𓇼 𝐏𝟏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬:

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦! 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼 𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Bf!Ateez Texts - @littlexbunni ot8 x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Case: It's You [Book One] [Book Two] - @potatomountain detective!poly!ot8 x detective!reader (series) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Comfort Texts - @srslyscary ot8 x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Compromise - @cyberpxnk bf!seonghwa x reader x soccer player!yunho (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Défilé De Lingerie - @/bro-atz lingerie designer!san x lingerie model!reader x lingerie tailor!mingi (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Deal With The Devil - @hoeforalbedo priest!hongjoong x reader (series) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Destiny - @k-zuzu idol!hongjoong x idol!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Do Not Touch - @bandgie death!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Duck Curtains - @ichorai roommate!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Enough - @mingsolo idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓆞 Essence - @whatudowhennooneseesyou siren!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Gently Giant - @jagibangbangchan whale mershark!seonghwa x mermaid!reader ft.pirate!ateez (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Got A Fur Coat, So I Make It Purr - @velvetydream idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Just A Few More Minutes - @skrrts stay-at-home dad!seonghwa x mom!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Know Your Place - @xosannie idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Early Bird Gets The Worm - @ja3hwa bf!yunho x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Emotion Verte - @altxrrmelancholy bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Hail To The King - @sweetinsaniiity king!yunho x ex-princess!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Head Empty, Mouth Full - @xosannie bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Lesson Plans - @callmeagardengnome professor!yunho x teaching assistant!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Perfect Opportunity - @mingi-s-dimples bf!idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Princess Fluffy-Cupcake-Sparkles - @seonghw4ffles non-idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Never Yours - @daceydeath idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Riding The Heat - @xomakara alpha!idol!yeosang x omega!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Sleepy Head - @sugawhaaa bf!yeosang x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 Diet Pepsi - @loserlvrss bf!san x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Dream Come True - @makeitmingi dad!idol!san x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Facade Of Perfection [Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] - @koyagifs ceo!san x reader (three parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Guilty Pleasure | Follow You - @orshii priest!san x reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓆞 Handy - @hausofwoo maintenance man!san x tenant!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Good Morning - @yuyusshinelight dad!husband!idol!mingi x mom!wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Happy Birthday to Us - @freyaphoria yandere!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Heat Stroke - @sluttywonwoo bf!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 His Chérie - @xuchiya idol!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Lip Gloss - @loserlvrss friend!mingi x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Day Off - @cyberseong bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Décolletage - @daddyfordaeddy servant!wooyoung x lady!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Don't Save Her (She Don't Wanna Be Saved) - @lunardragon00 peasant!wooyoung x princess!reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Forbidden Fruit - @astrasng idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Fractured Promises - @koyagifs ceo!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Screeching Tires and Blood Stains - @daceydeath mafia!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Second Chance at Love - @xomakara single dad!widow!jongho x nanny!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Secretary Jongho Headcanon - @rems-writing secretary!jongho × ceo!reader (headcanon) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Sneaky - @hwallazia ceo!jongho x office worker!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Stars - @beenbaanbuun bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

This is so good! Seora & Yunho’s relationship is so cute *sobs*

I’m so excited for this story and I can’t wait to read more! I always love your writing and I can’t wait to read the next chapter! <3

the space between us three (jyh) | one.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 7k

⇢chapter content/warnings: not much - just a basic intro to yunho x seora, yunho is 31 and seora is 11, cussing, mentions of character death, mentions of a tragic car accident by drunk driving, mentions of casual relationships (not yunho), mentions of distant/unsupportive parents

⇢a/n: it's finally here! i hope you all enjoy this journey and tysm for coming along! i'm not sure what the update schedule will be for this, but i'll try my best to update in between wildfire; this series came to me suddenly so i barely did any prior planning or writing. 😭 anywho, ty again for your support on this! <33

"Seora." Yunho calls her name one last time as he pops in two toaster strudels into the toaster. He lets out a small sigh, pausing when he doesn't hear any movements coming from her room. Just as he finishes getting his coffee together, he turns on his heel to head back down the hallway to check on his 11-year old daughter.

"I'm up." She mumbles, dragging herself across the hallway and into the bathroom. Yunho stands there for a minute, doing a slight head tilt before heading back to the kitchen.

"Well, that was slightly easy today." He finishes packing her lunch [some quickly made spam masubi], making sure she has all her favorite snacks tucked neatly in her lunch box. He nibbles onto some hardboiled eggs he made for himself, plopping Seora's toaster strudels onto a plate. She takes about a good 30 minutes before she's out and dressed in her uniform, hair neatly brushed and pulled back into a low ponytail. "Morning." He hands her the plate after she pours herself some milk. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine, I guess." She sits and takes a bite before looking at her dad, leaning against the counter. "Just wish it was still the weekend." Yunho chuckles.

"Told you to stop sleeping late. Scrolling through TikTok and all that mess."

"Dad. I beg to differ." She says so matter-of-factly. "I get a lot from TikTok. If anything, I'm up late cause I'm learning."

"Please. You could also learn alot from those books you carry into the school I pay heavily for." 

"Yes, okay, but I learn other things. Like how to do cute hairstyles for myself. How to cook one pot dishes. What's important in an emergency kit. How to file taxes. Ou, and let's not forget the cool goodies on TikTok shop—"

"Why would you learn filing taxes on there?" Yunho furrows his brows. "It's not even something you need to worry about now."

"It's helping me prepare for the real world." She cocks a brow up and turns slightly. "What if you get too busy and forget to teach me?"

"Like you're not gonna pick up the phone to call me and have me do it for you when you get older." Yunho crosses his arms and leans back against the counter.

"See, no. I'll learn."

"Jeez, times really have changed." 

"You're only 31 but you sure sound like you're turning 80." She looks at him with a small teasing smile even though he's squinting his eyes at her.

"I'll just act like you didn't say that." He playfully scoffs. 

"Dad, don't you ever go on Instagram or Twitter? Anything?"

"Not like I used to. My Instagram is probably collecting cobwebs." She chuckles. "I just don't find it useful."

"I mean, you can see what your friends are up to. Like Uncle Hwa or Uncle Mingi. They post alot, no?"

"Your uncles don't even do anything fun. They aren't even fun." 

"Uncle Mingi travels a lot!" Yunho shrugs and nods in agreement. "Anyway, there's also good resources on there, actually."

"I would have never thought Twitter or Instagram could be categorized as resources."

"Pushing 85 now." He's playfully rolling his eyes now.

"Hurry and eat so we can get you to school on time." He checks his watch. "You have practice today, right?"

"Mhm."

"Are you riding home with Chan-mi?" 

"Yup!"

"Sorry, ace. I'll be home a bit after you, okay?" Seora smiles toothlessly at her father when she hears the beloved nickname slip from his lips. It had been a long time coming with that nickname, but Seora loves every bit of it. She knows it's her dad's way of saying he's proud of her in every way; all the good grades she gets, the games she plays, the hard days in and out of practice.

She is his ace, his everything.

"No big." She cleans up her plate and drinks the rest of her milk before washing her dishes. 

"Text me what you want for dinner later." She nods, facing him after setting the dishes on the rack.

"Ready." She throws her backpack strap over her shoulder.

"Alright." He grabs his bag and his thermos before handing Seora her lunch bag. He takes one last look around the kitchen to make sure all is good and unplugged before heading out the door to the car. Seora is patiently waiting at the passenger's door, already scrolling away on her phone. 

"Goodmorning you two!" Auntie Love, the next door neighbor, calls out. Yunho and Seora have grown a fond, wholesome relationship with their neighbors— they call themselves Auntie Love and Uncle Po. Despite having that relationship, Yunho feels like he doesn't know much about them besides the fact that their kids are grown and off doing their own thing— barely visiting cause of busy lives. At least, he's never seen them visit while he's around. They're sweet, and they always bring over food and check up on Seora when she's home alone while Yunho is still finishing up at work. "Where's my sweet girl?" Auntie Love comes running out in her pajamas just to give Seora a big bear hug. "Yunho, she grows more and more beautiful every day."

"Yeah she does, and the attitude grows, too!" She laughs just as he hops in the driver's seat, waving them off for the day.

"Dad." She buckles her seatbelt at the same time as he father, giving him the green light to drive off.

"That's me." Seora snorts. "What's up?"

"Have you ever met Auntie Love and Uncle Po's kids?"

"Never." Granted, Yunho and Seora just moved to their current spot about a year and a half ago, starting fresh in a smaller house that would be perfect for the two of them. But, he does find it a little odd that he's never even ran into them once. "I know they exist, I just never see them when I'm around. It's also kinda crazy cause Auntie Love said her daughter works at the same hospital as me, but it's such a huge hospital, I don't think we'd ever cross paths."

"That's pretty crazy if you did and you just didn't know it." Seora looks out the window. "I wonder why they don't visit often. They seem like such cool parents." 

"People get busy and have their own lives to end to. Plus, the sad thing about parenting is that we prepare our kids to tough it out in the world without us." Yunho playfully pinches her cheeks, making her laugh a bit.

"I'll always need you." Yunho smiles.

"You say that now, but once you find your footing in the world and someone who will take care of you, I'll be a long distant memory."

"Stop. Don't say that. I'll always need you." She repeats, tugging onto his free arm and hugging onto it like a koala. Yunho laughs at her as she continues to tug on his arm, giving it a few more playful tugs before she's letting go. "Dad."

"Yes?"

"Can you take me and my friends shopping this weekend?"

"Oh, so that's why you were being that way?" He pokes fun at her and she laughs.

"No! It's obviously because I love you."

"I love you, too." He smiles. "What're you guys trying to do?"

"I wanna buy more stuff for my scrapbook. Like stickers and stuff. And they just wanna walk around an shop. Do cute girly things." She shimmies a bit in her seat.

"Don't you have a ton of scrapbooking supplies sitting on your desk?" Yunho flawlessly turns down the street, approaching the lot to her school.

"I'm running through them. Plus, I need more highlighters and pens. And there's a new edition of the sticker books I buy." She pouts and pleads. "Please, please, please!"

"Seora." He laughs. "Yeah, cause you could certainly use more." He jokes. "Sure. Just let me know. But!"

"But?" She looks at him.

"As long as I can drag one of your uncles along."

"Duh." She laughs. "You're the best." She mumbles as she types away on her phone, Yunho pulling into a spot to walk her towards the school entrance. He helps her with her backpack, duffle bag and lunch bag, trailing behind his daughter with his hands in his pockets. He greets a few parents and teachers, pausing in his tracks just as they get to the steps. She turns to look at him, a smile on her face. Yunho looks at her and still can't believe his babygirl is already 11, going on 12 soon. She's tall, just like her father. She's got the same eyes and smile, but she definitely has similarities to Eunha. She's become quite the athlete, head deep in her books.

Time sure flies.

"See you later, ace. Have a good day at school and practice, k? Remember, text me when you get home and what you're craving for dinner." She nods, throwing her arms around her dad before they do their little handshake.

"I will. Have a good day too, gramps." He rolls his eyes again and shakes his head as he watches her walk up the steps and disappear into the main lobby of the school. 

"Goodmorning Yunho." One of the moms passing by waves and smiles sweetly at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she tries to keep her blushing subtle. He gives her a simple nod of acknowledgement with a tiny smile, slipping into his car to head to work.

Yunho can't really remember the time he went on a real date. 

He has met a few women, but super casually. He didn't really feel anything special with anyone, and he's someone who loves to connect with people. Otherwise, he finds it to be a waste of time. He's not sure how people [aka Uncle Mingi and Uncle Seonghwa] slept around without getting attached; he doesn't think he could pull it off the same way.

Plus, he comes with a forever plus one. His Seora, his babygirl, his ace. And he will always put her before anything, anyone.

Maybe Yunho was just numb. Losing Eunha was the hardest thing he's ever had to endure, and he still feels it 'till this day, as if that accident was yesterday. Seora had been shy over 4 years old when she was tragically struck by an oncoming drunk driver, leaving her car to flip off the highway. Seora barely got to live her life with her mother and that's what aches the most for Yunho. He knows she's fine, and he knows he's tried his best all these years to help shape her into who she is today. But, he knows there is a part of her that misses her mother terribly, that yearns for a mother's love even though Yunho has done everything he can to fill the shoes for both.

So, he thinks about that when he goes on dates. He could never replace Eunha, but he also knows him and Seora are good with where they're at. No one else needed to come into the mix to disrupt their flow for now. Although, he yearns for love too, though. He is scared, but he is equally sad that the truest, most raw form of love he's ever experienced was stripped away from him so fast— he barely got to indulge in Eunha being there as his wife. He's not sure if he'll ever move past it, even though Seonghwa and Mingi tell him time and time again that he deserves to experience love despite everything that's happened.

That he's still deserving of it, and that he should try to open his heart up to it.

He isn't sure how Seora would be though, and that's the most important thing for him. Because he just wants his daughter to be happy. He will always put her first.

When he drives off to work, he pulls into the staff garage and flashes his badge to the security guard waiting at the booth. He drives down to the 2nd level before he's able to find a spot and reverses into it flawlessly. He shuts off the car and grabs his backpack, heading straight to the stairs to bring him back up to the ground level and entrance of the main hospital.

The main hospital has 8 floors, with the emergency room off to the side and valet at the front for patient pickup. It's connected to an adjacent building, the older hospital— which has 3 floors and the older emergency room at the back end of the building. The pediatrics hospital is right behind the main hospital but there isn't a bridge connecting the two; staff typically have to take a 5-10 minute walk over if they need anything on that end. Along the ways are food trucks and mobile coffee trucks, with cafeterias and smaller cafés and shops situated inside the buildings itself.

The hospital is huge and could literally float and function as its own island if it wanted to. 

"Morning, Yunho!" One of the front desk staff members greets him. Yunho sends them a small salute, before smiling and responding back.

"Goodmorning!" Yunho's dressed in jeans and a thick black sweater, the colder weather slowly making its way in at this time of the year. He heads up to the second floor, his office nestled in the corner of the huge office space dedicated to his IT team and part of the administrative team. He greets everyone goodmorning on the way over, setting his things down before he comes out to chat a bit with his team members.

"Yo." He leans against an empty desk while sipping on his coffee.

"Sup boss." Taehyun swings around in his chair, while his other two coworkers, Kyung-soo and Jihoon plop into their chairs. "How's it going?"

"Alright, not too bad." Yunho chuckles. "How about you?"

"All good, can't complain." His main team is made up of 10 people— Taehyun being the team lead, the others branching into specifics like system administrators, helpdesk techs and cybersecurity. His team alone supports a few departments since the hospital is so huge— other IT teams are spread out to cover other remaining wings; plus, the older hospital and the pediatrics corner. From time to time, they'll hop in and help if needed. Without Taehyun's help triaging and prioritizing certain tasks, Yunho wouldn't be able to focus on the high-level aspects of his job. Of course, their team meshes with so many different departments within the hospital— they're all involved deeply in current ongoing and new developments.

"Didn't seem like we got too many tickets last night? Any urgent action items come up in the last hour or so?" Taehyun shakes his head.

"Not really. We've been sorting through and closing out those tickets. Most have been quick fixes." Yunho nods.

"Sounds good. I gotta work on that new clinical project that's opening up on the fifth floor soon. Might loop some of you guys in to help with the Epic implementation and other tweaks we might need to incorporate for patient ordering." 

"Aye! They're finally moving forward with it?" Yunho chuckles.

"Yeah, I guess they've slowly been recruiting patients for their program so they've been moving at a quick pace for the space and everything."

"Sick, that'll be a big project."

"Yup, already starting to feel like it. Thanks for handling those tickets. If we can make sure we stay on top of the queue and help get the AV system going for the board meeting happening in the next hour, that would be great." Yunho goes through a few other priorities he needs his team members to focus on, thanking them for all their hardwork before excusing himself to the office and beginning his own project planning and schedule organization.

He's got a few higher-level meetings to hop into, especially to debrief about the new clinical department opening up and its current timeline. He also needs to set some time aside to brainstorm the data migration request he got a few days ago for another department, along with figuring out how to structure this new department's servers, bandwidth and storage.

It doesn't sound like much, but Yunho definitely has his day cut out for him.

And as he expected, he's barely getting a moment to breathe. Especially when Taehyun pulls him into an urgent server issue that has him thinking on his feet for close to 15 minutes until he realizes the best way to move forward without any major data loss. Then, he's making it to the next meeting but he is already exhausted and hungry. He doesn't get the chance to grab lunch until 1:30pm— Yunho rushing over to the cafeteria to grab today's lunch special before they stop offering hot food. 

"Today ended up being a lot busier than expected." Yunho mumbles as he slips into a seat, Taehyun and Jihoon following suit in the spaces in front of him.

"Seriously. Thanks for your help with the servers."

"All good." Yunho chuckles. "Sooner or later, we'll find better ways to tackle those issues. I know we're gonna have to work on upgrades soon."

"Agreed. And it's probably about time." Jihoon chimes in. "I know we were kinda brushing it off for a bit but I'm slowly seeing it crumble." Yunho nods.

"Nah, I agree. I'll think about it over the next few days. Let me know if you guys have any ideas." Yunho sips his water. "I'll also need your help for the clinical project a lot sooner than expected. I'll forward any invites so you two can start attending meetings. It'll be good for you to get involved now so you have a better idea of the setting and the trials taking place in this new department."

"Sounds good! Let me know if you need anything else, we'll be happy to help out." Yunho smiles and cocks his head to the side.

"Thanks. How's everything else been with you guys? I've been going through candidates, but I expect us to interview and wrap up the whole thing by next month. We'll get some extra help."

"Thanks, boss. That's good to hear." Taehyun hums. "And hm, I think everyone's completely fine and taking it day by day. No one seems to be unhappy."

"We've got a good team and good people around us so I can't complain either. Days are busy but wouldn't want it any other way." Jihoon takes a spoonful of food into his mouth and shrugs. "Got a good manager." He points at Yunho.

"Well, least I'm doing something right?" Taehyun laughs and shakes his head.

"Have a little faith, will you?" Taehyun smiles. "The team doesn't go anywhere without you."

"I think it's the other way around for sure."

"Hey." Seonghwa pops in and sits next to Yunho. Taehyun and Jihoon nod at Seonghwa and send their usual greetings, Yunho knitting his brows at how flustered he looks.

"You okay? Should I even ask?" Seonghwa shakes his head.

"Just tired." Seonghwa takes a bite of the sandwich he brought over. "This health fair we've been planning is driving me crazy. Vendors have been too flakey and our deadline to finalize everything is next week. Plus, I gotta get those interviews and articles done for the new department by next week, too." Seonghwa is one of the marketing and communications managers for the hospital. He had been working here for a bit longer than Yunho, and actually introduced him to the hiring manager and IT director when they were in dire need of building a new team to support the growth of the new main hospital. They had both been working there for a couple of years, Seonghwa organically growing from the bottom up since he had started. Yunho respects him alot [besides the fact that he's one of his bestfriends], and admires his work ethic. Seonghwa is probably one of the constants in his life that helps push him to where he needs to be and serves as a reminder that he needs to keep going regardless of what life brings to the table. 

"I bet you're hella roped into the fine details for that." Taehyun says.

"Yeah, and it doesn't help that the core faculty members are all crazy busy. They're all psychiatrists and neurosurgeons. I can barely get them to respond about meeting with me to talk about it." Seonghwa sighs. "Anyway, that's all. I just needed to let that out, so thanks." They all chuckle.

"Yeah." Yunho looks at him. "Going to that huge introductory meeting later this week then?"

"Mhm." 

"By the way, how's you and Seora?" Taehyun asks. 

"My ace!" Seonghwa adds.

"We're as good as we can be." Yunho smiles, eyes looking down at the polaroid on the back of his phone that Seora slipped in. It's a picture of them two at the amusement park, wearing cute headbands per her request.

"That's good. School and basketball still treating her okay?" Yunho nods. "Cool. I'm glad you're doing okay. I just wasn't sure when I could ask since you've been so busy."

"You can always pop into my office." Yunho laughs. "But, thank you. I appreciate you guys for asking and for all your help."

"Does she have a game soon?" Seonghwa cuts in to ask.

"Think so. Pretty sure."

"Let me know. I'll try and make it." Seonghwa's eyes are traveling across the room, situated on a person as they grab their lunch and sit at a table on the opposite end of the room. 

"How's that going?" Yunho follows his gaze and lets out a small laugh. Jihoon and Taehyun can't help themselves either, subtly looking over their shoulder to see what has gotten Seonghwa all quiet. It's Yoori, one of the Directors of Space and Planning, and the same girl he had been seeing recently.

"I dunno. It's alright I guess."

"Do you think you'll end up in something serious with her?"

"No." Seonghwa chuckles it off, but internally, he's torn between keeping Yoori as his past-time or his full-time.

"She seems to like you a lot already." Yunho continues to look at Yoori as she talks to her coworkers. She's about 4 years older than them. Was in a long term relationship that ended a few months ago, according to Seonghwa. He thought it was a good opportunity to get to know her and have some fun, assuming she wouldn't be ready for a relationship. He might've been wrong because yeah, she does like him a lot already. She's been hinting at it a lot. It's not that Seonghwa can't see them being something serious— he's just not sure if he's ready to jump into that or take that road right now.

He likes his independence and he likes having fun, he's not gonna lie about it.

"Yeah, but we already talked about where we were at and she agreed on it, so." 

"Uh huh.." Yunho responds. "You know, it's okay to want something serious." He chuckles. But, before Seonghwa can respond, he nods towards the aisle ahead.

"Hm." Seonghwa hums. "Speaking of something serious to get into."

"Hey Yunho!" One of the nurses, Ara, passes by with her friends, smiling at him. "Seonghwa, Taehyun, Jihoon." She gives them nods of acknowledgements.

"Sup!" They all say in their own way.

"Hey Ara." He looks up at her.

"Haven't seen you around for awhile?"

"Just been running around is all."

"Locked up in his office actually—" Taehyun says, causing Yunho to press on his foot under the table. "Ouch— yeah, we've all been busy."

"I see." She giggles. "How's Seora?"

"Good!"

"Give her a big hug for me." Ara smiles. "We should definitely grab some dinner one day and hang out. Bring Seora, too!"

"For sure! Sounds fun."

"See you around then, maybe?" She subtly bites onto her bottom lip as her friends giggle away and hurry along to a table.

"Yeah, I'll see you." She waves for one last goodbye before reuniting with her friends. Seonghwa lets out a small snort, while Taehyun and Jihoon quietly poke away at their food with a smirk growing on their lips.

"Um, so." Jihoon laughs when he's the first to break the silence. "She's definitely interested."

"And Yunho definitely should take the opportunity." Seonghwa responds right away, making Yunho shake his head.

"Nah."

"Why not? She's literally opening the door in front of you. Doesn't hurt to try."

"Could be fun. Doesn't have to be serious." Jihoon adds. "She's cute."

"You should see where it takes you. No harm in letting it go if it doesn't pan out as expected." Taehyun also adds his two cents.

"Was not expecting to get lectured by you three during lunch." They laugh.

"Seriously." Seonghwa looks at him. "It's been awhile since you've went on a date. Just see where it goes." Yunho stays silent as he pokes at his food, thinking about the whole thing. It couldn't hurt just to see where it'd take him— and quite frankly, he could use someone new to talk to and hang out with. It doesn't necessarily mean it needs to work out into anything. "I will literally sit at home with Seora and keep her occupied when you take Ara out." Yunho sighs and finally meets his gaze.

"Really now? I'm holding you to it."

"Yes! Not like I haven't before. Could use time to hangout with my ace and bring back the favorite uncle title." Yunho chuckles.

"Yeah, gotta say. Mingi has been taking over." Yunho says just to rile him up even though there's no such thing for Seora; she loves her uncles equally.

"Well, fuck Mingi." Taehyun and Jihoon laugh. "Ask her later. Or tomorrow. Promise me. It doesn't have to turn into anything but at least get out of the house and hang out with a fresh face." Seonghwa turns back to his food. "But for your sake, I hope it does." He mumbles, causing Yunho to nudge him.

"Fine, but no promises on a specific outcome."

"My job here is done." Seonghwa sips on his soda and tosses a crumpled napkin into the sandwich wrapper.

"Shoulda known."

"I was just gonna catch up with you guys, not my fault she happened to walk by at the same time." Seonghwa chuckles and stands. "Gotta get back to my desk and start pressing people for answers. See you guys around." He stands and grabs his trash, making his way to the trash can before walking off out of the cafeteria.

"He's right." Taehyun shrugs. "Gotta try and see where it goes. You deserve to take a break and have some fun. You always work so damn hard."

"And we all know how much Seora means to you and comes first, but you gotta think about yourself, too." Yunho chuckles as he takes his last forkful and sits back in his seat.

"Thanks guys."

"Just looking out for you." Jihoon stretches. "Anyway, time to head back?"

"Yup. I gotta get ready for my next meeting." They all stand and slowly make their way out of the cafeteria, throwing their trash into the appropriate bins.

