it in you, pretty,” he looked over his shoulder. “but we need to leave.”

he led you to a small janitor’s closet near the exit. the narrow space smelled of bleach, but at least it was quiet.

hongjoong shut the door behind you and dusted off his blazer. without a word, his dark eyes inspected you, checking your shoulders and arms.

you stood motionless, too shocked to stop him as he gently tilted your chin up, his thumb wiping away the mascara-stained tears from your cheeks.

“nothing broken,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “no scars either..”

he pulled out a burner phone, typing something quickly.

“i- i just shot my dad,” your shoulders shook as new tears welled up in your eyes.

hongjoong glanced up from the phone, meeting your eyes. “..are you bragging?” he asked bluntly.

“what? he’s my dad-”

“-and he’s a dick,” hongjoong cut you off. “you might share blood, but that man clearly hates you.”

you hiccuped, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “...am i going to hell?”

hongjoong scoffed. “come on-“ he began, but stopped himself when he looked at you and the tears spilling from your eyes. “you didn’t kill him… you’re fine.” 

you opened your mouth to protest but he silenced you as he continued typing. “and even if you did,” he added. “you’re doing the world a favour.”

he smashed the burner phone onto the ground, discarding the pieces. he reloaded his pistol before turning back to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he led you through bodies and debris.

outside, a black van waited by the curb. hongjoong pushed you inside before climbing in after you, slamming the door shut behind him.

“drive,” he ordered.

as the street lights went past you, you slumped in your seat, completely exhausted. “where are we going?” you asked softly.

hongjoong studied you for a moment, watching your eyelids go heavy. “...go to sleep, brat.”

DAY 2 - OH HONEY I'M HOME

you woke up with a jolt. you sat up from the couch you laid down on, completely disoriented. your eyes darted around the dimly lit room. the hideout. 

relief and fear spread within you. you were safe - for now.

just then, a knock from the doorway made you jump. “didn’t mean to scare you,” a man said, leaning against the frame. “boss wanted me to check on you.”

you blinked. “i- okay,” you coughed to clear your throat, wincing at how dry it felt.

“i’ll let him know you’re awake.”

and with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone once more.

though that didn’t last long. moments later, hongjoong entered. he carried a stool over, setting it down across from you before sitting. 

“how long did i sleep?” you asked hoarsely.

“a day,” he replied with a shrug.

your eyes widened. it was only then you noticed your attire - a baggy t-shirt replacing the outfit you were wearing before.

“who changed me?” you blurted out, heat rising to your cheeks.

“i did,” hongjoong answered. he noticed your flustered expression, tilting his head. “what?”

“did you-” you cleared your throat. “did you see anything?”

“i’m not a pervert,” he scoffed. “if it makes you feel better, you were changed in the dark.”

you fell into an awkward, heavy silence as you sat across each other. for the first time, there was no danger, no gunfire or anyone yelling out orders. just silence.

“your dad..” hongjoong began, speaking up. “wants you dead.”

“...what?”

he held up a cassette tape, tossing it onto the table between you, your hands trembling as you picked it up. hongjoong then brought out a cassette tape player, allowing you to hear your father’s voice.

‘mr kim, we’ve had our ups and downs, but i’m sure that we can agree on one thing - that bitch who shot my thigh is a liability. an idiot that made it this far because of me. she’s no longer my responsibility or family, so expect to find her head on a stick when you turn your back. have fun.’

“what the fuck..” you whispered shakily as it came to an end. 

“to be honest, your only purpose was to be a hostage.” hongjoong’s fingers drummed the edge of the stool. “and now that he doesn’t want you.. you’re useless-”

the world around you crumbled, his words making you feel worse. 

“-to him.”

your eyes widened, looking at him in confusion.

“you’re smart,” he shrugged. “and you stitched me.”

you blinked. “…where are you going with this?” 

“i want you to be an addition to my team,” he replied.

“do i have to kill people?” you blurted out. “or steal, or-”

“no,” hongjoong raised a hand to cut you off. “all you’ll be doing is treating my injured men. quite the opposite of killing.”

you frowned, furrowing your eyebrows. “why would you trust me with that?”

“because,” he said, leaning forward. “you have nowhere else to go.”

“that’s not true-”

“really?” hongjoong smirked. “do you know how many businesses your dad owns?”

you shook your head.

“more than 80% in the country,” his eyes sparkled with something dark. “now that you’ve shot him, you’ve burnt every bridge he’s built for you.”

your jaw dropped. “but-”

“no job, no family, nowhere to live either since he owns most of the real estate here.”

you stared at him, struggling to process his words.

“here’s my offer,” hongjoong continued. “you get a decent amount of money, a place to live and protection...”

“...just to treat people?” you asked in disbelief.

he nodded. 

you bit your lip, staring at the floor as you picked at your nails. how could your dad do this to you? abandoning you just like that? and now he wanted you dead? you could feel yourself getting angry just thinking about him.

after a long moment, you lifted your head, meeting his gaze. “deal.” 

MONTH 1 - FAMILY BONDING 

that evening, you sat on the floor with san, wooyoung and yeosang, eating a batch of cheap instant noodles. it was a little awkward - mostly because you just joined, but you were silently appreciating their efforts to make small talk with you. 

suddenly, a loud bang was heard through the hideout. the three men jumped up immediately, pulling guns and knives from who knows where. 

“back entrance?” wooyoung asked as he sharpened his knives. 

your heart raced as you watched the three of them shift into combat mode - and you caught yourself lagging behind. you hurriedly stood up and grabbed the medical kit you kept close. 

“stay here,” san said firmly. 

you shook your head. “if someone’s injured, i’m coming.”

the three of them shared a look before yeosang gave you a reluctant nod. “…just stay behind us. we’ll get in trouble if you get hurt.”

they moved swiftly and silently through the narrow halls of the hideout, weapons in hand. you trailed closely, your heart pounding as you gripped the medical kit tightly. 

when you reached the back entrance, san motioned you to stay back while they checked the door. 

the signs of forced entry were obvious - the lock was broken and scuff marks lined the floor. 

wooyoung scoffed, speaking under his breath. “stupid piglets.”

yeosang sighed. “looks like they took a few weapons and left.”

“are they testing us?” san asked, inspecting a footprint on the ground. 

before anyone could respond, the door slammed open making all of you jump. you turned to see mingi, his chest heaving as he leaned against the door frame. 

“meeting. now.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the hideout’s ‘meeting room’ was more of a cramped closet with mismatched chairs and a comically large table in the middle. hongjoong paced at the end of the room, his jaw clenched. 

“we can’t stay here any longer,” he began. “it’s only a matter of time before they come back in full force.”

hongjoong stopped pacing and crossed his arms. “we need to move back to our old apartments. they’re scattered enough to keep us hidden until we figure out our next move.”

you shifted uncomfortably. 

hongjoong noticed this. “what?” he asked, his sharp eyes landing on you. 

“i uh-“ you hesitated. “i don’t have a home..” you said sheepishly. 

hongjoong raised an eyebrow. 

“my dad owns the house,” you admitted. “and that’s not really an option anymore.”

“right,” hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair. “shit..”

“alright, who has space?” he clapped, glancing around the room. 

everyone exchanged uneasy looks. 

“we don’t,” yeosang said, gesturing to himself, san, wooyoung and jongho. “the four of us are already crammed into one place.”

“same here,” yunho spoke up. “mingi and i barely fit in ours.”

hongjoong turned to seonghwa, his face hopeful. 

“no,” seonghwa said without hesitation. 

a heavy sigh escaped hongjoong as he pinched the bridge of his nose. he leaned against the table, deep in thought. 

minutes stretched into what felt like hours before hongjoong finally spoke up. “you’re coming with me,” he said, looking directly at you. 

your eyes widened in surprise. “..what?”

“you’re staying at my place.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the car sped down the (somewhat) empty highway, the faint smell of vanilla from the air freshener mixing with the lingering scent of old fast food. 

you gripped the edge of your seat as the streetlights ran by the window in a blur. “are we in a rush?” you nervously glanced at hongjoong. 

“no,” he replied flatly. 

there was a black car beside you that had been keeping pace for the past few minutes - and just as you shifted in your seat, it suddenly swerved infront of your car and slammed the brakes. 

“what the-” you barely managed to say before the impact. the car jolted violently as it hit the one ahead, the sound of metal crunching loud. 

hongjoong let out a low string of curses under his breath. his face was weirdly calm as he unbuckled his seatbelt, stepping out of the car without a word. 

“wait-” you scrambled to undo your own seatbelt. 

from your seat, you saw him approaching the car. the moment he glanced inside, his eyes widened. he reached for his gun and pulled the trigger instantly. 

the loud gunshot made you flinch and your stomach twisted as you saw the slumped figure in the driver’s seat, blood splattered across the windshield. 

your heart pounded as you stumbled out of the car, rushing towards him. “why did you do that?!”

hongjoong turned to you, his jaw clenched. “it was a piglet.”

