Dude…let’s Kill Mike
Dude…let’s kill Mike
I’M SICK OF THIS MAN I SWEAR!
CHAPTER STARTED OFF SO CUTE WITH READER AND HONGJOONG GOING ON A DATE AND NOW I CAN FEEL IT SENSE THAT JOONG GONNA SHOW UP AT A DIFFERENT VENUE AND READER GONNA BE UPSET AHHHHHHHH
We need to kill Mike we gotta stop him i’m so serious i need reader or someone to hit him if future chapters preferably i want reader to hit him
moving on, I’m excited for the next part even thought it’s literally titled "the first breakdown" and i just know i’m gonna feel sad for reader more than I already do especially after this chapter
keep up the amazing work! <3
Popular, Boy
☆06: The first move.
Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader
Genre: +18, slow burn, angst, smut, drama, dark academic, love triangle.
wc: 10,8k
Summary: You and Hongjoong grow closer, but in your world, trust is a dangerous thing. Mike's cruelty lingers, and in the shadows, a plan unfolds... One designed to break you.
Break your heart, and make you question everything... especially Hongjoong.
Warnings: Verbal abuse, past trauma (?), power dynamics, fluff, suggestive.
Series masterlist
☆05 ☆07: The first breakdown.
The low rumble of the engine fills the quiet evening air as you glance out the window. The car is nothing like the sleek, expensive vehicles sitting in your family’s garage. It’s modest, a little old, and the faint smell of worn leather lingers in the air.
“You borrowed this from your dad?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as you turn to Hongjoong.
He shrugs, his hands gripping the steering wheel with a mix of focus and nervousness. “Yeah. Figured it’s better than taking the bus.”
The bus? Hell no, you have never been in one and you hope it never happens.
You glance at him, a small, amused smirk playing on your lips. The whole thing is… endearing in a way you don’t expect.
“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?” You cross your legs and adjust your pink leather jacket.
“Nope.” His lips quirk into a smile, but he keeps his eyes on the road “Just sit back and enjoy the ride, pretty.”
You roll your eyes but don’t press further. There’s something about his excitement that keeps your curiosity piqued.
When the car finally comes to a stop, you step out and immediately catch the sound of distant laughter and the faint scent of fried food in the air. Turning toward the neon-lit entrance ahead, your brows knit together.
“An amusement park?” Your voice is tinged with surprise.
Hongjoong steps around to your side, his hands in his pockets and a slightly nervous look on his face.
“You said you’d never been to one, so…” He gestures toward the brightly lit rides.
You glance down at your outfit—high heel boots, a sleek skirt, and your leather jacket—then back at him.
“And you didn’t think to mention that I might want to dress for this?”
He grins, his nervousness fading into a playful confidence “You’ll be fine. You look beautiful and you could rock a runway in a park if you wanted to.”
You shake your head, unable to suppress a smile “Fine. Lead the way.”
The ticket booth is up ahead, and you instinctively reach for your purse, already accustomed to paying for yourself—and for others. But before you can even unzip it, Hongjoong steps forward, pulling out his wallet.
“Two adults, please.” He says, handing over the cash.
You blink, momentarily stunned. People don’t usually pay for you. They just assume you’ll foot the bill, given your family’s wealth. But here Hongjoong is, without hesitation, handling everything.
“Thanks.” You say, your voice softer than usual.
He shoots you a small, reassuring smile “It’s a date, isn’t it?”
The park is alive with energy—bright lights, music, and the unmistakable hum of excitement in the air. You’re not sure what to expect, but as the night unfolds, you find yourself swept up in the moment.
Hongjoong pulls you from ride to ride, his enthusiasm contagious. You scream on the roller coasters, laugh uncontrollably on the spinning teacups, and you surprise yourself by enjoying the bumper cars, laughing uncontrollably as Hongjoong tried—and failed—to outmaneuver you.
Hongjoong made a great effort to win a small stuffed bunny at one of the carnival games, he handed it to you with a triumphant grin.
“For you,” He says, holding it out.
“Seriously?” You ask, but there is no hiding the smile that tug at your lips “It’s so tacky.”
“Tacky but adorable, just like you.” He counters with a pretty smile.
And you find yourself clutching the fluffy bunny tightly as you continue through the park.
At the snack stand, you try to insist on paying, but Hongjoong beats you to it again, handing over the cash before you can protest.
“You’re really committed to this, huh?” You tease.
He shrugs, offering you a bag of popcorn “I like treating you. You’re worth it.”
The words catch you off guard, leaving a strange warmth in their wake. You look at him, the boyish grin on his face, and wonder how he can be so… genuine.
As the day turns into evening, the park’s lights flicker on, casting a magical glow over everything. You stand in line for the carousel, the soft music adding a nostalgic charm.
You climb into one of the ornate horses, your laughter echoing as Hongjoong chooses the one beside you.
“You’re having fun, admit it.” He says, his voice filled with mock accusations.
You tilt your head, a playful smirk on your lips “Maybe a little.”
The carousel begins to move, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in the moment. The weight of your pride, your fears, and the persona you had carefully crafted seems to fade.
It’s just you and Hongjoong, spinning in a world that feels oddly perfect.
As the evening wears on, you realize something else—you’re having fun. Real, uncomplicated fun. It’s a feeling you’re not used to, and it’s equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.
When you finally board the Ferris wheel, the city sprawls out below you, glittering in the night. The car sways gently, and Hongjoong’s arm rests casually on the back of your seat.
“You’ve been quiet,” He glances at you “What’s on your mind?”
You hesitate, your fingers toying with the hem of your jacket “I guess… I’m not used to this.”
“To what?”
“To someone doing all of this just for me.” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper.
He looks at you, his expression softening “You deserve it, pretty. All of it.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, unsure of how to respond. The gnawing doubt in the back of your mind refuses to let go.
What if this isn’t real? What if he’s just playing along, trying to climb some invisible ladder to the top?
The Ferris wheel car rocks gently as it halts at the top, giving you a perfect view of the glowing amusement park below. The world feels smaller up here, the laughter and music from the park blending into a soft hum. But your focus isn’t on the view.
Hongjoong’s hand brushes against yours, hesitant yet deliberate “YN,” He begins, his voice soft but firm, breaking the fragile silence. You turn to him, caught off guard by the serious tone in his voice “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” His eyes locking onto yours “Something I should’ve said a long time ago.”
You blink, unsure of where he’s going with this “What is it?”
He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair “Do you remember the first time we met? On the first day of college?”
You frown slightly, trying to recall “I remember you asking me for a pen and I told you not to speak to me again and get lost.” Both of you chuckle at the memory “You were… different back then.”
He smiles faintly, though there’s a sadness to it “I was, and I remember everything about that moment. How you walked into the lecture hall like you owned the place, and every single person in the room noticed you. Including me.”
You tilt your head, curious now.
“I knew I didn’t stand a chance,” He continues, his voice quiet “You were… YN. Popular, beautiful, confident—everything I wasn’t. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I guess, in some way, I thought if I could change myself, maybe you’d notice me.”
“Change yourself?” You echo, your brow furrowing.
He nods, a faint, self-deprecating chuckle escaping his lips “The clothes, the hair, trying to fit in with your world—it was all for you. Even when I begged you to make me popular, it wasn’t really about the popularity. I just wanted to be enough for you. To have a chance with you.”
His words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say.
“You hated me back then.” You murmur, though your voice lacks conviction.
“I didn’t hate you,” He says firmly, his gaze unwavering “I hated how you treated me sometimes, yeah. But I didn’t hate you. How could I, when I was in love with you?”
Your breath catches “In love with me?”
“Since that first day,” Hongjoong admits, his voice barely above a whisper “It didn’t matter that you barely knew I existed. It didn’t matter how hard it was to watch you humiliate me or use me as a punchline. I just wanted you to notice me, YN. Even if it hurts.”
A lump forms in your throat as you stare at him. His words are raw, honest, and so unlike the Kim Hongjoong you’ve grown accustomed to.
“Hongjoong…” You trail off, your voice faltering.
He shakes his head, his hand tightening around yours.
“I know how it sounds. And I get it if you don’t feel the same way. But I had to tell you. Because all of this? It’s real for me. You’re real for me.”
You feel your chest tighten, the weight of his confession pressing down on you. Part of you wants to believe him, to let yourself fall into the warmth of his feelings, but the doubts linger.
“What if…” You begin, your voice trembling “What if you’re wrong? What if this isn’t real?”
“I’m not wrong,” He says with quiet determination “And I’ll prove it to you, pretty. Every day, if I have to.”
His words stir something deep inside you, but the echoes of your brother’s voice resurface: ‘Once the thrill of the game wears off, they’ll both be exactly where they belong—crumbling.’
You bite your lip, trying to suppress the turmoil within you.
“I don’t know if I can trust this.”
Hongjoong leans closer, his eyes searching yours “You don’t have to trust it all at once. Just… let me show you. Let me prove to you that I’m not going anywhere.”
For a moment, you hesitate, your heart warring with your mind. But then, as if on instinct, you lean in and press your lips to his.
The kiss is soft at first, tentative, but then it deepens, his hands cupping your face as yours find their way to his shoulders. For a moment, the world around you disappears, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
When you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, Hongjoong’s eyes are wide, his expression filled with awe.
“Does this mean that we are…?”
“It means,” You interrupt, your voice trembling but steady “That I’m giving you a chance to prove it, then we discuss what will happen. Don’t make me regret it.”
He smiles, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes and lights up his entire face.
“I won’t. I promise.”
The Ferris wheel begins to move again, but this time, as it descends, you feel lighter, the weight of your doubts momentarily lifted.
Maybe this is reckless. Maybe it’ll all fall apart. But as Hongjoong’s hand finds yours again, lacing your fingers together, you decide—for now—you’ll take the risk.
✮ ⋆
The hum of the car engine fades as Hongjoong pulls up to your family’s grand estate, its sprawling driveway illuminated by soft outdoor lighting. He steps out of the old car and quickly moves to your side, opening the door for you with a charming smile.
“Such a gentleman.”
You tease, stepping out in your heels, clutching the medium-sized plush bunny he’d won for you at the amusement park. Its soft, floppy ears brush against your arm, and for reasons you can’t quite explain, holding it makes you feel… warm.
“Well, tonight was special. You deserve the whole VIP treatment.” He quips, offering his hand to steady you.
As the two of you walk toward the front steps, the soft chill of the evening air wraps around you, but you barely notice it. The warmth of the evening lingers, and you’re not quite ready to let it go.
“I had fun tonight.” You admit, your voice softer than usual.
“Yeah?” He asks, his eyes lighting up “You’re not just saying that because I let you beat me at the ring toss, are you?”
You roll your eyes, a laugh escaping as you hug the bunny tighter.
“You didn’t let me win. I’m just naturally talented.”
Hongjoong grins, leaning slightly closer “Naturally talented, huh? I’ll remember that next time I’m getting crushed at bumper cars.”
A comfortable silence falls between you for a moment as you both reach the front door.
“Thank you, Hongjoong,” You say, turning to face him fully “For everything. I mean it.”
He scratches the back of his neck, his cheeks tinged pink under the porch light. “You don’t have to thank me. I just… I wanted you to have a good time.”
“Well, mission accomplished.” You reply, your smile lingering.