Yunho's day ends a little after 5:45pm, which is when rush hour hits. He's heading downtown to pick up the food Seora requested, making sure to place the order ahead of time so he can just pick it up and go. As expected, he hits traffic and it takes him an extra 15 minutes to get deep into downtown. It's crazy everywhere, and all Yunho can do is look forward to getting home.

seora: daddy-o i am home

seora: honey-soy glazed fried chicken and kimchi fried rice from chick'n coop pls!

seora: pls pls pls <3333 love youuu

Luckily, he's able to snag a spot in front of the restaurant. It's a 15 minute spot, so he quickly runs in and grabs the food, thanking the friendly staff before running out and getting back into the car. He's not entirely excited about the trek home in all this chaos, but he finds it worth it when he reminds himself of how happy Seora will be when he gets home with her current craving.

So, his usual 30 min drive home ends up being 45 from inner downtown with all the traffic. He parks his car out front before grabbing his things and pulling on his car handle to make sure the doors are locked. When Yunho unlocks the front door, the house is quiet but it doesn't worry him one bit because he knows exactly where Seora is. He kicks off his shoes, setting the bag of food down on the counter before placing his bag down on a dining table chair. He turns down the hallway towards Seora's room, her door slightly ajar. He gives it a few knocks before he's poking his head in, finding her deep in her books at her desk— those huge Bose headphones she asked for last Christmas sitting on her head while she works on her homework.

"Ace." She surprisingly turns her head towards the door, but it's probably because she felt her father's looming figure standing there. She smiles and shoves off her headphones, playfully jumping on her dad while he wraps his arms around her and hugs her tightly.

"You're home!" Yunho laughs as she gently hops off.

"How was school and practice?" She shrugs, walking back to her desk.

"Um, it was okay? The usual."

"Got lots of homework?" She shakes her head.

"Not really. I'm about to finish up!"

"Why don't you wrap it up so we can have dinner and watch our show together?" She chuckles.

"Okay. I'll be out in a sec." Yunho nods, shutting her door before heading out to wash up and get comfy for the evening. He heads to his room and takes a piping hot shower before completing his routine and slipping into a shirt and some flannel pajamas. He heads into the kitchen to unpack dinner, setting out the plates and utensils for him and Seora. He's not usually a stickler about these things— there are days when the two of them sit at the table and talk about everything and anything, then there's days where they'll plop onto the living room floor to eat at the coffee table and watch a show or movie. Any moment spent with Seora is a cherished moment for Yunho, and he'll never take any of it for granted;

Not when she's growing up so damn fast.

Yunho remembers when Seora was born— him and Eunha were shy over 20 years old. Young, dumb and naive; so incredibly unsure of how they'd move forward with having a child so young, how they'd make it without the support they hoped to have. Both their parents didn't think they were ready and tried to force other agendas on them, ones that didn't include being in Seora's life and Eunha was almost convinced it was the better route solely because of all the noise and talk in her ear. But, Yunho didn't want any of it at all. He wanted to be in Seora's life, he wanted to raise her, he wanted to go through life's ups and downs with her— even if that meant their parents wouldn't agree and would cut off ties. 

All that mattered was Seora and Eunha.

So, they had her. Yunho and Eunha had the hardest, most challenging time trying to work to get by, all while finishing school over the years. They packed up and moved to different in-laws, renting rooms in random homes until they could afford a tiny studio to build in for awhile. They pushed through no matter how rough it got because they were both on the same page and understood the end goal: providing for Seora and being able to give her a comfortable life. Their parents weren't the happiest; hence, the disconnect between Seora and both her grandparents. When Eunha passed, her parents cut off ties completely because they claimed it was too painful to. Yunho's parents on the other hand, will see their granddaughter once in a blue moon over a quick meal. Otherwise, they send over birthday and holiday cards with extra cash wishing her the best. Yunho doesn't really have a great relationship with them anyway, and when he does manage to have dinner with them, he tries to keep it civil. 

Keyword: tries.

Things changed when Seora hit 7 years old and was smart enough to pick up on their cues. She realized her grandparents didn't really wanna be a part of her life like that and that was hurtful for Yunho to see. She'd question why they weren't there to see her exceed during the sports competitions in summer camp, she'd question why they wouldn't go to her little school dance recitals. She'd question why they weren't there when she'd win Student of the Month or when they'd have fall and spring family festivals.

She questioned why they weren't there and Yunho didn't have an answer for her. 

But, since they are his parents, he tries to keep that window open out of respect. In the end, he knows it would truly just be them two against the world, and that was completely fine. Yunho made it this far throughout all the trials and tribulations— he's sure he can handle anything else that comes their way.

"Yay!" Seora squeals when she comes out into the living room and plops next to her dad on the floor. "Thank you." She smiles at him and he chuckles.

"You're welcome. Good choice for dinner." She begins to plop some fried rice onto her plate, followed by pieces of the honey-soy glazed chicken wings. 

"Been craving it for so long."

"You could've just asked for it." Yunho switches it to their favorite zombie apocalypse show. 

"I know, but I know you have long days at work so I feel bad for asking you to stop by."

"I appreciate that." Yunho laughs. "But, I want you to know that I don't mind, okay? Just let me know and I'll make the stop."

"You really are the best." She mutters just as she takes a bite into her chicken. 

"You know what we haven't done in awhile?"

"Hm?" Her eyes widen at the scene, and she lets out a small 'oh my god, run!' in between.

"We haven't gone out for our usual father/daughter dates."

"You're right." She takes a spoonful of rice into her mouth. "Can we go next weekend? I think I have a game that Saturday, but in the morning."

"Yeah, what do you wanna do?" She grabs the remote to pause the show.

"Hold on, I need to think about this." She looks up in thought. "I wanna go to the movies to catch Wicked. But, I wanna go to the theater that has the cute suites with the couches inside."

"Okay. But, let me get this straight." Yunho laughs and takes a sip of his beer. "You wanna do that with me and not your friends?"

"They're surprisingly not all that into it. We might later on, but I definitely wanna watch it with you cause I know you'll enjoy it either way." Yunho nods.

"What else? More shopping? More eating out?"

"They opened up that new dog café downtown."

"Let's go then." 

"Bbq after it all?"

"Sounds like a good date to me."

"Dad, for the next-next one, we should drive somewhere or do something outdoorsy or active. Like those indoor rock climbing gyms."

"Woah." He laughs loudly. "Yeah, actually. We should. I'll start planning something for a weekend you don't have any games."

"Woohoo! Sick. Now I can beat you at rock climbing and rub it in your face." She claps and gently headbutts her dad's arm before resuming the show.

"Seora." Yunho looks over at her with a fond smile.

"Uh huh? Holy crap—" She responds to the show before quickly glancing over at him, then back to the TV. "Yeah, dad?"

"Love you." He makes it a point to always remind her because he doesn't want her to feel like she's lacking in love anywhere, despite no longer having her mother or her grandparents around. He is hoping he's enough to fill their shoes. "You know that, right?" He gently tickles her and she squeals.

"Yes! Oh my god, don't do that!" He laughs. "I love you too." Yunho sits back against the couch and fully immerses himself in dinner and the show— responding just as animatedly as Seora. They get through about four 50-min episodes, a little bit into the fifth before Seora is beginning to yawn like crazy, almost falling asleep on the opposite end of the couch.

"Ace." Yunho gently shakes her by the shoulder after pausing the show and slowly cleaning up the coffee table.

"I'm definitely not falling asleep." He snorts.

"You sure are. We'll pick this up again tomorrow. You had a long day." She sits up and yawns, stretching before she rubs at her eyes.

"Practice killed me today. Coach had us running suicides up and down the court for warm up."

"That's a good way to start practice." She nods and sleepily begins her walk off to the bathroom to brush her teeth and do her nightly routine.

"I'm off!" 

"Goodnight, sleep well. Don't stay up on your phone for too long."

"I won't, I won't. Actually—" She lazily pauses and walks back to give Yunho a hug. "Night dad." He playfully squeezes her before planting a chaste kiss to the top of her head and ruffling her hair.

"Night." He watches her finally walk off to the bathroom before turning his attention to the dishes in the sink. He takes his time washing them thoroughly before wiping down the kitchen counters, the dining table and living room coffee table. He slips the leftovers into Seora's tupperware for lunch tomorrow, prepping snacks for himself and Seora to take as well.

He'll probably head to the cafeteria and buy himself something to eat.

Once he's satisfied with his cleaning, he shuts off the lights and double checks the doors before heading into his room on the opposite side of Seora's. He lets out a sigh, exhaustion fully hitting him at this time. He gets himself ready for bed, brushing his teeth and doing his final round of skincare before plopping onto his bed and turning on his own TV. He lowers the volume slightly, the TV now just giving off soft background noise to fill the void. Before he could really settle in, his phone rings— a call coming in from his other bestfriend.

"What?" Mingi scoffs hearing Yunho's greeting.

"You're such a dick, you know that?" Yunho laughs as Mingi continues to whine. "I called to check on you and that's all I get?"

"Jesus, relax. What's wrong?"

"I'm just saying! You didn't even text me back."

"Sorry, I got caught up. Work was busy today, then I stopped by to grab some food Seora's been craving. We were watching our show all night and just finished up not too long ago." Yunho briefly puts him on speaker phone to check Mingi's text. 

mingi: wanna do something this weekend?

"I just asked if you wanted to do something this weekend." Yunho responds anyway, just to give him what he wants.

yunho: no

"Well, okay. It doesn't even matter anymore, why are you responding now?!" Mingi's voice turns up a pitch.

"You wanted me to text you back." Yunho laughs. "No can do anyway. I told Seora I'd take her and the girls shopping. Unless.. you wanna tag along?"

"How sweet. You want me to keep you company?" 

"We can go on our own date while they shop." Mingi chuckles.

"Yeah, sure."

"What did you have in mind originally?"

"Just walking around the city or grabbing dinner. Nothing too fancy."

"What's Hwa doing? Saw him earlier but didn't really get a chance to ask."

"Hanging out with that girl he's been talking to for a two weeks and three days. What's her name? Yoori?"

"Mhm. You're oddly specific." Yunho snorts.

"I don't think it'll last, if I'm being honest." Mingi laughs.

"He's having fun."

"As with the others. Anyway. When's ace's next game?"

"The following Saturday. I gotta check the exact time, but it's an early one. Was planning to take her out afterwards."

"No invite to that?"

"No, dude. My time with my daughter." He sighs.

"I want one."

"Then stop fucking around and settle down." Yunho chuckles. "Also not just something you can want like a toy, Mingi. You know it's way more than that."

"No, I know. You and Eunha did well with Seora, seriously. You're like her bestfriend."

"That's my girl." Mingi nods to himself because he does eventually wanna settle down and have a family, but he's mainly proud of the way Yunho has gracefully tackled life despite all the ups and downs. He wasn't afraid to ask for help when he really needed it, leaning on him and Seonghwa when times were incredibly trying. Taking turns babysitting and driving the girl to and from places, helping buy groceries or cook for the two. Sometimes, Seonghwa or Mingi would offer to hang out with her for a day or so just so Yunho could get some time to himself. For the most part though, Yunho and Eunha did their best. Yunho did his best to pick himself up and carry on for the both of them after Eunha passed. He's not sure how he managed, but he did. He commends Yunho cause he isn't sure how he'd do it if he was in his place.

He hopes his bestfriend can be genuinely happy one day. Yunho says he is but Mingi knows he isn't. There's always gonna be that empty space and that void that he'll look past, and he's worried it'll be too much to bear when times get tough again. Yunho feels like he has everything being by Seora's side and Mingi doesn't doubt that at all.

Still, it must get lonely at times.

"Anyway, I'll let you be. Just wanted to check in. Tell ace I said hi and give her a big hug for me. Send me the details of her game when you can and what time you need me to be ready this weekend."

"Yeah, I will."

"Alright, peaaace." Yunho ends the call and sticks his phone onto the charger. On his nightstand is a photo of him, Eunha and Seora when Seora just turned three— they took her up to the snow so she could play around and enjoy herself. He picks up the photo and smiles as he stares at Eunha's face, truly missing her presence until this day.

That's probably the one other thing that stops him when he thinks about seriously dating again and seeing people. He knows he shouldn't compare but he can't help himself when Eunha was ripped away from his life so suddenly; all he knows is Eunha. They were always on the same page. They weren't perfect, and they sure as hell had their ups and downs. But, they both had the end goal of making it together and being the best parents Seora could have. There was that mutual understanding, that same determination and grit to push through regardless of how tough it got.

He doesn't think he could find a partner in crime like that ever again. Maybe, he just isn't destined to.

And for now, that's okay.

It's okay because he has Seora, and she is the biggest reminder, the biggest vessel of love that he needs.

For now, he thinks he's okay.

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies

WE ARE SO BACK! (again)

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ THE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Twelve: Ma Meilleure Ennemie

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masterpost

៚ wc: 10k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ The night is electric, filled with fleeting glances, moments of tension, and unspoken words hanging in the air. You find yourself caught in a delicate dance between the past and the present, as old wounds resurface in the most unexpected ways. But just when you think you’ve built a wall strong enough to keep it all out, everything comes crashing down. Who can you trust when even your own heart feels like a stranger? Will you finally face what’s been lurking in the shadows, or will you keep running, hoping the past will stay buried? The answers are closer than you think—but are you ready to hear them?

a/n: the way you can tell this is a belated new yearʼs special... also peep the references hehe

tags: @beabatiny @babymbbatinygirl @vcutparis (ik youʼre not actually on my taglist but i wanted to add you here haha 😅)

Paris glowed as if it were at the very edge of heaven. Streets lined with twinkling fairy lights stretched endlessly, shimmering like stars brought down to earth. The chill of winter softened by the warmth of countless candles flickering in shop windows and the golden glimmer spilling out of bustling cafes. Children darted between the legs of laughing adults, their giggles carried on the crisp evening breeze. Couples strolled hand in hand, their faces illuminated by both the soft light of the decorations and the sheer joy of the season. Fireworks were being prepped along the Seine, their bright colors barely restrained, waiting for the stroke of midnight to explode into celebration.

Yet, amidst all this joy and revelry, there was a quiet heaviness—a void that neither the beauty of Paris nor the energy of the celebrations could fill.

You sat at the edge of your bed, the faint hum of the heater in your apartment the only sound breaking the silence. The festive cheer of the city below felt like a mockery of the hollow ache in your chest. The loneliness that clung to you was suffocating, made worse by the distance between you and Hongjoong. You tried not to think about him, but every laugh that slipped in through your window or every stray cat that crossed the street below brought him to mind. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once, his absence more palpable than any presence could ever be.

Seonghwa’s name suddenly flashed across the screen of your phone, pulling the anchor of your thoughts back to the shore. For a moment, you considered ignoring it altogether—you werenʼt in the mood to do anything at all today, anyway, let alone celebrate the upcoming year. But knowing him, he wouldn’t just leave it at one call—he’d keep trying until you answered. With a shaky breath, you swiped to accept.

“Hello?” Your voice came out quieter than you intended, and you cursed yourself for the way it wavered.

“Hey, I missed you!” Seonghwa’s voice was warm, almost too warm. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

You forced a small laugh, but it sounded hollow even to your own ears. “As if I could. But… why the sudden phone call?”

There was a pause, brief but charged, before he spoke again. “We’re having a New Year’s Eve party here tonight—and you should definitely come!”

Your heart sank. Of course, he’d call about that. You already knew the agency’s New Year’s event was a big deal, but you hadn’t planned on going. The thought of being in the same room as Hongjoong, pretending everything was fine when it very clearly wasn’t, was almost unbearable.

“I don’t know, Seonghwa...” you began, but he cut you off.

“Listen,” he said gently, “you’ve been cooped up for too long. It’ll be good for you to get out, be around people.”

You bit your lip, your grip tightening on the phone. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. Being around people wasn’t the problem. Hongjoong was the problem.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said, hating how weak you sounded.

Seonghwa sighed, and you could picture him running a hand through his hair, the way he always did when he was trying to be patient. “Itʼs because of Hongjoong, isnʼt it?”

Your breath hitched, and the silence that followed was damning. Of course, he knew. He always knew.

“He’s not going to bother you,” Seonghwa said softly. “I’ll make sure of it. You can stick with me the whole night if you want. Hell, I’ll even block his line of sight if it’ll make you feel better.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, though it was brief and tinged with sadness. “I don’t think that’s physically possible, Seonghwa.” Your fingers tightened around the edge of your desk, your chest tightening. “And it’s not just that,” you admitted. “I don’t know if I can handle pretending to be okay. I feel like I’ll just ruin the mood.”

“Ruin the mood? Are you kidding?” Seonghwa’s laugh was light but not dismissive. “You’re the highlight of any room you walk into. Trust me, no one’s expecting you to put on a show. Just be there.”

Before you could respond, Wooyoung’s voice burst through the receiver. “Hey, I know this phone number!” he beamed before straight up snatching the phone from Seonghwa. “How come youʼre picking up Seonghwaʼs calls and not mine?”

Your eyebrow went up in confusion. “Youʼve been calling me?”

“No, but you should be able to telepathically sense my soul whenever I want you to call me.”

“Wooyoung, give me back my phone!”

“No way! She’s laughing now, thanks to me.”

Despite yourself, you smiled, warmth seeping into the cracks of your heart. “Well, hello to you too, Wooyoung.”

“Hey there,” Wooyoung greeted. “Now, listen up. You’re coming tonight. No arguments. We’re saving you a seat and everything. And you know what? If you cross paths with Hongjoong and things get weird, just yell my name, and I’ll come running. Deal?”

Your smile faltered at the mention of Hongjoong yet again, but Wooyoung didn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. “I mean it,” he continued. “You’ve been MIA, and honestly, we miss you. So, get dressed, look stunning, and show up. That’s an order.”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa scolded lightly, “let her decide on her own.”

“Nope,” Wooyoung countered. “She’s coming. End of discussion.”

You wanted to go. You really did. But the thought of walking into that office, of seeing Hongjoong and pretending like everything was fine... It felt impossible. The wound between you wasn’t just fresh—it was still bleeding, raw and unhealed.

What if he ignored you again? What if he didn’t?

That was the cruelest part. You didn’t know what was worse—his cold indifference or the possibility that he’d look at you with anything resembling regret.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, contemplating an excuse to end the call. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Seonghwa. You knew he’d keep his word, stay by your side, shield you from whatever awkwardness might arise. But it wasn’t enough.

Because no matter how much you wanted to deny it, this wasn’t just about Hongjoong avoiding you. It was about the hollow ache in your chest, the way your mind kept replaying that almost-kiss, that devastating moment when he stepped away.

You hated how much you missed him. How much you still cared, despite everything.

But maybe you were being selfish. Maybe you needed to stop wallowing in your own misery and try to move on. Maybe—

“Still there?” Seonghwa’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft but insistent.

“Uh… yeah. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he said, and you could hear the sincerity in his tone. “Just think about it, okay? I really think it’ll do you some good. And if it gets too overwhelming, I’ll take you home myself. No questions asked.”

“Okay,” you said quietly, though you weren’t sure you meant it.

“Promise you’ll think about it?”

“Promise.”

“Good,” Seonghwa said, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “And hey, Wooyoung wants to say something to you.”

Wooyoung’s voice came back, loud and chipper. “If you don’t come, I’m eating all the desserts. Every single one. You’ve been warned—mind you, half of these are your favorites!”

You laughed, a genuine one this time. “Noted.”

Meanwhile, at the office, Hongjoong found himself standing beside a table, his hands busy arranging patterned fabrics, though his thoughts were anything but focused on the task at hand. Wooyoung’s voice carried across the room, loud enough to be heard by everyone nearby, including him, making Hongjoong look up in mild surprise, only to see him and Seonghwa engaged in a phone call.

As soon as a laugh echoed faintly through the air from the other line, Hongjoong’s entire world seemed to grind to a halt. It wasn’t even loud—just a soft, almost timid sound—but it hit him like a hurricane.

That laugh.

It was yours.

There was no mistaking it, even after the days of silence that stretched between you like a vast ocean. His hands froze, the patterned cloth he’d been meticulously arranging slipping from his grasp as his breath caught in his throat.

It was ridiculous, really. He’d heard your laugh countless times before, in moments both mundane and extraordinary. But now? Now it felt like a lifeline, a fleeting tether to something he’d been desperately trying to push away yet couldn’t help but crave.

God, how long had it been since he’d heard it? Days? Weeks? It felt like a lifetime. And to think, he’d spent all that time convincing himself that distance was the right thing to do, that staying away from you would somehow make things easier for both of you. What a joke. He wasn’t sure what hurt more—the hollow ache of missing you or the self-inflicted wounds of his own stubbornness.

As your voice murmured something indistinct on the other end of Seonghwa’s phone, Hongjoong felt the sharp sting of longing cut through him like glass. He wanted to hear it more clearly, to hold onto every word, every inflection, as if they could somehow fill the empty spaces you’d left behind. And damn it, he wanted to be the reason you were laughing. Not Wooyoung, not Seonghwa—him. He wanted to be the one who could coax that sound from you, the one you’d turn to when the world felt too heavy or too bright.

For a fleeting, irrational moment, he wanted to march across the room, grab Seonghwa’s phone, and press it to his ear. He wanted to say your name, hear how you’d respond, even if it was with confusion or anger. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.  

What good would it do? What could he possibly say to you that would make up for everything? For the cold shoulders, the deliberate avoidance, the way he’d pulled away just when things had begun to shift between you two? He was a goddamn hypocrite, and he knew it. He hated himself for it.  

Because the truth was, he didn’t want to keep you at arm’s length. Not even a little. Every fiber of his being screamed against the distance he’d forced between you, begged him to close it, to reach out, to pull you back into the space he’d so selfishly carved out for you in his life. But then that ugly, insidious voice in his head would creep back in, reminding him why he’d done it in the first place.  

What could he offer you? He was a man with flaws, with baggage he wishes not to let you carry. And you... you deserved more than he could give.  

So he kept his distance, even though it killed him. Even though he could feel the cracks widening in the carefully constructed wall he’d built around himself. He told himself it was for your own good, that he was protecting you, even as the lie twisted like a knife in his gut. He didn’t believe it anymore—not really. But admitting that would mean admitting how badly he’d messed up, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength for that.  

Hearing you laugh again, even from afar, was both a balm and a wound. It reminded him of everything he was missing, everything he’d willingly let slip through his fingers. He wanted to fix it, to fix everything, but the fear of making things worse kept him rooted in place.  

The voice of another employee of his—Yunho, broke through the fog in his mind, pulling him back to the present. “Hongjoong? You okay?”  

He nodded stiffly, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah. Just... tired.”  

But as Yunho turned back to his task, Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on Seonghwa. He watched as his friend smiled faintly, clearly amused by something you’d said. And for just a moment, the ache in Hongjoong’s chest flared into something sharper—something dangerously close to jealousy.  

He shook his head, forcing the thought away. This was his choice, wasn’t it? He’d made his bed. Now he had to lie in it, no matter how much it hurt.   

The call ended with Wooyoung’s playful taunts still echoing in your mind, the warmth and humor of his voice a stark contrast to the silence that quickly reclaimed your apartment. You lowered your phone, letting it rest loosely in your hand as your gaze wandered to the window. Outside, the city lights twinkled in celebration of the approaching New Year, but their brightness felt muted, distant. The faint hum of life beyond the glass only highlighted the silence around you, the stillness wrapping itself around your shoulders like a heavy, unwelcome shawl.  

You leaned against the window frame, staring out at the faint reflections of your own eyes in the glass. How long has it been since you let yourself enjoy anything? Since you’d laughed without reservation, without that ache trailing behind it? Days? Weeks? The timeline blurred in your mind, consumed by the fog of isolation.  

It wasn’t just the absence of Hongjoong that weighed on you, though his presence—or lack thereof—was an unshakable specter. It was the guilt of shutting out Seonghwa and Wooyoung, the two people who had always been there for you, unwavering and unrelenting in their support. They didn’t deserve your cold shoulder, yet you had given it to them anyway, consumed by your inability to process your own emotions.  

But even that guilt paled in comparison to the ache you felt for Hongjoong.  

You missed him. There was no denying it, no point in pretending otherwise. You missed his laugh, his rare but heartwarming compliments, the way he’d tilt his head when he was deep in thought. The void he left in your life felt insurmountable, and yet you had no idea how to bridge it. Every attempt at reconciliation seemed doomed from the start, the tension between you so thick it felt almost tangible.  

What if I go and ruin everything? The thought sliced through you like a blade, sharp and unyielding. Would your presence at the party make things worse? Would it sour his mood, dampen his excitement for the New Year?  

But then, Seonghwa’s voice came back to you, his gentle encouragement echoing in your mind. He was right—you couldn’t keep doing this to yourself. You couldn’t keep hiding away, letting the world pass you by while you drowned in your own sorrow. 

With a sigh, you pushed away from the window and headed toward your closet. Each step felt like an act of defiance against the part of you that wanted to stay buried under the covers, but you forced yourself forward. You weren’t going for Hongjoong, you told yourself firmly. You were going for Seonghwa and Wooyoung. For yourself.