“wha-“ your eyes drifted to the body, a shiver going down your spine as you saw the bullet hole clean through the skull. 

hongjoong, completely unfazed, went back to the car. you stared at the lifeless body for a moment longer before hurriedly following him. 

once you were back inside, you swallowed the lump in your throat, attempting to break the suffocating silence. “….how did you know he was a piglet?”

hongjoong didn’t respond immediately. his fingers flexed against the steering wheel as he glanced at you. 

“they have a bullet tattoo..” he said finally, pulling down his collar to point to his collarbone. “..right here.”

you blinked. “oh.”

“if you ever come across one,” he continued. “kill them on sight.”

your eyes widened, your throat tightening. “what about the police?”

he fell silent for a second, his eyes fixed on the road. then, a faint smirk crossed his face. “you don’t need to worry about them.”

his answer left you unsettled, but before you could question him further, the apartment building came into view. it was modern - standing tall with the city skyline. 

hongjoong smoothly pulled into the parking lot. the abruptness of the stop sent you forward, but his hand shot out instinctively, pressing against you to keep you steady. 

“sorry,” he muttered, his voice soft - though he didn’t look at you as he retracted his arm. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

some might describe hongjoong’s apartment as ‘minimalistic’, but to you, it’s just an excuse for a grown man to avoid decorating. 

the walls were devoid of any art or family photos, the kitchen was spotless - though it was definitely untouched with how there was almost no food in the fridge. and from what you saw, the only source of entertainment was a lone TV. 

“do you..” you began, looking around the bare space. “do you even live here?”

hongjoong ignored your comment and walked towards the big couch and began to pull it into a makeshift bed. the springs creaked slightly as he unfolded it. “this is where you’ll be sleeping,” he said, dusting himself off. 

“cool.”

“don’t complain-“ he stopped himself mid-sentence and narrowed his eyes when he realised what you said. “wait, you’re okay with this?”

you blinked. “…yeah?”

“hm,” he said, slightly surprised. he looked you up and down before turning to the long hallway. “get some rest, we’re getting you a phone tomorrow.”

MONTH 2 - LIVE LAUGH LOVE GUNS

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be long before the piglets attacked you again. 

hongjoong sent you on a simple supply run - nothing unusual. but as you stood in the small pharmacy, you felt the air shift when the cashier’s demeanour turned cold. 

it all happened so fast. 

the moment you saw the gun aimed at your chest, your eyes fell to the faint outline of a bullet tattoo peeking out from his collarbone. great. 

your breath hitched as your body moved on impulse. you barely avoided the first shot as you ducked behind the display rack. 

the pharmacy was strangely empty, no one else to intervene. your heart pounded as the sounds of footsteps and gunshots echoed. 

fumbling with your phone, you dialed every number you could think of. yet, no one answered. 

your hands trembled as you typed hongjoong’s number, your last resort. 

he picked up after one ring. 

“this better be important, brat,” he grumbled, groggy like he just woke up. 

“i need help-” you semi-yelled as you narrowly dodged another shot, darting behind the counter. “i’m getting attacked-”

“-send your location,” hongjoong interrupted. “i’m on my way.”

the line went dead before you could respond. 

you sent your location and shoved the phone back into your pocket. the cashier reloaded the gun, his footsteps growing louder. and just as you moved, he charged. 

he grabbed you, trying to pin you down. you barely managed to fight back, until you made an educated attack - kicking him in the groin. 

he groaned, stumbling back. you took the opportunity to snatch the gun from his hands. 

you pointed it at him, your hands shaking. “stay back,” your voice cracked. 

the man scoffed. “over my dead body,” he lunged at you again. 

your finger moved instinctively, pulling the trigger. 

once. 

twice. 

again and again and again. 

the sound of gunfire rang in your ears, the recoil sending waves through your arms. you didn’t stop until you heard a clicking noise that meant that the gun was empty. 

when you opened your eyes, he was no longer standing. 

you looked down, the cashier laying sprawled on the ground, the concrete dark with blood. bullet holes littered his body, evidence of your frantic shots. 

you dropped to your knees, your chest heaving. you reached out to check his pulse. nothing.

you just took someone’s life. 

your eyes fell to your hands, bloody and shaking. from young, you always wanted to save lives - not take them. tears fell from your eyes, blurring your vision. 

the door slammed open. 

hongjoong stood in the doorway. he took in the body on the floor and your frozen form in a single glance. he sighed, stepping in. 

“come on, let’s go,” he crouched to grab your arm. 

you couldn’t move, your eyes fixed on the lifeless body. 

“hey,” his fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face to meet his. his eyes were intense, his touch warm against your cold skin. “we need to leave before more show up. you don’t want to kill anyone else, do you?”

you shook your head quickly. 

he pulled you to your feet, wrapping his arm around yours as he guided you to his car. the ride back was silent as you stared out of the window. 

and before you knew it, you were back at his apartment. 

you hesitated at the door, unable to bring yourself to step inside. 

hongjoong sighed, grabbing your wrist as he tugged you in. he tossed his gun and his keys in the kitchen counter before turning to you. 

“go take a long shower. i’ll be in the living room.”

you nodded, moving to the bathroom in a daze. 

the water was scalding as it hit your skin. no amount of soap or scrubbing would ever make you feel clean from the bloodied-stains. every part of your body felt foreign - even your puffy eyes and lips.

once you were done, you dressed in the softest clothes you had, hoping that it would provide you with some form of comfort (it didn’t).

the pull-out couch was prepared with brand-new pillows and fluffy blankets when you returned to the living room. hongjoong sat on the edge, gesturing for you to sit. you sank down beside him. 

the silence stretched on until it became unbearable. 

you spoke up, your voice barely audible. “…i killed someone.”

“you did,” he nodded. “good job.”

your head snapped up, your eyes wide. “i killed someone.”

“and so have i,” hongjoong leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “does that bother you?”

“i…”

he leaned back. “it should. the first time always does.”

“i don’t think i can do this,” you breathed out shakily. “i don’t want to hurt people..”

the two of you locked eyes for what felt like ages. you could see hongjoong’s adam's apple bob up and down, his jaw tightening slightly. “no one wants to hurt people,” he replied softly. 

you blinked. 

“i shouldn’t have sent you out alone, especially with your dad targeting you,” he sighed. “that’s on me.”

“but-”

“-though i do have to say, this made me realise how.. unprepared you are,” he continued.

your eyebrows furrowed. 

“if you want to survive, you need to know how to defend yourself,” he drummed his fingers against the couch. “...you’re off supply runs. from now on, you’re training with the others.”

you stared at him. “what?”

“the rest have some ‘schedule’ for training. i’m sure you can join without any problems.”

you hesitated. the thought of the blood, the body, the gun in your hands made you nauseous. the idea of training scared you. 

he noticed this, his eyes softening slightly. “you won’t be a killer, just someone capable of self-defense.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat. finally, you nodded, your voice small. “okay.”

MONTH 3 - LET’S GO GAMBLING!

the casino was glitzy and loud with copyright-free music, its neon lights casting eerie shadows on the dark streets outside. 

“you three, cover left. you two, check the vault. the rest of you will stay near the exit,” hongjoong ordered.

you waited for your assignment, expecting to be grouped with someone. instead, hongjoong said, “you’re with me.”

you sighed. “alright.”

you followed hongjoong to the right side of the casino, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filling the space. he moved silently, keeping his gun concealed but ready. you tried to mimic his focus, clutching the knife wooyoung lent you earlier.

the first sign of trouble came when the alarms blared.

armed men swarmed into the casino. piglets.

hongjoong moved first, taking them down in a single shot. you ducked behind a pillar, your heart pounding.

the fight moved fast. hongjoong was precise - he wasn’t even touchable, killing the men easily.

but that was when you saw it before he did: a piglet creeping up behind him, raising and aiming the gun to his head.

“boss!”

without hesitation, you hurled wooyoung’s knife to the piglet.

the knife pierced and plunged into his neck, causing the man to fall, his gun clattering to the ground. 

hongjoong whipped his head around with wide eyes, shooting the man infront of him before spinning to kill the piglet you just hit.

the silence that followed was deafening.

hongjoong’s breathing was heavy as he lowered his weapon. he dusted his clothes off, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

he gulped, finally speaking up. “...good job, pretty.” 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

slowly, everyone regrouped in the corner, collapsing onto the floor in a circle. bottles of water were passed around as everyone caught their breaths.

for a while, no one spoke, the only sounds being an occasional groan.

“hey,” wooyoung hiccuped, breaking the silence as he turned to you. “give me my knife back.”

you looked at him awkwardly before handing him his completely bloody and dented knife - basically ruined.

“what the hell!” he exclaimed. “that was one of my favourites!”

you shrugged. “you shouldn’t have given it to me then.”