The moment feels charged, like the quiet pause before a firework explodes. Slowly, he steps closer, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips.
“Goodnight, pretty.” He says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Goodnight, Joongie.” You reply, leaning in.
Your lips meet in a tender kiss, warm and unhurried, the kind that feels like a promise. The bunny slips slightly in your grip, but Hongjoong steadies it with a hand, his touch lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter.
When you pull back, there’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, as though he’s reluctant to leave.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at school.” He murmurs, his hand brushing yours one last time before he turns and walks back to his car.
You watch him drive away, the sound of the engine fading into the night. For a brief moment, you stand there, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.
The plush bunny in your arms feels oddly comforting, and you catch yourself smiling at the memory of him insisting on winning it for you. He’d been so focused, so determined, as though nothing else in the world mattered.
But the warmth is short-lived.
As you step inside, the soft click of your heels echoes in the dimly lit foyer. The house feels quiet, almost too quiet, and a sense of unease prickles at the back of your neck.
“Late night, huh?” You freeze. Mike’s voice cuts through the silence like a knife, cold and taunting.
He steps out from the shadows of the living room, his arms crossed, and an infuriatingly smug look on his face.
“So, did Prince Nerd sweep you off your feet?”
You roll your eyes, trying to keep your composure “Go to bed, Mike. You’re not my keeper.”
He chuckles, the sound low and mocking “Oh, but it’s so entertaining watching you play house with your little project.”
You glare at him, your defenses rising “He’s not a project. And you don’t know anything about him.”
Mike raises an eyebrow, stepping closer “Don’t I? Let’s see… Hongjoong, the reformed nerd. The guy who suddenly started hanging out with the queen bee… How curious, don't you think?” Your jaw tightens, but he doesn’t stop “You think that’s love, YN? Or is it desperation?"
"Face it, dear sister. He’s obsessed with you because you’re a trophy. The queen bee who gave him the time of day. Do you really think that’ll last? Once he realizes he can’t keep up, he’ll snap back to reality. And where does that leave you?”
“Stop it,” You snap, your voice shaking slightly.
But Mike only smirks “You’re scared, aren’t you? Scared that I’m right. Scared that once the shine wears off, he’ll remember who he really is—and leave you behind.”
His words sink in like claws, dragging at the fragile hope you’d started to build tonight. You open your mouth to fire back, but the lump in your throat stops you.
Mike leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper “Enjoy the fairytale while it lasts, little sister. Because when it ends, it’s going to hurt.”
Without another word, he turns and disappears into the shadows, leaving you standing there, clutching the bunny tightly to your chest.
The warmth of Hongjoong’s kiss feels like a distant memory now, overshadowed by the weight of Mike’s cruel words.
As you climb the stairs to your room, the doubts creep in, unbidden and relentless.
You set the bunny down on your bed, its soft, innocent face staring back at you as though mocking your turmoil.
Tonight was perfect. But now, you’re not so sure how long perfect can last.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
March, 2008⋆｡
You were five years old, standing in the middle of the schoolyard with a bouquet of cheap plastic flowers and a small silver medal hanging around your neck. The other kids were swarmed by their parents, showered in hugs, kisses, and congratulations.
You stood apart, your smile faltering as you scanned the crowd again and again, hoping to find a familiar face.
But your parents never came.
By the time the babysitter arrived to take you home, the festival had already ended, and the school grounds were nearly empty. You sat quietly in the car, clutching the medal tightly in your small hands, determined not to cry.
You had worked so hard for the performance, staying late after school for weeks, practicing the routine over and over. You had wanted your parents to see you, to be proud of you.
When you finally got home, the house was dark. Your parents weren’t there, of course. They had told you that morning that they might be "a little late," but you hadn’t realized it meant missing the entire festival.
The babysitter gave you a sympathetic smile before heading upstairs. You sat at the dining table, the silver medal still around your neck, as you stared at the empty chairs where your parents should’ve been.
It wasn’t until late at night that you heard the front door open. You rushed downstairs, your little heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.
Your parents entered, followed by your eight-year-old brother, Mike, who was holding a shiny trophy in his hands.
“Look at this, first place!” Mike boasted, raising the trophy high.
“We’re so proud of you, Mike.” Your mother said, ruffling his hair.
“Mommy, Daddy,” You began hesitantly, clutching her medal “You missed my dance festival.”
Your parents glanced at you briefly, their smiles faltering for just a moment.
“Oh, honey, we’re so sorry,” Your father said, though his tone was distracted “But Mike had his soccer game today, and his team won! It was such an important match.”
“I won too. I won second place, look.” You said quietly, holding up your medal with a smile.
You looked between your parents, hoping for a flicker of pride, of recognition.
Mike snorted “Second place? That’s just the first loser, YN.”
Your cheeks burned, and your grip on the medal tightened “It’s still good,” You muttered.
The oldest exchanged a quick look before your mother knelt down in front of you.
“That's incredible, sweetie. We’re sorry we couldn’t make it. We’ll make it up to you, okay? Tomorrow, we’ll take you to the store, and you can pick out whatever you want. How does that sound?”
You nodded slowly, but the hollow ache in your chest didn’t go away. You watched as your parents returned their attention to Mike, showering him with questions about his game, reliving every goal and every cheer.
You stood there, forgotten, the silver medal in your hand feeling heavier by the second.
That night, as you lay in bed, you stared at the medal on the nightstand. You thought about the promise your parents had made, the reward they’d offered to soothe their absence.
A reward.
That’s what you were worth to them. Not their time, not their presence, but a material gift to ease their guilt.
And so, even at five years old, you learned a valuable lesson: if you couldn’t earn love, you could at least be compensated for its absence.
✮ ⋆
October, 2017⋆｡
The house was alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Streamers in shades of purple and gold adorned the grand living room, and a three-tier cake stood proudly at the center of the dining table, surrounded by an array of delicately prepared treats.
It was your fifteenth birthday—or at least, it was supposed to be.
You stood near the large bay window, your dress a vision of elegance and sparkle, the kind your mother had insisted on getting for the occasion. But your smile was thin and forced, your eyes constantly darting to the growing crowd around Mike.
Your older brother was the center of attention, as he always seemed to be.
Earlier that evening, just as the guests began to arrive, Mike had announced to their parents that he had been accepted into the most prestigious university in the country. The news was met with exuberant cheers and immediate celebration.
Your parents’ pride radiated like the sun, casting a shadow over everything else—including you.
At first, you tried to hold onto the joy of your own milestone, but as the night wore on, the decorations, the cake, and even the guests seemed to shift their focus.
“To Mike!” Your father’s voice boomed as he raised a glass of champagne “For making us the proudest parents alive!”
A collective cheer followed, and you felt your chest tighten. You glanced at your mother, hoping for a gesture of acknowledgment, but she was too busy beaming at Mike.
The words you had rehearsed to thank everyone for coming stayed locked in your throat.
“It’s okay…” You told yourself, gripping the edges of the dress to steady your trembling hands.
As the hours passed, your birthday transformed into an impromptu celebration for Mike’s achievement. Relatives and family friends crowded around him, offering their congratulations. The gifts that were meant for you sat unopened on a side table, forgotten.
Later that night, after most of the guests had left, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, picking at the remains of the untouched birthday cake. Your parents walked in, their faces still glowing with pride.
“Darling,” Your father said, noticing your somber expression “Why are you here by yourself? It was such a wonderful evening.”
You looked up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“It was supposed to be my birthday party.”
Your mother’s smile faltered “Oh, sweetheart, we’re so sorry,” She said, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder “But you understand how important this is for Mike, don’t you? This is such a big accomplishment for him.”
“I guess.” You mumbled, though the ache in your chest remained.
Mike walked in then, a triumphant grin on his face “What’s this? Pouting because you had to share the spotlight?” He teased, ruffling your hair in that condescending way that always made your blood boil.
“It’s not a big deal. Come on, you should be happy for me. Not everyone gets into a school like this.”
You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to lash out “Happy birthday to me.” You muttered under her breath.
Her parents, sensing the tension, exchanged a quick glance.
“YN, we’ll make it up to you. Tomorrow, we’ll take you shopping and get you whatever you want. Anything at all.”
You forced a smile, nodding mechanically.
“Sure. Thanks.”
But as you lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being invisible. No matter how hard you tried, it seemed you would always come second to Mike—the golden child, the perfect son, the one who could do no wrong.
And so, the seeds of bitterness were planted, watered by years of neglect and overshadowed by a brother who always shone brighter.
You promised yourself then that you would never let anyone make you feel small again.
If you had to be cruel to survive, so be it. Because in a world where everyone else seemed to have the upper hand, kindness felt like a luxury you couldn’t afford.
✮ ⋆
July, 2020⋆｡
The dining room was filled with laughter and the soft clinking of glasses. The long table was adorned with an elegant spread, shimmering under the chandelier’s warm glow.
It was Mike’s farewell dinner, a grand event in honor of his departure to Germany to pursue his master’s degree in business management.
The room buzzed with pride and excitement for the family’s golden boy.
You, now seventeen, sat near the end of the table, quiet and composed, your gaze fixed on your untouched plate. You had learned to blend into the background during these family gatherings, where you knew your presence would be an afterthought.
“To Mike!” Uncle William raised his glass for the third toast of the evening “A true inspiration to us all. You’ve always been the pride of the family!”
“Here’s to making us proud in Germany,” Chimed in Aunt Silvia, dabbing her eyes with a napkin “Our boy is destined for greatness.”
Everyone joined in the toast, glasses clinking, voices filled with admiration. Your grip tightened around the fork, your knuckles white as you forced a polite smile.
“And what about you, YN?” Cousin Andrew’s voice cut through the noise like a blade, drawing attention to her “Any plans to follow in your brother’s footsteps? Or is it still fashion magazines and parties for you?”
The table erupted in laughter, the kind that stung more than it amused. Your jaw clenched, but you kept a neutral expression, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
Your mother’s voice cut through the mockery, firm but not forceful.
“That’s enough, Andrew. YN has her own path, and she’s doing well in school.”
“Well, of course she is,” Mike interjected, his tone smooth but laced with condescension “YN has always been… creative.”
More laughter followed, and you felt the familiar sting of their dismissive comments. Years of enduring this treatment had toughened you, but tonight, it felt heavier, like a weight pressing on your chest.
As dessert was served, Grandpa leaned toward you.
“You should be proud of your brother, Little YN. He’s setting the standard for the family. Maybe one day you’ll find your own way to contribute.”
“I am proud.” You said softly, voice steady despite the lump in your throat.
Your father, noticing the tension, tried to lighten the mood.
“Come now, let’s not overshadow YN entirely. She’s done well this year, too.”
“Sure,” Mike quipped, a smirk tugging at his lips “But tonight isn’t about her.”
You pushed your chair back, movements graceful despite the storm brewing inside you.
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll get some air.”
The murmurs at the table quieted as you left the room, heels clicking against the polished floor.
Once outside, You inhaled deeply, the cool night air filling her lungs. Your chest heaved as you fought back the tears threatening to spill.
You wouldn’t let them see your break.
Not now. Not ever.
When your parents found you later, sitting on the garden bench, your father held out a small, velvet box.