As you scanned your closet, fingers brushing over the fabric of your clothes, you tried to suppress the part of you that hoped—prayed—that Hongjoong might notice you. That he might see you, really see you, and understand just how much you missed him.

But that was just wishful thinking, wasn’t it?

Before you could dwell on it further, you grabbed an outfit and set it aside, picking up your phone to send a quick message.  

I’ll be there.  

Thank you for the encouragement :)  

Tell Wooyoung we’ll be competing on who can eat the largest amount of food by the end of the party!

The response came almost instantly.  

knew you would cave in lol

this is woo btw  

and don’t be too confident, i won’t even give you a chance to win >:)

A small smile tugged at your lips as you read the message. You set your phone down, grabbed your outfit, and headed to the bathroom. Tonight, you weren’t going to let the weight of the past hold you back.

But deep down, you couldn’t deny the truth.

You wanted to see him. Even if it was from a distance.

—

The clatter of chairs and tables echoed through the expansive room as Hongjoong stood at the center of the chaos, his sharp eyes tracking every movement. Employees walked around, fixing decorations, adjusting lights, and arranging catering setups. The air was filled with the subtle hum of excitement, yet he felt oddly detached from it all. He issued instructions left and right, his voice professional and commanding, but beneath his composed exterior, his thoughts churned relentlessly. 

The memory of Seonghwa’s phone call from earlier kept replaying in his mind, an endless loop of voices and laughter that wasn’t meant for him to hear. He had caught snippets of Wooyoung’s playful banter, the sound of your distant chuckle, faint but unmistakable. He’d wondered if they were trying to convince you to come to the party. He prayed they were. The idea of you not being there made his chest feel hollow. 

He tried to focus on the present, on the tasks at hand, but his mind stubbornly returned to you. Were you debating whether or not to show up? The last time you spoke, things were left unresolved, painful and raw. He knew you had every right to avoid him. Hell, if he were in your shoes, he wouldn’t blame you for staying as far away as possible. But selfishly, he wanted to see you. 

No, he needed to see you.

His stomach twisted at the thought of you deciding not to come. He couldn’t bear it. He imagined what you might wear tonight, how effortlessly stunning you’d look, and the ache in his heart deepened. If things had been different—if he hadn’t been such an absolute asshole—he would’ve spent the evening showering you with compliments, unable to hold back the admiration he always felt when you were near. 

But he’d ruined that.

The guilt gnawed at him, almost unbearable in its intensity. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. Were you going to take the bus? He hated the thought of you braving the crowded streets alone on a night like this. A part of him toyed with the idea of showing up at your apartment unannounced, offering to drive you himself. But he dismissed the thought almost immediately. You hated him—he was certain of it. The last thing he wanted was to make things worse.

Still, the worry lingered. He had no idea if you were okay, if you’d even decided to leave your apartment.

“Hyung, do you mind? You’re in the way,” a sharp voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts. Hongjoong turned to see Wooyoung, sleeves rolled up as he adjusted the trays of pastries on the table. The younger man’s expression was irritated, though that was nothing new.

“Hey, wait—”

Wooyoung turned with an exasperated look, his brows furrowing as his eyes landed on Hongjoong. “What now?” he asked flatly. “I’m busy, you know.”

“Please,” Hongjoong began, his tone unusually soft, almost pleading. “Just hear me out.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over his face. “This better be worth my time. What is it?”

Hongjoong swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry. “I wanted to apologize,” he said quietly. “For that day. For how I acted. I was out of line, and I feel fucking horrible about it. I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you, and I know everything I said was unjustifiable. I understand your behavior towards me, and I—”

Wooyoung studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed and shrugged. “I didn’t really mind your attitude that day. You were being a jerk, yeah, but I’ve dealt with worse. What really bothered me then, though, was the way you were treating her.”

Hongjoong flinched at the mention of you, guilt hitting him like a tidal wave.

“So, if we go by my logic,” Wooyoung continued, crossing his arms, “since you’re still acting like a bastard towards her, I’m still mad at you.”

Hongjoong nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know. You’re right.”

Wooyoung’s gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. “So, what’s the catch, then? What do you want from me?”

“I just…” Hongjoong hesitated, glancing away. “Is she coming tonight?”

Wooyoung blinked, clearly taken aback. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why do you care?”

Hongjoong exhaled slowly, struggling to find the right words. “Because…” He paused, his shoulders slumping. “Because I need to know. If she’s here, I—”

“You’ll stay away from her,” Wooyoung cut in sharply, his voice cold. “I’m not letting you ruin her night. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Hongjoong nodded without hesitation. “I understand.”

Wooyoung studied him for a moment before his expression softened just a fraction. “If my guess on what youʼre so worried about is correct—Seonghwa will be picking her up. She won’t have to worry about the bus or anything like that.”

Relief flooded Hongjoong’s features. “Thank you.”

As he turned to leave, Wooyoung grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Listen to me, hyung,” he said, his voice low but firm. “This is your only chance to fix things with her. If you screw this up, you’re going to lose her forever. Do you understand?”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened as he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Wooyoung said, releasing his arm. “Don’t waste it.”

—

You stood in front of the mirror, your reflection staring back at you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. The sleek fabric of your outfit hugged your beautiful form in all the right places, the color complementing your complexion perfectly. Your hair fell just the way you wanted it to, framing your face delicately. Yet, no matter how much you adjusted the hem of your dress or smoothed down nonexistent creases, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Your hands nervously fidgeted at your sides before moving to smooth your hair again. “Does this even look good?” you muttered under your breath, biting your lip. The anxious energy buzzing inside you was unusual—normally, you weren’t the type to obsess over your appearance. You had a certain confidence about these things, but tonight felt different.

You turned to the side, checking the outfit from another angle, then turned back to face the mirror. Why were you so worked up over this? It wasn’t like you were trying to impress anyone. But the longer you stood there, the more the answer lingered just below the surface, teasing you with its obviousness.

Deep down, you knew.

Hongjoong.

You shook your head at yourself, scolding the foolishness brewing in your heart. Why did you care so much about what he might think? Why were you secretly hoping he’d notice you? You let out a humorless laugh, pressing your fingers against the cool surface of the vanity. You didn’t even know if you wanted him to approach you tonight. The memory of your last interaction was still fresh, a wound that hadn’t fully scabbed over.

But some small, ridiculous part of you hoped—prayed—that maybe, just maybe, things could be different tonight. That maybe he’d look at you the way he used to, with that spark of admiration in his eyes. Maybe he’d find the courage to talk to you, to apologize properly, to explain why he’d hurt you the way he did. Maybe he’d—

Your thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of your phone on the countertop. The screen lit up with Seonghwa’s name and a message that read:

I’m outside.

Walking to the window, you peered outside and saw him leaning casually against his car. When his eyes caught yours, he grinned and waved enthusiastically, his free hand raised high above his head. The sight of his childlike excitement made you chuckle softly, and you returned the wave.

Grabbing your purse, you cast one last glance at the mirror, adjusting your earrings before slipping on your heels. As you made your way out the door, you kept telling yourself to stop overthinking. Tonight wasn’t about Hongjoong—it couldn’t be. This was your chance to let go of everything, if only for a few hours.

Inside the elevator, you leaned against the wall, staring blankly at the buttons as the floors ticked by. When the elevator stopped on the third floor, Madame Dupont stepped in, her sharp eyes immediately lighting up when she saw you.

“My dear!” she exclaimed, her voice warm with surprise. “Look at you! You look stunning.”

Her genuine excitement brought a shy smile to your lips. “Bonsoir, Madame Dupont,” you greeted, inclining your head politely.

“What’s the occasion? You don’t usually dress up like this,” she teased, though her tone carried more curiosity than mockery.

You hesitated for a moment, shifting your weight. “My friends invited me to a New Year’s party. I thought… maybe it’s time I went out and let myself breathe a little.”

Her expression softened, her wrinkled eyes glimmering with something akin to pride. “That’s wonderful to hear, my dear. You deserve it, truly.” Before you could say anything else, she pulled you into a brief but firm hug, her perfume—sweet and floral—wrapping around you like a blanket.

When the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, she squeezed your hand gently. “Have fun tonight,” she said with a smile. “You’ve earned it.”

You nodded, touched by her words. “Merci, Madame Dupont. I’ll try.”

The cool night air greeted you as you stepped outside. Seonghwa was quick to spot you, his entire face lighting up as he waved like an overexcited child. “There she is!” he called out, his voice laced with exaggerated enthusiasm.

You laughed, walking toward him. “You didn’t have to make it that obvious that you missed me, you know.”

“Oh, but I did,” he said with a grin as he opened the passenger door for you. “It’s been far too long since we hung out properly.”

You slid into the car, murmuring a soft “thank you” as you adjusted your dress. But as you settled in, the familiar setting triggered a memory you weren’t prepared for—the last time you were in Hongjoong’s car. You remembered the way he’d glanced at you during that drive, how the silence between you had been heavy but not uncomfortable. How things had been… easier.

The smile you’d been wearing faltered slightly. You really missed him.

But tonight wasn’t about him. You couldn’t let it be.

Seonghwa slipped into the driver’s seat and immediately noticed the change in your demeanor. Though he didn’t say anything, his brows furrowed slightly in concern. “So,” he began, steering the conversation away from whatever was on your mind, “you’ve missed a lot lately.”

“Oh?” you asked, forcing your focus back to him.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone turning light and teasing. “You missed Wooyoung accidentally sending a mass email to the wrong group. He meant to send it to the marketing team, but instead, the IT department got a very detailed report about catering options.”

You chuckled softly. “Let me guess—he blamed it on the system?”

“Of course he did. And don’t even get me started on Mingi and his latest prank. He replaced all of Yeosang’s post-it notes with ones that had motivational quotes in Comic Sans.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “Sounds like I’ve missed quite a bit of chaos.”

“Oh, you have,” Seonghwa agreed with a grin. But as the conversation lulled, your curiosity got the better of you. “What about Hongjoong?” you asked hesitantly.

Seonghwa’s expression softened, a knowing look crossing his features. “He’s… different lately,” he admitted after a pause. “Not as talkative as he used to be. He’s professional, sure, but there’s something missing. He’s not himself.”

Worry gnawed at you, but Seonghwa reached over to pat your arm reassuringly. “Don’t think about it too much tonight, okay? Let’s just focus on having fun.”

You nodded, though his words did little to ease the tightness in your chest. You wished it were that easy. You truly did.

—

Hongjoong’s fingers curled around the edge of the sink, his reflection staring back at him with a mixture of frustration and nervousness. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, matching the unsettled rhythm of his thoughts. His hair refused to cooperate, each strand mocking his futile attempts to tame it. He combed his fingers through the dark locks for what felt like the hundredth time, letting out a low growl of irritation.

“Why now?” he muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes at the rebellious strands. Of all nights, it had to be this one where he couldn’t look as put-together as he wanted.

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t just about the hair. No amount of fixing or adjusting could cover up the restlessness gnawing at his chest. Tonight was different. Tonight, you were here.

The thought made his stomach twist in an uncomfortable knot. His gaze flickered down to his hands, knuckles white against the sink’s edge.

“Why do you care so much?” he asked himself, the question lingering in the air like a stubborn shadow. He already knew the answer—he just didn’t want to say it out loud.

You hadn’t spoken in weeks, not properly. Not since the argument that had left things hanging in the air, unresolved and heavy. And yet, here he was, fussing over his appearance like a teenager before their first dance.

It was foolish, wishful even, but a part of him hoped that tonight… maybe things would be different. Maybe your eyes would find his across the room. Maybe you’d exchange even just a glance.

The muffled sound of Wooyoung’s voice drifted through the door, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“You’re finally here!”

His body stiffened.

You were here.

“Shit,” he hissed, running a hand over his face before straightening his posture. He took one last look in the mirror, smoothing out the creases in his blazer. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

The moment he stepped out of the bathroom, the atmosphere shifted. The harsh fluorescent lights dimmed, replaced by the soft glow of multi-colored LEDs that washed over the venue in a dreamlike haze. Music played faintly in the background, mingling with the hum of conversations and the occasional burst of laughter.

But Hongjoong wasn’t focused on any of that. His eyes darted through the crowd, scanning the sea of faces for one in particular.

Before he could spot you, the stage lights flickered on, illuminating the small platform he had set up in the center of the room. Seonghwa stood there, microphone in hand, his presence commanding attention as he greeted the crowd.

“Good evening, everyone!” Seonghwa’s voice was warm and inviting, drawing cheers and applause from the guests. “Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate not just the end of the year, but also the incredible milestones we’ve achieved together. It’s an honor to have so many talented and inspiring individuals gathered here.”

The applause swelled, and Seonghwa smiled, pausing for effect before continuing. “Now, I won’t keep you from enjoying the night, but before we get started, I’d like to call up someone very important to say a few words—our host, the man behind it all… Kim Hongjoong!”

The room erupted into cheers as Seonghwa gestured toward him, and Hongjoong felt a surge of anxiety spike through his chest. He wasn’t one to get stage fright, but the thought of speaking while you were out there, somewhere in the crowd, made his throat tighten.

He forced a small smile as he stepped onto the stage, his usual confidence faltering under the weight of his own thoughts.

“Thank you, Seonghwa,” he began, his voice steady but lacking its usual vibrancy. “And thank you all for being here tonight. This year has been nothing short of extraordinary, and it’s all thanks to the hard work and dedication of everyone in this room.”

His words were genuine, heartfelt, but as he continued, his eyes couldn’t stop flickering across the crowd, searching. He tried to keep his composure, but the way his gaze kept shifting didn’t go unnoticed by a few observant guests.

“Tonight is not just about reflecting on our successes but also about looking forward to the future. I hope this evening will serve as a reminder of the creativity, passion, and drive that brought us all together. Let’s welcome the new year with open arms and make it even better than the last.”

The applause was loud, appreciative, but Hongjoong barely heard it. His eyes finally landed on you.

And you were looking back at him.

For a moment, everything else seemed to blur—time, sound, the crowd around you both. His heart stuttered in his chest, and his grip on the microphone tightened.

“I…” He paused, clearing his throat to steady himself. “I hope you all have fun tonight. Thank you.”

The crowd cheered again as he stepped off the stage, but the moment had already left him shaken. Across the room, Wooyoung nudged your shoulder gently. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked, startled out of your thoughts, and turned to him with a faint smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Wooyoung didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? You kind of zoned out there for a second.”

You hesitated, your eyes flickering toward the stage where Hongjoong had stood moments ago. “It’s just… there are so many high-profile people here. I feel like I don’t belong.”

“Bullshit,” Wooyoung said bluntly, earning a surprised laugh from you. “Sorry for the language, but yeah, that’s total bullshit. You belong here just as much as anyone else.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” He crossed his arms, giving you a pointed look. “Look around. People are literally noticing you left and right. You’re the star tonight.”

Before you could respond, a nearby conversation caught your attention.

“Who’s that stunning mademoiselle over there?” a woman whispered, her gaze fixed on you.

“She’s one of Mr. Kimʼs newest models,” her assistant replied, earning a smile of approval from the woman.

Wooyoung grinned triumphantly. “See? I told you.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re reaching, Woo.”

Before he could argue further, someone from across the room called out his name, and you turned to see a tall man waving enthusiastically.

“Soobin!” Wooyoung called back, his face lighting up.

You nudged him gently. “Go say hi.”

Wooyoung hesitated, glancing back at you. “Are you sure? My priority tonight is—”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured him. “Go. Catch up with your friend.”

It took a little more convincing, but eventually, Wooyoung relented, leaving you alone in the crowd, telling you to stay safe before heading towards the other corner of the room. And as much as you hated to admit it, you wanted the chance to see Hongjoong—keeping Wooyoung around would lower your chances. You weren’t sure what you’d say or do, but the pull was undeniable.

The music swelled, filling the air with a hauntingly beautiful melody that sent shivers cascading down your spine. You recognized the song instantly—Ma Meilleure Ennemie.

Its delicate notes carried a tension that mirrored the one steadily growing in your chest. Each rise and fall of the rhythm felt like it was echoing the flutter of your heartbeat, unstable and erratic.

The lights dimmed and flickered in sync with the music, casting shifting hues of red, blue, and purple over the crowd. The once vibrant room was now a kaleidoscope of moving silhouettes, their faces obscured by the moody lighting and the fog created by the haze machine. You moved cautiously through the throng of people, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

With every step, you felt smaller. The towering presence of high-profile figures, their laughter and animated conversations, created an invisible barrier that was difficult to breach. These were people who belonged here—artists, designers, and models who were not only established but celebrated. They mingled with ease, their confidence palpable, while you felt like an imposter wandering through a world you didn’t quite belong to.

You clenched your fingers around the fabric of your dress, the smooth satin offering little comfort against the gnawing self-doubt creeping into your thoughts.

“Excusez-moi.”

A deep voice startled you, and you turned to see an elegantly dressed man with salt-and-pepper hair and a sharp, tailored suit. He looked every bit the part of a veteran in the fashion industry.

“You are one of Monsieur Kim’s models, no?” he asked, his French accent rolling off his tongue smoothly.

You forced a polite smile, nodding. “Yes, I am.”

“Ah,” he said, his smile warm but scrutinizing, his eyes scanning you as if evaluating your worth. “I thought so. You have a certain... presence. Unique.”

His words, though intended as a compliment, made your skin prickle with unease. You managed to thank him before he moved on, but the encounter left you feeling even more out of place.

As you continued walking, more people stopped you. Some were kind, their words of admiration genuine, but others were probing, their questions sharp and loaded.

“How long have you been modeling?”

“Which agency represents you?”

“Do you think you’re prepared for a career this demanding?”

The last question lingered in your mind long after the conversation ended, gnawing at the cracks in your composure. Am I prepared?

Someone brushes past you, stepping on your foot in the process. You hissed in pain, stumbling back and clutching your arm to steady yourself.

“Apologies!” the person called out over their shoulder, but their apology was lost in the sea of voices and music.

You backed away further, retreating to the edges of the room where the lights weren’t as harsh, and the crowd wasn’t as suffocating. The thrum of conversations and laughter seemed louder now, drowning out the melody of the song that once comforted you.

Your breathing grew shallow, the edges of your vision narrowing as anxiety took root. Your hands trembled slightly as you pressed one against your chest, trying to ground yourself.

Maybe you shouldn’t have sent Wooyoung off…

The thought barely formed in your mind before you decided to leave the crowd altogether. You turned, intending to slip away unnoticed, when a warm hand closed gently around your forearm.

“Wait—”

The touch was familiar, so much so that your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

It was Hongjoong.

Slowly, you turned to face him, and the sight that greeted you nearly knocked the air from your lungs.

Even under the shifting, dim lights, he looked strikingly handsome. His dark hair, though slightly tousled, framed his sharp features perfectly. The tailored blazer he wore fit him impeccably, accentuating his slim build and exuding an understated elegance. But it wasn’t just his appearance—it was the way he held himself, a quiet intensity in his gaze that felt almost magnetic.

He was slightly out of breath, his chest rising and falling as if he’d been rushing. You couldn’t help but wonder—had he been searching for you? The idea made your heart clench with conflicting emotions.

“I…” You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come. You had hoped to catch a glimpse of him tonight, to admire him from a distance and leave it at that. But now, with him standing this close, your resolve crumbled.

Hongjoong’s grip on your arm loosened, but his hand lingered as if afraid you might vanish if he let go completely. “Please,” he said softly, his voice almost drowned out by the music and chatter around you. “Can we talk? Just for a moment.”

You hesitated, glancing around at the crowd before meeting his gaze again. “Hongjoong, I don’t think this is the time or place—”

“Then tell me when,” he interrupted, his voice firm but laced with urgency. “Tell me where, and I’ll be there. Just… don’t push me away like this. Please. I’m begging you.” His hand tightened ever so slightly on your arm, his desperation evident in the way his brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as if to hold back words that might spill out too quickly.

Your hesitation deepened, your heart warring against your mind. This is a mistake. He’s a mistake. But… why does it hurt to see him like this?

“I donʼt…” you began, your voice faltering as your resolve threatened to give way.

“I know I’ve hurt you,” he continued, his voice trembling with emotion. “I know I’ve failed you in ways I can’t even begin to explain. But if you walk away now, if you don’t let me fix this—” His voice broke, and he exhaled shakily, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Don’t let this end here. Just one conversation. That’s all I’m asking for.”

You bit your lip, your chest tightening at the rawness of his plea. You wanted to say no, to walk away and preserve the fragile walls you’d built around yourself. But the sincerity in his eyes, the cracks in his usually composed demeanor, made it impossible.

This is dangerous, you thought, your mind screaming at you to pull away. But your heart had already decided.

You sighed, nodding slowly. “Fine,” you whispered, the single word barely audible over the noise around you. Relief washed over his face, and for a moment, you hated how much it softened something inside you.

The moment Hongjoong’s hand tightened around your arm and he led you toward the nearest exit, your feet faltered. Panic mixed with confusion, and you instinctively pulled back, halting him in his tracks.

He turned to face you, a flicker of concern flashing in his eyes as he noticed your resistance. His brows knit together, and his lips parted to question you, but you spoke first.

“Hongjoong,” you began, your voice a mixture of firm and hesitant, “you have guests. This is your event. You can’t just leave them here like this. What if they notice you’re gone? What if it leaves a bitter taste in their mouths? They’re—”

“I don’t give a damn about what they think,” he interrupted, his tone sharp yet desperate. His voice cracked ever so slightly, and it was enough to make you pause. “To hell with it if they think I’m irresponsible. I don’t care if they’re disappointed, or if they whisper behind my back. All I care about is you—just you. I need you to talk to me tonight—that’s all that matters. So, please…”

The intensity in his gaze, the way his voice broke on the word please, made your chest tighten painfully. You sighed, defeated by his resolve but unwilling to make this easy for him.

When he reached for your arm again, you took a step back, hiding it behind you as you shook your head. “You don’t have to drag me with you,” you said, your tone cold but your heart racing. “I have two feet that function perfectly fine, you know.”

For a moment, his face fell—hurt flashed across his features so quickly it was almost imperceptible, but you saw it. And as much as it made guilt twist in your stomach, you knew you had every right to set boundaries. After all, he had been the one to build the fire between the two of you, only to extinguish it when you were most vulnerable.

Still, he nodded, accepting your terms without argument. A couple of minutes later, you found yourself stepping into his office on the highest floor of the building.

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of the city lights seeping in through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. Papers were scattered across his desk, some even littering the floor. It wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t the meticulously organized space you remembered from your last visit. The disarray was a stark contrast to the Hongjoong you knew—or thought you knew.

He closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the silence. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to suffocate.

“I know,” he began, his voice low and rough, “that I’ve been a mess. That I’ve been unfair to you.” He turned toward you, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I’m not going to stand here and pretend like I haven’t made mistakes. I have. I’ve made so many mistakes.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the desk to steady yourself. “Then why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why did you do it? Why did you build this thing between us only to tear it apart?”

Hongjoong’s shoulders sagged, and he ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “Because I was scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “That night… at your doorstep… I almost kissed you. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But I was standing at the edge of a cliff, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to fall.”His words sent a sharp pang through your chest. “So you weren’t scared to fall when you were dancing with me at the flower shop?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “When you’d look at me like I was the only person in the world? When you kept lighting the fire between us? You weren’t scared to do all of that, but the moment we almost kissed, suddenly you’re scared?”

He flinched at your words, and for a brief moment, you saw the guilt etched into his features.

“I was scared of what it meant,” he confessed, his voice rising slightly in desperation. “I was terrified, because I didn’t know what would happen if I let myself fall for you. I thought if I stayed away, I’d be sparing you—”

“Sparing me?” you interrupted, your voice rising as tears stung your eyes. “Sparing me from what, Hongjoong? From feeling like I was nothing to you? From crying myself to sleep because the one person I trusted to stay decided to leave? You weren’t sparing me. You were sparing yourself.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. “I know, and I hate myself for it. But I couldn’t—”

“Couldn’t what?” you snapped, your chest heaving as the floodgates burst. “Couldn’t handle the thought of being vulnerable? Couldn’t deal with the possibility of getting hurt? Newsflash, Hongjoong: you hurt me. You left me to deal with everything on my own while you ran away. What are you so scared of?”

“I’ve spent so much of my life building walls, focusing on my work, convincing myself that I didn’t need anyone. But you…” He took a shaky step toward you. “You made me want more. And it terrified me.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” you snapped, your voice cracking as tears burned at the corners of your eyes. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? You pulled me in, Hongjoong. You made me believe in something I didn’t think I could have. And then you pushed me away like I was nothing.”

He winced, his head hanging low. “I know,” he said softly. “I know I was an asshole. I know I shouldn’t have waited this long to talk to you. But—”

“It’s not too late,” you cut him off, your voice quieter but no less firm. “It’s just that you could’ve done this sooner. You had every chance to speak to me, and you didn’t. Why only now?”