“i didn’t know you were actually gonna use it,” wooyoung complained. “i thought you would just watch.”

“you’re such a dick,” you rolled your eyes.

wooyoung leaned in closer - his voice annoyingly sweet. “aw, don’t be mad, sweetheart. i’ll get you a better knife- one that won’t bend in your delicate fucking hands.”

“shut up,” you groaned, shoving him lightly as the others chuckled.

hongjoong leaned against the wall, his arm crossed over his chest. his eyes shifted from wooyoung to you. 

his chest tightened in a now-familiar way: you’re fitting in too well.

it wasn’t jealousy - at least, that’s what he told himself. it was about control. your presence was a distraction he didn’t account for. but the others took you in so easily, which was technically a good thing, right?

and yet...

why did his stomach twist every time one of them smiled at you?

hongjoong blinked, realising how his leg was bouncing restlessly. he forced himself to stop, sighing deeply.

“you good, boss?” yunho asked.

hongjoong paused. “...i’m fine.”

yunho raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it, turning away.

hongjoong’s eyes returned to you. you were leaning a little too close to yeosang now, laughing at some joke wooyoung said - sending a strange pang through his chest.

why did this bother him so much?

you weren’t doing anything wrong. you were building trust, meshing with the group - just like he expected.

but this wasn’t about the group, was it?

he frowned, thinking. you stitched him right after he kidnapped you, you saved him from getting shot even though you were definitely not ready to fight.

what has he ever done for you?

introduced you to a world of crime? to a world of killing, stealing and hatred? accidentally ruined the relationship between you and your dad?

hongjoong closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

shit.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

without bothering to change, you sank into the pull-out couch - exhaustion pulling you to it like gravity.

you heard hongjoong locking the door behind him, the soft click sounding loud in the quiet apartment. his footsteps shuffled toward the kitchen, the sounds of cabinets opening and closing reaching your ears. you were way too tired to look.

you didn’t realise you drifted off until you were awoken by something heavy on your body.

your eyes fluttered open groggily. for a moment, you thought you were dreaming. hongjoong was in the middle of draping a large blanket on you.

“what are you doing?” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

his eyes darted to yours briefly. “nothing.”

you frowned, shifting to sit up - but he placed a hand on your shoulder, pressing you gently back down. “sleep.”

you let out a quiet sigh. “shouldn’t you be sleeping?” you muttered.

he paused, his jaw tensing. “....tomorrow onwards, you’re training with me.”

you stared at him, stunned. before you could even say anything, he turned and walked away without a word.

…did your boss just tucked you in?

MONTH 3.5 -  PUNCH, KICK, SNARE

“again,” hongjoong said, slightly out of breath. 

the living room felt smaller than usual with the two of you moving around. the coffee table and couch was pushed aside, leaving just enough space to practice your punches without tripping over the furniture. he claimed training here would teach you how to ‘fight in tight quarters’.

he sighed. “your moves are sloppy.”

you groaned, shaking your aching wrists. “i’m trying.”

“that’s not enough when someone’s aiming a gun at your head,” he replied, stepping back and raising hands. “your punches are too weak and your balance is all over the place. reset your stance.”

you rolled your eyes but obeyed, repositioning your feet. it wasn’t the first time you’ve heard those words from him.

hongjoong moved closer, tapping your wrist. “keep your guard up. always.”

you threw another punch, but it barely made his hands move. he lowered them, sighing. “that’s not going to hurt anyone-“

“-i’m doing my best, okay?” you snapped. “i’m not a fast learner.”

his eyes softened for a moment before narrowing again. “that’s not an excuse when your life is on the line.”

you tsked. he was right of course, but that didn’t make it easier to hear.

“again.”

you tried once more, throwing a combination of punches that he blocked with ease. when you attempted a kick, you stumbled, nearly losing your footing.

he caught you instinctively, his hands steadying you.

“watch your balance,” he said automatically, going on a tangent on how training is important and blahblahblah. 

you tried to focus on your surroundings, on the words he was saying, but it was hard to ignore the proximity between you. the smell of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of sweat in the room. his touch wasn’t rough or aggressive like you’d expect - it was gentle.

your eyes drifted to his face, catching the faint scars along his cheekbones and jawline. were those always there? or was this the first time you really noticed?

his brows furrowed, likely in frustration at your lack of response, but the concern in his eyes snapped you back into reality, making you realise that you were staring the whole time.

“i don’t think i’m cut out for this,” the words spilled out before you could stop them.

hongjoong paused, his lips parting slightly - he wasn’t  expecting you to say that. for a moment, he was silent. he then leaned in, his eyes piercing. 

“you don’t get to quit.”

the intensity of his voice made you forget about the aches in your muscles and the sweat dripping down your back. his words weren’t angry - they were commanding. 

“why do you even care?” you whispered, barely audible.

his grip on your arms loosened slightly, his eyes searching yours for what felt like eternity. then out of nowhere, he stepped back, clearing his throat as he avoided your gaze. “take five,” he mumbled, walking to the kitchen.

MONTH 5 - BLOOD, BLOOD AND MORE BLOOD

the office building looked ordinary. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was just another corporate HQ. but you knew better.

and so did hongjoong.

you held up the new knife wooyoung gave you, one that wasn’t as pretty as the last. it was finally the day you ambushed your dad, the man that’s been wanting you dead for months.

you looked up to face hongjoong. “i don’t want to see it,” you said suddenly.

he raised an eyebrow. “see what?”

“when you kill him. my dad,” you clarified, your throat tightening. “i’m.. okay with it, but i don’t want to see it.”

his eyes studied you. after a moment, he nodded. “make sure to stay close to me,” he said before turning to the building.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the group slipped into the building through the side. hongjoong led the way, gripping his pistol tightly as you stayed close behind him.

“elevators are too risky,” hongjoong looked back at the group. “we’ll take the stairs.”

the group nodded, their weapons drawn as they moved quietly through the halls. the fluorescent lights did nothing to mask the sinister aura that was buried in the walls.

when you reached the stairwell, the sound of footsteps echoing above sent everyone into high alert.

the first shot rang out.

gunfire filled the stairwell. the air was thick with smoke and gunfire. you pressed yourself against the wall, trying to avoid all of the attacks happening around you. you tried to go in to fight but-

-someone grabbed you.

you struggled, twisting out of their grasp. but before you could scream, a hand clamped over your mouth, dragging you away. “stay still.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the stench forced your eyes open - a horrid mix of stale cigar smoke and alcohol. the office was dimly lit and your father crouched infront of you, his face smug as he cornered you.

“you think you’re better than me, don’t you?” he sneered.

you glared at him, your heart pounding. “fuck off.”

a bitter laugh escaped his lips. “you’ve gotten worse since you joined that boy,” he spat. “should i cut off your tongue? unhinge your jaw? or maybe i’ll be basic and shoot you.”

“you’re insane,” your stomach twisted. “it’s hard to believe we’re related, especially with how ugly you are.”

“you-”

before he could finish, you jammed wooyoung’s knife into his other thigh, dragging it down to create a large gash. he let out a guttural scream, stumbling into a desk as his pants turned a dark red.

you moved quickly, scrambling out of the corner, but two piglets grabbed you before you could get far.

“stupid bitch,” your father hissed, forcing himself up as he took out the knife in his thigh, looking directly at you. “you’re going to regret that.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

as hongjoong shot another piglet with his pistol, he looked around the haze, searching for a certain someone. “where’s ‘____’?” he asked.

the group stayed silent.

“shit- we don’t know,” wooyoung said nervously.

hongjoong’s face darkened - and without hesitation, he grabbed a nearby piglet by the collar, slamming him against the wall. “where’s your boss?” he snarled.

the piglet squirmed. “i- i have a family!”

hongjoong’s grip on his collar tightened, his eyes widening scarily. “then bring me to him.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“your mother should’ve gotten the abortion,” your father said before settling down infront of you, the bloody knife close to your face. “then my money wouldn’t be wasted on cunts like you.”

“i’m surprised that you got a woman like her to fuck you,” you breathed out shakily as the blade hit your skin. 

“i guess you inherited her bitchiness.”

the door burst open as the knife grazed your skin. hongjoong stepped in, his gun raised. “let go of her,” he ordered.

the piglets hesitated, glancing between your father and hongjoong. your father’s hand didn’t move, a scar forming on your face. 

“you want her that badly?” your father asked mockingly. “you’re becoming soft.”

hongjoong didn’t answer. instead, he moved faster than you thought was possible, shooting the two piglets that held you with ease.

the bodies hit the ground - causing your father to shove you harshly against the wall. pain shot through your body as you heard something crack.

hongjoong froze, his pistol trained on your dad. 

“stay back,” your father warned, hovering the blade near your temple.

hongjoong’s jaw clenched. he dropped his gun slightly, making your father relax.

but then hongjoong lunged.

the fight was brutal, all punches and grunts. you slumped against the wall, your cheek bleeding uncontrollably as every part of your body ached.

after what felt like ages, hongjoong finally gained the upper hand, pinning your dad down as he pointed the gun to his head. but then his eyes landed on yours, wide and terrified - making him freeze.