“We’re sorry, darling,” He said, his voice soft with guilt “We didn’t mean to make you feel left out.”
You opened the box to reveal a delicate diamond bracelet, the stones catching the moonlight.
“It’s beautiful.” You said, slipping it onto your wrist.
But inside, the gesture felt hollow. No gift could fill the void left by years of neglect and overshadowing.
That night, the bracelet glittering on the nightstand, you made a vow: If the world wanted to underestimate you, you would let it. And then, you would show them all just how wrong they were.
✮ ⋆
Present year (Mike’s return)⋆｡
Hours later, you returned home after dinner at Hongjoong’s house, your mood lifted by the warmth and genuine affection of his parents. But the moment you stepped inside your own home, the oppressive atmosphere returned.
Mike confronted you as always, but you didn’t mind, didn’t talk back. But your chest burned with frustration and hurt.
As you reached the top of the stairs, you passed by your parents’ room. Their voices carried through the cracked door.
“Do you think we should talk to her?” Your mother asked, her tone uncertain.
Her father sighed “She’ll be fine. She always is.”
“I don’t know,” She said softly “Maybe we should get her something. You know how sensitive she can be about these things.”
“A trip, perhaps?” Your father suggested “Or maybe one of those designer handbags she likes. It’s not like she doesn’t enjoy it.”
You froze in the hallway, stomach twisting. Of course. This was how it always went. Gifts instead of apologies. Material things to soothe over their lack of understanding or support.
You leaned against the wall, fists clenching.
As a child, you had cried over these moments, hoping for more, longing for genuine care. Now, you knew better.
You have learned to accept it, even take advantage of it.
If they thought they could buy your affection, you would let them.
Your lips curved into a bitter smile. If they wanted to give you a car, a trip, a bag, or whatever else they thought would ease their guilt, so be it. You’d make sure it was worth their while.
But as you slipped into your room and closed the door, the bitterness remained, gnawing at the edges of your heart.
You should be used to this by now.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The bustling energy of the school hallway feels distant as you walk to your locker. Usually, your heels click with purpose, your presence commanding attention.
But today, something is off. You aren't radiating your usual aura of authority and sharpness. Instead, you move through the crowd quietly, your thoughts heavy.
Your mind has been restless since the night before, replaying old memories you rarely allowed yourself to dwell on. The echoes of the past—your parents’ hollow apologies, Mike’s dismissive words—lingered, intertwining with the warmth you had felt during the date with Hongjoong.
Why now? Why did those memories resurface now, after a day that had been nothing short of… perfect?
As you approach your locker, you feel a presence behind you. Turning, you see Hongjoong standing there, his brows furrows in concern.
“You’ve been quiet.” He says softly.
You tilt your head, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.
“And that’s unusual?”
“For you? Yeah.” He says, a small smile tugging at his lips.
You smirk faintly but don't respond. Instead, you play with the lock on your locker, your movements uncharacteristically hesitant.
Hongjoong leans against the locker next to yours, studying you.
“Something’s on your mind.”
You hesitate, pride warring with the strange weight pressing on your chest. Finally, you shrug, closing the locker door.
“Don’t flatter yourself. Not everything revolves around you, Joongie.”
Hongjoong chuckles, but his concern doesn't waver “Okay, but if you need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”
You nod, taking a deep breath, trying to shake off the unease.
“Today I planned a little meeting at my house, bring a swimsuit.”
✮ ⋆
The sun cast golden reflections over the pool as music pulses through the speakers. Laughter and chatter fill the air as you and your friends lounge around, drinks in hand. Mindy, Samantha, Wooyoung, Seonghwa, San, Mingi, and Hongjoong are all there, the atmosphere lighthearted and carefree.
Dann, ever the obedient little pet, carries a tray of drinks, moving carefully to avoid spilling anything. She approaches the group, her expression unreadable as she sets the drinks down on the small poolside table.
"Finally." Seonghwa smirks, picking up his glass.
"Took you long enough, nerd." Mindy snaps.
"What, did you have to mix them by hand?" Wooyoung adds with a chuckle.
Dann clenches her jaw but says nothing. She had learned that silence is often the best defense. But today, something in her burns hotter than usual.
Maybe it is the sight of you and Hoongjoong sitting so close, his hand around your waist, your chemistry undeniable.
Maybe it’s the way you barely acknowledge her, as if she is nothing more than an accessory in your world.
"You should be more grateful," Dann mutters under her breath "Not everyone is willing to put up with your bullshit."
Silence. Then laughter. You arch an eyebrow, standing up and tilting your head as if you hadn't heard correctly.
"Excuse me?"
Dann swallows, but her resolve doesn't waver "I said—"
But before she can finish, you let out a scoff, exchanging a look with Wooyoung. Without warning, you place a hand on Dann’s shoulder and give her a hard shove. Wooyoung, catching on to the moment, joins in, and together you push Dann straight into the pool.
A loud splash echoes through the air.
Laughter erupts from the group as Dann surfaces, coughing and sputtering, her soaked hair plaster to her face. Wooyoung doubled over, wiping tears from his eyes. Even Hongjoong chuckles along with the others.
Dann wipes water from her eyes, her face burning—not just from humiliation but from something deeper. Something sharper.
As the group continues to laugh, none of them notices the figure watching from the mansion’s balcony. Mike stands at a distance, his expression unreadable, his grip tightening around his glass as he observes everything in silence.
The laughter has barely settled when Dann storms away, her soaked clothes clinging to her like a second skin, her face burning with humiliation.
She can still hear their amusement echoing behind her, but she doesn’t turn back. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
Just as the group is about to move on from the incident, a familiar voice interrupts.
“Sweetie,” Your mother’s elegant tone cut through the chatter, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Yes, mommy?”
Your mother looks over the group with an approving nod “I see you’re all having fun,” She says pleasantly “I wanted to extend an invitation to all of you. This Saturday, we’re hosting a celebration for Mike’s accomplishments. It’ll be a grand affair.”
The mention of Mike makes your stomach twist, but you keep your expression unreadable.
Your mother’s gaze then lands directly on Hongjoong “And you, young man, I would love for you to attend.”
Hongjoong blinks, clearly caught off guard. He isn’t sure if that is true or just a polite formality, but he nods nonetheless.
“Uh, thank you, Mrs. Clarke. I’d be honored to come.”
“Wonderful.” She said smoothly, and with that, she excused herself, leaving the group with murmurs of intrigue about the upcoming event.
✮ ⋆
As the night stretches on, one by one, your friends depart, leaving only you and Hongjoong by the pool. The energy has shifted. The teasing, the careless fun—it all faded into something quieter, something heavier in the air between you.
The water is cool against Hongjoong’s skin, a welcome contrast to the heat radiating between you. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, feeling the warmth of your sun-kissed body against his own. You straddle his lap, your fingers threading through his hair as you talk.
“And your friends… what are they like?” You ask, your voice softer now, genuinely curious.
Hongjoong chuckles “A bunch of nerds, really,” He admits “Yunho is always energetic, making jokes and annoying. Yeosang is quiet but he is also a weirdo.” You both laugh, you can see in his eyes how much he appreciates his friends “On the other hand, Jongho is reserved and always listening, sometimes scary, but in general we spend way too much time debating books lore and analyzing sci-fi movies like it’s a science.”
You smirk, tilting your head toward him “That’s kinda cute.”
He raises an eyebrow “Cute? You wouldn’t last five minutes in one of our discussions.”
“Try me, I know much more than just fashion and pop culture gossip.”
And for a while, you simply talk. About things that don't matter, about things that do. And for the first time in a long time, you aren't thinking about your reputation, about expectations, or about proving yourself.
You are just there, with him.
At some point, you drift closer, and Hongjoong notices. The way your eyes soften under the dim lights, the way the water reflects off your skin. The way you look at him—not like he is some nerd trying to reach too high, but like he is just Hongjoong.
Without overthinking, he leans in, brushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear.
“You’re different when it’s just us.” He murmurs.
“And you don’t mind?”
He shakes his head “Not even a little.”
Your lips meet, tentative at first, then deeper. The warmth of the water, the way your bodies press against each other—it’s intoxicating. Your fingers curl around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.
His hands trace slow, lazy circles on your bare waist, and for that moment, nothing else exists.
"You always talk about your nerdy friends," You murmur as you pull back a little, your breath catching against his lips "But you never really tell me about you."
Hongjoong lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head "And here I thought you didn’t care."
You roll your eyes, but there’s something different now. The barest hint of a smirk touches your lips.
"Maybe I do."
His breath hitches at the sound of your voice, and you feel the faint tremor in his hands as they hover on your waist. There’s hesitation, a slight uncertainty, as if he’s not sure how far to go or whether he’s doing it right. You like it. It’s endearing.
You know exactly what’s on his mind, that quiet nervousness, and it only makes you want him more.
You reach out, tracing your fingertips slowly down his arm beneath the water, deliberate and teasing. He shivers slightly under your touch, his pulse hammering.
When your hand drifts to his chest, you linger there, pressing your palm flat against his skin, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your fingers.
“Let's go shopping tomorrow after school. You need a suit, and you have to impress my mother.”
“Only your mother?” He teases, making you scoff.
“Think what you want, but you need something that screams ‘I belong to YN Clarke’.”
Hongjoong laughs but nods “All right then, pretty.”
"You’re warm," You note absently, your breath shaky as you let your touch wander.
Hongjoong exhales sharply, his hand lifting, skimming over the curve of your waist. His fingertips brush over your bare skin, and you can feel his uncertainty, the way he pulls back just a fraction when you press closer.
His breath is uneven, like he’s trying to keep up with the rhythm of your touch, trying to suppress the nerves coiling in his gut. He swallows hard.
"YN—"
You cut him off before he can say more, leaning in to kiss him again, your lips meeting his with an urgency that both surprises and excites him.
The kiss is slow at first, teasing, but as Hongjoong slides his hand to the small of your back and pulls you closer, something inside both of you snaps.
The moment his grip tightens, pulling you flush against him, you gasp softly, feeling the heat between you intensify. Hongjoong's kiss becomes deeper, rougher, his hands gripping you like he’s been starving for you, his touch becoming bolder, more eager.
His muscles tense beneath your hands, the slight tremor in his touch betraying his inexperience, but you don’t mind. If anything, you find it charming, knowing you’re the one who can pull this reaction from him.
The water around you suddenly feels too cool compared to the heat of his body against yours. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers threading through his damp hair as he presses you against the edge of the pool.
He kisses along your jaw, over the damp skin of your throat, sucking lightly before flicking his tongue over the spot to soothe the sting. You shudder at the sensation, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist beneath the water.
"Joong—" You breathe, your voice barely above a whisper, lost in the warmth of the moment.
But he swallows the rest of your words with another kiss, drowning you both in the heat of it, in the desperation, the raw hunger that feels so real and unrestrained.
His hands roam lower now, gripping your thighs beneath the water, and you arch into him. You can feel his self-control hanging by a thread, the way he stifles every urge to push harder, faster, the way he almost overthinks each move. It’s a mix of hesitance and hunger.
He wants you so badly, but he’s not sure if he’s doing it right. But the more you respond, the more he realizes that’s not what matters. It’s the way you want him that matters.
You guide him without saying a word—your body melting against him, soft sighs escaping your lips as he becomes more confident with each touch. His kisses deepen, and the passion between you escalates.