He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours for a sign of forgiveness. “Because I’ve realized that I can’t keep running from this. From you. I don’t care how long it takes or how hard it is—I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us. Just tell me how, and I’ll do it. Please…”

His voice broke, and the raw emotion in it shattered the last of your defenses. All the pain, resentment, and longing you had bottled up came rushing to the surface.

“You don’t get to just say that and expect everything to be okay!” you cried, your voice rising as tears spilled down your cheeks. “Do you know how many nights I stayed up thinking about you? About what I did wrong—and why I wasn’t enough?”

Hongjoong reached for you, pulling you into his arms despite your attempts to push him away. You pounded your fists weakly against his chest, but he didn’t let go. His hands cradled the back of your head, his lips pressing softly against your temple as you sobbed into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry. You were always enough. More than enough. This is on me. All of it.”

Your fists stilled against his chest, and you let out a choked sob, clinging to him as all the anger and frustration poured out of you.

He held you tighter, his presence grounding you even as your emotions threatened to drown you. And in that moment, you realized that as much as you wanted to hate him, as much as you wanted to push him away—you couldn’t. Not entirely.

The silence between you stretched thin, taut like a wire ready to snap. Hongjoong’s arms remained firmly around you, his hands gently gripping your arms as if afraid you might slip away. His gaze bore into you, raw and pleading, but you couldn’t look at him without feeling the sting of all the nights you cried over his absence.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he began, his voice hoarse as though the words clawed their way out of him. “But I’m here now, and I’m begging you. Just—please, let me fix this. Let me fix us. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You pulled back slightly, enough to meet his eyes, and the sight of him broke your heart all over again. His eyes were glassy, brimmed with tears he was clearly fighting to hold back. The vulnerability in his expression was a stark contrast to the confident, composed man you thought you knew.

“And what if it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if no matter how hard you try, it won’t erase the pain you’ve caused? Do you even realize what you did to me, Hongjoong?”

“I do,” he said quickly, embracing you even tighter as though afraid you’d vanish if he let go. “I know I broke you. I know I left you alone when you needed me most. And I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I swear, I’ll never make that mistake again. Just tell me how to fix this—tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You say that now, but what about when things get hard again? Will you run away then too? Will you leave me to pick up the pieces while you figure out how to handle your emotions?”

“No,” he said firmly, his voice rising with desperation. “I won’t. I know I’ve been a coward, and I know I don’t deserve your trust, but I’ll earn it back. I’ll prove to you that I’m not the same person who hurt you. I… Iʼll admit I really thought placing a wall between us was the solution. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I was wrong. So fucking wrong. I’ve spent every single day regretting it, hating myself for the pain I caused you. And I’m here now because I can’t keep living like this—I can’t keep living without you, goddamnit.His words hit you like a tidal wave, threatening to pull you under. You wanted to believe him, to let yourself fall into the safety of his arms, but the scars he left on your heart made it impossible to trust him fully.

Still, you wanted to.

“I hate you, you know,” you said, your voice trembling as the words spilled out like shards of glass. Each one was sharp, cutting through the silence, through the air that seemed too thick to breathe. Tears ran down your cheeks in an unrelenting stream, and you didn’t bother to wipe them away. Your fists clenched at your sides, the tremor in them betraying the rawness of your emotions.

“I hate how you left me in the middle of a path I was unfamiliar with,” you continued, your tone rising with every syllable. “I hate how much of a coward you are. I hate how you made me believe there was something between us, only for you to act like there wasn’t. I hate how you kept me wondering why I wasn’t enough for you to stay.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you felt yourself breaking all over again, like a dam collapsing under the weight of too much pressure.

“But…” You paused, choking on the lump in your throat. “But mostly, I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

The admission hung in the air, a fragile truth that seemed to silence everything around you. And as the words left your lips, you let your arms find their way around his figure, clinging to him with a desperation that mirrored the ache your heart felt.

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. His arms came around you almost instinctively, holding you tightly as though afraid you might slip away if he loosened his grip even slightly. The faint, familiar scent of him—the one you’d tried so hard to forget—engulfed you, pulling you deeper into the spiral of emotions you’d fought to keep at bay.

You idiot, you thought to yourself, you absolute fool.

You had come here tonight to forget him, to push the memories of him into a corner of your mind you could lock away forever. Yet here you were, sobbing into his chest like the heartache of the past weeks hadn’t been enough. You hated how much you’d missed him, how much you still craved the safety of his arms even after everything he’d put you through.

Hongjoong held you close, his own chest tightening with every sob that wracked your body. He rested his cheek against the crown of your head, his breath hitching as he tried to steady himself. How could he have done this to you?

The sight of you like this—so fragile, so broken—was a knife to his heart. And knowing he was the one who had caused this pain made the guilt nearly unbearable. He’d spent weeks convincing himself that pushing you away was the right thing to do, that he was protecting himself, protecting you. But standing here now, with you trembling in his arms, he realized how horribly wrong he’d been.

The fears that had haunted him for so long—the fear of being abandoned again, of opening his heart only to have it shattered—no longer mattered. Because nothing, no ghost from his past, no amount of uncertainty, was more important than you.

He didnʼt care anymore. He didnʼt care about anything but you.

He closed his eyes, his lips pressing softly against your temple. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “For everything. For hurting you, for being a coward. I’m so sorry, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You sniffled, lifting your head slightly from his chest. His hands moved instinctively, one cupping your face while the other rested on your waist, steadying you. His thumb brushed away the tear tracks on your cheek, and when you finally met his gaze, the raw vulnerability in his eyes made your breath catch.

Hongjoong looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, his own tears threatening to spill over. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. He didn’t need to speak; the emotions in his eyes said everything.

And against your better judgment, against every ounce of self-preservation you’d tried to cling to, you found yourself leaning in.

The moment your lips met, it was as though the world outside ceased to exist. The kiss was slow but full of urgency, a culmination of every unspoken word, every suppressed feeling, every moment of longing that had built up between you.

Fireworks exploded in the distance, the sound echoing through the air as the clock struck twelve.

The kiss was not rushed, nor was it perfect; it was trembling, raw, and unpolished. It was the kind of kiss that could only come from a place of deep yearning, a place where words had failed and only touch could suffice.

Hongjoong’s lips were soft against yours, moving with an unspoken gentleness that contradicted the storm of emotions swirling between you. It wasn’t about passion or desire—it was about connection, about pouring every unsaid word and buried feeling into this single, fragile moment. His touch was tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away, but when you didn’t, he kissed you deeper, his hands steadying you as if to anchor you both.

The world around you seemed to dissolve into nothingness. The distant sound of fireworks faded into a muffled hum, the sharp chill of the night forgotten. All that remained was the warmth of his lips and the way your heart thundered in your chest, not from nerves but from the overwhelming sensation of being wholly, undeniably seen.

His hand cupped your cheek with a reverence that made you feel like you were something sacred, something he was terrified of breaking yet couldn’t bear to let go of. His thumb brushed against your skin, a subtle, tender movement that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

For the first time in weeks, the ache in your chest began to ease, replaced by a bittersweet warmth that spread through your entire being. The kiss wasn’t just an apology; it was a confession, a plea, a promise. It carried every moment you’d spent apart, every sleepless night, every tear you’d shed. It was as though he was trying to stitch back together every broken piece of your heart, not with grand gestures but with the simplicity of his presence and the sincerity in his touch.

And you kissed him back just as softly, your movements hesitant but full of meaning. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it was a surrender. A quiet acknowledgement that no matter how much he had hurt you, no matter how hard you had tried to let him go, he was still there, embedded in every corner of your heart.

You could feel his tears against your skin, hot and unrelenting, as they mixed with your own. Yet, he didn’t pull away; he stayed, pressing closer as though afraid that even a breath of space might shatter this fragile moment. His lips trembled against yours, betraying his vulnerability, his desperation, his overwhelming relief.

It was soft, painfully so, like the brush of a feather or the first tentative notes of a love song. And yet, it carried the weight of everything—the pain, the longing, the fear, and the undeniable truth that no matter how broken the two of you had been, you were still standing here, together, trying.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads nearly pressed together, both of you breathing heavily, as though the kiss had stolen every ounce of air from your lungs. His eyes met yours, glistening with unshed tears, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw him—truly saw him. Not the man who had hurt you, not the coward who had run away, but the boy you had once fallen for, the boy who was still fighting to be worthy of you.

Coming to terms with what just happened, your cheeks flushed, and it seems he still noticed it despite the dim, ambient surroundings engulfing both of you, given the way he smiled.

And in that moment, as the bright hues of fireworks lit up the sky, you realized something: this wasn’t an ending. It wasn’t even a beginning. It was a moment suspended in time, a fragile, imperfect truce between two hearts that refused to let go of each other, no matter how much they had tried.

🎞️ — lividstar.

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

I felt so sad when reader was talking to mingi in the hospital knowing he was at yeosang’s house, talking about his feelings too. *sobs*

This chapter was so good and I can’t wait for the next one! <3

strangers by nature | iii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 4.9K Warnings: just a little angst but we're finally on a lighter, fluffier chapter

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As you pulled into the parking lot of an unfamiliar apartment complex, Mingi’s ears perked up, his dark, expressive eyes widening with what could only be described as alarm. He’d been unusually fussy this morning, darting away every time you reached out to put his collar on, his little legs scurrying under the grand piano. And when you crouched down to coax him with chicken, he bolted under the couch, telling you that you’d never catch him. 

“Maro, guess what! You’re going to have a sleepover with Hetmon!” you announced, patting him gently. The words slipped out with casual enthusiasm, thinking it’d be fun for him to spend a night with someone who’s growing so fond of him.

As a human, Mingi wouldn’t have cared. He would have come and gone as he pleased, slipping through life without a second thought. Back then, you were just a fleeting presence—someone whose affection he had easily shrugged off. He never thought twice about the way you looked at him or how you cared in your own quiet way.

But things were different now.

You had become the one constant in his new world. The way you fussed over him, made sure he was fed, safe, and warm—it was something he hadn’t realized he needed until it was gone. The thought of being without you, even for one night, filled him with a fear he didn’t fully understand. What if you didn’t come back? What if you left him behind for good?

He let out a soft whine, his eyes flicking to you as if trying to convey the thoughts swirling in his mind: Don’t leave me. Not like this. Mingi squirmed under your touch, his soft fur slipping through your fingers as he wiggled in his seat. His gaze darted to the complex in front of you, his ears twitching at every sound, the unfamiliarity of it all clearly overwhelming.

When you opened the car door, he hesitated, his small paws stiff against your hands as you gently lifted him from the seat. Holding him close, you pressed your cheek into his soft fur.

“It’s going to be alright,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the ache tightening in your chest. “I’m going to miss you.”

With every step up to Yeosang’s door, Mingi clung to you, his gaze darting between you and the unfamiliar entryway. When Yeosang opened the door, his gentle smile eased some of the tension. Kneeling down to greet Mingi, Yeosang reached out, offering a reassuring presence to the uneasy figure in your arms.

"Hey, Maro! We’re going to have so much fun! I know Hetmon can’t wait to play with you! We have tons of treats and toys, and we can stay up as late as we want!”

Mingi burrowed deeper into your hold, his nose pressing against the crook of your arm as though trying to shield himself from the unfamiliarity of the moment. You could feel his heart racing, a rhythm that matched your own.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. He didn’t pull away this time, but the tremble in his little body didn’t fade.

"I love you," you whispered gently, feeling the words catch in your throat. "I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?" 

Mingi blinked up at you, momentarily pulled from his anxious thoughts. You love me? The words settled over him, unexpected and profound. His tail gave a faint wag before drooping again.

There was something almost unbearable about the way you said it—so soft, so certain. As if he mattered. As if he was worth loving. He wanted to cling to his anger, to the bitterness he’d nurtured, to all the reasons he convinced himself to hate you. It was safer that way.

But in this moment, with your arms around him, his resolve began to falter under the quiet strength of your love. A lump formed in his throat as he let himself feel the ache of wanting to believe you. Slowly, he pressed himself into your chest, seeking refuge in your scent, in the fragile, fleeting comfort of your presence.

“Have fun, okay? I'll be back before you know it',” you promised, setting him down after one last hug. 

Mingi wanted to believe you—to believe that you’d come back, that this wasn’t just another moment where he’d be left behind. But the fear was louder, whispering cruelly that once you were gone, you might never return.

When the door finally clicked shut behind you, an ache settled in his chest. He wanted to hate you for leaving him, for making him feel so vulnerable, so helplessly tethered to you. Anger and resentment would have been easier to bear than the raw, twisting pain inside him.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you held him—the way your arms had felt so steady, the way your lips had pressed gently to his head. And those words. I love you.

Did you mean them? Could they be real? Did he even deserve them? 

As he was left to contemplate on his own, Hetmon plopped down with a soft thud, his large frame settling next to Mingi’s much smaller one. The doberman nudged him gently with his snout, his warm brown eyes filled with quiet sympathy. 

“It’s okay to feel sad,” Hetmon said quietly. “It’s scary at first but then you get lots of snacks and snuggles! And I have lots of toys you can play with!”

But Mingi barely reacted, his tiny body stiff and unmoving, his gaze fixed on the door as though sheer willpower could bring you back. The sound of your footsteps fading down the hall felt like an unbearable loss, each step tugging at a string inside him he hadn’t even known was there.

“Maro,” Yeosang said gently. His voice was soothing, though it didn’t carry the same comfort yours did. “Why don’t we go into the living room? It’s more comfortable there.”

Mingi sprawled on the floor in his fluffy, sulking form, letting out a deep, reluctant sigh. His big puppy eyes darted toward Hetmon and then to Yeosang, filled with quiet resignation.

Yeosang didn’t push him, simply standing back and letting the puppy sulk in his own time. As a human, Mingi had always been used to getting his way. Pampered and spoiled, he’d rarely had to ask for what he wanted—everything had been handed to him, either out of obligation or fear of his temper. People didn’t treat him with kindness because they cared; they catered to him because it was easier than dealing with his tantrums.

But Yeosang and Hetmon were different–they were giving him something he didn’t quite know how to handle: genuine care and patience. They didn’t push, didn’t try to force him into compliance. It wasn’t about control or convenience—it was about seeing him, even when he was at his most vulnerable.

Yeosang exchanged a look with Hetmon, as if the two were silently agreeing on what to do next. 

“Alright, let’s make this space cozy,” Yeosang said, his tone gentle but upbeat. “Something just for you and Hetmon.

Curious but still sulking, Mingi tilted his head as the living room was a flurry of motion. Yeosang draped blankets over the back of the couch and anchored them with cushions, creating a cozy little den. Hetmon grabbed a toy, carrying it over and dropping it right next to Mingi with a proud wag of his tail.

“There we go,” Yeosang said, standing back to admire the setup. The blanket fort was simple but warm, with soft lighting spilling through the gaps. He knelt down, peeking inside. 

“What do you think, Maro? A place just for you and Hetmon.”

Mingi hesitated, his small paws inching forward as he sniffed cautiously at the fort. The structure, carefully built, carried faint traces of Yeosang and Hetmon’s familiar scents. Pausing at the entrance, his big, round eyes scanned the space nervously before retreating slightly, his posture low to the floor.

Yeosang settled beside the fort, keeping a respectful distance as he offered a reassuring smile. “You’ll be okay, Maro,” he said gently. “I promise we’ll take good care of you until Y/N comes back.”

⋆

You lay on the couch in the private suite, staring blankly at the ceiling as the low hum of the machines filled the silence. Your gaze drifted instinctively to Mingi, his frail form nestled amidst a series of wires and tubes. His chest rose and fell in steady intervals, yet the sight brought little comfort. He seemed so small, so fragile, swallowed by the sterile hospital bedding and the weight of his condition.

A shaky breath escaped you, uneven and strained in the stillness of the room. Part of you yearned to reach out, despite knowing he wouldn’t feel it. But the other part held you back, paralyzed by the thought that crossing that line would tear apart the fragile distance that had shielded you for so long.

Instead, you let yourself collapse further into the sofa, its cushions swallowing you whole. Your body sagged under the weight of exhaustion and grief, the kind that lingered in the pit of your stomach, making it hard to breathe.

“Hey,” you murmured softly, the word catching in your throat as though it could break the suffocating silence in the room. Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears, hoarse and uncertain, but the need to fill the stillness outweighed your discomfort.

“Do you dream of anything?” you asked quietly, your gaze flicking to his still form. “I mean, I hope it’s something good. Something better than this.”

Your fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket draped over you, the repetitive motion grounding you just enough to keep going. 

“You know, I read somewhere that people in comas can hear things. I don’t know if that’s true, but if it is, you’re probably thinking, Why won’t Y/N shut up?” You let out a shaky laugh, the sound bitter, more like a defense mechanism than actual amusement.

You shifted again, resting your head against the arm of the sofa, your gaze never leaving him. "Oh, uh, I got a dog," you said, the words coming out almost hesitant, like a confession.

"I found him outside of the hospital at 5 AM. It was after you were brought into the ICU. His name’s Maro. Cutest little thing ever. He’s really fluffy, kind of like a Pomeranian, except he has one floppy ear."

The corners of your mouth twitched into the faintest smile at the memory, but it disappeared just as quickly. Had he always seemed this small? Or was it the weight of his vulnerability now that forced you to see him differently? 

You clenched your fists, willing yourself not to cry. Was it pity, guilt, or something else entirely? You weren’t sure if you were mourning the man you never got to know—or the one you never had the chance to leave behind.

"What am I doing?" you sighed to yourself, the words escaping in a combination of frustration and sadness. 

You were talking to him. Hoping, somehow, that he could hear you. That even in the liminal space between life and the unknown, he might sense your presence. That he might know, even if you’d been so far apart in life, you weren’t going to leave him alone in this.

“I hate hospitals,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly as you glanced at the stark white walls. 

“And now here I am again. Back in a place I never wanted to see again. And you’re the one lying there, hooked up to machines.” Your voice caught, and you swallowed hard, fighting the lump rising in your throat. 

“And I hate it just as much as I did back then. Maybe more.”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands as you fidgeted with your sleeves. “I talked to your mom,” you began softly, your voice heavy with unspoken frustration.

“I tried to convince your parents to take turns staying overnight,” you continued, your voice cracking slightly. 

“I thought maybe...maybe it’d be an opportunity to bring you closer together. That this—” you gestured faintly to the machines, “—would wake them up. But it’s like...nothing’s changed.” 

The room fell silent again, save for the steady, monotonous beeping of the machines, a sound that felt almost mocking in its rhythm. You looked at Mingi’s face, so peaceful it made your chest ache. It felt unfair—like the calm didn’t belong here, not with everything unsaid hanging in the air.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat. 

“They don’t deserve you, Mingi. I just...I just wanted them to see you. Really see you. Not the version of you they’ve made up in their heads.” You exhaled shakily, your gaze dropping again to your hands. 

“You’re more than that. You’re just Mingi,” you said quietly. “And that’s enough. You’re enough.”

Your words drifted into the stillness of the room, fading into the hum of the machines. You pulled the thin hospital blanket closer, wrapping it tightly around yourself like a fragile shield against the cold. Closing your eyes, you told yourself you wouldn’t sleep—but the weight of exhaustion crept in, relentless and unyielding, until it finally pulled you under.

And in the quiet of your dreams, it felt as if he were also reaching out for you too.

Mingi laid on his belly, eyes fixed on the front door, refusing to move. After dinner, despite Yeosang arranging a cozy pile of blankets by the couch and Hetmon checking in persistently, Mingi remained rooted in place. 

Hetmon was fast asleep in the blanket fort, while Yeosang lay stretched out on the floor next to it, his head propped up on one arm. The faint glow of the moonlight spilled through the curtains, bathing the room in silvery light.

"You must really love Y/N," Yeosang observed quietly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He turned his gaze toward Mingi, who sat a short distance away.

Mingi had never waited for you before, not like this. He had never looked forward to your presence, never longed to see your smile or hear your voice. But his heart ached in a way that he couldn’t explain. He could barely remember the last time he’d truly listened when you spoke to him, let alone considered that you might see something in him worth loving.

What could you possibly love about him? The man he had been was callous, dismissive, too caught up in his own bitterness to care about the hurt he caused. But you didn’t deserve any of it. He had been too proud, too angry to see that then. 

But now, stripped of his humanity, stripped of his defenses, Mingi saw everything clearly. No walls to hide behind, no excuses to shield him from the truth. He couldn’t help but wonder whether it was too late to try and make things right.

Yeosang offered him a small smile, the kind that was patient and unwavering. 

“Y/N loves you so much. You’ve become her whole world, even if you don’t realize it.”

Mingi’s ears flicked at the words, a pang resonating deep in his chest.

“Honestly,” Yeosang continued, “I’ve never seen anyone dote on a dog the way she does you. She keeps saying you’re special, you know? That you’re not like other dogs. And the way she looks at you—it’s like you’ve hung the moon.” He chuckled softly, his expression tender.

“I don’t think she’s wrong, though. There’s something about you.”

Mingi’s ears twitched again, and his eyes slid closed as a wave of bittersweet warmth washed over him. Yeosang had no idea how close to the truth he was. He didn’t know that the little dog lying here was the same Mingi who had spent years pushing you away, too afraid to let you in.

The weight of those thoughts grew unbearable, and Mingi slowly got to his feet, his small frame shivering slightly. He padded softly toward the pillow fort, and didn’t hesitate as he nudged his way inside, his nose brushing against Hetmon’s side.

“Hey,” Mingi murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he crouched next to Hetmon. “You’re a good listener, right?”

Hetmon perked up immediately, tail wagging in eager agreement. “The best listener! Try me!” he chirped, his eyes bright and inviting.

“Remember when I told you…that I got turned into a dog because I did some…bad things? And you said you’d help?”

Hetmon tilted his head, his dark eyes softening as he let out a quiet, supportive huff. The playful glint usually present in his gaze gave way to something warmer, deeper—a promise that he was here.

Mingi swallowed hard, his ears lowering as his voice faltered. “Well I need your help…listening. I—I don’t even know where to start. I just…” His words trailed off, and he stared down at his paws as though they held the answers he was too afraid to find. 

“I…I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want Y/N to leave me here, I want her to come back. I think…because I’m always used to being left behind.”

His gaze dropped, as if the weight of his words were too heavy to carry for his little form. “When I was a kid, my parents weren’t around much. My dad worked all the time, and my mom…she didn’t know what to do with me. I wasn’t easy—loud, stubborn. I broke rules just to see if they’d notice. And when they did, it was only because I made them look bad. That was the only time I felt…seen.”

Hetmon nudged closer, his nose pressing gently against Mingi’s side in quiet support.

“I just wanted their attention,” Mingi whispered. “For them to be proud of me, to love me for something good. But it never felt like enough. I only existed to them when I was a problem. Whatever it took to remind them I was there. And eventually, it wasn’t an act anymore. I just…became that person.”

“I wanted everything on my terms. Most people just gave me what I wanted because it was easier than dealing with me.” He paused, the next words catching in his throat before spilling out. 

“Except for the engagement.”

He glanced away, unable to meet Hetmon’s gaze. “I accepted it because I thought it would make my parents proud,” he admitted quietly.

“I thought if I did this one big thing, if I played the role they wanted me to, I’d finally be enough for them. But it wasn’t what I wanted—it was never what I wanted.”

“I thought it would earn their approval, but all I did was hurt everyone—especially Y/N.”

Mingi curled in on himself, his nails digging into the cushion as his voice dropped to a whisper. “I made her life miserable because it was easier than letting her in. I couldn't be vulnerable with her.”

“She was the only one who ever stood up to me. And that scared me. Not because she made me feel small, but because…” His voice faltered. “Because she made me feel like I wasn’t in control. Like she could see the real me. Some spoiled kid desperate for someone to care.”

He stared down at his paws, uncertainty clouding his gaze. The enormity of his mistakes felt insurmountable. Would you even want to hear him out? Could he find the right words to make you understand how sorry he was?

He thought about the way you cared for him—not just the way you fed him or ensured he was comfortable, but the way you spoke to him softly, as if he were the most important thing in the world. The way your eyes lit up with genuine affection every time you saw him. You loved freely, without conditions or reservations, and he saw it in every small act, every moment you cared for him. It wasn’t just something he noticed once—it was unyielding.

And it made him realize just how deeply he’d failed you.

“I don’t know what it’ll take to turn back,” he murmured, “but I know I have to fix things. I owe her that much.”

For a moment, Hetmon didn’t move, as if processing the words. Then, with a cheerful wag of his tail, he shuffled closer, his dark eyes warm with encouragement.

“I’m glad you told me all that!” Hetmon chirped, his voice bright and unburdened. “It means we’re friends now, right? Real friends!”

Mingi blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of Hetmon’s declaration. He turned to look at him, his tail swishing lightly against the floor as Hetmon beamed up at him.

“Yeah…I guess we are,” he replied softly with a small smile.

“I don’t really know what ‘vulnerable’ means,” Hetmon admitted, his head tilting curiously, “but it sounds like sharing your favorite toy with someone, even if you don’t really want to! Because… you’re nice!”

A quiet chuckle escaped Mingi, and for the first time in a long while, the heavy knot in his chest loosened. “Yeah,” he said, his voice lighter, “it’s kind of like that.”