“shit,” he cursed under his breath, lowering the gun. he turned and rushed to you, pulling you into his arms.

your father tried to crawl away, but hongjoong didn’t let him go far. with you in his embrace, he covered your eyes and ears tightly as the sound of a singular gunshot echoed in the room.

you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt. his hand cradled the back of your head, his touch soft. “it’s over,” he whispered as you sobbed.

you shook your head against his chest, the salt in your tears stinging the cut on your cheek. “i almost died.”

“i know,” he said softly. “but i wouldn’t let that happen.”

his words settled over you like a warm blanket. you pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his face. you could feel the heat of his body as he kept you close.

hongjoong shifted, his hands moving to your shoulders as he looked at you carefully. his thumb brushed over your scar, wiping away the trail of blood on your face.

“you’re shaking,” his eyebrows furrowed. “you need to breathe.”

“i’m trying.”

he reached for a nearby chair and pulled it over, guiding you to sit. hongjoong crouched infront of you, your hands trembling in his.

“you’re safe,” his eyes locked onto yours. “i’ve got you.”

something inside you cracked at his words - and tears spilled once more. hongjoong didn’t say anything, but his presence was enough. he stayed crouched infront of you, letting you take all the time you needed.

when you finally looked up, there was something unspoken in his eyes - a mix of guilt and relief that made your heart ache. “...thank you,” you whispered.

his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but the words never came. instead, he nodded slowly, his grip on your hands tightening for a moment before letting go.

at that moment, you leaned forward, closing the small distance between you. your lips brushed against his, just enough to make his entire body stiffen.

for a second, you thought you made a mistake. his hands paused midair and his breathing hitched.

but then, he moved. to you. 

his hands cupped your face gently, pulling you closer into a kiss. it was slow at first, but when you gripped his shirt tightly - the feelings he’d been keeping were let loose.

his lips pressed against yours with urgency. his fingers tangled in your hair, holding you like you might disappear if he let go. 

you responded instinctively. your hands found his neck, his jaw - brushing over them softly in a way that made him groan. “fuck- you’re so pretty.”

the world around you spun in swirls of blood, smoke and cologne, overwhelming you in a way that made you lose your breath.

hongjoong broke away for a moment, panting slightly. his lips curled into a smirk, before he kissed you again, softer this time but no less intense. it was grounding, reassuring and impossibly warm.

when the two of you pulled back, his thumb traced your scar. “this..” he began quietly. “..this isn’t what i expected tonight.”

you let out a soft, shaky laugh. “me neither.”

he pecked your forehead as he stood up, his legs slightly wobbly from the kiss. hongjoong held out a hand, helping you to your feet. “...let’s go home.”

series taglist - @hanoishere @scuzmunkie @sinfullygay @arusio @midnightrebel1028 @neemaxx @seungminsrighthand @arilevenatz @ateezswonderland @beabatiny @lemirabitur @sunnyhokyu @frzzenfrxg @cylovesmg @txtsoobean @seonghwasslytherin @sundaybossanova @sweetinsaniiity @cybrnaya @choisanchwego @mrskill2

BONUS SCENE - MINE

the apartment was quiet as you laid on the pull-out couch, staring at the ceiling. sleep wasn’t coming - your mind was too busy replacing the events earlier.

the memory of hongjoong’s arms around you stayed, along with the feeling of his lips on yours. how could a man as dangerous as him bring you such comfort?

a soft knock against the wall broke the silence.

you sat up slowly, seeing hongjoong standing in the hallway. his hair was slightly damp and he wore a loose black hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. he hesitated before walking to you, his movements weirdly awkward.

“...you okay?” you asked the nervous man.

he shrugged, trying to play it off as he sat next to you. “i’m fine. you?”

“i’ve been better.”

there was a pause as the two of you stared at each other, the silence heavy. finally, he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

“i’ve been thinking..” hongjoong trailed off.

“uh-oh.”

“i-it’s not a bad thing-” he said hurriedly. “it’s just that.. tonight made me think about a lot of things.”

you tilted your head, confused.

his voice softened as he continued. “but this isn’t just about tonight. it’s about.. everything. i don’t want you to feel.. unsafe all the time.”

“i don’t,” you said instantly, but you’re not sure how much you believed yourself.

he leaned back slightly, reaching into his hoodie pocket. when his hand reappeared, it was holding a pistol - his pistol, sleek and black.

“take this,” he held it out to you.

you blinked, staring at the weapon. “what? why?”

“because it’s mine,” he replied simply leaving no room for argument. “and now, it’s ours.”

you hesitated, your hand hovering over the gun. “i.. i barely know how to use this.”

“then i’ll teach you.”

you looked up at him, searching his face for answers. “...why are you giving this to me?”

you noticed the way his eyes darted down as you looked at him, his fingers tightening around the pistol as he pushed it to you. 

“because,” hongjoong began quietly. “i trust you.”

your fingers paused before finally closing around the gun. the cold metal felt deadly in your grasp, but the way his eyes lit up made your heart swell.

“you trust me..?” you asked softly, a faint smile on your face. “hongjoong..”

his usual composure faltered as you said his name, a blush dusting his face. he swallowed the lump in his throat, gathering himself. “you’re not just a part of the group,” he said. “you’re more than that. to me.”

your eyebrows shot up, completely stunned. “...i don’t know what to say.”

“say yes.”

you blinked. “yes to what?”

“to being mine,” hongjoong’s hands fidgeted slightly.

your heart raced as you heard his words. a wide smile spread across your face as you realised what he was really asking.

“are you..” you paused. “are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

his breath got caught in his throat as he nodded. “yeah.”

the man that was the literal leader of an entire gang, was sitting nervous infront of you. it was a funny sight to see, but you brought yourself back to reality, answering his question.

“yes.”

a wave of relief washed over his face as he let out the breath he seemed to be holding. he reached out, his fingers brushing yours briefly as he leaned closer. “wanna sleep in my bed tonight?”

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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 >>

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

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@innocygnet @jaeyunlvrs @shanabtsarmy @soso59love-blog @plum-stxr

@vcutparis @kaituyyn @blvckarabixnvoid @amazaynaastha

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.

I love this so much! Another thought I had is him secretly buying takeout and pretending he cooked it just to impress reader

hey, I saw your event and I’m curious about yours thoughts on prompt one: "when he is in your kitchen cooking something for you" for jongseob

cause even though in their most recent video where they cooked food for chuseok jongseob can’t cook and he knows this, but he was so proud of what he made.

I feel like he would still try to make something edible for his s/o.

HIII!! omgg i remember you from the piwon ask w seob. I SAW THAT VIDEO TOO, AND I LAUGHED SO HARD DJASJDAN.

"ofc i know how to cook it, i did it a million times!" cit jongseob. probably lying, like maybe it's something he saw on a youtube video and he tried it once in his life</3. but he would lie just to be able to cook something for you!!! using your kitchen. partially because it brings him a sense of family, and partially because he genuinely has no tools in his apartment... and i feel he would choose something simple to cook but still would follow a video (but he would never admit it) or would call the other members for advice. i also picture him coming to you more than one time showing you his progress, ALL of his progress. like: "i'm about to turn on the oven" or "here i put some salt now, does not it look delicious huh?" while u just stare at him nodding and just grateful to see how happy he looks while cooking for you. and while he waits for the food to cook in the oven, he starts to distract himself with humming some of his favorite rap songs. and he would only be able to stop after smelling the faint smell of burning invading the kitchen! "it's a little overcooked, but otherwise I'm sure it would have come out delicious." he would tell you proudly after putting something barely edible on your plate (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩)

prompts ; event m.list

I JUST NOTICED YUNHO HAS HAND TATTOOS HELLO??.??:):):?:!:

ATEEZ WRITERS IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, PLEASE WRITE A SERIES OR A ONE-SHOT ABOUT ANY OF THESE PHOTOS AND IF YOU DO PLEASE TAG ME!

🐟 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 !