There’s nothing awkward about this anymore. The hesitation fades, and what’s left is raw, real, and completely right.
"God, you drive me crazy," He murmurs against your lips, voice hoarse with the effort of holding back.
You smirk, brushing your fingers along his jaw "I know, nerd."
Hongjoong groans, his grip tightening as he nips at your lower lip in retaliation. You laugh, but it quickly fades into a soft sigh when he dips his head, kissing along the curve of your shoulder, his lips gentle but insistent.
For a moment, you can feel him stiffen slightly, unsure whether he’s moving too fast, and then you pull him closer, urging him to follow your lead. His hands move with more certainty now, exploring with a quiet passion, and the way his body reacts to yours is nothing short of electrifying.
The beauty of it is not just in the physicality—the way his hands and lips touch you—but in the way he’s learning.
Hongjoong is not perfect, and he’s not experienced, but he’s here.
He’s with you, and the more he responds to you, the more he learns what you need, the more you find yourself consumed by him.
It’s the way he forgets his nervousness, the way he becomes sure of himself because of you.
And you know, deep down, that this isn’t just about the touch, the heat, the kissing. It’s about the way he’s learning to be confident in himself. Because of you.
And that, in the end, makes all the difference.
For once, you let yourself get lost in it. In the way Hongjoong touches you, the way he wants you, the way he holds you like you’re something precious.
It 's intoxicating.
And yet, hidden in the shadows, Dann stands frozen, her chest tightening, her fingers clenched into fists as she watches the scene unfold.
Dann hadn’t meant to stay. She hadn’t meant to see.
But there she is, standing by the edge of the terrace, her heart sinking lower and lower.
It wasn’t just a kiss. It wasn’t just some game you were playing.
This is real.
She has told herself she doesn't care. That it doesn’t matter. But the painful sting in her heart tells her otherwise.
And it hurt.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The next day, you and Hongjoong find yourselves strolling through an upscale shopping mall. The polished marble floors gleam under the soft glow of designer store lights.
As usual, your style is impeccable—heels clicking in rhythm, and your hair flowing with the air. Beside you, Hongjoong is a stark contrast, casual yet charming in his plain sweater and jeans.
You lead him into one of the most exclusive stores, where racks of tailored suits and elegant ensembles line the walls.
The sales assistants greet you with knowing smiles, instantly recognizing your status.
“Do you even know my size?” He teases, watching you confidently pull out a dark navy suit with subtle pinstripes.
You smirk, holding the suit up to him “I don’t need to know your size. I have an eye for perfection.”
He shakes his head, chuckling as he takes the suit from your hands “You know I don’t need something this expensive, right? I can just wear the stuff I have at home.”
“Not if you’re going to a party as my date.” You say firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument.
Hongjoong smiles softly but doesn’t press further. He disappears into the fitting room, and while he’s gone, you wander the store, your gaze drifting over the luxurious displays.
The weight in your chest hasn’t eased since yesterday. If anything, it feels heavier under the bright lights and polished surfaces.
It’s not about the suit. It’s not about the party. Shopping, spending, indulging—it’s the only thing that ever distracted you from the hollow ache inside. It always has been.
“YN?” Hongjoong’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.
You turn, and for a moment, your breath catches. The suit fits him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean frame.
He looks… confident. Polished.
Yours.
“What do you think?” He asks, doing a half spin for effect.
You step closer, your fingers brushing over the lapel of the jacket “You look…” You pause, searching for the right word, then smirk “Like someone who belongs to me.”
He laughs, shaking his head, but there’s a hint of pink in his cheeks “I should’ve known you’d say that.”
After the purchase is made—your card, of course—you both leave the store. You’re holding onto a medium-sized bag containing some clothes as Hongjoong holds a bag with his new suit that costs more than some people make in a month.
As you walk through the mall, Hongjoong’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He glances at the screen, and a small smile spreads across his face.
“What is it?” You ask, curious.
“It’s Jongho, Yeosang, and Yunho,” He says, showing you the message “They’re asking if I want to hit the arcade with them tonight. It’s been ages since we’ve hung out.”
You notice the way his eyes light up at the mention of his friends, and for a moment, your heart clenches.
You nod, keeping your expression neutral.
“You should go.”
He hesitates, slipping his phone back into his pocket “I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” You say with a small smile “Go have fun with them. You deserve it.”
“Are you sure?” He asks, studying your face.
“Yeah,” You reply, tilting your head slightly “I’ll just go home and relax. Maybe binge some show or something.”
Hongjoong doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push.
“Okay, but only if you promise me something.”
“What?”
“That you’ll call me if you need anything.”
You roll your eyes, your lips curving into a smirk “Relax, Joong. I’m not helpless.”
“I know you’re not,” He says softly “But I care about you, pretty. A lot.”
The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. You can’t help but wonder if it’s only a matter of time before those words—his care, his affection—turn into something else.
Something colder.
He leans down and kisses your forehead, his hand briefly brushing yours.
“I’ll text you later, okay?”
“Okay,” You whisper, watching him walk away.
You clutch the bag in your hand, the weight of the expensive items nothing compared to the familiar emptiness settling in your chest.
✮ ⋆
The arcade was alive with the sound of laughter, the ping of game machines, and the occasional cheer of someone winning.
Hongjoong walked in, spotting the boys huddled near the air hockey table.
“Hongjoong!” Yunho calls, waving him over.
“About time you showed up,” Yeosang teases “We thought YN had you on a leash or something.”
Hongjoong rolls his eyes, grinning “Very funny.”
Jongho smirks “For a moment we thought you'd say no, since you've only spent time with her.”
“I also have a life apart from being with her and she also needs her space, so she let me come.”
“She let you come? I didn't know you had to ask permission to go out with your friends.” Yunho snorts mockingly.
“We’re kind of a thing now.” Hongjoong murmurs shyly.
The boys look confused at each other before looking at him.
“What do you mean with that, Joong?”
He hesitates before shrugging, a small smile tugging at his lips “We had a date.”
Yunho drops the joystick he was holding “A date?!
“Wait, wait,” Yeosang says, laughing “YN Clarke? Like, the queen bee had a date with you?”
“The same one.” Hongjoong replies, scratching the back of his neck.
Yeosang and Yunho exchange a look before breaking into wide grins.
Jongho let out a low whistle “I thought you were joking about liking her. She actually went out with you?”
“Yeah,” Hongjoong says, his smile growing “It was amazing. I took her to the amusement park. She even let me win her a prize—a stuffed bunny.”
Yunho grinns “Aww, how romantic. Joongie the Casanova.”
“More like Hongjoong the miracle nerd,” Jongho adds “Seriously, dude. YN Clarke? That’s insane.”
Yunho’s grin widens “Dude, you’re living the dream. A date with the queen bee of the school? You’re officially a legend.”
Hongjoong chuckles, his face reddening slightly. Before he could respond, a familiar voice interrupted.
“Joong?”
He turns to see Dann standing a few feet away, clutching a soda.
“Dann?” He says, confused “What are you doing here?”
“Yunho texted me,” Dann says, glancing at the boys “Thought it’d be nice to hang out.”
Hongjoong stiffs slightly “Oh... Uh, cool.”
Dann steps closer, her gaze lingering on him “It’s been a while. You’ve been… busy.”
He scratches the back of his neck, glancing at his friends for support “Yeah, I guess I have.”
Dann smiles, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes “With YN, right?”
“Yeah,” He answers, his tone cautious.
Yeosang, sensing the tension, jumps in “Hey, let’s hit the games. Air hockey, anyone?”
“Sure,” Dann says quickly, stepping closer to Hongjoong “We can team up.”
Hongjoong hesitates. He knows you don’t like Dann being around him—and he can't blame you. Dann’s feelings for him are obvious, you told him from the beginning and he can already confirm it.
He doesn’t want to hurt Dann, but he also doesn’t want to disrespect you.
“Actually,” He starts, his tone gentle but firm “Why don’t you play with Jongho? He’s unbeatable.”
Dann’s smile falters “Oh. Right. Sure.”
Yunho raises an eyebrow at Hongjoong, but doesn’t comment. They are all aware of the feelings of both, Dann in love with Hongjoong and Hongjoong with you, they just hope that things don't get awkward in the future.
As they move toward the air hockey table, Dann hangs back, watching Hongjoong laugh and joke with the others.
Her chest tightness. Hongjoong was pushing her away—kindly, yes, but it was still rejection. And she knows why.
It 's not fair. She had been there for him when no one else was. She had defended him when people mocked him for being a nerd. And now, he was choosing you. Again.
Her phone buzzes, breaking her thoughts. She pulls it out to see a message from Mike:
Mike C: Stay focused. Remember our deal.
Dann clenches her jaw, her fingers tightening around the phone.
If Hongjoong wants to choose you, fine. But you don’t deserve him. And Dann is going to make sure he sees that—no matter what it takes.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The cafeteria is alive with its usual energy, but the corner table claimed by you and your entourage buzzes with a more refined excitement. The topic of the day? Saturday’s celebration for Mike at the Ritz.
“So,” Mindy begins, twirling a strand of her perfectly styled hair “Who’s already stressing about their outfit? Because I may or may not have gone a little overboard at Valentino yesterday.”
“Only yesterday?” Wooyoung teases, smirking “Some of us have been planning for days. I’m bringing the tux my dad wore to that gala in Monaco. He swears it’s vintage gold now.”
You scoff, taking a delicate sip of your iced coffee “Monaco tux or not, just don’t embarrass me, Woo.”
“Moi? Embarrass you? Never, babydoll.” He grins, leaning back in his chair.
Mindy sighs dramatically, resting her chin in her palm “I still think about the last party. The lighting, the flowers, the champagne towers. Do you think they’ll top it this time?”
“They’d better,” You reply nonchalantly, though your gaze flickered briefly “My parents love to ‘impress.’ It’s practically their brand.”
“And what time should we grace them with our presence?” Another of your friends, Samantha, asks, pulling out her phone.
“Seven-thirty, at the Ritz. And be punctual. This isn’t one of those parties you can show up fashionably late to.”
“Noted,” Wooyoung says, tapping the time into his calendar “And little Hongjoong? Are you ready to make your grand debut into the Clarke world of extravagance?”
Hongjoong, who has been quietly observing the banter, chuckles softly “I think I’ll survive. YN’s already dragged me through the whole shopping process.”
“Oh, please,” You cut in, smirking “Dragged? You should be thanking me, Joong.”
He raises his hands in surrender, laughing “All right, all right. I owe you one.”
“Just one?” Wooyoung teases again, winking.
Mindy’s eyes lit up as she leaned forward “Wait, what did you go with? Armani? Tom Ford?”
“Tom Ford, It suits him. And trust me, he’ll be turning heads Saturday night.”
“Can’t wait to see it.” Woo says, smirking at him.
“So, how many bottles of champagne do you think your parents are bringing out this time? Ten? Twenty?”
You snort, leaning back in the chair with an air of practiced nonchalance “If it’s less than twenty, I’ll personally tell the caterers to triple the order.”
Wooyoung laughs “Forget the champagne. I’m more interested in how many pastries they’ll have. Last party, I swear I had a religious experience with those chocolate eclairs.”