“Well, I’ll always share my toys with you,” Hetmon said, his tail wagging faintly. He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully before continuing, “Maybe you should share your toys with Y/N. You know, to show her how much you care.”

Mingi blinked, startled by the simplicity of the suggestion, but the earnestness in Hetmon’s voice made something inside him soften.

“We’re gonna go to the park tomorrow, so we need to save our energy to play chase… and maybe fetch too. Gotta make sure we’re ready. And then…” He trailed off for a moment, his breathing slowing as though on the verge of sleep, before murmuring, “And then we can think of ways to help make you human again.”

Mingi glanced up at the dog pressed against him. He’d never thought much about companionship before, but Hetmon’s unwavering optimism and warmth chipped away at the walls he’d built around himself.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I’d like that too.”

Unbeknownst to Mingi and Hetmon, Yeosang sat quietly outside the fort. The sight of them—Hetmon nestled snugly against Mingi, both looking so peaceful brought a smile to his lips and a sense of relief. Maro was finally settling in. With a soft click, he snapped a photo, capturing the unexpected tranquility of the moment before shooting you a quick text.

“How do you know when you’re done with a task?” Hetmon asked, as his long legs carried him easily down the path to the dog park. The sleek doberman slowed his pace so Mingi could keep up.

“I don’t know,” Mingi muttered, his fluffy tail wagging in uncertainty. “Maybe… when it feels right?”

“That’s not an answer! What does ‘feels right’ even mean? Like when your belly’s full after eating?”

“Well…no. There’s something about my transformation that I didn’t tell you about. There was a man…he referred to himself as The Judge. I think I have to find him.”

Hetmon tilted his head curiously, moving gracefully beside Mingi. “Like an adventure? Are we going on a really long walk?” His tail wagged once, and he nudged Mingi playfully. 

“What’s a judge, anyway?”

Mingi let out an exaggerated huff, his fluffy body bouncing slightly as Yeosang unleashed him. “A judge is, like…someone who decides stuff. Big stuff. Like who’s right, who’s wrong, and what happens next.”

“Oh, like my dad?”

“Not exactly.” Mingi frowned, struggling to explain. “A judge is about…being fair.” He paused, his small ears twitching as dogs of all shapes and sizes zoomed past. Mingi barely noticed them, lost in thought. 

“The Judge decides if you’ve been bad or good,” he said, his tone growing quieter. “And if you deserve a second chance.”

Hetmon slowed his pace, glancing down at Mingi as they weaved through a bustling cluster of dogs sniffing at a water fountain. “So, what does he do if you don’t?”

Mingi froze, his fluffy tail stiffening as the unsettling atmosphere settled around them. The playful barks and chatter of the park faded, replaced by an eerie silence that made his hackles stand. Hetmon’s sharp ears swiveled forward, his nose twitching as he scanned their surroundings.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice lowering to a cautious rumble.

Before Mingi could respond, a new presence entered their field of vision. A black cat perched atop a nearby bench, its eyes glinting with an unsettling intensity. It was a small thing, lithe and elegant, yet its presence carried an almost tangible weight. Its tail swished lazily, but there was nothing casual about the way it stared at them.

“Surprised to see me, Maro?” the cat purred, its voice smooth and taunting as it stretched languidly. Without breaking eye contact, it hopped down from the bench with a graceful leap and began to saunter toward them, its paws making no sound against the ground.

“You’re looking...lighter. Did someone have a little emotional breakthrough last night?”

Mingi’s ears flattened against his head, and his nose scrunched in irritation. “Who are you?”

Hetmon’s tail wagged excitedly, oblivious to the tension. “Hey, it’s a cat! Are you here to play too?”

The black cat let out a soft laugh, the sound equal parts amusement and condescension. “Oh, I’m always here to play,” it said, its tone dripping with mock sincerity. Its piercing eyes slid back to Mingi, a playful glint in them. 

“But I don’t expect you to remember me in this form. You know, considering the state you were in last time we spoke.”

Mingi blinked, confusion spreading across his puppy face as he studied the cat more closely, trying to make sense of the situation. “The last time?” He squinted, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air, piecing the puzzle together.

“You’re the Judge.”

“In the flesh,” Wooyoung said, with an exaggerated bow. “Though, this is only one of the many forms I can take.”

“Why are you here?” Mingi growled, his nerves beginning to fray. There was something unnervingly calm about the cat’s presence.

“I was in the neighborhood,” Wooyoung replied casually, his voice light but carrying an underlying warmth. “And I couldn’t resist seeing how our dear Maro is holding up. Word is, someone’s been dabbling in a bit of self-reflection.” 

He circled Mingi, his movements more curious than menacing. Mingi, however, wasn’t taking any chances. He scowled, puffing up his hackles instinctively, his narrowed eyes following Wooyoung’s every move.

“Imagine my shock when I heard whispers about you sharing your feelings and letting others in.”

Mingi’s fluffy tail gave an involuntary twitch, and his ears flattened against his head. If dogs could blush, he would’ve been beet red. “And what about it?” he barked, his voice rising in embarrassed frustration.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” Wooyoung teased, his grin spreading wide and sharp, though his eyes sparkled with something closer to amusement than malice. “It’s adorable, really.”

Hetmon, ever the optimist, wagged his tail harder. “Sounds like you’re doing great! Even the kitty thinks so.”

“But I give credit where it’s due,” Wooyoung said, pausing mid-step to preen his face.

“You completed your first task, and it looks good on you. Dare I say, you might actually be growing as a person.” He let the compliment linger before flicking his gaze to Mingi’s fluffy form. “Or… dog. Whatever.”

“Uh… thanks, I guess?” Mingi muttered, his defensive posture softening slightly, though his tail still twitched with lingering unease.

“Don’t let it go to your head, fluffball,” he said, his grin returning, but now it was less sharp, almost fond. “You’ve still got a ways to go. But…” He tilted his head, his golden eyes glinting in the soft light. 

“I suppose I’ll be watching with mild interest.”

For all of Wooyoung’s teasing, there was an odd comfort in the knowledge that someone—however mischievous—was paying attention to his journey.

“Maro!”

Mingi’s ears perked up instantly, his heart leaping at the sound of your voice. His head whipped around, and there you were, jogging toward him, grinning ear to ear. He didn’t think—he just bolted toward you, his excitement erupting in a series of joyous barks that echoed through the park.

Before you could even brace yourself, he launched himself into your arms. You stumbled slightly under the force of his leap, but your laughter bubbled out, ruffling his furn in that perfect way that always made him melt.

“I missed you so much!” you said, your voice warm and full of affection. You leaned your cheek against his head, holding him like you never wanted to let go. 

“Looks like you had fun while I was gone.”

Fun? Sure, the dog park was fine. Hetmon was great. Even the bizarre encounter with Wooyoung had been…something. But none of it compared to this. None of it compared to you.

Mingi leaned his fluffy body into you, letting out a soft whine as his eyes closed. Your touch, your voice, your laugh—it was everything he didn’t know he needed until now. He’d missed you more than he could say, more than this form would allow him to show.

His mind wandered, as it often did, to a future where he wasn’t just a dog but himself again. Would you see him differently? Would you understand how much he cared, how much he’d changed? Would you give him a chance?

Maybe, just maybe, you’d look at him the way you did now—with a warmth that made him feel like the center of your world. The thought sent a spark of hope blooming in his chest, as bright and fragile as the first rays of sunlight after a storm.

Your arms tightened around him slightly, pulling him back to the present. And for now, that was enough. Mingi let out a soft, contented huff, nuzzling into you as if to say, I missed you, too.

“What’s gotten into you?” you teased.

Yeosang trotted over with Hetmon by his side. “He was a champ while you were gone,” he said, “but I think someone’s been counting the minutes until you came back.”

You laughed again, running your hand over Mingi’s head as he leaned into your touch. “Is that true, Maro? Were you waiting for me?”

Mingi barked softly in response, his tail wagging furiously now. In this moment, everything felt perfect. There was so much he wanted to say, words that his current form couldn’t fully express. But he would wait. He would wait for you, no matter how long it took. 

<< ii | iv >>

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@sanniesbum @tyudearyous @kang-ulzzang @scary-thingz @painted-hills

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘌𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼 𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓆞 Jealousy Left Unwrapped - @freyaphoria yandere!matz x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Jenga And Jealousy - @hongjoongtime117 ot8 x reader (series) 𓆞 𓆞 Little Accidents - @bombuni owners!matz x kitty!reader x kitty!wooyoung (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Light It Up! - @cybrsan matz x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Mark me as yours - @littlefireball dragon hybrid!yeosang x dragon hybrid!reader x dragon hybrid!seonghwa (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 How I Play - @tinyidle idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Important - @yunniverse bf!idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Intoxicating - @atzaurora idol!hongjoong x idol!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Jealous Oppa~ - @mangomingus idol!hongjoong x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Kindergarten Love Story - @xomakara dad!kindergarten teacher!hongjoong x police officer!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓆞 Strange Tide - @jagibangbangchan pirate!seonghwa x siren!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Strawberry Cakes - @skrrts fiancé!non-idol!seonghwa x fiancé!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Take me to Paris... - @bvidzsoo mafia!seonghwa x single mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Take My Soul, Take My Heart - @itsbeeble pirate!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Taste Of You - @callmeagardengnome idol!seonghwa x mukbanger!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Day Off - @sweetiesicheng bf!yunho x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Guerrilla - @sorryimananti-romantic doctor!serial killer!yunho x writer!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Ok, Cowboy - @everyonewooeverywhere cowboy!mechanic!yunho x reader (series) 𓆞 𓆞 Video Game Lover - @crimsonbubble streamer!yunho x gn!reader (thoughts) 𓆞 𓆞 You Right  - @theyungihven bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Behind The Mask - @sweetblossomsss king!yeosang x servant!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Cotton Candy Skies - @shownusgfayoooo bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 The Doberman - @rems-writing bodyguard!yeosang x rapper!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Velvet Nights - @mingi-s-dimples angel!yeosang x angel!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Whispers In The Rain - @koyagifs idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 San Comes Home From Tour In The Middle Of The Night - @redzie02 idol!san x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Stargazers - @xuchiya non-idol!san x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 That's What I Like - @theyungihven millionaire bf!san x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Untitled - @songsanpotato idol!san x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Wonderland - @/goldendynastys yandere!san x reader (series) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Comfortable Lazy - @skrrts bf!non-idol!mingi x gn!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Unspoken Words - @koyagifs non-idol!mingi x reader ft.yeosang (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Untitled - @dancinglikebutterflywings fiancee!mingi x fiancee!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere non-idol!mingi x reader (thoughts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Wanted Dead Or Alive - @xomakara cowboy!mingi x heiress!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Sleepover - @kitten4sannie wooyoung x reader ft.mingi (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 That's Not Your Food, Woo - @pettypuppy-jonghyun bf!idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 The Baby Bug - @xomakara dad!wooyoung x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 To Be The One - @cheeseceli idol!wooyoung x reader (thoughts) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Untitled - @thelargefrye idol!wooyoung x ninth member!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Amusement Love - @koyagifs best friend!idol!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Inevitable Ending - @wwooyology prince!jongho x servant!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 I Wished For You - @nightbeforethend bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Surprise, Surprise - @dancinglikebutterflywings bf!non-idol!jongho x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Untitled - @bombuni bf!jongho x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸

First chapter and I already love it! Excited for the next part! <3

| 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 | Chapter One

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 for this chapter: Slight Parental Abuse, kidnapping, mental breakdown, MDNI

My Thankful Help: @potatomountain @kitten4sannie @rems-writing

WC: 1.7k

AU: Mafia

Nets: @othersideoutlawsnetwork

AN: This chapter is under 2k because as I said, the first chapter would be short.

Tags: @xomakara @jedi-dreea @beabatiny @ateezaddict24 @spenceatiny18 @18fernanda @prodsh00ky @evercodeee @yizhou-time @smally97 @eshia16 @daniela-f-uwu @peachyy-joonie @butterfliesinthenightsky @dassmyname @unlikelysublimekryptonite @dollinno @stay-tiny-things @joongscheese @misskarynie @monstacheol @yeosangcutie0615 @mariaa @pinuspot @amphiroxx

@hyukssunflower @witchbxtch0701 If I cannot tag you, please fix your settings.

“Dad, please, this is all I have left!” Y/N’s dad didn’t care, he snatched the few bills she clenched in her palms, then shoved her to the floor.

“I don’t care. I need it more, you brat.”

Her father left her on the cold hard floor without another thought as he exited her home.

This all started five years ago, when her mother died and her father became a huge gambling addict. Every bit of death insurance money that was left for their daughter was stolen by the father for excessive spending.

Whatever, his ass can forget it.

Y/N had to return to work if she wanted to keep her home, rent and bills were definitely no joke. With a sigh and groan, she grabbed her apron and hat. As much as she hated her customers, she had a good job. It paid well and gave her a nice home: small, but nice. The best part is that it’s away from her fathers run down house.

Oh the family home..it used to be so beautiful. Y/N’s mother always kept it so extravagant and beautiful, her father actually built it for her mother. Alas, once she died, Y/N’s dad let it fall into disrepair. Holes in the floor, broken windows, no working appliances. It truly was just, not hospitable in any way shape or form.

The walk to the car was miserable, with her pockets robbed of the last cash she had, her bank account stripped clean of its currency. Y/N hated her father in these final minutes to her car, “Piece of shit, hate his ass.”

Her car struggled to start, pissing her off even more. Her hands smacked against the steering wheel and she let out an agonizing scream. Tears streamed down her face that signified her further frustration. Why? Why not was her life like this? Y/N stepped out of her car with a slam of the door. Bus transposition it is. She could only count on the money she made tonight to make it back home. Her bus card only had enough for one ride.

Y/N grabbed her coat before heading back outside to the bus station, it better not be packed. Her day was already shitty and she didn’t need to be jostled around by people on the way to work.

The moment she stepped onto the bus and scanned her card, only then could she breathe a sigh of relief. There was no one on the bus which gave her momentary tranquility. A peaceful silence if you must.

After the jostling bus ride and arriving to work, Y/N prepared for a long day ahead of her. Hopefully having no shitty customers and ending the day with a good pay.

She needs it.

About six hours later, she was clocked out of work with some cash in her pocket, she had made about one hundred and twenty four dollars. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get her home and maybe something ordered to eat. Tomorrow's payment would have to go to rent no matter what. She absolutely cannot afford to be homeless.

It had turned dark outside on the way home which she didn’t mind but alas, men. She never had to worry about that but she still worried regardless.

With her home in sight, she let out another sigh of relief and stepped inside. Why was it so dark? She knows she left the lights on. She was sure she left them on. Y/N was about to bolt when hands grabbed her and the lights turned on.

Three men resided in her home entrance and she panicked, “Who the hell are you people and why are you in my home?” She tried her hardest to break away from the man’s hold, she couldn’t see what they looked like and that scared her.

A short one with orange hair pushed himself off the couch with a frown, “You’re not Mark..” His face grew cold, “Might I ask who you are instead?”

Y/N could only scowl before giving in, “I’m his daughter. What do you want with my father?”

“Well, you see, he owes us a hefty bit of money. He listed this place as his home but he’s not here. Do you know where he is?” He came face to face with the girl as he scanned her body up and down. Quite the specimen indeed, he thought.

Y/N shook her head, “Why the hell would I know where that deadbeat is? He’s nothing but trouble and continues to steal my money.”

This made the man laugh, the others stiffening.

“Oh, yeah, sounds just like him.” He thought for a moment before nodding to himself, “Well, guess we’re gonna have to take you instead! Maybe we can lure him out with you.”

Before she could protest and scream for help, something was bashed against her head and she fell to the floor in a blackout.

Time flew by quickly.

The moment she woke up, she realized she was in a cell, her body wrapped in a tight rope and her legs barred together tightly.

Y/N began to cry, of course her father would get her in this situation. What a dickweed.

A light quickly flashed into the dark room, someone stepped in.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” The voice was monotone, “Captain wants to see you.” The sounds of keys jingling rattled her ears, swearing she had a concussion.

She was quickly yanked up and taken outside of the cell, “Do not attempt to flee, I will just shove you back in there with nothing to eat.”

Y/N gave in and let him take her upstairs. She was astonished by his beauty once they reached the light. No, no, do not think that way, she thought to herself. She was kidnapped.

She was taken to a room that was secluded from the rest, chandeliers lining the hallway as she walked, well, was forced down. Still, a beautiful place that astonished her.

Once she was shoved into the room and the door slammed behind her, only then could she look up from where she fell.

The other man stood up from his seat and helped her stand up, “I told you to be gentle, Jongho. Follow my orders next time or you know damn well what happens.”

“Yes, Hongjoong, sir, I’m sorry.” The voice spoke from behind the girl.

This guy was the boss?

“I’m Hongjoong, I’m the leader of ateez and you’re in our home. You can thank your father for that.” Hongjoong gently brought Y/N to a seat and sat her down, sending shivers down her spine.

“What do I have to do with my father? He’s not going to rescue me. He only cares about his money.” He didn’t like those words but quickly gathered his cool.

“No matter, fathers always come back if they want to escape our wrath.” Hongjoong cleared his throat before he stood up once more, “You’ll be staying with us until he makes an appearance or pays us back.”

She knew neither was going to happen. She’d be stuck here forever until the day she died.

Tears lined her eyes as she tried to fight them back, “Then you should just kill me.”

Hongjoong laughed in such a maniacal way that it scared Y/N, “I won’t be doing that either, you’re too pretty to kill. I like you.” He wasn’t sending any red flags but still, he scared Y/N.

“Fine.”

“Good girl. Jongho, take her to the room I had prepared and have the maids clean her up and feed her.” With a wave of his hand, Y/N was back to being yanked around, “Be gentle, dammit!” His fist smacked against the desk and Jongho was frightened once more, being more careful than he had before.

When the two of them were out of sight, Jongho was harsh once again, “I don’t like you. I don’t see why Captain has such an interest in you, I would’ve just killed you if I was in his position.”

Y/N couldn’t say anything, she was too scared, too afraid to die in all honesty. She could only wonder what would happen to her home, her job, everything she had. Would she just be reported as missing? What would happen? Would anyone even care?

“You’ll be staying in here.” She was shoved into a room once again but maids rushed to her this time, helping her to the bed, almost as if they were also afraid of Hongjoong.

She didn’t blame them.

Y/N didn’t even fight back, she let them undress her, too hollow of shell at the moment. They led her to a prepared bath, it was..big. Too big.

They helped her inside and began washing her body before she shouted, “I can do it myself, thank you.” The maids didn’t scamper off unfortunately.

“We’re so sorry, but Mr Kim wants us doing this. We have to.” They spoke with such a frightening tone, almost as if they were gonna get their heads chopped off on a stand.

They scrubbed her body with such ease and care, not wanting to hurt the girl. Too scared to do so. Then again, they haven’t had another girl in the house in so long. It was nice.

Once they were done, they had her step out, drying and dressing her in a gown. Something she normally would never wear, alas she has no choice unfortunately. If this is what the man wanted her to wear then so be it.

The several maids took their leave for a moment and Y/N took that as her chance to escape. She bolted out of the bathroom, out of the room, then into the hallway. Her heavy breaths carried her in a panic, but what she didn’t expect was to run in a hard chest.

Y/N screamed in defeat as they grabbed her tight. She recognized the hold as the person who captured her home.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” The voice snickered in such a mimicking tone, “Mm, captain is gonna love to hear about this.”

Y/N stared up into his eyes, yet another beautiful man and this one was definitely tall.

“You do look delicious.” However, he shrugged and dragged her back into the room, “I’m Mingi, though, next time you try to escape, I won’t be so lenient.” The door was slammed as Mingi left her in the cold and dark room once more.

Y/N could only cry as she came to the conclusion she was never leaving this place.

Ever.

the moment between hongjoong and reader about reader’s brother was really sweet, but I can’t help but be nervous for whatever seonghwa and dann (mainly seonghwa) have planned cause I know it’s going to involve mike and other secrets we may not know about reader yet.

I’m excited for the next part and keep up the great work! <3

Popular, Boy

☆04: The first surrender.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!reader

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

wc: 8,5k

Summary: Alliances and secrets simmer beneath the surface as relationships are tested. Whispers of a returning precense cast shadow over your carefully controlled world.

Amid growing tension, nothing is as it seems, and trust becomes a dangerous gamble.

Warnings: Cursing, emotional manipulation, power dynamics, fluff, SMUT (MDN!!) Virgin! Hongjoong, oral (f receiving) fingering, hair pulling, cum eating, use of pet names (good boy, baby, babe, pretty) suggestive.

Series masterlist

☆03 ☆05: The first fracture.

YN♡: I hope you enjoy your return to the losers’ club, ungrateful pet.

Those words feel like a slap in the face, but there's a part of him that can't deny the sting of guilt. Hongjoong had stood up to you, and now, he was being pushed away.

He feels conflicted, like he's torn between two sides of himself.

On one hand, you have everything he’s always wanted, popularity, control, power. On the other hand, he can’t help but feel a flicker of empathy for Dann, even if it’s not enough to overpower his desire to keep his place in your world.

The past three days have been agonizing for Hongjoong. Your cold text still lingered in his mind, your words cutting deeper than he expected.

He wasn’t sure what stung more: being labeled an 'ungrateful pet' or the realization that you had the power to decide his social fate.

In the hallways, the change was immediate and brutal. Your circle avoided him entirely, with Mindy, Wooyoung and the others offering smug smirks or outright ignoring his greetings.

The glances from the rest of the school stung even more, whispers of, 'Guess YN dumped her charity case,' followed him everywhere.

Hongjoong tried to go back to his old routine, hanging out with Yunho, Yeosang, Jongho and Dann in the library, but it wasn’t the same. The nerdy jokes and shared interests felt hollow, overshadowed by his embarrassment.

He couldn’t stop feeling like he’d failed… failed you, failed himself, and maybe even failed Dann.

“Joong, are you okay?” Dann’s voice pulls him from his thoughts during lunch.

Her gaze is soft but cautious. He knows she is trying to reconnect with him, but guilt twists in his stomach.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” He mumbles, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth to avoid saying more.

But Dann isn’t convinced. She has noticed how his shoulders slump when your table erupts into laughter or how his eyes flicker toward you every time you walk by, as if waiting for something.

Was he regretting standing up for her? She wondered, unsure whether to feel gratitude or guilt herself.

✮ ⋆

Brat woo: Party at my place tonight, babydoll!! We’re gonna get lit!!

You smirk as you read Wooyoung's text. Typical of Woo, his personality is always bright and comfy.

You bit your lip, twirling a strand of your perfectly styled hair as an idea formed in your mind.

YN: Invite Hongjoong, too.

The three dots appear almost immediately, followed by Woo’s response.

Brat oo: Babydoll, why would I invite him?

Brat woo: Isn’t he banned from your bad bitches club?

You laugh at his last message as you lean back against your plush chair, crossing one leg over the other. Your perfectly manicured nails taps the edge of your phone as you craft a reply.

YN: Yeah, but invite him.

YN: It would be fun, babe.

Brat woo: Fine. But you owe me a blowjob, doll.

You scoff rolling your eyes, and you prefer not to bother replying. You knew Wooyoung well enough to predict he’d follow through.

You lock your phone and you get up to head to your closet, it's time to look for something cute to wear tonight.

✮ ⋆

His first instinct was to assume it was a mistake. Jung Wooyoung wasn’t his friend. The last party held at his house was amazing and he treated him like they were friends for years, but it was only because he was with you... but not anymore.

Hongjoong read the message again, searching for some hidden sarcasm or trap.

J Wooyoung: Party at my place tonight, you must come.

Why would Wooyoung invite him?

Was this a chance to prove himself again? To get back into your orbit? The thought makes his chest tighten with both excitement and dread.

His phone buzzes with another text, this time from Dann.

Dann: Hey, wanna hang out tonight? We could watch that weird series you’ve been talking about.”

He hesitates, guilt creeping in. Spending time with Dann sounded comfortable, easy, even, but the allure of Jung’s party looms large in his mind. And then, an idea struck him.

He quickly types a reply.

Joong: Actually, wanna come with me to a party tonight?

Dann: What? A party? With whom?

Joong: Jung Wooyoung invited me.

Joong: It’s at his place. You should come.

His reply is almost casually, as if it weren’t a big deal. There is a pause before Dann’s next message comes through.

Dann: Joong, that sounds… weird. Why would Wooyoung invite you? And why are YOU inviting me?

Dann: I remind you that the last time I went to a party, everything went wrong!

Hongjoong frowns, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard. He didn't think that far ahead, but now that Dann brought it up, the invite does seem odd. Still, he can't let her skepticism damp his resolve.

Joong: Does it matter? It’s a party, Dann. It could be fun. We haven’t done anything like this in forever.”

Dann: I don’t know…

Joong: Come on!! It’ll be fine.

Joong: You’ll be with me the whole time.

Joong: If it sucks, we can leave.

Another pause, longer this time. Finally, her reply comes through.