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘍𝘰𝘶𝘳! 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 A Cup Of Care - @woncon poly!woosan x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Ad Astra per Aspera - @alxtiny pirate!ot8 x navigator!reader (series) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Ateez as Disney Princes - @edenesth disney prince!ot8 x disney princess!reader (scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Ateez Meeting Single Mom Reader [Part One] [Part Two] - @reallychaoticwoo ot8 x single mom!reader (scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Ateez When Their S/o Gives Them Cuteness Aggression - @elllisaaa ot8 x reader (scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Anything You Could Do, I Could Do Better! - @pyeonghongrie teacher!hongjoong x teacher!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Back Off! I’m Married - @solaris-amethyst non-idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Behind Closed Doors - @domm1etae idol!hongjoong x idol!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Boy With The Pearl Necklace - @hongjoongtime117 idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Day & Night - @youngies-bae predebut!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 16.51 - @itstheghostofmypast bf!university student!seonghwa x university student!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 [23.27] - @yizhou-time non-idol!seonghwa x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Beneath The Candlelight - @atzaurora bf!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Breakfast - @littlefireball bf!seonghwa x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Dirty My Ride - @starminzoo rider!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Boyfriend - @notsoverymerry bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Communion - @kitten4sannie priest!yunho x nun!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Did You Like Her In The Morning?, Yunho | Die With A Smile, Yunho - @halaboyz bf!yunho x reader (two povs) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Don’t Smile - @tyungelic ex!yunho x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Drunk - @sweetiesicheng non-idol!yunho x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Behind The Eyes - @srslyscary non-idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Chicken Date - @augustbutwinter non-idol!yeosang x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Don't Forget About Me - @idyllic-ghost idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Fever - @beenbaanbuun bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Jennifer’s Body!Yeosang - @justaaveragereader jennifer!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 3:03 am - @323cutie bf!san x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Baby, Love Me Lights Out - @hongjoongspoetry idol!san x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Choi San As Associate Professor - @melsvt associate professor!fiancee!san x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Crimson - @hwaslayer non-idol!san x stripper!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Destined To Be A Girl Dad - @makeitmingi dad!san x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 3:07am - @/cheryrri bf!mingi x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Broken Doll - @freyaphoria yandere!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Cold Red Iron - @bvidzsoo iron man!mingi x secretary!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Dinner Table - @mingi-s-dimples bf!non-idol!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Friends To Lovers With Mingi - @lxvemaze friend!idol!mingi x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Almost Home - @shadowkoo bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Better Make This Quick - @xosannie non-idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Craving The Storm - @atzaurora bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Crown Heist - @srslyscary thief!wooyoung x queen!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Cyberpunk's Bartender - @rems-writing bartender!wooyoung x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Back From The Dead - @essenteez vampire!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Finding Our Way Back - @03jyh23 ex-bf!idol!jongho x ex-gf!single-mom!reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Mr. CEO - @/milkandhwaney ceo!jongho x employee!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 My Comfort Is You - @crimsonbubble dilf!jongho x reader (drabble) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Punk Jongho Headcanon - @rems-writing punk!jongho × sweetheart!reader (headcanon) 𓈒𓏸

PAUSE HALF OF HIS LIFE?!?!?

alright, so reader is slowly remembering hate the fact that it’s a memory where yunho is mad

forget me not | vi

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 6.9K Warnings: swearing, mentions of missing persons, fluff

Fic Masterlist

Yunho lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as the quiet sounds of the night settled around him. His mind, however, refused to follow suit. No matter how tired his body was, his thoughts spun endlessly, circling back to the shop—and more specifically, to you.

He was excited at the thought of seeing you again. It hadn’t been that long since he returned to Seoul, but the pull to visit the Emporium had been growing stronger with each passing day. He could already picture you behind the counter, scolding Wooyoung for his antics, before turning to greet him with that knowing smile, as if you had been expecting him all along. Whatever the reason, the thought of seeing you again filled him with a strange, almost giddy anticipation.

Still, there was a feeling he couldn't quite shake.The more he thought about it, the clearer it became—you were always there. It didn't seem strange at first. He had assumed it was just part of your role, that the shop was your domain. But now, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Have you ever left?

Wooyoung could move freely, coming and going as he pleased, yet you seemed bound to that strange, magical space.

Yunho turned over, restless now, staring at the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. It bothered him more than he wanted to admit. The shop seemed to be both your sanctuary and your prison, and the realization gnawed at him, unsettling him more than anything else.

Why couldn’t you leave? What kind of magic was holding you there? 

His phone buzzed on the table, a faint vibration cutting through the silence. Without even glancing at the screen, Yunho already knew who it was. He sat up, grabbing it with a sigh as he swiped to answer.

“Hey,” Yunho greeted, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder. 

“You see the news?” Gunho’s voice crackled through the line, more concerned than curious.

Yunho froze, his grip on the phone tightening as dread settled like a heavy weight in his chest. “What news?” 

Scrambling to his feet, he headed into the living room, nearly stumbling over the coffee table as he rushed to turn on the TV. The familiar black screen flickered to life, and there it was. The words scrolled across the bottom of the screen:

Family of Lee Y/N files for legal declaration of death after three years with no leads.

“Tonight, we bring you a heartbreaking update on the mysterious disappearance of Lee Y/N, a case that has gripped the nation for three agonizing years. With no trace, no leads, and no answers, her family has taken the devastating step of filing a formal request with the courts to have her legally declared deceased.”

“This move marks the conclusion of a relentless search that began with hope but has since dwindled to this painful reality. For her loved ones, it’s not just the end of an investigation—it’s the closing chapter on three years of desperate prayers and unanswered questions.”

“In a heartfelt written statement, the family conveyed the grief that has consumed them since Y/N’s disappearance and the painful decision they’ve made to file with the courts to have her declared legally deceased:

"Over the last three years, not a single day has passed where we didn’t hold on to hope, praying for Y/N’s return. But as time has gone by, we’ve had to face the heartbreaking reality that we may never get the closure we so desperately need.  This decision isn't about giving up on Y/N or what she means to us. It’s about finding a way to survive in a world that no longer includes her. 

We will always love our daughter. She will forever be a part of our lives, and this is something we will carry with us for the rest of our days. This is the hardest thing we’ve ever had to do, and is a step we need to take to begin the healing process—for her, and for us."

A heavy pause lingered between them before Gunho’s voice cut through the silence. 

“I didn’t think they’d go through with it…but I guess they couldn’t wait anymore.”

"Yeah," Yunho muttered, though his voice was hollow. His fists clenched, knuckles turning white. It wasn’t fair. You were alive, breathing, moving—existing in that shop. But no one would believe it if he told them. The world ran on facts, on things that could be touched, proven, explained—and the shop was none of those things. It wasn’t on any map, couldn’t be found by search parties or missing persons reports.

To everyone else, the shop didn’t exist. And even if he wanted to tell your parents, what would he say?

"Oh, by the way, your daughter is alive, just running a magical shop that only I can find. She doesn’t remember anything about her past life with you. But don’t worry, she’s doing just fine!" 

The thought made him sick. If he said it out loud, he’d be dismissed as crazy—or worse, cruel. 

The shop might have been magical, but it was also a prison. He saw that now. A beautiful, mysterious prison that kept you chained, hidden from the world. And no matter how much he wanted to free you, to bring you back to the life you once had, he couldn’t force you out. You were bound by something deeper than magic—bound by your own pain, and your decision to forget.

“Mom and Dad went over to their house after they came back from the courthouse,” Gunho interrupted, his voice softening with a layer of sympathy Yunho wasn’t sure he was ready to handle. “Mr. Lee couldn’t stop crying.”

Yunho’s heart ached with the impossibility of it all. Your father’s tears, your mother’s quiet grief, the hollowed-out home where life had once thrived—they deserved closure, peace. But the truth wouldn’t give them that. It would only raise more questions, more pain.

He remembered the first time he’d visited your parents’ house after you disappeared. The warm, inviting home he’d known all his life felt cold, lifeless. The laughter that once filled the rooms, the scent of your mom’s cooking, the familiar hum of conversation—all of it was gone. Instead, there was only silence. 

And then there was your father.

Your father had always been a man full of energy, always quick to joke, quick to offer a smile. But that day, it was as if your disappearance had drained the life out of him, leaving behind a shell of the man who once doted on his daughter. 

Yunho could still see the way your father’s shoulders slumped as he led him up to your room, barely uttering a word. He had commented on the plush Yunho picked up before retreating quietly, disappearing into the background like a ghost in his own home.

He clenched his jaw, the frustration bubbling up inside him. All he could do was carry the weight of the secret, knowing that no matter how much he wanted to fix it, some things were beyond his control. The shop had taken you, and in doing so, it had taken the light from your family as well.

“Can you tell them I’m…sorry. Just that I’m so sorry for everything.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Gunho asked, Yunho could hear the frown in his brother’s voice.

What was he even apologizing for? For disappearing from their lives when they needed him most? For not being able to protect you? The truth was, he didn’t know where to start. Every regret, every moment of helplessness, crushed him under a guilt he could never fully articulate.

He had been there that day—the day you vanished. He had argued with you, had seen the way your expression darkened, the way your eyes filled with sadness, and yet he didn’t stop. He thought you’d come back, that you just needed space after the argument. But when you didn’t, when the days stretched into weeks, then months…Yunho had no one to blame but himself.

Your parents had reached out, desperate, but he was just as lost as they were. They had looked to him for answers, for some kind of hope, and he had none to offer. He had failed them. And now, knowing where you were—what you had become—made it even worse.