“Oh, the eclairs,” Sam sighs dreamily “I’ve been thinking about them since then. And don’t even get me started on the tiramisu.”
Hongjoong chuckles, glancing at you “So, is this a party or a dessert buffet?”
“It’s both. A Clarke family event is always an experience. You’ll see.”
“Damn right,” Woo said, raising his water bottle like it was a champagne glass “To YN Clarke and her family's amazing parties!”
The group laughs, the easy camaraderie filling the space. Hongjoong looks at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. You caughting his gaze and, for a brief moment, your confident exterior softened.
The party was just days away, and for now, everything seemed perfect.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The air in the Clarke mansion was a flurry of activity, with staff bustling through the grand halls, preparing for the evening’s event. The clinking of silverware and the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the dining room, where the family had gathered for breakfast.
You sit at the table, scrolling through your phone, your polished nails tapping lightly against the screen. Across from you, Mike is casually flipping through the day’s paper, looking as composed as ever. Your father is already grumbling about last-minute details while your mother sips her tea, the picture of elegance amidst the chaos.
“Dann, can you help me with this?” Dann’s mother’s voice echoes softly from the kitchen.
Dann, trying to stay invisible, hesitates before hurrying to her mother’s side. Together, they carefully carry trays of food into the dining room.
Your father raises an eyebrow, glancing at Dann as she places a platter of fruit on the table.
“Quite the multi-tasker, aren’t you?” He remarks, his tone hovering between sarcasm and indifference.
Dann stiffens slightly, her cheeks coloring “Just helping my mom, sir.” She says quietly.
Before anyone can say more, your mother sets her cup down with a delicate clink.
“You know, I’ve been watching how hard you work around here, Dann,” She says warmly “Always helping your mother, always polite. I think it’s only fair that we extend an invitation to you for tonight’s party.”
The room falls silent. your head snaps up, eyes narrowing slightly, while Mike’s smirk barely conceals his amusement.
“Mom,” You begin, voice sharp “I don’t think—”
“Nonsense, sweetie,” She interrupts smoothly “It’s about time we show a little appreciation. Don’t you think so?”
Dann blinks, surprise evident on her face “Oh, Mrs. Clarke, that’s… I mean, thank you, but—”
“Of course,” Your father interjects, his tone dry “Just make sure you’re aware of the dress code. It’s black tie, not… casual.” His eyes flick briefly over Dann’s simple attire, and the implication hangs heavy in the air.
Your mother’s jaw tightens, and shoots her husband a pointed look “Which is why, sweetheart, you’ll be lending her something appropriate to wear. I’m sure you have plenty of dresses that would look lovely on her.”
Your lips curve into a slow, calculated smile “Of course, Mommy.”
After breakfast, you guide Dann into your walk-in closet with a sweeping gesture, the dazzling array of dresses catching her wide-eyed attention.
She's already entered the closet next to your room, but this one is much bigger. Her fingers trail hesitantly over the delicate fabrics, her expression a mix of awe and discomfort.
She’s never been surrounded by such luxury, let alone been invited to wear it. The second-hand clothes she normally wears couldn’t be further from this.
“You’ve got so many.” She murmurs, her voice tinged with wonder.
You smile, tilting your head “I know, it’s almost a problem, right? Too many choices. But don’t worry—I’ll help you find something that’s just right for tonight.”
Dann nods quickly, her unease flickering across her face. She’s not used to this kind of kindness from you, and it’s unsettling.
But as much as she doesn’t trust it, she can’t exactly refuse either.
You reach into one of the last racks, where the clothes you no longer wear are stored, you pull out a shimmering emerald gown with a slit up the side.
“Here’s a favorite of mine. It’s gorgeous on, trust me. And it’ll definitely help you stand out.”
Dann takes the dress with both hands, handling it as though it might dissolve in her grip “It’s beautiful,” She says, her tone genuine “I’ve never worn anything like this before.”
You smile, masking your amusement “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
Moving through the racks, you select another gown, this one a deep crimson with delicate lace detailing.
“Or maybe this one? It’s a classic. Wore it to a charity auction, and let me tell you—it turned heads.”
Dann stares at the dress, wide-eyed “Wow. It 's amazing.”
She’s completely oblivious to the fact that these dresses, as stunning as they are, are from last year’s collections—now outdated by anyone with even a passing knowledge of fashion.
To Dann, they’re the height of elegance.
You pull a lavender gown from the back of the rack, its soft beading catching the light.
“This one’s a little more subtle,” You say, handing it over “It’s sweet and sophisticated. I think it’s perfect for you. You can keep it, take it as a gift.”
Dann nods enthusiastically, her unease momentarily forgotten as she clutches the gown to her chest.
“Thank you, YN. This is… this is so kind of you.”
You wave off her gratitude with a bright smile “Of course. It’s my pleasure. Go try it on, let’s see how it looks.”
She disappears into the dressing room, and you lean against the doorway with a smug tilt to your lips.
The plan is unfolding perfectly. These dresses, while stunning in their time, are no longer the kind that command admiration—they invite quiet judgment.
But Dann doesn’t know that, and that’s exactly the point.
When she steps out in the lavender gown, her face lights up “It fits perfectly,” She says, her voice tinged with shy excitement.
You study her for a long moment, your smile never faltering.
“It looks wonderful on you, just wait until you see everyone’s reaction tonight.”
Dann beams, completely unaware of the double meaning behind your words.
“I can’t thank you enough, YN.”
You wave her off again “No need to thank me. I’m just glad you’ll have something to wear.”
Inside, you’re already picturing the whispers and raised eyebrows at the party. Tonight will be a night she’ll never forget—for all the wrong reasons.
As Dann leaves the room clutching the dress, you lean against the doorway, arms crossed. Your mother’s unexpected invitation throws you off, but if Dann is going to attend, you will make sure it’s on your terms.
✮ ⋆
Dann holds the lavender dress against herself, staring at the delicate fabric in awe. She hurries to the kitchen, where her mother is wiping down the counters.
“Mom, look at this,” Dann says, holding the gown up for her mother to see “It’s beautiful, but I don’t have the right shoes or makeup to match it.”
Her mother glances at the dress, her expression softening with a mix of pride and concern.
“It’s lovely, sweetheart, but you’re right. You need to look your best if you’re going to that party.”
Dann frowns “But… I don’t have anything like that.”
Her mother thinks for a moment, before leaving the kitchen she smiles at her “Why don’t you go shopping? Find a nice pair of shoes and maybe some makeup. You deserve to feel special tonight.”
As Dann mulls over the idea, Mike enters the room, his usual air of confidence trailing behind him. Overhearing their conversation, he leans casually against the doorframe.
“Shopping for the party, Dann?” He asks, his tone dripping with feigned interest.
Dann straightens, clutching the dress tighter “I don’t have shoes or makeup, so I thought—”
“Perfect.” Mike pulls out his wallet, flipping through the neatly arranged bills and credit cards. He holds out a black credit card “Here. Get yourself something nice. Consider it a little thank-you for… being cooperative.”
Dann hesitates but eventually takes the card, murmuring a quiet “Thanks.”
Mike’s smirk widens “While you’re at it, I’ve been thinking. Wouldn’t it be amusing if Hongjoong accidentally ended up at the wrong address tonight?”
Dann’s brows furrow “What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know.” His tone is casual, but his eyes gleam with mischief “If YN’s little nerd showed up at the wrong place, it’d be quite the embarrassment. Don’t you think?”
Dann bites her lip “How would we even do that?”
Mike’s smirk sharpens “Simple. We just need YN’s phone. Once you’re back, we’ll figure out the details.”
Dann nods slowly, the plan settling uneasily in her mind. She doesn’t like deceiving Hongjoong, but the thought of disrupting YN’s perfect evening is too tempting to resist.
Later, at the shopping mall, Dann wanders through the perfume section, marveling at the elegant bottles and their enticing scents. She is about to make her selection when a familiar voice catches her attention.
Turning, she sees Hongjoong standing a few feet away, examining a cologne bottle. His brows furrowed in concentration as he sprayed a tester onto a card.
“Joong?” Dann calls, her voice carrying a hint of surprise.
He looks up, a smile breaking across his face “Dann? What are you doing here?”
“Just… shopping,” She says, holding up a small bag “You?”
“Same,” He says with a laugh “YN told me I needed to step up my game for tonight, so here I am.”
Dann’s mind races. This is her chance to plant the seed of doubt. She steps closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“By the way, did YN tell you about the venue change?”
Hongjoong blinks “Venue change? What are you talking about?”
“Oh,” Dann says, feigning surprise “I thought she’d have mentioned it. YN’s mother invited me to the celebration because I’ve been working for YN, so she told me earlier that Mike decided to move the party to that new place downtown, I'll send you the address, but she said something about Mike wanting a more modern vibe.”
Hongjoong frowns, confusion flickering across his face “Why didn’t YN tell me?”
Dann shrugs “She’s probably just busy with everything. You know how these rich people's events are—chaotic.”
He nods slowly, though uncertainty lingers in his expression “Yeah… maybe.”
Dann smiles sweetly, placing a hand on his arm “Don’t worry. Just show up at. You’ll be fine.”
As Dann walks away, a pang of guilt surfaces. But it’s quickly overshadowed by the thrill of watching the plan unfold.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
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All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.
More Posts from Beabatiny and Others
ATEEZ WRITERS IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, PLEASE WRITE A SERIES OR A ONE-SHOT ABOUT ANY OF THESE PHOTOS AND IF YOU DO PLEASE TAG ME!
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.
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
me typing out in every chapter that I hate any character that is just trying to ruin reader and hongjoong’s relationship isn’t enough…I need a weapon of massive destruction because what the fuck?!?
I’m not figuratively losing my mind. I am literally losing my mind. The more I read the worst it just gets like I need them to just talk and stop saying things to make things worse when you got three different people jumping to ruin your life.
I need reader and hongjoong to talk and make up, not just kiss or avoid cause I can’t. I already know that something else is gonna happen next chapter.
I enjoyed the chapter despite me losing my mind while reading it, keep up the amazing work! <3
Popular, Boy
☆09: The first heartbreak.
Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader
Genre: +18, smut, angst, slow burn, drama, dark academic, love triangle.
wc: 10k
Summary: Jealousy lingers, tension rises, and the distance grows. Words are left usnsaid, excuses pile up, emotions spiral pit of control, and one thing becomes clear...
Some things, once broken, can never be the same.
Warnings: Cursing, angst, insecurities, verbal fights, violence, Hongjoong being possessive, Seonghwa being an asshole, and Mike being Mike.
Series masterlist Taglist
☆08 ☆10: The first wound. Coming soon.
It’s been a week.
A week of Hongjoong treating you just the same. He still kisses you good morning when he sees you, still takes your hand in his like it belongs there, still calls you pretty in that soft, teasing tone that makes your stomach flutter.
And yet—
Every time you ask him to hang out after school, he gives you the same answer.
"I can't, I'm busy."
"Not today, maybe later."
"I'll make it up to you, pretty. I promise."
It’s starting to feel strange.
At first, you brushed it off. Hongjoong wasn’t the type to reject you. He’d always been eager to be around you, eager to do anything you wanted. But now, it’s been a whole week since you’ve spent any time alone after school.