Dann: Okay… I’ll go.

Dann: But if this turns into some kind of disaster, you owe me, Joong.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He tosses his phone into the bed and starts rifling through his closet, searching for something that looks remotely party-appropriate.

This is it, he thought, half to reassure himself. This is my chance to prove I’m not just a nobody anymore.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The party is already in full swing when you step through the door, your entrance commanding attention as always.

Wooyoung is the first to greet you, slinging an arm over your shoulder in a casual, brotherly way.

“About time, babydoll.” He teases, steering you further into the house “You’ve got people asking for you already.”

You smirk, brushing a perfectly styled strand of hair from your face.

“Good. Let them wait. it builds anticipation.”

Your eyes scan the room, taking in the crowd of familiar faces. The thrum of music, the faint haze of smoke, and the sharp scent of expensive cologne feel like home. But tonight, it’s not the crowd you’re interested in.

“Did you do it?”

He glances at your sideways, catching the subtle edge in your voice “Yeah, I invited him. He is coming, right?” Woo asks casually, though there’s a glint of mischief in his tone.

You nod, lips curving into a sly smile “Of course he will. Thanks for the invite.”

“Anything for you, Queen Bee.” Woo chuckles, patting your shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

You barely take two steps before Seonghwa appears in your path, leaning casually against the doorframe of the kitchen as if he’s been waiting.

“You really showed up.” He says, his tone teetering between disbelief and sarcasm.

“Obviously, miss out on this? Never.”

His sharp eyes rake over you, the casual air he projects cracking just slightly.

“So, you brought him here?”

You lift your chin, feigning innocence “Who?”

“You know who,” Hwa says, his voice dropping “The nerd.”

“Oh, him. He’s just part of the fun, but he is not coming with me today.”

“Fun,” Hwa repeats bitterly, stepping closer “That’s what you’re calling it?”

You don't back down “You’re awfully concerned for someone who’s supposed to be done with me.”

The jab hits, and Hwa’s jaw tightens “We’ve been through a lot, Clarke. I know how you operate, and this is reckless—even for you.”

“Reckless?” You scoff, taking a deliberate step toward him “Spare me the lecture, Seonghwa. If you’re so worried, maybe you should focus on your own vices. Or do you need me to remind you how much recklessness you’ve been indulging in lately?”

His eyes narrow, his jaw clenched “You always twist things around, don’t you?”

You tilt your head, a flicker of amusement dancing in your gaze “Only when necessary.”

The tension between them hums like a live wire, but before either can escalate further, you sigh and soften your tone.

“Look, Hwa, I get it. You’re mad because I’ve been spending time with Hongjoong. But you and I both know this—whatever this is—doesn’t have to be like this.”

Seonghwa’s perfect brows knit together, his posture relaxing just slightly “And what’s ‘this,’ YN? Because it feels like we’re always walking the same damn line.”

“Friends,” You say firmly, though your voice carries a hint of warmth “We’ve been friends forever, haven’t we? Almost more than friends, at times. I’m not throwing that away just because we’ve hit a rough patch.”

He studies you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he exhales and runs a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, well, you’ve always been good at getting under my skin. Guess I should be used to it by now.”

You smile, a real one this time “You should. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t mean for things to get so tense between us. Truce?”

Hwa hesitates but eventually extends a hand, his lips quivering into a faint smirk-

“Truce. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook completely.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” You say, shaking his hand briefly before pulling him into a quick hug.

As they pull apart, Wooyoung reappears, his grin as wide as ever “See? Told you it’s a party, not a courtroom.”

Both of you laugh, the tension finally dissipating. After all, you've been friends since you were kids, fighting over who got the best gifts or who got the most toys during Christmas.

Yes, maybe fights always were and will always be frequent, but the bond you created will always be there, whether as friends or as lovers. And no one can deny it.

✮ ⋆

The laughter still bubbles around you and friends as you relax on the plush couch in the middle of the buzzing party. The low hum of music blends with the chatter of your friends, creating the perfect backdrop for your carefree moment.

You perched elegantly with your cocktail in hand, tossing your hair back with a playful smirk.

“Remember when you told everyone I cried about losing that silly bet when we went to Meeru Island in the Maldives?” Mingi says, aiming a mock glare at Wooyoung.

He chuckles, shrugging. “You did cry, Mingi. Like, full-on wailing. I saved you from complete humiliation by telling everyone you were faking it.”

“You’re insufferable, Woo.” You lean forward to swat at him, but your grin betrays your amusement.

San joins you, plopping down on the armrest beside Seonghwa, his beer in hand.

“God, you two never change. Should we get you a reality show or something?”

Mingi rolls his eyes but laughs along, the tension from you and Hwa's little fight seemingly evaporating. It’s like old times again, your rhythm unshaken.

Then Woo’s gaze shifts toward the entrance, and his playful expression stiffens slightly.

“Uh… you told me to invite him, but I didn’t think he’d actually show up.”

You follow Wooyoung’s line of sight, your smile freezing as you spot Hongjoong stepping into the house. His attempts at looking casual—down to his carefully chosen shirt and forced grin—betray the nerves he’s clearly trying to hide.

But it’s not just him. Dann is with him, hovering awkwardly at his side.

Seonghwa notices too, his smirk turning razor-sharp “Well, if it isn’t the exile. You sure know how to pick your projects, Clarke.”

Your grip on the empty glass tightens ever so slightly before you recover, placing it calmly on the coffee table. You rise with an air of detachment, smoothing your short silk black dress.

“Don’t start, Hwa.”

Hwa leans back, watching you with an amused glint “I don’t need to. This show writes itself.”

Ignoring him, you stride toward the entrance, movements deliberate, your heels clicking against the polished floor.

Hongjoong’s face lights up with hope when he sees you approach, but you don't acknowledge it.

“Enjoying the party?” You ask coolly, your gaze sweeping over both Hongjoong and Dann.

“Uh, yeah,” He says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly “Thanks for—”

“Wooyoung invited you,” You interrupt, your eyes flick to Dann, your lips curving into a smile that’s anything but friendly “Didn’t realize you’d be bringing… extras.”

Dann stiffens under your gaze “I just came because Joong—”

“I didn’t ask,” You cut her off smoothly. your focus shifts back to Hongjoong “Enjoy the party, and stay out of my way.”

Before Hongjoong can respond, you turn on your heel, heading back to the couch where all your friends are waiting, barely containing their laughter.

“That was subtle.” Mingi teases as you sit back down.

You pick up another drink and take a long sip, your face calm but your mind racing. You had ordered Jung to invite him, but seeing him here, with Dann of all people, scratches at your carefully curated control.

Seonghwa leans closer, his voice low “Trying to make him mad, huh? Gotta admit, it’s fun to watch.”

You don't reply, your gaze lingering on Kim as he and Dann hover near the edge of the room. The party continues to swirl around you, but the game you’re playing tonight is only just beginning.

“Let's go dance.”

And without waiting for an answer, you drag Seonghwa to the center of the dance floor.

✮ ⋆

The party pulses around Hongjoong, but all he can see is you. You were radiant, laughing as you danced with Seonghwa, your hand grazing his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Weren't you supposed to be on bad terms? He threatened you a few days ago and now you act as if none of that has happened.

Every glance, every touch, feels like a slap to Hongjoong’s face, and when your eyes meet his for a brief moment across the room, he knows it wasn’t accidental.

Dann stands beside him, trying to engage him in conversation or distract him with sarcastic comments about the crowd, but he barely responds.

His guilt over snapping at her earlier only adds to the storm brewing inside him.

As the night goes on, you and Seonghwa grow bolder. You dance closer, bodies pressing together in a way that feels almost taunting. Your hand trails lazily over Hwa’s chest as you throw a sly glance over your shoulder, directly at Hongjoong.

He can't take it anymore.

“I need a minute.” He mutters to Dann before walking away.

He finds you in the corner of the room, laughing at something Seonghwa had said. Your head tilts back, the sparkle in your eyes brighter than ever. You look utterly in control, utterly untouchable.

“YN.” Hongjoong says, his voice tight.

You turn to him, your expression cool and unimpressed “Hongjoong, enjoying the party?”

“I…” He hesitates, glancing at the tallest, who stands smirking at him like he knows exactly how pathetic he feels.

“Spit it out.” You cross your arms waiting for his next words.

Hongjoong swallows hard, his pride crumbling under the weight of your icy stare.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You ask, feigning ignorance as you raise an eyebrow.

“For… for defending Dann.” He admits, the words tasting bitter on his tongue “I shouldn’t have done it. I wasn’t thinking. Please, YN. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You tilt your head, a small smile playing on your lips “Is that so?”

“Please, YN. I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want to make it up to you.”

You raise an eyebrow. That phrase sounds kinda familiar. Your gaze sweeps over him with an air of detached amusement.

“Anything?”

“Yes.” He said, desperation dripping from every syllable.

“Prove it.”

He looks at you confused, unsure what you mean. But when you point at the floor with a slight nod, his heart sinks.

Here? Now?

The party is still bustling around them, and though the music is loud, he knows there are enough eyes on them to make this moment humiliating.

But the thought of losing your favor, of being cast back into obscurity, is unbearable.

Slowly, he sinks to his knees in front of you like the first time he did it. The weight of the action crushed the little pride he had left.

“I’m sorry,” His voice trembling as he looks up at you “Please, YN. Forgive me.”

Your lips curve into a slow smile, and you reach down, brushing your fingers along his jaw.

“Good boy.”

Without another word, you grab his hand and pull him to his feet. Ignoring the stares of the partygoers—and the way Seonghwa’s amuse chuckle follows them—You lead him through the crowd and up the stairs.

Hongjoong’s pulse races as you push open the door to an empty room, shutting it firmly behind you.

“YN, I—” He starts, but you silence him with a finger to his lips.

You step closer, a hand sliding up his chest before tangling in the collar of his shirt. Your lips hover just above his, teasing him, your breath warm against his skin.

“You want me to forgive you, don’t you?” You whisper against his lips.

“Yes…” He breathes, his voice shaking.

“Then show me how sorry you are.” You say as your lips finally crash into his.

The kiss is rough, demanding, leaving Hongjoong breathless as your hands roam over him.

You push him into the edge of the bed, your confidence unwavering as you climb into his lap.

“Make it up to me.” You murmur against his ear, your tone lace with both seduction and dominance.

The room remains shrouded in heavy silence, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing and the soft rustling of fabric as your hands continue their work.

Hongjoong sits before you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes glazed with a mix of guilt, desire, and submission. He’s completely under your control, each deliberate movement you make reinforcing your hold over him.

You trail your nails lightly down his chest, exposed now as his shirt hangs loose from his shoulders.

“See, Joongie,” You purr, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his neck “When you beg like that, it reminds me how much you want to be here… how much you need me.”

He shivers under your touch, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words come out. His mind is a haze, lost in you—your voice, your touch, the overwhelming weight of your presence.

He feels as if he’s drowning, yet he doesn’t want to come up for air.

Your lips return to his, capturing him in a kiss so intense it steals his breath. His hands caressing from your waist to your bare legs as you tug him closer, your hands tangling in his hair, ensuring there’s no escape.

Not that he wants one.

Your smirk deepens as you lean closer, your fingers curling under his chin to tilt his face up. Your dominance is unshakable, your presence commanding every ounce of his attention.

“On your knees.”

You order, carrying a weight that leaves no room for protest as you get off his lap to sit next to him on the bed.

Hongjoong’s breath hitches. His mind scrambles for a response, but the intensity of your gaze renders him silent. Swallowing hard, he glances around the empty room, then back at you, his cheeks already red when he sees you spread your legs.

He thinks he knows what you want him to do, and that makes him more nervous.

“YN, I don’t know—”

“Do you trust me or not?” You interrupt, fingers trailing down to his collar, tugging him forward “You said you’d do anything for me, didn’t you?”

Caught in your words and unwavering stare, Hongjoong nods hesitantly.

“I do.” He whispered.

“Then show me.”

Slowly, he slides down to his knees, the fabric of his jeans scraping lightly against the floor. His hands hover awkwardly at his sides, unsure of where they should go, as he looks up at you, his wide eyes fill with a mixture of anticipation and nerves.

He's never done this before. He's seen it in porn videos but still doesn't know exactly what to do.

Your fingers slip into his hair, touch firm but not rough, and you guide him closer with a slow, deliberate motion.

“I always tell you this. Relax, Hongjoong, I’ll take care of you.”

Your other hand moves to the hem of your dress, slipping it up just enough to expose the soft fabric of your black panties.

Hongjoong’s gaze drops instinctively, his breath catching in his throat as his pulse races.

“Focus, Joongie.” You tease, tugging lightly on his hair to draw his attention back to your face “Start slow. I want to feel how much you want my forgiveness.”

With shaky hands, he rests his palms on your soft thighs, his touch hesitant and careful, the cold of his rings making you shiver.

You guide him lower, your smirk never wavering as his lips brush against your thighs.

The warmth of your skin, the faint scent of your perfume, the weight of your hand in his hair—all of it consumes him.

His inexperience is obvious, but you don't mind. You encourage him with soft sighs and subtle movements, your hips tilting forward slightly as he grows bolder, leaving little bites on your inner thighs as his fingers play with the edge of your panties, sliding them down slowly.

He starts taking his time dishing out kisses and biting on both thighs, making you impatient.

You let out a whimper pulling his hair slightly “Hongjoong… hurry up and eat me out.”

For the first time in his life, Hongjoong feels confident enough to smile mockingly against your delicate skin.

You, begging him to touch you? He never imagined it.

Still holding his smile, he slides your panties all the way down to your ankles, and removes them eagerly, leaving on your pretty high heels.

When he returns to his starting position between your thighs, he can't avoid looking to your bare core, all glossy with slick. He bites his lip at the sight.

Did he provoke that?

“Joong...” You reproach again with a whine.

You really need him to do something on his own or you'll force him to sink into your folds right now. You've never felt so desperate before, so eager for someone to touch you.

Hongjoong smiles again, your whiney voice turning him on.

The dry humping in your car, the blowjob in the empty classroom, and all the little make outs can not compare to this. Your pussy inches from his face, your hand tugging his hair and your desperate form waiting for him to touch you.

Fuck, he can’t believe this is happening.

With the highest confidence ever, even though he keeps in mind that he does not know what he is doing, he leans towards your pussy, giving a long lick that makes both of you moan in pleasure.

His warm tongue explores every millimeter of your womanhood, you whine as Hongjoong swipe his tongue up and down your wet slit, taking all your slick on his mouth.

“Shit, you taste so good, baby.” He says without realizing his words, his mind already cloudy.

You open your mouth in surprise at his daring words, you swear you feel more arousal coming out of your cunt.

“Fuck, Hongjoong…” You tighten your grip on his hair, forcing him to sink his head further and he lets you do it gladly, smiling against you “Ah… f-fuck me with your tongue, babe.”

And he does, he leaves your swollen clit to play with his tongue rubbing around your entrance, making you whine desperately.

He snorts with fun when you pull his hair harder, he is loving the way you’re acting, all whiny and desperate for him.

Without making you wait any longer, he slowly introduces his long tongue in your core.

He moans when he hears you do it and starts moving his tongue in and out, your walls clenching on it, his nose rubbing your clit, and his hands squeezing your thighs, bringing you closer to his mouth.

You arch your back, squirming and moaning under his exquisite touch. You never imagined that a virgin nerd like him could eat pussy so well.

Fuck, you never imagined he'd ever do this to you.

“That’s it,” You whisper, voice breathy but firm “Just… just like that, Joong.”

Each sound you make spur him on, his nervousness slowly giving way to determination. He wants to please you, to prove that he is worthy of your forgiveness, even if he doesn't fully know what he is doing.

Your breathing quickening as you tilt your head back “Good boy…” You murmur, your words sending a shiver down his spine.

The tension in the air is electric, every movement charged with a mix of control and surrender.

As your soft moans grow louder, Hongjoong can't help but feel a sense of pride, his confidence building with each passing moment.

✮ ⋆

The music blared through the speakers, the heavy bass vibrating the walls of Wooyoung’s mansion. Dann squeezed through groups of laughing, dancing people, her eyes scanning the crowd.

She’d been looking for Hongjoong for what felt like forever.

She finally spots Jung Wooyoung leaning casually against the bar, a drink in hand, and his signature easygoing grin in place.

Relief washes over her as she approaches him. She has never interacted with him, but she must find Joong.

“Wooyoung,” She calls out, raising her voice above the music “Have you seen Hongjoong?”

Jung tilts his head, his expression is a grimace when he sees her. He's drunk but he doesn't remember inviting this loser to his party, much less knowing the grudge you have against her.

“Little Hongjoong?” He echoes, taking a slow sip from his drink “Yeah, he went upstairs. With babydoll.” At Dann's confused expression, he rolls his eyes “He is upstairs with YN.”

Dann’s stomach drops at his words, her brows knitting together.

“With YN?” She repeats, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Wooyoung nods, smirking “Yep. Upstairs. Why? You jealous or something?” His tone is teasing, but Dann doesn’t have the energy to respond.

She turns on her heel and heads for the stairs, her heart pounding with every step. As she climbs, the noise of the party grows muffled, replaced by the quieter sounds of her own breathing and the creak of the steps.

Her mind races with thoughts she doesn’t want to entertain.

Why would Hongjoong be with you? After everything, after all the tension between you?

She reaches the top of the stairs and pauses before she approaches the only door that is closed in the hallway. Something tells her that they are both in there.

Her hand hesitates on the doorknob, her heart hammering against her ribs. Slowly, she pushes it open, the hinges creaking softly.

Her breath catches in her throat at the sight before her.

There you are—You and Hongjoong. You’re laying on the big bed, moaning as your hands grip Hongjoong’s hair while he is between your legs.

Hongjoong’s shirt is half-unbuttoned, hanging loosely off his shoulders, and his hands grip your thighs tightly, pulling you closer.

Dann’s chest tightens as a sharp pang of betrayal and hurt courses through her. She stands frozen in the doorway, her fingers gripping the frame as she struggles to make sense of what she’s seeing.

Neither you nor Hongjoong notice her. You’re too consumed by each other. The intensity of Hongjoong’s movements speaks volumes, and he is clearly enjoying being there.

Your dominance is evident too, your control absolute, while Hongjoong seems lost, entirely under your spell.

Dann bites her lip, willing herself not to cry as she takes a shaky step back. The scene before her is a confirmation of every fear she’s tried to suppress.

She retreats into the hallway, her heart aching with every step.

Downstairs, the party rages on, oblivious to the turmoil in Dann’s chest.

✮ ⋆

“Joong… I’m close.” You announce closing your eyes shut and your whines get louder, the pleasure is too much to handle.

At your words, Hongjoong places his lips around your sensitive clit, sucking and pulling at it, and without you expecting it, he thrust two of his fingers into your narrow entrance, making you open your eyes and groan in surprise.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

You quickly lift yourself up on your elbow to get a better view of him eating you like a starved man, It is certainly a spectacular sight.

His eyes closed in concentration, his warm mouth on your pussy and his fingers caressing the right places in your tight cunt.

Shit…. Is he really a virgin? Because this is the best oral sex you have ever received.

“L-look at me… look at me, baby.” You order him and he immediately obeys, looking at you with those doe eyes, those pretty doe eyes make a wave of pleasure run through your body “F-fuck… gonna cum, baby. K-keep going.” You moan again tilting your head back, your eyes rolling back “J-just like that…”

Damn, Hongjoong swears that this is the best view in the world, your mouth agape, eyes rolling back, you saying his name like a fucking mantra, this will undoubtedly be an image that will stay in his mind forever.

“Cum for me, pretty… cum on my mouth.”

He doesn't know where that sentence came from but he can't help it, the adrenaline of the moment has his mind clouded.

With those words, you lose it. Your strength leaves your body when the well-known pressure on your abdomen appears, your grip on his hair becomes stronger and your legs begin to tremble from immense pleasure, your orgasm explodes like never before, leaving you breathless.

He moans in satisfaction, the taste of your slick driving him crazy, he moves his tongue everywhere collecting every drop of your orgasm, just like you did that day with him.

“Ah… fuck, Joong!” You squirm under his movements, feeling the beginning of overstimulation “Hongjoong… ‘s too much, baby.”

With a last lick and a wet kiss on your clit, Hongjoong lifts his head with a light smile.

He’s pussy drunk right now and you smile, taking him by the cheeks and bringing him closer to you to kiss him.

His lips are swollen and his chin is soaked with your fluids, he looks messy, but you don't care. The kiss is full of something special this time, you don't know if it's gratitude, warmth or love. But you're definitely enjoying it too much.

“Did I do it right?” He murmurs against your lips and he smiles when you nod.

“That was amazing.” You pull him back, your breathing uneven, your eyes meet his with a satisfied gleam “Not bad for your first time.”

Hongjoong remain above you, his chest heaving as he tries to process what had just happened.

You run a hand through his messy hair, glancing down at him with a mix of amusement and approval.

“Let’s go back to the party.” You add, leaning down to press a quick, teasing kiss to his lips before pulling back.

And Hongjoong smiles satisfied, satisfied to have your forgiveness

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The hallway outside Wooyoung’s upstairs den is dimly lit, the faint bassline of the party vibrating through the walls.

Dann leans against the banister, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if to shield her from the storm raging in her chest. Her mind replays the image of you with Hongjoong in that compromising position.

She blinks back the sting of tears, her breath hitching.

“Pathetic,” She whispers to herself, trying to steal her resolve.

But the pain lingers, twisting deeper with each passing second.

“You look like hell.” A voice cuts through her thoughts, sharp yet strangely casual.

Dann startles, her wide eyes locking onto Seonghwa as he saunters out of the shadows. His shirt is half-buttoned, his tie hanging loose around his neck.

He takes a slow drag from a cigarette, the embers glowing faintly in the dim light.

“What do you want?” Dann’s voice wavers, a mix of anger and embarrassment as she hastily wipes at her cheeks.

Seonghwa tilts his head, smirking “Relax, I just happened to notice you running out of there like the world’s ending.” He exhales a thin trail of smoke, his eyes narrowing with mock “Saw something you didn’t like?”

Dann glares at him but says nothing. The silence between them grows heavy, thick with unspoken truths.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Hwa finally says, leaning casually against the banister “Let me guess… Hongjoong and YN, all over each other like she hadn't kicked him out a week ago because of your little show in the cafeteria?”

His tone drips with derision, his smirk deepening when Dann flinches.

“Why are you telling me this?” She snaps, her voice cracking slightly “You’re supposed to be her friend, aren’t you?”

Hwa chuckles, low and mirthless “Friendship’s a funny thing, don’t you think? Especially when it comes to someone like YN.” He flicks the cigarette away, watching the faint glow disappear into the darkness “You think she really cares about anyone but herself?”

Dann’s gaze falters, the weight of his words settling over her.

“Look,” Hwa says, his voice softening just enough to sound sincere, “I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of YN’s little games. She’s been pulling this crap since we were kids, using people, discarding them when they’re no longer useful.”

Dann clenches her fists, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But Hongjoong isn’t like that.”

Hwa raises an eyebrow, his smirk returning “You sure about that? He dropped you pretty fast for her, didn’t he?”

Her breath catches, the truth of his words cutting deeper than she wants to admit.

“But here’s the thing,” Hwa continues, stepping closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially “YN’s not untouchable. She’s got secrets, vulnerabilities… things she wouldn’t want getting out.”

Dann looks up at him, confusion and hesitation warring in her eyes.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… if you really want to hit her where it hurts, I can help.”

The air between them crackles with tension. Dann hesitates, her instincts screaming at her to walk away.

But the memory of Hongjoong doing such a thing with you flashes through her mind again, the sting of betrayal fueling the embers of something darker.

“Why?” She asks cautiously, her voice steadier now.

Seonghwa’s grin widens, his eyes glinting with calculated charm

“Let’s just say I have my reasons. And besides…” He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper “Don’t you want to see her fall?”

Dann swallows hard, the weight of his proposition pressing down on her. Her mind races, torn between doubt and the growing need to fight back.

Finally, she nods, her voice quiet but firm.

“Okay. I’m in.”

Hwa straightens, satisfaction flashing across his face “Good. Stick with me, and we’ll make sure YN regrets every move she’s made.”

As he walks away, Dann stands frozen, the faint echo of his footsteps fading into the music downstairs.

For the first time that night, she feels something other than pain—something sharp and dangerous, simmering just beneath the surface.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filters through the expansive windows of your house, casting a warm, golden hue over the sprawling living room.

You and Hongjoong sit cross-legged on the expensive carpet, a mess of images, glue sticks, and markers spread out between you. The project you’re working on is for the literature class—a visual timeline of key events in European history.

For once, you aren't delegating the work entirely to Hongjoong. Instead, you’re snipping pieces of paper with surprising focus, handing them over to him to paste onto the board.

“Here,” You say, holding up a carefully cut-out image of the Berlin Wall “Paste this next to the 1989 marker. And make it straight this time.”

Hongjoong smirks, taking the picture “Yes, pretty. Anything else you’d like me to do, Your Majesty?”