“I should have done more,” Yunho muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should’ve been there for them. And…I don’t know how to do anything else, but the least I can do is apologize and let them know that I’m also…missing Y/N.”

Gunho exhaled deeply. "I'll tell them," he finally said. "But, Yunho…you can’t keep carrying this all by yourself. You can’t keep punishing yourself for something you couldn’t control."

There was a pause, the crackle of the phone line filling the space between them before Yunho’s voice came back, quieter this time, like he was holding onto his composure by a thread. 

“I know, but just…just tell them for me. Please.”

Gunho exhaled, pressing the phone harder against his ear as if it could bring him closer to Yunho in that moment. “I will,” he said, his voice softer, filled with understanding. 

"Before you go," Yunho started, the words faltering for a second, "I need you to do me a favor."

⋆

That night, Yunho's sleep was anything but peaceful.

He stood in a grand throne room, its towering pillars casting long, imposing shadows that stretched out in the throne room like hands. The crimson red robe he donned felt suffocating, the weight of it unfamiliar, as if it didn’t belong to him. The heavy crown pressed down on his brow, making every breath feel like a struggle. 

Before him, you knelt on the cold stone floor, your wrists bound by iron shackles that clinked softly with each subtle movement. You were a shadow of the person he once knew. Gone were the bright, flowing robes you once wore, replaced by tattered prisoner’s clothes, sullied with the grime of the dungeon from which you had been dragged. Yunho’s breath hitched in his throat as he watched you kneel before him. It felt wrong. All of this feels wrong.

“Lady Lee Y/N,” the herald intoned, his voice cold and unfeeling, “you stand accused of high treason for the poisoning of Queen Mina.”

Whispers broke out amongst the members of the court, eyes darting between you and the throne. Yunho’s fingers tightened around the throne’s armrests, his knuckles whitening under the pressure as a sharp pain coiled in his chest. Treason? His mind screamed, desperate to reject what he was hearing. 

He had been told it was you, that all the evidence pointed to you. But as he looked into your hollow gaze, every fiber of his being rejected it. You couldn’t have done this. You wouldn’t have.

You were framed. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. But what choice did he have? The kingdom demanded justice, demanded blood. If he refused to follow the law, what would that mean for the throne he had been sworn to uphold?

“Your crime,” the herald continued, his voice carrying an almost sickening indifference, “has brought great shame to this kingdom and your family. For that, you have been sentenced to death by execution, to take place before the court in a fortnight.”

Yunho’s chest tightened. The herald’s words hung in the air like a death sentence for his own soul. He could feel the weight of every noble’s gaze on him, waiting for his verdict, waiting for him to condemn you. But his heart screamed in protest. His mind raced, searching for some way out, some way to save you. His pulse pounded in his ears as time seemed to stretch agonizingly slow.

You lifted your head slowly, your movements heavy as though the weight of the shackles was nothing compared to the sorrow in your heart. When your eyes finally met Yunho’s, the world seemed to stop. 

Your lips parted, as if you were about to speak. For a brief second, Yunho held his breath, hoping—praying—that you would plead your innocence, that you would give him a reason, any reason, to defy the sentence that had already been handed down. But no words came.

Instead, your eyes told him everything. They bore into him with a clarity that words never could, a silent plea that tore at his heart. They were filled with pain, but not the kind he expected—not the sorrow of a victim pleading for mercy. No, your gaze held a different kind of anguish, one that Yunho had not anticipated.

You weren’t asking him to save you. You weren’t asking for forgiveness.

You were asking him to let you go.

Yunho gasped, his chest heaving as he shot upright in bed. His heart pounded violently as his breath came in ragged bursts, the air thick in his lungs as if he was still trapped in the throne room.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the image of you—kneeling, broken, pleading silently for release—to fade. But it wouldn’t. It felt too real to be more than just a nightmare—it had felt like a memory, like something he was doomed to repeat over and over, and no matter how much he wanted to change it, the outcome would always be the same.

Yunho paced around the kitchen, his brow furrowed in deep thought as he struggled to figure out how he was going to find the emporium in Seoul. Every lap around the room seemed to bring him closer to a resolution, but it still eluded him.

He knew the emporium was no ordinary shop—its location obscured from anyone who didn’t truly need to find it. But Yunho needed to find it, more now than ever. The problem was, the shop didn’t care about urgency.

Wooyoung, lounging lazily on the kitchen counter, tracked Yunho’s movements with mild curiosity. His casual demeanor was a stark contrast to Yunho’s anxious pacing as he let out another yawn and preened his face. 

"You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up," Wooyoung finally said with a yawn.

Yunho stopped mid-step, standing at the edge of the kitchen, his shoulders tense. "Wooyoung," he began, his voice faltering slightly. He wasn’t used to this—asking for help, especially not from Wooyoung. But desperation gnawed at him, and he didn’t have the luxury of pride right now. 

"I...I need to ask you something."

Wooyoung’s ears perked up. He sat up on his haunches, his gray eyes gleaming with mischief as they locked onto Yunho. 

“This must be serious," he smirked, the teasing glint in his eyes only growing sharper, but Yunho didn’t back down.

"Y/N can’t leave the shop can she?”

Wooyoung paused, his eyes flicking to the floor before locking onto Yunho’s again. “Well...no. Wishes aren’t simple and they sometimes come with consequences.”

“Consequences?”

“She asked to be its keeper,” Wooyoung continued, his voice serious, without a trace of his usual playfulness. “And that’s not a simple role. The emporium is not just some shop. It’s alive, connected to realms and forces you can’t even begin to comprehend. For her to keep it running, for her to maintain its balance, she had to become part of it. And that meant binding her, not just magically but physically, to the shop.”

“Then I need to find the Emporium in Seoul,” Yunho said, his voice firm and resolute. But even as the words left his mouth, a shadow of doubt crept in. He hesitated for just a moment, and the question followed before he could stop it: “But...where do I even start?”

“Well… for starters, magic is all about feeling,” Wooyoung began, his tone light and almost mocking, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What do you mean?”

"Let me ask you this," he said, voice dropping to a whisper. "Is your love for my master not enough?"

Yunho’s eyes widened, frustration and embarrassment written all over his face. “That’s not—!” His voice cracked before he caught himself, but the heat was already there, his cheeks flushing with anger. “Of course I love Y/N! How could you even say that?”

Wooyoung tilted his head, studying Yunho with a smug satisfaction, as if he had anticipated this exact reaction. "Then why are you so hesitant?" he asked.

"I’m not hesitant," Yunho said, his voice tinged with frustration. "I just don’t know what I did last time to summon the shop.”

Wooyoung sighed dramatically, hopping off the counter and landing gracefully at Yunho’s feet. 

“You’re so busy doing that you’ve forgotten to feel. If you know where your heart lies, the emporium will open itself to you. If you were really that connected to Y/N, maybe your love would be enough to guide you back. Without my help.”

Wooyoung’s words felt like a taunt, poking at insecurities Yunho hadn’t even been ready to admit. Was there something wrong with him? Was his love for you not enough? Had he been too caught up in the chaos of everything to feel what was right in front of him?

Yunho took a deep breath, letting the tension in his shoulders slowly unwind. His mind was still racing, but the sharp edges of his frustration dulled slightly. 

"So what do I do, then?" he asked, his voice quieter now, less defensive.

Wooyoung stretched out, jumping down from the counter to land at Yunho’s feet. "Trust your connection with Y/N. Stop trying to find it with your head," he said simply. "And start searching with your heart."

Yunho left his apartment with a determined stride, the weight of your journal tucked carefully under his arm. The familiar hum of the city surrounded him—cars honking, distant conversations, the faint sizzle of street food vendors still open at this late hour. But tonight, none of it registered in his mind. His focus was singular, every thought of you pulling him forward like a string tied to his heart.

As he wound through the narrow streets, his steps quickened. He didn’t have a map, not a physical one, at least. The journal he carried wasn’t a guide to the emporium, but it was the closest thing he had to your lifeline. Your drawings were there, etched on the pages, a snapshot to your life and the bond you shared with him. He could almost feel your presence with him as he walked.

With every turn, the pull toward you grew stronger, an invisible force guiding him. He didn’t know where he was going—only that he had to keep moving. Then, as he rounded a corner, a strange sense of familiarity washed over him. 

There was something about this path, this particular stretch of road…

His eyes widened in recognition as he stopped dead in his tracks. Ahead of them, just across the street, stood the entrance to where you both had attended university. Yunho’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t been back here in years—not since he graduated. 

Wooyoung, who had been trailing lazily behind him, stopped beside Yunho, his keen eyes picking up on the sudden shift in Yunho’s expression. He followed Yunho’s gaze, a slow smirk creeping onto his face as he glanced between Yunho and the familiar sight ahead. 

“Well, would you look at that,” he mused, his voice light but carrying a note of something deeper—something knowing. “Seems like you’ve got a better sense of direction than I thought.”