And not just you—other people have noticed it too.
"Okay, what’s up with Hongjoong, babe?" Mindy asks as you walk down the hallway between classes.
You raise an eyebrow "What do you mean?"
Samantha gives you a look "He’s been all over you during school, but the second you ask him to do something after, he bails. That’s weird."
You tense, because that’s exactly what you’ve been thinking. But hearing someone else say it?
It makes your stomach twist.
"You don’t think…" Wooyoung hesitates beside you, lowering his voice "You don’t think the rumor is true, do you?"
You stop walking, slowly turn to face them.
"That’s ridiculous."
Sam shrugs "I mean… is it?"
Woo lifts his hands in surrender "We’re just saying, babydoll—if he really likes you, why does he keep avoiding you outside of school?"
Your grip on your bag tightens. Because you've been asking yourself the same thing.
If Hongjoong really just wanted to sleep with you and leave, then why does he still act like this?
Why does he still kiss you so sweetly?
Why does he still hold your hand like it means something?
Why does he still look at you like you’re the only thing that matters? And then avoid you the moment the bell rings?
You hate that this stupid rumor is getting to you. You hate that you’re even considering it.
But doubt has already settled into your chest like a cold, unwelcome weight. And you have a feeling it’s not going away anytime soon.
During lunch, you sit alone at your usual table, waiting for your friends and Hongjoong to join you after you skipped class.
The cafeteria is buzzing with noise when you feel someone slide into the seat beside you.
"You okay, sweetheart?"
You don’t need to look to know who it is.
Seonghwa.
You exhale sharply, eyes still glued to your untouched lunch.
"I'm fine."
"Well, you don’t look fine."
You finally turn your head to him. He’s giving you that soft, concerned expression—the one that used to mean something before you learned how easily he could lie through his teeth.
"I’m just tired, Hwa." You mutter.
Seonghwa hums, resting his chin on his palm "Is it because of Hongjoong?"
You tense "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
He chuckles, low and knowing "Come on, Clarke. People are talking. He’s all over you in school, but the moment you ask for his time, he disappears? That’s not normal."
You swallow the lump in your throat "He’s just busy."
Hwa tilts his head, studying you "And you believe that?"
A sharp breath escapes you "You know what, Park? You’re annoying as fuck."
He smirks "Maybe. But I’m also right."
You glare at him.
"You know," He continues, picking at a fry from your tray "For a second, I thought maybe that nerd really liked you. But now? I don’t know, doll. It kind of seems like he got what he wanted and dipped."
Your blood turns cold.
He leans in, voice just above a whisper "And if that’s the case… I hate to say it, baby, but you got played."
You shove your tray forward, standing so abruptly your chair screeches against the floor.
"Go fuck yourself, Seonghwa."
You don’t wait for his response before storming off.
But his words stick to you like poison.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The dining room is silent, except for the quiet clinking of silverware against porcelain plates. The long table is set perfectly, as always—white candles flickering, an expensive floral centerpiece in the middle, the warm glow of the chandelier above casting soft shadows across the polished wood.
You aren't really hungry.
Your mind is elsewhere, your appetite dulled by the same thought that’s been gnawing at you all day.
Hongjoong is avoiding you.
‘If he really likes you, why does he keep avoiding you outside of school?’
‘I hate to say it, babe, but you got played.’
Wooyoung’s and Seonghwa’s words echo in your mind like a curse, sinking into every doubt you tried to suppress.
"Sweetie," Your mother’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You look up, blinking, to find your mother watching you carefully over her wine glass "How’s Hongjoong?" She asks casually before taking a sip.
"He 's fine."
Your mother hums "He hasn’t come over in a while. I assumed you two were spending all your time together."
You force a smile "He’s just been busy."
At the other end of the table, Mike lets out a quiet chuckle.
Your entire body tenses, you don't have to look at him to feel the amusement radiating off of him.
"Busy?" Mike repeats, voice dripping with mockery "That’s an interesting choice of words."
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
Mike leans back in his chair, spinning his wine glass between his fingers lazily.
"I don’t know. Just seems odd, doesn’t it?" He glances at their mother “Hongjoong’s been practically obsessed with you, and now, after finally getting what he wanted, he’s suddenly too busy?"
Your grip on her fork tightens.
Why the fuck is everyone saying the same?
Assuming that Hongjoong will leave you after getting what he wanted… but what did he get?
Your attention, designer clothes, your heart, sex?
What?
"Mike," Your father warns, but there’s no real weight to it. He’s curious, too.
Mike smirks, tilting his head as he looks at you "It makes me wonder—was it really about you, or just about what you could give him?"
Your chest tightens. You hate that his words hit a nerve because you agreed to help Hongjoong become popular.
You told him you’d make him into someone that people would admire, someone who belonged at the top.
But now—things were different.
Hongjoong wasn’t just someone you were molding anymore. You were starting something real.
At least… you thought you were.
Mike watches you carefully, his smirk widening like he can see the doubt creeping into you.
"Don’t look so upset, YN. It’s nothing personal." He takes a slow sip of wine, then adds, "It’s just how people like him work."
You set the fork down with more force than necessary.
"People like him?"
He shrugs "Poor, desperate, climbers."
Your blood boils at the way he says it "Joong isn’t like that." You snap.
Mike raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your reaction.
"No?" He gestures toward you "Then why hasn’t he made time for you?"
You don't answer because you don't know. You want to believe that Hongjoong is just busy. That there’s an explanation for all of this.
But with Mike’s voice slithering into your head, twisting your insecurities like a knife, you feel something dangerous take root inside you…
Doubt.
✮ ⋆
The night air is crisp when you step onto the balcony outside your room. The estate’s vast garden stretches below, bathed in moonlight, but you barely notice.
Your mind is somewhere else.
Mike’s words still linger, pressing against your chest like a weight you can’t shake off.
You pull out your phone. Your thumb hovers over Hongjoong’s chat.
You want to ask. Where have you been? Why don’t you want to see me after school? But the words won’t come.
Instead, you type something simpler.
YN♡: Hey, are you awake?
It takes a minute before he replies.
Joongie♡: Yeah. What’s up, pretty?
You exhale. He answers your texts just as quickly as always. So why does it feel like something is wrong?
YN♡: I just wanted to talk with you.
A second later, your phone vibrates with an incoming call.
You hesitate—just for a moment—before answering.
“Hi, pretty.” Hongjoong’s voice is warm, soft. The way it always is when he talks to you.
You lean against the balcony railing, closing your eyes.
“Hi.”
“Why are you up so late?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
He chuckles “Touché.”
There’s a small pause, filled only by the sound of his breathing. Normally, you’d find it comforting. Tonight, it just makes the space between you feel bigger.
“You sure you’re okay?” He asks.
You could ask. You should ask. But something stops you.
Because if he lies—if he feeds you some excuse—you’re not sure you can handle it.
So instead, you say, “Yeah. Just couldn’t sleep.”
Hongjoong hums not convinced “Want me to tell you a bedtime story?”
You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips “What are you, my personal audiobook now?”
“Hey, I’d make a great one,” He teases “You could fall asleep to the sound of my voice every night.”
Your smile falters. He says things like this so easily. Like nothing’s wrong.
Like he’s not avoiding you.
You grip the phone tighter “Joong.”
“Yes, pretty?”
You open your mouth. Then—A distant voice echoes through the speaker. A girl’s voice.
“Kim, can you help me?!”
Your heart stops, fingers tighten around the phone as you process what you just heard.
He isn’t home.
He isn’t alone.
Your mind spins. It’s late—why is there a girl with him this late? Where is he?
Hongjoong’s voice comes back, a little hurried “Uh—yeah, give me a sec! YN?” He says, like he’s waiting for you to say something.
But you force yourself to sound normal “You should go.”
There’s a pause “Are you sure?”
You swallow past the lump in your throat “Yeah. Goodnight, Hongjoong.”
“…Goodnight, pretty.”
You hang up before you can second-guess it.
Your phone drops to your side, knuckles white as you grip it.
For the first time since the rumor started, you feel something snap inside you.
And this time… you don't know if you can ignore it.
✮ ⋆
Hongjoong puts his phone beside him, exhaling as he leans against the counter. His conversation with you lingers in his mind, the edge in your voice making his stomach twist. He hates lying to you.
But what other choice does he have?
As he grabs a clean glass, Jina, his coworker, walks up to the counter, wiping down a tray. Her long brown hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, her uniform slightly adjusted to fit her style.
She glances over at him, eyes flicking to his phone resting on the counter.
For a brief moment, she pauses. Then, she leans in a little closer, noticing the wallpaper on his phone—an image of a gorgeous girl. This girl looks effortlessly perfect, radiating confidence and beauty, the kind of girl who seems out of place in Hongjoong's world.
Hongjoong’s worn-out, baggy clothes, glasses and his simple, grounded life don't compare to the polished, glamorous figure staring back from his screen.
Jina raises an eyebrow, has she seen that girl before or is she mistaking her for someone else?
She shrugs, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips "Who's that?" She asks casually, her voice light, but there's a hint of curiosity.
Hongjoong tenses slightly, not expecting her to notice and not wanting to share his private life.
“She 's YN.”
Jina tilts her head slightly, the smirk on her lips not fading.
"YN, huh?" She repeats, swirling the rag in her hands before tossing it onto the tray "Didn’t take you for the type to go for a girl like that."
Hongjoong frowns, glancing at her "Like what?"
She shrugs, turning to grab a fresh glass from the shelf, her movements slow, deliberate.
"You know…" Her voice is laced with something unreadable, something almost amused. "The kind of girl who looks like she belongs in a magazine. All dolled up, walking like the world owes her something. The kind of girl who—" She pauses, tapping her nails against the glass before giving him a quick, sideways glance "—doesn’t usually go for guys like you."
His jaw clenches. He shouldn’t let it get to him, but the way she says it, like it’s a fact written in stone, makes his chest tighten.
"You don’t know her."
Jina hums, as if considering that, before flashing him a small, knowing smile
"Maybe. But I know her type."
Hongjoong doesn’t answer. He doesn’t trust himself too. Because deep down, buried under everything, isn’t that the same doubt that’s been creeping into his own thoughts?
That you are too good, too untouchable, too far from his reality?
Hongjoong frowns, not liking her tone “She’s not like that.”
Jina laughs under her breath, shaking her head “Come on, Kim. Girls like her don’t go for guys like you unless they’re bored.”
His grip on the glass tightens, a flicker of irritation sparking in his chest.
“Again, you don’t know her.”
“Maybe not,” Jina says again, feigning innocence as she picks up another tray, wiping it down slowly “But I do know how girls like that work. They play with people, keep them around as long as it’s entertaining, then drop them the second they get tired. It’s all just a game to them.”
Hongjoong exhales sharply, shaking his head “YN isn’t like that,” He insists, but there’s a tightness in his throat, a sliver of doubt trying to creep in.
Jina shrugs, unbothered “Is your girlfriend or why are you defending her so much?” She asks, a teasing lilt in her voice.
Hongjoong hesitates before answering "Not exactly," He admits, trying to keep it vague. "We're... something."
She snorts softly, setting the tray down with a thud "Something? Sounds complicated."
He shrugs, pretending not to care "It's not."
Jina steps a little closer, leaning her hip against the counter beside him.