You roll your eyes but hide a smile “Just don’t mess it up. My grade’s on the line, too.”

You share a laugh, the recent nickname he loves to call you since that night at Wooyoung’s party makes you feel butterflies in your stomach.

Since that day, Hongjoong feels the ease between both of you—something he never thought possible just a few weeks ago. He doesn’t feel nervous or out of place anymore.

Being with you feels natural now, like he belongs here.

You lean back, brushing your hair over your shoulder, and look at him with a curious expression.

“You’re actually not bad at this. Who knew?”

He grins “Wow, high praise coming from you. Should I write this down?”

You smirk, tossing a crumpled piece of paper at him “Don’t push your luck, Kim.”

The banter continues, light and comfortable, until the sound of heels clicking on the marble floor interrupts them.

Your mother appears in the doorway, dressed immaculately as always, her gaze sweeping over the room.

“Oh! Hi, Hongjoong. Didn't know you were here.” Your mother greets him with a lovely smile

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Clarke.” He bows his head politely.

“How are you doing with that guys?” She says while looking curiously at your project.

“Great, we’re having fun.” Hongjoong answers with a sweet smile and your mother giggles gracefully.

From the first time your mother met him, she was delighted with the boy, saying how handsome and polite he was.

“Incredible. Sweetie?” Now she addresses you and you hum in response “I wanted to let you know your brother will be returning from Germany next week. He finished his program early.”

You freeze, your hands stilling on the paper you're cutting. For a moment, a flicker of something—fear?—crosses your face.

“Oh…” You say, voice strained despite her attempt at nonchalance “That’s… great.”

Your mother narrows her eyes slightly, as if detecting the unease.

“Yes. He’s looking forward to seeing you. I hope you’ll make him proud of how you’ve been handling things here.”

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” You reply with a forced smile.

“Well, I'll let you continue with your work.” Your mother gives a curt nod before leaving the room.

Hongjoong glances at you, sensing the sudden shift in your mood.

“Mike?”

You exhale sharply, tossing the scissors aside “Yeah. My amazing brother. If he finds out I’ve been… well, less than perfect, he won’t hesitate to tell my parents.”

Hongjoong frowns “He sounds… intense.”

“You don’t know half of it.” You mutter, running a hand through your hair. For a moment, your confident exterior falters, revealing a hint of vulnerability.

Hongjoong reaches out, hesitating before placing a hand on yours.

“Hey, it’s okay. Whatever happens, you’ll handle it. You’re YN, remember? You always do.”

You look at him, your expression softening “You’re sweet, you know that?”

He shrugs, a blush creeping up his neck “Just for you, pretty.”

You lean in, your lips brushing his in a soft kiss.

“Let’s finish this project before my mother comes back and give you compliments just for existing”

Hongjooong chuckles, but he can’t shake the lingering thought of your brother. Whoever this guy is, he clearly has a hold over you—and that’s saying something.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Dann quietly tidies up remnants of her lunch, her movements mechanical. She hasn’t spoken to Hongjoong in days. He doesn’t even look at her anymore.

But she notices the change in you—the way you smile more, laugh more, when Hongjoong is around you.

And Dann can’t help but feel the ache in her chest grow sharper with each passing moment.

How much she wishes she was in your place, to be so close to Hongjoong.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The house buzzes with quiet anticipation, the staff moving about with heightened energy. Your mother, dressed in her usual pristine elegance, stands in the center of the room, her voice carrying an air of authority but still kind.

“I want everything perfect for my son’s return,” She announces, her tone leaving no room for error “The table arrangements, the food, the decor—everything must reflect our family’s standards. He’ll be here in three days, and this dinner must welcome him properly. The whole family will come, so the banquet should be for twenty-five people.”

Dann crouches in the corner of the hallway, hidden behind a large vase. She had come to deliver your paperwork but froze when she overheard the conversation.

Her heart pounds as she listens, her mind racing. YN’s brother… She wouldn't know that the Clarkes have two children if it weren't for some pictures hanging on the walls, in all this time she never heard anyone mention it, not even your parents.

She knows almost nothing about him, but the little mention that Seonghwa made one day left her intrigued.

Why does no one in the family talk about that guy?

The moment your mother leaves the room, Dann slips out and makes her way to the backyard, her hands clutching the papers tightly.

She unlocks her phone in hand and calls Seonghwa.

He’s been a constant presence in her life these past two weeks—not as a friend, but as a partner in their silent pact.

In these weeks, Hwa has treated Dann with a mix of indifference and amusement. He never misses an opportunity to remind her of their deal, yet he’s never outright cruel.

For him, she’s a tool—a means to an end. But for Dann, every interaction feels like walking a tightrope, unsure when his charm might twist into something sharper.

“Seonghwa,” she calls softly when he picks up.

“Hi, what’s the news?”

Dann hesitates before speaking “YN’s brother… He’s coming back in three days. Her mom is planning this big welcome dinner for him.”

“The golden boy, huh? Interesting.”

“Interesting?” Dann blurts out before she can stop herself.

“Of course, it is. Daddy’s favorite, perfect older brother who can do no wrong? He’s probably the only one who can knock YN off her pedestal.”

Dann frowns, clutching her hands nervously “Are you sure about this?”

“Don't be scared, Seo, I’ll take care of everything.”

Dann isn’t comforted by his nonchalance, but she knows better than to push. Seonghwa isn’t someone who worries; he plans, manipulates, and waits for the perfect moment to strike.

“Okay… bye.

Dann bites her lip, hanging up before walking back inside the house. But as she retreats, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s stepping deeper into a game she barely understands.

✮ ⋆

You lounge on the oversized velvet sofa in the living room, your legs tuck beneath you as you flip through the book Hongjoong recommended to you.

You’re not reading it—your eyes skim over the pages without absorbing a single word.

Around you, the house is abuzz with activity. Maids dust every surface, fluffing pillows to perfection.

A team of florists meticulously arranges extravagant bouquets in the foyer, filling the air with the overpowering scent of lilies and roses.

Your mother strides into the room, clipboard in hand, rattling off instructions.

“The table settings must be silver, not gold. And make sure the wine glasses are spotless—he deserves only the best.” Her voice drips with excitement.

You glance at the dining room, now transformed into a stage for the grand dinner. Crystal chandeliers gleam above the polished mahogany table, which is already set with fine china and embroidered napkins.

Everything is immaculate, screaming perfection—just like your brother.

Your father joins his wife, a rare smile softening his otherwise stern face “Finally, our son is coming back. Three years is far too long.” He places a hand on the woman's shoulder, his tone filled with pride “He’s the best of us.”

Your stomach twists. Their words sting in a way you don’t expect. It’s not that you hate Mike—not really. But the shadow he casts is suffocating, the impossibly high bar he sets that you’ll never reach.

The perfect son, the golden child who’s never made a misstep—or so everyone thinks.

Because you know better. You know the cracks hidden behind his flawless exterior. The things he’s done, the lines he’s crossed.

The way he’s used you to cover his tracks, forcing you to dirty your hands so his reputation could remain unscathed. The memory of his voice, cold and commanding, still echoes in your mind.

'You’ll do it, YN. You owe me.' And you always did because saying no was never an option.

Your parents know about his anger issues. They’ve seen his temper, the way his anger can spiral into violence.

They’ve heard the arguments, felt the weight of his wrath. But they ignore it, choosing instead to uphold the illusion of their perfect son.

You know they love you and love to spoil you, but you also know their disappointment runs deep.

To them, you’re the little child who always gets her way, who causes trouble without considering the consequences.

A loud clatter from the kitchen breaks her thoughts, and your mother whirls around.

“What was that? We can’t afford any mistakes!”

You watch your mother hurry away, and your heart sinks further. Mistakes.

That’s all you feel you are lately and a series of disappointments waiting to be uncovered. Your eyes drift to the grand staircase, and you imagine Mike descending it, his presence commanding the room, and your parents beaming with pride.

Your phone buzzes, pulling you from bad thoughts. It’s a text from Hongjoong, something sweet and simple about your project.

Joongie: We’re getting a 10, pretty.

Joongie: Promise!!

For a moment, you smile, but it quickly fades. Hongjoong is your escape, your distraction, but even he can’t erase the weight of your family’s expectations.

Sighing, you set the book down and lean back, closing your eyes. The house feels suffocating, filled with reminders of who you are supposed to be.

But this time, you won’t be caught off guard. If your brother’s return is inevitable, you’ll face him on your terms—even if it means confronting the secrets they both carry.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The school backyard is too quiet to be the last class, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees as students chatter in the distance.

You and Hongjoong sit on a bench, the space between them comfortable but heavy with unspoken thoughts.

You swing your legs lazily, your eyes looking at the horizon. Your usually confident demeanor seems a little more distant today, like your mind is elsewhere.

Hongjoong notices it instantly, and though he’s not the type to pry, he can’t help but ask.

"Hey, what's going on? You seem… off today."

You glance over at him, lips curling into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“It’s nothing. Just stuff with my family.”

He raises an eyebrow, sensing that it’s more than just ‘stuff.’ He leans a little closer, his voice softer now.

“Your brother, right?”

You freeze at the mention of him, gaze flickering to the side, as though trying to avoid the thought altogether. Your fingers fidget with the hem of your jacket, and you sigh deeply.

"Yeah, he’s coming back today." You try to mask the vulnerability in your tone, but Hongjoong catches it anyway "After three years, my parents are so excited. You should see the house, Joong... everything has to be perfect."

Hongjoong watches you carefully, his expression thoughtful. He remembers when your mother told you about Mike’s return.

You had been visibly upset, though you masked it quickly, eager to avoid the conversation. He knows that you have spent your whole life living in your brother’s shadow, constantly compared to his perfection.

"I get it," He says softly, his voice steady "You’ve always felt like he’s the ‘golden child,’ right? The one your parents adore."

Your lips tighten, but you don't argue, just nod, glancing at him with a half-smile.

"It’s exhausting. He’s everything they ever wanted in a son. Business master. Perfect grades. Perfect manners. Perfect everything." You pause, a bitter edge creeping into your voice "It doesn’t matter how many times I get a perfect score or do everything right. It’s never enough."

Hongjoong nods, his hand resting on the back of the bench, his gaze still on you. He knows you hide a lot behind that confident exterior, but the cracks are starting to show now, and it makes him feel both protective and… uncertain.

"It sounds like a lot to deal with. But your parents love you. They just have high expectations, don’t they?"

Your gaze flickers briefly to him, but you don't meet his eyes. You bite your lip, as if debating whether to continue.

"They do, but sometimes it feels like it’s not enough." You shrug, trying to brush it off, but the weight of the words lingers in the air between them "Anyway, enough about that."

You shift in your seat, a new thought clearly forming.

“Hongjoong,” You say, voice softer now, almost vulnerable "I know I’ve been, uh… caught up with my family stuff lately. But would you… would you ever invite me to your place one day? Just, you know, to get away from all of this?"

He blinks in surprise, but the warmth of your request is clear. It’s not about the drama or the pressures you face at home. It’s just you wanting a break, wanting something simple.

A break from being the ‘perfect’ daughter, the one always judged against the golden child.

"Of course, pretty." He replies without hesitation "Whenever you want. You can always come over."

You look at him, eyes softer now, a real smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Thanks, that means more than you know."

You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of your words settling between you. Hongjoong’s heart races, unsure of what this means for their relationship but knowing one thing:

Being around you, seeing you like this—vulnerable, honest—it pulls him in deeper.

Finally, you break the silence again “Well, if I have to put up with my perfect brother for a while, at least I’ll have something to look forward to, right?”

He chuckles, the sound filling the quiet space between you “Exactly. And you know, I think the ‘perfect’ brother might need a little dose of reality. No one can be perfect all the time.”

You grin at that, your usual self-assuredness flickering back to life.

"Maybe.”

"Well, you’ve got me for anything. Always."

As you sit there, the rest of the world seems to fade away. Just for a moment, everything is okay.

And for now, that’s enough.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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ANOTHER UPDATE! COME ON WE’RE BACK!!!

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Eleven: You Wonder why I’m Bitter

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 8.2k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ Alone and aching for the connection that once felt so natural, you reluctantly turn to an unlikely companion: Pompidou, who listens to you pour out all the longing you’ve fought so hard to bury. While you grapple with the emptiness left by Hongjoong’s sudden withdrawal, he, too, finds himself lost, wrestling with the very feelings he’s tried to deny. Haunted by memories and choices he can’t quite reconcile, Hongjoong is caught between the familiarity of the past and the confusing reality of the present.

a/n: was supposed to upload this on the 27th cause that’s my birthday but i just can’t wait any longer 😅 keep an eye out for the littlest of details because nothing is as it seems in this chapter :P lmk what you guys think!

tags: @beabatiny @babymbbatinygirl

First of all, I hate myself. Second of all, I hate myself. Oh, and did I already mention that I hate myself? I just don’t know what to do anymore! It feels like it’s been a whole decade ever since I last picked up a pen to scribble on this godforsaken journal… I wish I could just go back to the time I was writing the page behind the one I’m writing on right now and just cancel my flight to Paris. This is all so frustrating, you know? Fashion Week is nearing, and I am not prepared at all—no, not even a little. I’m supposed to be spending my hours inside the studio practicing runway walks and testing out facial expressions, but no! I’m way too afraid of crossing paths with Hongjoong to even think about the consequences of not taking my preparations seriously! And speaking of Hongjoong…

He’s driving me to the edge of my sanity. I don’t know what’s going on with him—okay, scratch that, I definitely do. I just don’t get why he’s acting so avoidant all of a sudden… I mean, like, okay, I would understand his unprovoked need for distance between us if we actually kissed that night, but we didn’t. The farthest step we were able to take was just him holding onto the sides of my face and me looking at his lips like I’m a starved dog looking at its first meal of the day before Wooyoung fortunately interrupted us—so why is he acting up?

He’s like one of those girls you’d befriend in highschool who’d show up on the hallways suddenly judging your entire soul on a random Wednesday, and I don’t like it. Seriously, what’s his problem? He made me accustomed to his usual sweet and caring persona, and all of a sudden, he wants to act like this? What have I done wrong? Wasn’t it literally him who initiated the… whatever I’m supposed to call what happened that night?

I’m just concerned, you know. It’s been two weeks, and yet he’s still avoiding me like I’m the plague. I haven’t been receiving any messages from him at all lately, either. Even Madame Dupont is asking me why she no longer sees the “small young handsome boy” waiting for me outside the apartment building while leaning against his car. Wooyoung’s been trying to persuade me into confirming his theory that Hongjoong and I are going through a lovers’ quarrel for three days now, too. And guess who’s the most troubled of them all? Seonghwa. He’s been doing his best to put us back into speaking terms for a while now, and I don’t know why—I swear I didn’t ask him to do that.

Everyone is worried. Everyone but him.

You know, this brings me back to that unrecognizable faceless guy I see in some of my blurry flashbacks. I remember him asking me how long I’ve been bottling up my emotions, and when I told him I’ve been doing so for pretty much my entire life, he told me to consider writing in a journal.

What does the unrecognizable dude have to do with Hongjoong and his unreadable behavior? Nothing.

I just noticed that it’s been a while since I last wrote a journal entry, and… it’s been a while since I last let my emotions unravel. I remember the words that came out of his mouth that day.

“When you can’t figure out what you’re feeling, or if you need to let it all out, the only thing you have to do is pull this out along with a pen, and from then on, you can start writing away. Let yourself get lost in your own world.”

You know what, in a way, I think he and Hongjoong actually have something in common. I know I can’t say much because I only have one memory of this guy, but he spoke with as much wisdom as Hongjoong does. Also… “let yourself get lost in your own world.” That’s honestly the most Hongjoong-ish advice someone could ever give, given how he himself gets lost in his own world of artistry, too.

I just wish he’d stop ignoring me. I can’t help but feel like this is all somehow my fault… Am I just hurting myself by expecting things to suddenly go back to the way they used to be?

As you closed your journal with a weary sigh, your eyes drifted to the dim glow of your bedside clock reading 2:37 a.m. The room was silent, save for the soft hum of distant traffic, yet you felt far from at peace. It was a night for sleep, yet your mind wouldn’t quiet; thoughts of Hongjoong twisted and turned within you, refusing to settle.

“Why does it feel like this?” you murmured, pressing your palms into your face, as if that could somehow soothe the ache in your chest. You longed for comfort, for answers, even for a brief respite from the confusion that had become your constant companion. “If only that faceless guy could telepathically whisper some words of wisdom to me right now…”

Two weeks had passed since you last shared any words with Hongjoong—two weeks where every glance, every passing moment, felt laced with an unspoken tension that only deepened the rift between you. It was all becoming painfully real, the shift so clear to everyone around you. But no one knew the truth—the moment you almost kissed, the silent proximity that had left you dizzy and wondering. Even Seonghwa, in his genuine concern, couldn’t know the pang of vulnerability that had filled that night, the fear and excitement mingling as you’d come closer than ever before.

Your mind flashed back to the other day when the ache of his absence had been sharpest. You passed by him in a hallway, hoping for a flicker of his usual warmth, his soft gaze that once reassured you of your place in his world. But he’d brushed past with such indifference—not even nodding to acknowledge your presence, a chill in his demeanor that left you hollow. And then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving you alone with a rising sense of loss.

Without thinking, you picked up your phone and opened your gallery. Photos of Hongjoong filled your screen, and your eyes drift over candid snapshots—some of you and Hongjoong working late in the studio, others of him laughing or looking thoughtful, moments caught by your camera that now feel like glimpses into another lifetime. There’s a picture of him outside your apartment building, waving you goodbye one evening. Another shot of him hunched over his desk in concentration, unaware that you’d snapped the photo from across the room. Then, there’s a particularly precious one of the two of you, taken in his office—which was likely Wooyoung’s doing.

As you scroll, an ache blossoms within you, spreading in slow, insistent waves that make your chest feel tight. You can feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, and it catches you off guard. Why now? Why does he, of all people, have this power over you? You swipe at the tears, frustrated by the sudden swell of emotion. It’s not supposed to be like this, you tell yourself. Hongjoong is supposed to be your friend, your mentor, the one person in Paris who helped you find your footing when everything felt foreign. But as the images blur beneath the glisten of unshed tears, you can’t help but wonder if that’s all he’ll ever be—someone whose warmth once felt like home, and whose absence now feels like a loss you’re not ready to face.

The soft scratching at your window pulls you abruptly from your thoughts. For a moment, you freeze, glancing back at the phone you’d just placed on your desk. Carefully, you grab your journal—a flimsy defense, maybe, but it’s better than nothing. Heart pounding just slightly, you step forward, inching closer to the window.

When you peek over, you’re met with a familiar sight: Pompidou, the resident stray cat who had made the apartment building his kingdom, sits with one paw pressed to the glass, his usual unamused expression aimed your way.

You exhale a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, feeling the tension drain from your shoulders as you let out a soft laugh. Setting your journal on the bed, you reach over to open the window, letting him slip inside with practiced ease. He slinks past you with the air of someone who owns the place and makes himself right at home, hopping onto your bed and circling until he’s claimed his spot in the center.

You sit beside him, running a gentle hand over his soft fur. It’s strange how much you missed him. For the past few weeks, your room felt emptier without his occasional visits—without that extra little creature who just… understood you, in a way. And now, with Hongjoong’s absence haunting you, Pompidou couldn’t have come at a better time.

The thought hits you harder than you expect: here you are, at your lowest, relying on a cat for comfort simply because the one person you’re used to confiding in has become distant, almost like a stranger. The ache in your chest intensifies, and before you know it, you’re lying down next to him, resting your head on the bed and gazing at his calm, indifferent eyes. It feels silly, pathetic even, to be speaking your heart to a cat, but in this silence, with no one else to turn to, you let yourself unravel.

“Pompidou,” you whisper, voice barely holding steady, “I… I don’t know what I did wrong. Everything was fine, wasn’t it?” Your fingers tremble as they thread through his fur, a warmth grounding you in the midst of your unraveling. “I don’t know how we ended up here. He’s always been there for me, and now… it’s like he’s vanished. And I’m trying, I really am, but every time I reach out, it’s like he’s miles away.”

A sharp breath catches in your throat, and you look up at the ceiling, fighting against the tears stinging your eyes. “It’s probably all my fault,” you confess in a whisper that breaks. “Maybe I was too much, or maybe I should have… I don’t know, said something differently, done something better. Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him to eat dinner that night so that…” A bitter chuckle slips out as you squeeze your eyes shut. “It’s funny, you know. All my life, I’ve been terrified of being alone, of people walking out… and now here I am, trying to be okay with him pulling away like it’s nothing.”

Pompidou shifts slightly, his warm body pressing into your side, a small reminder that he’s there, and he’s not leaving. You let your hand drop to your chest, feeling the dull ache that’s settled there. “I just miss him, Pompidou. I miss the way he used to look at me like I mattered. Now, he can’t even look me in the eyes. And I don’t know why I’m clinging to that, why I’m hoping he’ll suddenly turn around and go back to being who he was.”

The silence swallows you for a moment. “Maybe it’s because, deep down, I’m still the same pathetic teenager from Arcadia Bay who’s scared that she doesn’t deserve anything better. That she’s always going to be left behind, and this… this is just proof.” Your voice falters, words thick with pain you can no longer hold back. “And if he leaves, then maybe it’s what I deserve.”

“Maybe I was the one who left him in an alternate reality, and this is the price I have to pay for it,” you joke, but it only feels like a pathetic attempt to make yourself feel better.

The pain is so sharp it almost feels physical, a hollow ache that makes every breath feel heavier than the last. You close your eyes, fighting against the helplessness clawing at your insides, but the words keep pouring out, jagged and raw, as though voicing them might lessen the weight—even if it’s only to a cat who can’t respond.

“Do you know what’s worse?” you whisper, fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt over your chest as if you could hold yourself together by sheer will. “It’s that I can’t even be mad at him. I want to be—believe me, I’ve tried. I tell myself he’s the one pulling away, that he’s the one who’s changed, but then I start wondering… what if I pushed him to this? What if I’m the reason he’s slipping through my fingers?”

A soft tremor runs through your hands, and you curl them into fists, teeth gritted as you force the tears back. “I keep thinking… maybe he’s right to distance himself. Maybe there’s something broken in me, something that just drives people away. And the worst part is, I keep wishing he’d come back, like I’d somehow be enough if I could just—”

Your voice catches, breaking into a whisper as you bury your face in your hands, barely holding in the sob that threatens to spill out. “I just don’t understand. He was my safe place, Pompidou. For the first time in so long, I actually felt like I mattered. He made me feel seen. And now… now I feel invisible all over again, like everything we shared was just temporary, like it didn’t mean anything.”

Pompidou shifts closer, his soft purr rumbling beneath your fingertips as you stroke his fur, a small solace in the middle of this storm.

“I try to convince myself that I’m fine, that I can go on without him,” you continue, voice cracking as the words spill out unchecked. “But the truth is, I’m terrified. I’m scared that if he leaves… if he’s really gone, I’ll be alone again, just like before. And I hate myself for feeling this way, for being so… so weak.”

The tears finally break free, slipping down your cheeks in a silent flood. “What does that say about me? That I’m so dependent on him, that I can’t even imagine my life without him? I thought I was stronger than this, that I’d learned how to stand on my own. But now… now it’s like I’m right back to that scared, lonely kid I used to be, clinging to anyone who shows me a hint of kindness.”

You pull your knees to your chest, holding yourself as tightly as you can, as if you could somehow shield yourself from the emptiness swallowing you whole. “I can’t stop thinking that maybe this is all I deserve. That maybe I’m meant to be alone. Maybe he’s finally seeing me for who I am, and he’s realizing I’m not worth it.”

Your shoulders shake as the sobs escape, quiet and raw, each one cutting through you like glass. Pompidou curls closer, his little face pressing against your arm, as though he understands in his own way. But his silent comfort only deepens the ache, a reminder that the person you need more than anything isn’t here, and you’re left holding yourself together with nothing but frayed threads of hope.

With a shuddering breath, you finally admit the fear you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. “What if he doesn’t come back, Pompidou? What if this is it? I don’t think… I don’t think I can handle losing him. Not like this.”

Your voice drops to a whisper, the words coming slow and soft as you gaze out the window, eyes unfocused. “I just… I miss him, Pompidou,” you murmur, fingers absently tracing patterns against the sheets.

“I miss all the little things that made it feel like he was a part of me, like he was woven into my days without me even realizing it. I miss the way he’d send me random sketches, the ones that made no sense but made me laugh anyway, like he was letting me in on his little worlds. I miss… I miss how he’d always have this ridiculous drink order for me every time we’d meet up at the café where we switched up our notebooks with one another before we met for the first time. It’s like he knew exactly what I’d need, even if I didn’t.”

The memories wash over you, and you can’t stop the warmth from pooling in your chest as you picture those moments. “I wish we could go back to that time when things were… simple. When I could sit beside him without feeling like the whole world was shifting under my feet. When he’d laugh and look at me like I was… like I was something special, you know?”