Wooyoung turned to Yunho, a familiar glint of mischief lighting up his eyes as he leaned against a lamppost. "So, what's the grand plan when you get there, huh?" he asked, his voice teasing, laced with amusement. "You planning to storm in like a hero and declare your undying love for my master? Sweep her off her feet?"

Yunho shook his head, his lips tightening into a thin line, his gaze firmly fixed on the path ahead. "N-No… not exactly," he muttered, his voice quiet but steady.

“I want to make my wish."

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, intrigued. The teasing smirk on his face softened ever so slightly, though the playfulness didn’t completely vanish. 

"A wish, huh? And what exactly would that be?" He knew Yunho too well to take him at face value. Something had shifted in Yunho—this wasn’t just about him anymore.

Yunho didn’t answer right away. As he stood there, in the quiet night of Seoul, with the lights of the city dimming behind them, the gravity of what he wanted finally settled in. It wasn’t just about seeing you again. It wasn’t about selfishly pulling you back into his world, forcing memories to resurface, or desperately trying to rekindle what once was.

No, Yunho wanted something deeper. He wanted something for you.

"I want her to be free," Yunho finally said, his voice breaking the silence between them. "I want Y/N to be free. Not bound to that place.”

Wooyoung studied him for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as if he were reevaluating everything he thought he knew about Yunho’s intentions. He had expected him to want something else, something more...predictable. Like wanting you to remember him, to rekindle your past and continue where things left off. But this? This was different. And for the first time, Wooyoung found himself... impressed.

Yunho’s heart pounded in his chest as he approached the familiar door, nestled between the soba shop and the weathered bookshop that always seemed deserted. The floral overhang above the door swayed gently, an ethereal presence that almost seemed to hum in recognition of his arrival. The soft pull in his chest was undeniable now, a subtle but persistent thrumming, like a thread drawing him closer to the place beyond the door.

He exhaled slowly, trying to steady the nerves gnawing at him. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, gathering his resolve, before pushing down on the handle. The door gave way with a soft creak, opening into the emporium.

The shop felt alive, as if it was breathing. Every corner brimming with energy, the air thick with the hum of magic. And there you were, standing in the center of it all.

⋆

“Yunho!” you exclaimed, startled as you caught sight of him standing in the doorway. Your heart skipped a beat, and in your flustered state, you instinctively waved your hand, sending a flurry of objects soaring through the air with your magic. 

Books shuffled themselves back onto shelves, a teacup hovered briefly before floating to its proper place, and an assortment of crystals and trinkets rearranged themselves with an almost frantic energy.

Yunho blinked, his eyes wide with surprise, though a soft smile tugged at his lips. He leaned against the doorframe, watching the small whirlwind of chaos unfold around you.

You glanced back at Yunho, cheeks flushed as you tried to regain your composure. "I wasn’t expecting—uh, I didn’t think you’d be here so soon!" Your voice betrayed the nervous flutter in your chest as you hastily used your magic to smooth down your clothes, attempting to look more presentable.

“I didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he said, his voice warm and a little teasing.

You forced a light laugh, waving your hand dismissively even as the warmth on your cheeks spread further.

“No, no, it’s fine. The shop usually isn’t this chaotic. It’s just…” You narrowed your eyes toward the mischievous figure who trotted past. “Someone decided to take a little vacation, leaving me to tend to the place alone.”

“I earned that vacation,” Wooyoung quipped, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as he hopped up onto a nearby shelf. He stretched leisurely, clearly unbothered by your pointed stare. 

“Besides, you’ve got it under control…mostly.”

"Mostly?" You turned back to Yunho, mortified that he’d arrived to find you in the middle of what probably looked like absolute chaos. Shelves were haphazardly filled, some items glowing faintly with residual magic as if they hadn’t quite settled into their places, and the air smelled faintly of incense mixed with…something else. Something you didn’t have time to figure out right now.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said quietly. “I didn’t come here expecting anything perfect, I’m just keeping to my word.”

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you two, the room now still and quiet after the flurry of activity. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.

Wooyoung cleared his throat dramatically from the shelf, breaking the tension in the room. “Well, since I’m obviously not needed here, I’ll be going on another vacation. You two have fun playing shopkeeper and traveler,” he teased with a wink before disappearing into a wisp of smoke. 

With Wooyoung gone, the shop fell into stillness. The warmth of Yunho’s presence closed in on you and somehow the absence of your feline companion made the space feel larger, yet somehow more intimate. Every breath, every heartbeat, seemed amplified in the silence that had settled over the shop. It was just you and Yunho.

"I’ve decided what to wish for."

Yunho's voice was soft but unwavering as he took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours. 

"O-Of course. What might that be?" you asked, your voice faltering slightly. You fought to keep it steady, but something in the way Yunho looked at you—the depth of his gaze, the quiet intensity—made your heart race faster than you cared to admit.

"Your freedom."

Two simple words, but they hit you like a storm. The world around you seemed to still, the very air filled with the magnitude of what he’d just said. Your freedom. The one thing you never thought anyone could give you, let alone offer so willingly. 

"Yunho..." 

“I want you to be able to come and go as you please, to live your life without the magic chaining you to this place." He stepped closer still, and now you could feel the warmth radiating from him. 

"I’m willing to offer half of my life in exchange if that’s what it takes."

You blinked, your breath catching as his words sank in. Half of his life? The enormity of his offer was staggering, and for a moment, you couldn’t even comprehend it. 

"Why would you..." you stammered, your voice shaking with disbelief. "Why would you do that for…me? That’s—"

"You deserve to be free, Y/N," he whispered, his voice tender but resolute. "And if this is the way to make that happen, then I’ll gladly pay the price."

The very atmosphere of the emporium shifted in response, as if the magic within its walls had taken notice of his declaration. The shop creaked ominously, its magic swelling as though it, too, was contemplating Yunho’s wish. The lanterns overhead flickered, casting erratic shadows across the room, and the flowers hanging from the sky garden above swayed in unison.

"Ahem!" came an exaggerated throat clearing. 

Both you and Yunho jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion. Hongjoong stood casually leaning against the frame, arms crossed, a single brow arched surrounded by wisps of glittering smoke curled lazily around him.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, the intensity of the moment broken by his nonchalant interruption. Yunho, on the other hand, remained frozen for a brief second, visibly caught off guard. His jaw tightened, but the initial shock melted into a look of mild exasperation, a heavy sigh slipping from his lips.

Hongjoong’s smirk deepened, thoroughly unbothered by the silent glares he was receiving. 

"You were about to do something reckless," he remarked, his voice light but edged with a knowing sharpness. 

Yunho’s brow furrowed, his voice tight with determination. “I know what I’m doing. This is my choice.”

“Half of your life?’” Hongjoong paused, casting a pointed glance at the both of you. 

Hongjoong wasn’t one to interfere without reason, but the way he spoke of the emporium’s magic made your stomach churn with unease. Yunho’s wish was far more dangerous than either of you had realized.

"Yunho’s wish—" you began, your voice barely a whisper, but Hongjoong cut you off with a swift raise of his hand.

“Is admirable,” he finished for you, his tone softening for only a fraction of a second before turning sharp again, “but dangerously naive.” 

“The magic here doesn’t bargain in simple terms,” Hongjoong continued, his voice dropping low, the gravity of his words pulling the room into silence. “You can’t just offer up half of your life and expect everything to fall neatly into place. There are rules, consequences—ones that don’t care about the nobility of your intentions.”

Yunho blinked, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

“If you do this, you won’t just be giving up years of your life. You’ll be binding giving up your soul, your essence. The magic will take from you in ways you can’t predict or undo.”

Hongjoong’s faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a rare flicker of humor breaking through his usually composed demeanor. He straightened up, crossing his arms casually as he studied Yunho. 

“That’s Y/N’s journal, isn’t it?” Hongjoong asked, his voice soft yet deliberate. He didn’t need an answer—he already knew.

Yunho stiffened slightly, instinctively bringing a hand to his chest where a corner of something protruded from the edge of his jacket. The memories it contained, the emotions inscribed within its pages, were too personal, too sacred to be used as collateral for anything. The mere thought of it made him uneasy.

“You know,” Hongjoong began thoughtfully, “magic thrives on more than just time or years of your life.” His eyes flicked meaningfully toward the journal. “It craves something deeper—emotions, memories…the essence of who we are."

“What are you saying?” Yunho demanded.

“I’m saying you might want to reconsider the offer. Y/N’s journal—those memories, those emotions—it holds far more value than any number of years you could offer.”

Your pulse quickened. You didn’t remember anything about the journal, couldn’t recall the emotions or thoughts tied to the pages of ink. And yet, knowing that it carried fragments of your past—memories that could belong to you but were now lost—stirred something deep within you. 

"My…journal?" you asked, puzzled as you stared at the worn leather book in Yunho’s hands. It felt foreign, almost surreal, to see it again.