"Let me guess," She says, crossing her arms and eyeing him carefully "She likes the idea of you, but not the reality of you. You know, the type that wants the thrill of the ‘nerd having a crush over a pretty girl’ fantasy but would never actually stick around once the excitement fades."
Hongjoong's frown deepens, his grip tightening slightly on the glass.
"That's not true, Jina." He says, his voice firm, but there's a subtle crack in his confidence.
Jina chuckles softly, looking back at the wallpaper one more time.
"I don't know," She says, tapping her finger against the counter "But from the looks of it, seems like the kind of girl who wouldn’t stick around for long. And guys like you, working here every day, still stuck in the same routine while she’s off in her perfect little world... Doesn't exactly scream 'serious relationship,' does it?"
His jaw tightens, the sting of her words settling deep inside him.
"It's not like that."
"Mmm." She hums again, unconvinced "Whatever you say, Kim. But if I were you, I'd be careful. Girls like YN? They love the idea of being with someone different—until they don’t. And when they’re done playing? They move on like you never existed."
Hongjoong swallows hard, trying to push down the creeping doubt. He doesn't believe that about you. He knows you care about him. But the nagging thought, planted by Jina's words, continues to worm its way into his mind.
Noticing his silence, Jina gives him one last look, her eyes flicking back to his phone screen.
"Well," She adds with a knowing smile "It looks like she's the kind of girl who's way out of your league. The relationship between a girl like her and a guy like you—it's almost a joke."
Hongjoong feels a flush of heat rise to his cheeks, but he quickly forces a chuckle, pretending her words don't affect him.
"You don't even know her." He mutters, trying to deflect.
Jina just shrugs with a smirk "I don't need to know her. I can tell for the way she looks." She tosses the cloth she was holding onto the counter and stretches, clearly pleased with herself.
"Anyway, you should let me know if you ever get tired of being her little experiment."
But there’s something knowing in her eyes, something unreadable in her smirk as she steps away, leaving Hongjoong alone with his thoughts.
And for the first time in a long time, he feels unsettled.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The school hallways buzz with energy, students laughing, gossiping, moving in clusters between classes. Hongjoong walks through the crowd, hands shoved into his pockets, his backpack hanging off one shoulder.
He’s exhausted—his body still adjusting to the extra hours at work, the sleepless nights, the weight of hiding it all from you.
But then, he sees you. And his exhaustion is momentarily forgotten.
You’re leaning against your locker, laughing, your head tilted slightly back. The kind of laugh that makes your eyes shine, the kind that used to be reserved for only him. But it’s not him making you laugh.
It 's Park Seonghwa.
He’s standing close—too close. One hand resting on the locker beside your head, his body angled toward you with that effortless confidence, like he knows he belongs there.
He says something, and you roll your eyes, but there’s a smirk on your lips, the kind that invites more teasing.
Hongjoong watches as Seonghwa reaches out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch lingers, casual yet intimate.
Familiar.
His stomach tightens. Jina’s voice echoes in his mind: ‘The kind of girl who doesn’t usually go for guys like you.’
He clenches his fists.
This isn’t new. This is how things were before—before he became anything more than the nerd who followed you around like a lost puppy. Before he touched you, kissed you, had you beneath him, whispering his name like he was your whole world.
But looking at you now, he wonders if anything really changed.
Seonghwa grins, tilting his head as he murmurs something in your ear, his lips dangerously close to your skin. You swat his arm, laughing again, but you don’t push him away.
Hongjoong swallows hard, his throat dry.
Maybe Jina is right.
Maybe you are too good for him.
Maybe you’re just playing with him—like Seonghwa, like everyone else in your world does.
He forces himself to look away, to keep walking, to pretend he doesn’t care. But the doubt, the insecurity, the awful, twisting feeling in his chest—it stays.
He should walk away.
He should ignore the way Seonghwa leans into you, the way his hand casually lingers on your waist like it belongs there, the way you smirk at whatever teasing remark he just made.
But he can’t.
Because it’s you.
And you’re his now.
So instead of walking away, Hongjoong turns on his heel and heads straight for you.
Hwa notices him first. His smirk widens, eyes gleaming with something almost amused. He doesn’t move, doesn’t put any distance between you and him.
If anything, he shifts, just slightly—making sure Hongjoong sees exactly how close he is to you.
Hongjoong’s clenches his jaw “Hey, pretty.” His voice is casual, but there’s a possessive edge beneath it.
He slips his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. It’s a bold move—one he wouldn’t have dared to make before—but now?
Now, he needs to make sure Park Seonnghwa knows.
Your eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t pull away. Instead, a slow smile tugs at your lips as you glance up at him.
“Hey, Joong.”
Hongjoong presses a quick kiss to your temple, locking eyes with Seonghwa as he does it.
Hwa raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained “Well, well. Someone’s feeling brave today.”
You sigh, placing a hand on Hongjoong’s chest before this turns into something annoying.
“Stop it, Hwa.”
“What? I’m just saying.” Seonghwa tilts his head, pretending to examine Hongjoong “Didn’t know you had it in you, nerd. Guess I underestimated you.”
Hongjoong keeps his expression blank, but his grip on you tightens.
“Guess you did.”
For a moment, the tension lingers—Seonghwa’s smirk unwavering, Hongjoong standing his ground, you caught between the two of them.
And then Seonghwa just laughs. He claps Hongjoong’s shoulder like they’re best friends.
“Relax, man. I’m just messing with you.” He glances at you, his grin turning softer, more genuine “She’s all yours… for now.”
Hongjoong stiffens at the last part, but before he can say anything, Seonghwa winks at you and strolls away, hands in his pockets like he owns the damn hallway.
You sigh “You’re so easy to tease, babe.”
He ignores that “You let him touch you too much.”
You smirk “Are you jealous, Joongie?”
He scoffs, pulling you closer “I don’t like when other guys act like that with you.”
Your heart skips a beat.
Fuck.
Before you can respond, a movement catches Hongjoong’s eye. Across the hallway, standing by the lockers, Dann watches.
She looks away quickly, but not before he catches the sadness flickering across her face. She’s not smirking, not plotting, not whispering to anyone. Just standing there, staring at him like she’s watching something slip away.
Hongjoong swallows hard, guilt stirring in his chest.
But then you pull him back to you, your fingers playing with the collar of his blazer like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and just like that—he forgets all about Dann.
He watches as you tilt your head up, a teasing smile playing on your lips.
“Are you jealous, Joongie?”
He should deny it. Act unbothered. Pretend Seonghwa’s hands on you didn’t make his blood boil.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist and leans in so his lips are just a breath away from yours.
“You’re mine, pretty.” He murmurs.
And then—he kisses you.
It’s not rushed or desperate, but there’s something firm about it, something that makes it clear to everyone watching that this isn’t just a game to him.
That you aren’t just some passing thrill like the stupid rumor says.
You hum against his lips, smiling as you kiss him back, your arms looping lazily around his neck.
And across the hallway, Dann watches.
Watches as you melt into him.
Watches as Hongjoong—her Joong, the one who used to only care about being popular, about her opinion, about their stupid, nerdy friendship—acts like nothing else matters except you.
Her hands curl into fists. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until the kiss ends and you laugh, pushing Hongjoong away playfully.
That’s when she looks down.
That’s when she finally walks away.
✮ ⋆
Later, at lunch. You poke at your salad, not really eating, watching Hongjoong as he scrolls through his phone between bites.
You should be enjoying this.
A week ago, you wouldn’t have even imagined having him beside you like this—sitting so close, stealing bites from your plate, his knee brushing against yours under the table.
But something feels… off.
Because you’re always with him—except when it matters.
You exhale, setting your fork down “Wanna do something after school?”
Hongjoong barely looks up “Can’t.”
You frown “Again?”
“I’ll make it up to you, pretty,” He says, flashing that sweet, nerdy smile that used to make you melt “Promise.”
You roll your eyes, unimpressed “That’s what you said yesterday.”
Hongjoong falters “I—”
“And the day before that, and last week.” You add, tilting your head.
He swallows, clearly guilty, but still, he doesn’t explain.
Just like always.
You huff, pushing your tray aside “Forget it.”
And this time, he doesn’t have a response.
Because you both know—this isn’t just about today.
This is becoming a routine.
And you’re starting to hate it.
✮ ⋆
That afternoon your house is rarely quiet.
Too quiet.
It’s late, and you’re curled up on the living room couch, a book in your hands—one Hongjoong recommended to you weeks ago. You never planned on reading it, but now that he’s been too busy to spend time with you, you find yourself clinging to the little things that remind you of him.
Mike is here too, sitting in one of the armchairs across from you, flipping through a book of his own. For a moment, there’s peace and not the constant bickering—just the soft rustle of pages turning.
Then, it shatters.
"Darling."
Your father’s sharp voice cuts through the air. You tense, lowering the book just as he strides into the room, his phone in hand. There’s something about the way he looks at you—cold, expectant, already disappointed—that makes your stomach tighten.
"You mind explaining this?" He holds up his phone "I just received a notification that you spent five hundred thousand dollars this month, again."
Your grip on the book tightens. Your heart pounds, but your face remains unreadable. You already know what this is about.
The money you sent to someone.
But you can’t tell him that.
So, you lie. Easily. Effortlessly.
"Clothes," You say, flipping a page in your book like this conversation is beneath you "I bought some pretty things."
Your father exhales sharply, his irritation evident. "YN—"
"I am YN Clarke, am I not?" You interrupt, looking up at him with a slow, sharp smile "It would be a disgrace if I didn't spend money like one."
Your father clenches his jaw "And I'm not complaining about you spending money, just try to use it for other purposes instead of buying clothes, you already have so many, Darling and—"
"Do I have to ask permission to spend it now?" You cut in, voice smooth but icy.
Your father glares at you. Then exhales, shaking his head like you’re hopeless. Like you’re not even worth the effort.
"You act just like your mother," He mutters under his breath.
And then—
Laughter.
Slow, cruel, mocking.
Mike leans against the couch, watching with amusement.
"That’s an insult to Mother," He says, a smirk curling his lips "At least she knows when to keep her mouth shut."
Your blood runs cold.
“Mike.” Your father warns him.
You can feel Mike’s eyes on you, waiting for a reaction.
But you won’t give him one.
Not now. Not ever.
So you lean back, pick up your book again, and turn the page like nothing ever happened.
But inside?
Inside, you are burning.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
You stare at your phone, fingers gripping it tightly.
No message. No call. Nothing.
Hongjoong hadn't shown up at school. Again.
The first time, he had at least texted you. But today? Silence.
You tried to ignore it. Pretend it didn’t bother you. But as the hours dragged on and your messages remained unread, irritation started brewing into something heavier—something that felt a lot like doubt.
By the time school ended, you had already made up your mind.
You got into your car and drove straight to his house.
Hongjoong was still asleep when the loud, persistent knocking dragged him out of unconsciousness.
He groans, rubbing his eyes as he reaches for his phone—only to realize it’s dead. The knocking comes again, more insistent this time.
Dragging himself out of bed, still half-dazed, he stumbles toward the door and cracks it open.
Then, he freezes.
You stand there, arms crossed, looking every bit like a queen ready to tear someone apart.
“Pretty?” His voice is groggy, confused.