Your voice trembles, and you tighten your grip on the sheets. “And the thing is… it was just easy with him. He’d be there, always making me feel like nothing could go wrong as long as we were together. He’d be there with his quiet, comforting presence, and I could just… be. I didn’t have to pretend or put on some mask. It was like he could see right through me, and somehow, he didn’t care about all the mess he found.”

You take a deep breath, the words spilling out like a plea. “I just want to go back, Pompidou. Back to before everything felt so fragile, before that almost-kiss, before this… this distance. I wish I could reach out and take it all back. I’d give anything just to have things feel normal again.”

Pompidou tilts his head, eyes blinking up at you, and you can’t help but laugh, a soft, broken sound that catches in your throat. “I know it sounds silly, doesn’t it? I mean, how could I expect anything to be the same after that? But I can’t help it, Pompidou. I want to go back to when he’d smile at me like that, when I didn’t have to wonder if I was the one pushing him away.”

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of each memory anchor you down. “I miss his laugh. I miss his stupid jokes. I miss the way he’d lean closer when he talked about his dreams, his voice getting all serious like he could see every detail in his mind. And I miss… I miss feeling like I belonged somewhere, like I belonged with him. I miss how he’d look at me with this warmth, like I was enough, just as I was.”

The words come out like a broken whisper, a confession you’ve been holding inside for far too long. “I can’t stop missing him. I wish… I wish I could go back to that last night before everything shifted. Before the night we nearly kissed, before I even realized what I felt. I wish I could’ve just stayed there, in that moment, without letting any of it change.”

You hug your knees, curling up as the ache settles deeper, heavier. “But I can’t. And now it’s as if I’m left with pieces of him in everything around me, and I don’t know how to put myself back together without him.”

You pull yourself up, exhaling slowly, and walk over to your desk. The room feels quiet, still heavy with everything you’ve let out, yet somehow emptier too, as if releasing the words has left you hollow. With a shaky hand, you pick up your phone and make your way back to bed, curling up beside Pompidou, who has already claimed his spot against your pillow. Settling into the blankets, you scroll through your contacts, your thumb hovering over Hongjoong’s icon.

It’s just his initials next to a simple photo he once sent—a candid moment he probably forgot about, something so ordinary that it’s precious now. The way he looked when he didn’t realize anyone was watching: a slight smile, eyes softened by something he found funny, maybe even a bit endearing. The sight makes your chest tighten, and you let yourself scroll up, reading through old conversations like leafing through the pages of a treasured book.

Each message brings back flashes of shared laughter and late-night ramblings, little moments where time seemed to pause, and it was just the two of you—untouchable, safe. You linger on a message he sent on a rainy afternoon, a random joke he thought would cheer you up. Your lips curl into a faint smile, but it’s bittersweet. There was a time when it was so easy, so effortless, like breathing. He had a way of knowing exactly when you needed a reminder that he was there. But now, that comfort feels distant, unreachable.

A tear slips down your cheek again before you realize it, and you hastily swipe it away, but the sorrow wells up again, slipping past your guard. As if sensing your pain, Pompidou extends a soft paw, resting it gently below your eyes, and you feel his fur against your cheek, grounding you in a way that words can’t. His small gesture tugs a quiet, breathy laugh from you, despite the ache in your chest. It’s as if he’s trying to catch your sadness, pulling it away piece by piece, his wide eyes fixed on yours with an empathy you can almost feel.

You let your head fall, hugging Pompidou close, allowing yourself to finally surrender to the pain and let it wash over you without restraint. The loneliness, the longing, the hollow spaces Hongjoong’s absence has left in you—all of it spills out as you clutch the feline tightly, letting his warmth and steady breathing lull you into a fragile sense of comfort. The room seems to blur, softening around you as the weight of everything you’ve been holding back presses into you.

The tears come faster now, unstoppable, and your quiet sobs fill the silence, raw and unfiltered. It’s just you and Pompidou, and for a moment, it feels like you’re not truly alone. There, in the quiet solace of your room, you cling to that small comfort, letting yourself feel every ounce of longing, letting yourself miss him—fully, desperately, hopelessly.

—

Meanwhile, Hongjoong stood in his office, the warm, nostalgic tones of “La Vie en Rose” playing softly from the record player behind him. His gaze fixed on the window, hands clasped tightly behind his back, and he fought to keep his emotions in check. Each note lingered in the air, pulling him deeper into the web of memories he was desperately trying to forget. This song, of all songs—he could still remember how it had been playing when the two of you had stood together in the flower shop, laughing over bouquets and trading light-hearted jokes as if the world beyond didn’t exist.

Part of him knew he could walk over and turn it off. The music was his to control, after all. And yet… he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. The melody was the last fragile thread that kept him tethered to you, a reminder of the warmth he felt in your presence, the comfort of knowing someone understood him.

The dim light from the city outside cast a soft glow over his office, illuminating the expanse of papers scattered across his desk, the outlines of unfinished sketches and hastily scrawled notes, all reminders of the whirlwind he’d buried himself in since he started pushing you away. Each corner of the room felt saturated with memories of you—and it was strange how a space that had once felt so alive now seemed hollow, absent of the warmth you’d brought into it.

He tried to focus on the skyline again, his eyes tracing the glittering lights of the city. It was an attempt to ground himself, to pull himself back from the turmoil inside him. But tonight, every bit of stillness he attempted felt false, every piece of composure barely hanging by a thread. All he could think about was you—the absence of your presence filling every empty space in his mind, as if refusing to be silenced.

He turned slowly from the window, allowing his gaze to wander over his desk. It was almost impossible to remember the last time he’d felt fully at ease in this room. The stacks of designs that had once held so much promise now felt like hollow accomplishments, each one only reminding him of the fire you’d helped him ignite. His eyes landed on a small pendant lying amidst the clutter. The flower encased inside had faded slightly, its once-vibrant petals softened by time. He picked it up, cradling it carefully in his hand, feeling a strange tenderness rise within him.

You’d given him that flower, pressing it into his hand with a shy smile as you murmured something about it bringing him luck. He could still recall the way your fingers had lingered against his, the brief but electric touch that had left him wondering if you felt it too. “For good luck,” you’d said, your eyes sparkling in that way they always did when you felt especially close to him.

Hongjoong swallowed, feeling a tightness in his chest as he held the pendant closer. How was it that something so small could carry the weight of so many memories? He closed his eyes, and the warmth of your smile flashed in his mind, as vivid as if you were standing beside him. But now, as he held the pendant, it felt heavier, like a tiny piece of the past he was terrified of losing forever.

In his mind, he slipped back to that night—the one that had started as an ordinary work session, yet had unraveled into something far more vulnerable. He could still feel the closeness of the room, the soft glow of the lamps casting long shadows as you both worked side by side, immersed in the quiet moment you shared.

You’d shared things that night that were never meant to leave the room. He could still hear your voice, low and hesitant, as you revealed the fears you held closest to your heart. “Being left alone,” you’d admitted, your words raw and unguarded. The truth of it had lingered between you, a quiet vulnerability that had shaken him more than he cared to admit.

When you turned the question back on him, he’d hesitated, feeling the weight of his own guarded secrets pressing against his chest. But in that quiet space, under the gentle glow of the lamp, he’d found himself opening up in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to in years. “Losing myself,” he’d whispered, his voice barely audible, but enough for you to hear. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Now, standing alone in his empty office, Hongjoong felt the irony of it all washing over him. He’d tried so hard to protect himself, to build walls so high that even you couldn’t reach them. But now, it felt as if he had developed a new fear bigger than losing himself—losing you.

A quiet knock on the door broke his reverie, and he tensed, slipping the pendant into his pocket as he turned. Wooyoung’s face appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of Hongjoong standing alone, the haunting strains of La Vie en Rose still spinning softly from the record player across the room.

Wooyoung’s eyes flickered to the player, where the melody had been looping for what must have been the better part of an hour. “Still here?” he asked quietly, a hint of concern threading his tone.

Hongjoong forced a slight smile, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Wooyoung stepped further into the room, his gaze sharp as it settled on Hongjoong. “You know…” Wooyoung began, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall, “the world can see how miserable you are. Including her—especially her.”

Hongjoong stiffened, the forced nonchalance slipping from his face as he turned away, staring intently at the record player as if it held all the answers he was struggling to find. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, the words feeling hollow even to his own ears.

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung’s tone softened, a hint of exasperation breaking through. “I know you. I know how much you care about her. And I know you’re running from something you can’t outrun. But you’re not fooling anyone by pretending it doesn’t matter.”

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with all the reasons he’d built to keep you at a distance. Each one felt logical, safe, a way to protect himself from something he couldn’t quite name. But here, with Wooyoung standing there, watching him with that steady gaze, he felt every layer he’d built start to unravel.

“I’m not pretending,” he said quietly, barely audible above the music.

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, his tone turning softer, almost pleading. “Then what are you doing, Hongjoong? Because from where I’m standing, all I see is someone too scared to reach for what he really wants.”

Hongjoong’s heart twisted painfully, Wooyoung’s words hitting far too close to home. He felt the weight of everything he’d tried to suppress rising within him, a tidal wave of emotions he’d buried so deeply he’d convinced himself they were gone. But Wooyoung’s words had brought them to the surface, and now, there was no escaping them.

A silence stretched between them, and Hongjoong’s gaze fell to the floor. In that moment, he felt utterly vulnerable, as though Wooyoung could see right through him, could see the aching desire he’d tried so hard to deny. He didn’t have to say it—Wooyoung already knew.

Hongjoong’s fingers were still curled around the pendant in his pocket when Wooyoung let out a quiet sigh, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. “So,” Wooyoung began, breaking the silence, “are you really going to stand here, pretending everything’s fine?”

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched, his shoulders tensing. He wanted to brush off Wooyoung’s words, to deflect with some casual response that would keep the carefully built walls intact. But his mind was a battlefield, each memory of you cutting through his defenses like a blade.

“Everything is fine,” he replied tersely. He didn’t meet Wooyoung’s eyes, focusing instead on a spot just beyond his shoulder.

Wooyoung’s brows knitted together, clearly unconvinced. “Right. That’s why you’ve been playing her favorite song on loop for the last hour. That’s why you’ve been holed up in here, avoiding anything that reminds you of her.” He shook his head, his tone equal parts exasperation and worry. “Hongjoong, you’re not fooling me. I know you, and I know you’re running from something—from someone.”

Hongjoong let out a low, frustrated sigh, finally looking up at Wooyoung. “Wooyoung, just drop it, alright?” He forced a tense smile, attempting to sound dismissive. “This… whatever you think is going on, it’s all in your head. We were just friends.”

But Wooyoung didn’t budge. “Friends?” He let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it, just the weight of disbelief. “You really want to go with that? Because the way you’re acting… it doesn’t look like you’re just missing a friend. You’re avoiding her like she’s a stranger, but then you’re here, playing her favorite song over and over, clutching onto that pendant like it’s the last piece of her you have.”

Hongjoong’s fingers instinctively tightened around the pendant, and he felt a pang of frustration rise within him. He didn’t want to admit that Wooyoung’s words struck too close to home. “I told you, it’s nothing like that,” he bit back, his tone sharper than intended. “You’re turning this into something it isn’t.”

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, his gaze not faltering. “Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re acting like a guy who’s desperately trying to convince himself of something he doesn’t even believe.”

“Wooyoung—”

“Hongjoong, you can’t keep lying to yourself.” Wooyoung’s tone softened, his voice carrying a gentleness that seemed to cut deeper than the words themselves. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but I do know that you care about her. You’re not fooling anyone by pretending this distance is ‘better’ for either of you.”

Hongjoong’s patience began to fray, his frustration morphing into anger. He shot Wooyoung a glare, his voice rising. “It is better, Wooyoung. She… she deserves better. She doesn’t need to be pulled into whatever mess I am.” He paused, catching his breath, his anger mingling with something closer to desperation. “I’m not what’s best for her. And it’s better for the both of us if I keep my distance.”

Wooyoung’s expression shifted, his gaze hardening as he stepped closer, unwilling to let Hongjoong brush him off. “So, what? You think pushing her away, acting like she means nothing, is somehow good for her? You really think she’s better off without you?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong replied, his tone final, but the conviction in his voice was starting to waver.

Wooyoung gave him a long, scrutinizing look, and for a moment, the silence between them was thick with unspoken truths. Then, Wooyoung shook his head slowly. “You’re lying to yourself. And honestly? It’s pathetic, Hongjoong. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

The words hit Hongjoong like a slap, and a flash of anger surged within him, simmering beneath the surface. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “I’m doing this for her, so just… stop.”

But Wooyoung wouldn’t relent. “You’re not doing this for her. You’re doing this because you’re afraid. Afraid to admit how much she means to you. Afraid of what might happen if you actually let her in. Whatever you’re afraid of, whatever you think is keeping you from being with her… maybe it’s worth rethinking. Because if you keep running like this, you’re going to lose her. And then what?”

Hongjoong felt his control slipping, the carefully constructed barriers he’d built starting to crack under the weight of Wooyoung’s words. He clenched his fists, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to keep his voice steady. “This isn’t about fear.”

“Isn’t it?” Wooyoung’s voice softened, a hint of understanding breaking through the frustration. “Hongjoong… I get it. You’re scared of losing yourself. Of losing control. But she’s not the one who’s going to make that happen. You are, by doing this. By trying so hard to keep her out.”

Hongjoong stayed silent, his chest tightening as Wooyoung’s words began to sink in. He wanted to deny it, to push back with the same conviction he’d clung to for weeks, but he couldn’t. Because deep down, he knew there was truth in Wooyoung’s words.

Finally, Wooyoung let out a sigh, his tone softening even further. “Listen, man. I don’t know what almost happened, or why you’re so determined to stay away from her, but you have to ask yourself… is this really what you want?”

Hongjoong closed his eyes, his mind flashing back to that night in your apartment—the feeling of your hand brushing his, the way your gaze had lingered on him, the unspoken tension that had nearly pulled him into something he couldn’t name. He’d wanted so badly to close that distance, to feel your lips against his, to let go of the fear and doubt that had held him back. But just as he’d leaned closer, Wooyoung’s call had snapped him out of the moment, bringing him crashing back to reality.

“Do you even understand how much she’s hurting, Hongjoong?” And there it was again—the harshness in Wooyoung’s tone. “Seonghwa told me she’s tearing herself apart over this. She doesn’t eat right anymore, and she barely even sleeps. She spends her nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering where things went wrong, wondering if she’s the problem.”

The words landed like a punch to Hongjoong’s gut, leaving him breathless. Images of you flashed through his mind—moments when he’d caught glimpses of your smile faltering, your laughter quieting, the spark in your eyes dimming little by little. He’d told himself it was just his imagination, that you were fine. But Wooyoung’s words shattered that illusion entirely.

“She thinks she did something wrong, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung continued, his voice filled with barely contained anger. “She actually believes she’s the reason you’re running. Every time you disappear, every time you pull away, she thinks it’s because of something she did. And the worst part? She doesn’t even blame you. She blames herself.”

Hongjoong’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as guilt clawed at him.

“Seonghwa told me she asked him if she was too much. Can you believe that?” Wooyoung’s voice cracked. “She actually thinks she’s too much for you. That she’s somehow burdening you, dragging you down. She’s convinced herself that if she were just… less, maybe you wouldn’t be running.”

Hongjoong’s breath hitched, a wave of nausea rolling over him as he realized the full extent of the pain he’d caused. You—who had always been so vibrant, so unapologetically yourself—were now questioning every part of who you were, trying to shrink yourself down to avoid scaring him away.

“She’s not even angry at you, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said, his voice barely above a whisper now, each word a dagger aimed straight at Hongjoong’s heart. “She doesn’t hate you for this. She just… she thinks she’s not enough. Or that she’s too much. Either way, she’s convinced that she’s the problem.”

Hongjoong closed his eyes, his mind reeling. He could feel the anchor of your pain weighing down on him; He’d done this to you—turned you into a shadow of yourself, left you grappling with doubts and insecurities that weren’t yours to bear.

“You’ve been so busy hiding behind your own fears,” Wooyoung continued, “that you haven’t even stopped to consider what this is doing to her. You’re so terrified of being hurt again that you’re hurting her—over and over, every day, with every step you take away from her.”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but the words caught in his throat. What could he possibly say to justify this? How could he explain that he’d been running not to hurt you, but to protect himself? It sounded so selfish, so small in the face of everything you were going through.

“And you know what’s really twisted?” Wooyoung’s voice dropped, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. “She’d take you back in a heartbeat. Despite everything, she’d still look at you the same way she did before you started pushing her away. She’d still forgive you, still try to see the good in you, because that’s who she is. That’s how much she cares.”

Hongjoong felt something break inside him, a quiet, shattering realization that left him reeling. You would forgive him. He knew that. He could see it in his mind—the way you’d smile softly, the way your eyes would fill with understanding, even now. Even after everything, you’d welcome him back, arms open, heart exposed, waiting.

“She deserves better, Joong.” Wooyoung’s words were softer now, the anger replaced by a raw, unfiltered honesty. “She deserves someone who doesn’t make her question her worth. Someone who doesn’t make her feel like she’s somehow wrong just for being herself. And if you can’t be that for her… if you’re too wrapped up in your own fears to let her in… then you need to let her go.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened, a hollow ache spreading through him as he struggled to process it all. He didn’t want to let you go. He couldn’t. But the thought of holding onto you only to keep hurting you, to keep dragging you through his own tangled web of insecurities and fears—it was unbearable.

“She’s barely holding up. She hides it well, but Seonghwa can see it. He told me how she sits alone for hours, just staring off into space, like she’s lost something she can’t find. She keeps her phone close, hoping maybe, just maybe, you’ll reach out. But every time you don’t... it breaks her a little more.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened painfully, each word slicing through him like a blade. He could see it so clearly now, every painful moment he’d forced you through. How you must’ve waited for messages that never came, must’ve spent countless nights wondering where things had gone wrong. The thought of you sitting there, lost in your own pain, while he’d been so focused on his own fears, was more than he could bear.

“And don’t think she hasn’t tried to talk to you.” Wooyoung’s voice turned sharp, accusatory. “Seonghwa told me how many times she’s wanted to reach out, just to make sure you’re okay, just to see if you’d give her even a scrap of reassurance. But every time, she stops herself. She doesn’t want to bother you, doesn’t want to seem needy. She’s holding back everything she feels because she’s afraid it’ll push you further away.”

Wooyoung’s eyes softened slightly, but the fire of his conviction remained. “You need to understand, Hongjoong. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s about her too. You’re hurting her, and if you don’t start realizing that, it’ll be too late. She’s going to break, and I don’t think she’ll come back from it.”

Hongjoong felt a cold wave of dread wash over him. The thought of you shattering into pieces because of his cowardice was unbearable. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, to say that he was doing this for you, for the both of you. But deep down, he knew it was a lie. He was only trying to shield himself from the fear of loss, the same fear that had haunted him since that girl from his past had walked away.

“I can’t… I can’t lose anyone again, Woo,” Hongjoong finally admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. “What if she sees me for who I really am? What if she realizes I’m not worth it?”

Wooyoung shook his head, frustration flashing across his features. “That’s where you’re wrong. She already sees you, and she loves you for all the parts you’re trying to hide. You think you’re protecting her by staying away, but you’re only pushing her further into despair.”

Hongjoong’s heart raced, a whirlwind of emotions colliding within him. “How do you know? How do you know she feels that way?”

“Because I’ve talked to Seonghwa, and he cares about her, Joong! He’s seen her cry over you. He told me she broke down one night, just sitting on the floor of her room, wondering why you were so distant. She kept saying she must’ve done something wrong. Do you want that for her? Do you want to be the reason she loses herself?”

The image of you curled up alone, tears streaming down your face while grappling with your worth, sliced through Hongjoong. The sheer guilt of it settled heavily in his chest, suffocating him. He had wanted to protect you, but in doing so, he had only hurt you more.

Hongjoong lingered in silence, the weight of his unspoken fears casting a shadow over the room. He could feel Wooyoung’s gaze on him, a

persistent pressure urging him to confront the thoughts he’d been too afraid to voice.

“What if…” The words caught in his throat, his voice strained with the vulnerability he couldn’t hide. “What if I take the next step, and she leaves? What if she ends up leaving just like—”

Wooyoung interrupted him by reaching forward, pressing his fingers gently but firmly to Hongjoong’s lips, shushing him with an authority that surprised them both. “I know what comes next, Hongjoong,” he murmured. “You don’t need to say it.”

Hongjoong stiffened, pulling back ever so slightly, a touch of annoyance flickering across his face. “You think it’s that simple?” he muttered, frustration bleeding into his voice. “You think it’s easy to just… forget?”

Wooyoung’s expression softened, though he held firm. “I think you’re holding onto something that’s long gone, Joong. And you’re letting it get in the way of something real.” He paused, leaning forward. “So what if the girl you loved back in middle school left you? You’re still letting her be the one who decides what happens now?”

Hongjoong’s mouth opened, then closed, his defenses crumbling under Wooyoung’s scrutiny. He could feel the words bubbling up, the excuses he’d used to justify his fears over and over, but this time, they didn’t come. The silence between them grew heavier, and he felt himself shrinking under Wooyoung’s eyes.

“It’s not about her,” Hongjoong finally managed, his voice a strained whisper. “It’s just… this was exactly how it started back then. The same moments, the same feelings, and then…” His voice broke, a haunted look creeping into his eyes as the memories clawed their way to the surface. “And then it all just fell apart the moment she left without a word.”

Wooyoung’s expression softened, his gaze filled with something close to sympathy, but there was no pity there, only an understanding forged through years of friendship. “Joong,” he said softly, leaning even closer as if he could bridge the distance that Hongjoong had placed between himself and everyone around him. “So what if some things feel familiar? They’re not the same person, are they? You’re not the same person, either.”

Hongjoong clenched his jaw, a flicker of anger sparking in his chest as he searched for a way to deflect, to deny the truth in Wooyoung’s words. “It’s… it’s not like that, Woo. You don’t get it.” His voice grew sharper, frustration edging his tone as he tried to hold onto the walls he’d built.

Wooyoung shook his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Really? Because it doesn’t look that way to me.”

Hongjoong looked away, his gaze hardening as he stared at the floor. “It’s not that simple, okay? You don’t know what it’s like to… to risk everything and then lose it.”

Wooyoung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Hongjoong, I may not know exactly what you went through, but I do know one thing: you’re letting something from the past dictate your future. And that’s not fair. Not to you, and definitely not to her.”

Hongjoong’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him as he felt the weight of Wooyoung’s words settle over him. Part of him wanted to argue, to cling to the fears that had kept him guarded for so long, but another part—a part he’d buried deep—knew that Wooyoung was right.

“What if I let myself try?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his words laden with the weight of years of doubt and self-preservation. “What if… what if I take that risk, and she ends up leaving?”

Wooyoung’s gaze softened, and he leaned forward, resting a reassuring hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Joong, if she’s really the person you believe she is… then maybe it’s a risk worth taking. Because people leave, yeah. They walk away. But the ones who matter, the ones who are meant to stay—they won’t go anywhere.”

“You’re saying I should just… trust that?” His voice wavered, the question more for himself than for Wooyoung, as if he needed to convince himself that he could still believe in something other than his own fears.

Wooyoung’s mouth curved into a gentle, understanding smile. “Yeah. Trust it. Don’t let something that’s already gone keep you from what could be right here, right now.”

“What if I let her in? What if I let her see the real me? What if it’s not enough?”

“Then you fight for her,” Wooyoung replied. “You show her every day that she’s enough. You fight for her instead of running away. You have to be brave enough to take the risk, Joong. And if she does leave, at least you’ll know you tried. You can’t live in the shadow of your past forever.”

“But what if she sees me as weak?” Hongjoong countered, bitterness lacing his tone. “What if she thinks I’m broken?”

“Then you show her that even broken pieces can fit together to make something beautiful,” Wooyoung shot back. “You’ve built this wall around yourself, but you’re just hurting the one person who’s tried to break through. You need to trust her. You need to let her help you. She wants to be there for you, but you have to meet her halfway.”

The truth of those words echoed painfully in Hongjoong’s mind. He had been running, terrified of the vulnerability that came with love, terrified of the chance that he could be left once more. But he could feel the edges of that fear beginning to fray under the weight of his guilt, unraveling with every word Wooyoung spoke.

“You can’t let the past dictate your present, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said, his voice softer now, a mixture of empathy and frustration. “You can’t keep running away from what you feel. If you do, you’ll end up losing her, and it’ll be your fault.”

Hongjoong’s heart raced as he thought of you—how you had lit up his life in ways he never thought possible. How your laughter had become a soothing balm to his weary soul. He couldn’t keep ignoring the truth that was staring him in the face. The realization washed over him like a cold wave. “What am I supposed to do?” Hongjoong whispered.

“Fight for her, Joong. Show her that you’re not afraid. Be honest with her, and don’t let fear win this time.” Wooyoung leaned closer. “She deserves that much, at the very least. Fight for her—before it’s too late.”

“But what if it already is?”

🪞 — lividstar.

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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