“I promised to tell you the truth about your past and…about us.” His voice faltered briefly as the enormity of that promise washed over him. “I brought this,” he continued, finally pulling the worn journal from his jacket, “because it was important to you. And I thought…maybe it could help you remember.”

Yunho’s fingers lightly brushed over the journal, his expression softening as he looked at it. “It’s full of your drawings. You used to sketch everything—places we went, people we met–everything. You captured things no one else noticed, things I didn’t notice until I saw them through your eyes.” He swallowed hard, his gaze shifting back to you. 

“You always saw me better than I saw myself.”

He handed you the journal, his hands steady but his heart pounding. "I thought if you saw your own art—saw what you felt, what you captured—maybe... maybe you'd remember something, even just a piece of who you were."

Your fingers trembled slightly as you took the journal, feeling the worn leather beneath your fingertips. This book had been with you through so much, carried pieces of you that even you didn’t remember anymore. You ran your thumb along the edge of the cover, trying to steady your breath. It felt strange—holding something that had once been so personal, and now, it was like holding a fragment of someone else's life.

"It feels strange," you admitted, quietly. "It’s like it belongs to someone else." 

"I know," he said quietly, his voice gentle yet unwavering. "But this is still you. The person in those pages—she’s still here." 

He reached out, his hand covering yours, and the warmth of his touch steadied you. The slight tremor in your fingers stilled as his presence grounded you, reminding you that, despite everything, you were not alone. You simply stood there, staring at the journal, a relic of a past that seemed unreachable. Was that person really still inside you? Could the pieces of the past be put back together, or had too much been lost?

“This...is the least I can do for you.” He looked down at the journal in your hands, a symbol of what he was about to give up. His eyes met yours, more intense than you’d ever seen. 

"I’m going to make my wish. I’ll give anything to set you free.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Yunho’s words carried a weight that both terrified and comforted you. He was ready to sacrifice something—perhaps everything—to break the chains that held you to the Emporium.

“I’ll grant the wish,” Hongjoong declared, his voice slicing through the heavy silence of the Emporium. His tone was casual, almost amused, but his eyes—sharp and knowing—held the gravity of what was about to happen.

“No, let me—” you began, stepping forward instinctively, but Hongjoong cut you off.

“Whatever that toy did to you, it weakened your magic. You can’t afford to take chances right now,” he explained softly. 

You had nearly forgotten about the plush toy in the chaos of recent events. But now, with Hongjoong's reminder, the faint sense of something missing from within you became impossible to ignore. Your magic had indeed felt dim, like a flame trying to burn under water. It left you feeling vulnerable. Unmoored.

You glanced at Yunho, who stood tall and resolute, though the slight tremble in his hands revealed the weight of his decision. The journal remained clutched tightly in his grip, as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go. The air around you began to buzz with energy, the edges of magic stirring, making your skin prickle.

Suddenly, the floor beneath Yunho lit up with a radiant glow. Intricate symbols—ancient runes and shimmering patterns of light—spread out from under his feet, forming a large, pulsating circle that expanded to the edges of the room. The energy in the air vibrated around you, and the ground beneath your feet hummed with power. The magic was alive, swirling and converging, ready to set the impossible in motion.

The magic began to rise, swirling around him like a gentle wind at first, then growing stronger, forming a cyclone of light and energy. The glow intensified, a brilliant vortex that seemed to pulsate with the power of the wish. The journal in his hands began to shine, its pages flickering as if they were coming alive.

You felt a sharp tug at your chest, your own magic reacting to the powerful forces being summoned in the room. It stirred weakly, echoing through your body, as though the emporium itself was waking up, aware of the monumental exchange taking place. The air hummed with a potency that both exhilarated and terrified you.

Then, as quickly as it had risen, the whirl of magic began to dissipate. The light faded, dimming until the room was left in a quiet stillness. The energy that had crackled and swirled just moments ago was gone, leaving only a faint ringing in your ears. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gulps as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. The intense force of the magic had vanished, but something inside you had shifted, changed.

You felt…lighter. The sensation was almost surreal, like a weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying had suddenly been lifted from your shoulders. In that moment, something inside you broke—an invisible barrier you hadn’t even realized was there. 

Yunho stood in front of you, his eyes soft yet heavy with concern. He searched your face, as if trying to piece together the puzzle of what you might be feeling.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice low and tentative, as though he was afraid of the answer.

For a moment, you didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. You looked at him, the edges of a smile tugging at your lips, and before you even realized what you were doing, you reached out and poked him lightly on the chest. It was a simple, almost childish gesture, but it broke the tension that had settled over the room.

Yunho blinked, surprised at the sudden touch, but a soft chuckle escaped him. His shoulders eased just a little, and that warm, familiar glow returned to his eyes. 

That was all it took. 

Without thinking, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him. The embrace was instinctive, natural, as if it had been waiting for this moment. His arms encircled you, pulling you close, holding you as if you were something fragile, something he didn’t want to break. In his embrace, you felt a warmth that had been missing for so long.

As you buried your face in his chest, you heard a soft fluttering sound around you. It was faint at first, but then the sound grew louder, like wings beating in the air. You pulled back slightly and looked around the shop.

Pages. The journal—your journal—had burst open. Loose pages, filled with memories, sketches, and words, were now swirling through the air, carried by an invisible breeze. The pages brushed past you, each one holding pieces of your past that had been hidden for so long. Sketches of places you vaguely recognized, fragments of conversations you couldn’t quite place, and moments that had long since faded from your memory.

Hongjoong stood a little further away, his smile softening into something more tender. He looked on at you and Yunho, with a quiet contentment. His eyes gleamed with pride, not just in satisfaction with the outcome, but as if he had been waiting for this moment all along—for you to find your way back to Yunho.

The emporium, the magic, the chaos—it all led to this, and for the first time in a long while, he seemed genuinely at peace.

⋆

“Well, well, look at you,” Wooyoung’s playful tone rang out, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled in the room. He padded in with his usual feline grace, tail flicking with amusement, his gray eyes gleaming mischievously as they zeroed in on you.

“Getting ready for your date with Yunho?” His voice carried that familiar lilt, half-teasing, half-genuine, that he knew would rile you up.

You shot him an unimpressed look, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you, your cheeks turning pink despite your best efforts to appear unaffected.

“It’s not a date, just an outing.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “A weekend getaway to the beach isn’t an ‘outing,’ he quipped. “Come on, admit it—you’re looking forward to this.”

You paused, fingers toying with the sleeves of your cardigan. The truth was harder to hide now, and you couldn’t help but smile—just a little.

“Maybe. A little,” you admitted, the butterflies in your stomach betraying the downplay.

But before you could say anything more, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through your head. It came out of nowhere, sudden and intense, like someone had struck you from within. You winced, your hand immediately flying to your temple as the ache intensified. The pain spread like wildfire, spreading until it became almost unbearable.

"Master? Are you okay?" Wooyoung’s playful tone vanished instantly, replaced by genuine concern. He leapt onto your bed with nimble ease, his tail twitching anxiously, his eyes wide with worry.

But you couldn’t respond. Your world was spinning, and suddenly, it was as if someone had thrown open the floodgates in your mind. You were standing outside of an apartment complex, your heart pounding. Yunho was there too, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place—he was…angry. He was saying something, his lips moving, but you were too distracted by the tears stinging your own eyes. 

“Master!” Wooyoung’s voice pierced through the chaos, pulling you back to the present. His paw gently pressed against your leg, trying to anchor you. “What’s happening, I’ll call for Jongho–”

“No,” you interrupted quickly, shaking your head despite the pulsating pain reverberating through your skull. You didn’t want to alarm Wooyoung further, didn’t want him summoning Jongho over a headache. You forced the words out, struggling to sound convincing.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just a migraine.”

But you weren’t fine. Not even close. That memory—Yunho standing there, his face twisted in anger—felt too real. It wasn’t just a fleeting moment or a dream. It was something that had actually happened, though you couldn’t recall why. You had forgotten it, buried it so deep that your mind hadn’t been able to access it until now. And with it came a flood of confusion and guilt. 

What had you done to make him look at you like that?

<< v | vii >>

taglist: @babymbbatinygirl @intowxnderland @hwasa28 @thedistractedwriter @beabatiny @lovelyglares @spenceatiny18 @tiny-apocalypse @sunnysidesins @heyitsmetonid @jwone @laurenwidjaja @potatos-on-clouds @xuchiya @syubseokie

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.

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

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

| 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 | Chapter Two

Mafia!Ot8!Ateez x female!reader

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

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

WC: 2k

Amazing Help: @potatomountain

AU: Mafia/?

Nets: @othersideoutlawsnetwork

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

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

Taglist Link

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want revenge, human?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A good choice.

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

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

Seonghwa was just happy Hongjoong was alive.

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

Humans are so cruel to anything different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yunho was in shock. What was he saying?

“Huh?”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

“I will, thank you, Hongjoong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’re only going to get stronger.