You push past him into the house without waiting for an invitation.
“So you are alive,” You say flatly, glancing around the dimly lit room before turning to face him “Great. Now tell me why the hell you didn’t show up at school or bother to text me.”
Hongjoong runs a hand through his messy hair, still processing everything.
“My phone died,” He mutters “I— I was just really tired. I didn’t mean to—”
You scoff, cutting him off “Tired? That’s your excuse?”
He blinks “I mean… yeah?”
You let out a sharp laugh “Right. You were so tired that you just forgot I existed?”
His frown deepens “YN, it’s not like that—”
“Then what is it like?” You snap, stepping closer “Because lately, all you do is act sweet one second and avoid me the next.”
Hongjoong exhales, already feeling the weight of this conversation pressing down on him.
“I’m not avoiding you.”
You arch a brow “Then why haven’t we hung out in weeks? Why do you always say no when I ask you to do something? And why didn’t you at least tell me you weren’t coming to school today?”
Hongjoong clenches his jaw. He knows you are right. But the truth—the fact that he is drowning under stress, exhaustion, and the pressure of keeping his job a secret—feels too heavy to explain.
“I just have… a lot going on.” He mutters.
You fold your arms tighter “Oh, so you do have time for something. Just not for me.”
“That’s not fair, pretty…” He says, frustration creeping into his tone.
“Isn’t it?” Your voice is sharper now, hurt lacing every word “Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell looks like I was just some game to you.”
Hongjoong’s breath hitches “What?”
“Was that the plan all along? Get close to me, let me make you popular, and then just… pull away once you get what you wanted?”
His stomach twists “You don’t actually believe that rumor.”
“Then tell me what I’m supposed to believe, Hongjoong! Because I stood up for you. I risked my reputation for you. And now, when I finally feel like we are something, you start acting like this!”
He inhales sharply, his patience thinning “YN, not everything is about you!”
Silence.
The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Your expression barely changes, but he sees the way your fingers twitch, the way your lips pressed together—like you had just been slapped.
You let out a bitter laugh “Right.”
Hongjoong steps forward “I didn’t mean it like that, pretty. I just—”
“No, you’re right,” You cut him off, voice eerily calm “It’s not about me. Because if it were, you’d actually trust me enough to tell me what’s going on instead of shutting me out.”
He opened his mouth, but no words came.
Because you are right.
You shake your head, taking a step back “You know what? Forget it. I’m done begging for your time.”
Hongjoong panics, reaching for your wrist “Pretty, wait—”
You yank your arm away “Don’t.”
And for the first time, you are the one walking away. You don’t slam the door when you leave, you don’t need to.
The silence you leave behind is loud enough.
When you close your car door, you grab your cell phone and open the group chat with your close friends.
YN: Let's go to our club.
YN: Take whoever you want.
✮ ⋆
The music pulses through the club, a deep, rhythmic beat that vibrates through your bones. Neon lights flash in erratic patterns, casting the room in a kaleidoscope of colors.
You tilt your head back, allowing the intoxicating energy of the night to drown out the anger and frustration that had been eating at you all day.
Screw Hongjoong. Screw everything.
You sip your drink, the alcohol warming your throat as you lean against the plush VIP lounge. Wooyoung had come through, bringing some of his friends, including Seonghwa, who sits comfortably beside you, his usual smirk firmly in place.
“You look like you need this, babydoll.” Wooyoung says, nudging your side with a grin “Forget about that idiot for a night.”
You exhale sharply, taking another sip before raising your glass in mock celebration.
“Here’s to forgetting.”
The night wore on, and the drinks kept flowing. At some point, someone passed around a joint of weed, and without thinking, you took a hit of weed.
The world softened around the edges, the beats of the music sinking deeper into your bloodstream. You laughed, tilting your head back, your body loose, your worries fading.
Seonghwa watches you carefully from the corner of his eye, sipping his drink with calculated patience.
Then, as you giggle and lean into Wooyoung’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded, he pulls out his phone. With the quick flick of his fingers, he captured a short video—You laughing, pupils blown, and the telltale smoke curling from your lips. The joint is very visible to guess what it is about.
Perfect.
Discreetly, he sent the video to Dann, along with a simple message.
P.S: Show this to Mike. He’ll know what to do.
Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Hwa sat back, watching as you swayed to the music, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing just outside your high.
Tonight was only the beginning.
✮ ⋆
As you stumble into the mansion, the world around you feels hazy, a lingering effect of the alcohol and whatever else you had consumed at the club. Your heels click unevenly against the polished marble floor, your head spinning slightly as you make your way up the grand staircase.
It’s late. Very late. The entire house is silent, draped in shadows. You don't even bother being quiet—your parents never wait up for you, and the staff know better than to question your comings and goings.
But the moment you push open your bedroom door, you freeze.
A figure is already inside, lounging in the chair by the vanity, bathed in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.
Mike.
Your breath catches, stomach twisting into a knot. He’s sitting with one leg crossed over the other, his fingers lazily rolling a heavy silver ring around his knuckles. His face is unreadable, but the air in the room is thick—too thick.
You swallow hard “What the hell are you doing in my room?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he slowly lifts his phone, tilting the screen toward you. It takes a second for your vision to focus. But when it does, ice rushes through your veins.
A video. A familiar setting. The club.
You.
High out of your mind, swaying with Wooyoung and Mindy, laughing recklessly. Then the shot moves, revealing the moment you leaned back against a couch, head tipping back as you took a slow drag from a joint of weed someone had handed you.
Fuck, this is bad. Really bad.
Your pulse pounds in your ears.
Mike finally speaks, his voice deceptively calm “Tell me, YN.” He tilts his head slightly, eyes dark and unreadable “Do you think our parents would be proud to see their little daughter doing this?”
Your jaw clenches, your hands curling into fists “That’s none of your business.”
Mike exhales a soft chuckle, shaking his head “Oh, but it is. Because your mess becomes my mess.” He stands, taking slow, measured steps toward you.
“You’re already a failure for our family, and now this?” He gestures to the phone “How do you think they’d react if they saw their little girl ruining her reputation like this?”
You lift your chin, masking the flicker of fear in your chest.
“Like you care about my reputation.”
His smirk drops “You’re spiraling, YN.” His voice is sharper now, colder “All because of that pathetic little loser you latched onto. And look at you now—coming home looking like trash, acting like some cheap whore.”
You flinch, your nails digging into your palms “Shut up.”
But Mike isn’t finished. He steps closer, towering over her, his presence suffocating.
“You think you can just do whatever you want? That you can embarrass this family without consequences?”
“I said shut the fuck up, Mike.”
He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him “Or what?” His voice is dangerously low.
You glare at him, your body trembling with rage “Or I’ll—”
You don't get to finish.
The slap comes fast and brutal.
A sharp crack echoes through the room as your head snaps to the side. Pain explodes through your cheek, your vision blurring for a second. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth as your lip splits open, but it’s the dull, radiating ache in your cheek that stuns you.
Your breath shudders.
The rings. His heavy rings had cut deeper this time, the force of the blow enough to bruise instantly.
For a moment, silence blankets the room. You stare at the floor, breath ragged, your entire body stiff.
Mike exhales slowly, shaking out his hand as if the hit had been a mere inconvenience.
“Maybe that’ll knock some sense into you.”
You don’t move. Don’t speak. Don't let him see how much it hurts.
Because if you do, he wins.
After a moment, Mike scoffs “Fix yourself up.” He turns, walking toward the door “And stay in line, YN. You’re a fucking Clarke.”
With that, he leaves.
The door clicks shut.
Only then you allow yourself to breathe.
A shaky inhale. A trembling exhale.
Your fingers reach up, touching the stinging skin of your cheek.
And then—you laugh.
Soft.
Hollow.
Because if you don't laugh, you might start crying.
And you refuse to cry for him.
Not anymore.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The morning sun filters through your window, casting golden streaks across your sheets. You blink groggily, your head pounding from the remnants of last night. But it isn’t the hangover that makes you hesitate to move.
It 's the pain.
Your cheek throbs, the bruise deepening overnight. The gash on your lip is dry, cracked, and stings when you shift your mouth even slightly.
For a moment, you just lie there, staring at the ceiling.
You should stay in bed. Hide. Avoid everyone.
But you have an important exam today.
With a slow, careful movement, you push yourself up and drag yourself to the vanity. The moment you see your reflection, your stomach twists.
The bruise has settled into an ugly shade of deep purple and blue along your cheekbone, and the cut on your lip is impossible to ignore.
You swallow, your fingers tighten into fists before you reach for your makeup.
You layer on foundation, pressing it into the bruised skin despite the pain. But no matter how much you apply, the discoloration peeks through.
Frustrated, you grab a small adhesive bandage and place it over the worst part of your cheek, disguising it as a minor scrape. Your lip, however, is trickier. You settle for a dark shade of lipstick—anything to draw attention away from the damage.
Dressed immaculately as always, you grab your bag, sunglasses and head for the door.
Skipping breakfast is easy. Avoiding your parents? Even easier.
No one stops you as you leave.
The moment you step onto campus, all eyes are on you.
You walk with usual confidence, head high, stride controlled. But you can feel it—the way whispers ripple through the hall as students glance at the bandage on your cheek even under the sunglasses, at the way you don't quite meet anyone’s eyes.
Your friends rush to you the second you reach your locker.
"Babe, what the hell happened?" Mindy is the first to speak, her eyes wide with concern.
"Doll, did you get into a fight or something?" Another friend chimes in.
You force a small chuckle, flipping your hair over your shoulder.
"Relax, it's nothing. I tripped on the stairs at home. Hit my face on the railing like an idiot."
Some of them seem to accept it.
But Mindy doesn’t.
Her sharp eyes flick over your face, lingering on the bruise beneath the makeup, the tightness in her expression.
You know that look. Mindy isn’t buying it.
Still, she doesn’t press—not here, not in front of the others.
"Well, whoever built your staircase should be sued," Mindy jokes, trying to lighten the mood.
You force another laugh "Right? I should’ve gotten a warning sign."
The conversation moves on, shifting to gossip, plans for the weekend, anything but you. But Mindy stays close, watching you.
And from across the hall—so does Hongjoong.
He hadn’t expected to see you today after yesterday.
After your fight.
After you left, looking at him like he had broken something between them.
But here you are. And something is wrong.
Even from a distance, he can tell.
You’re quieter, your movements more controlled than usual, like you’re holding something in. And the moment he notices the bandage on your cheek, his stomach twists.
What happened to you?
Was it because of yesterday’s fight?
Did someone—
His jaw clenches, his fingers curling into fists.
He wants to go to you. Ask. Demand answers. But after everything that happened, after the things they said to each other, he hesitates.
He’s the last person you want to see right now.
So he stays where he is, watching as you disappear down the hall with your friends. Watching, and worrying.
During lunch, the room is buzzing with its usual chaotic energy, the clatter of trays and chatter filling the air. You sit at the far end of the table, Mindy by your side, but she can tell you’re not really there.
Your eyes stay trained on the empty space in front of you, your fork poking listlessly at the food.
Mindy is the one to notice him first. Hongjoong stands a few feet away, looking like he's about to approach, but frozen by the tension in the air. He shifts from foot to foot, glancing between you and your friend, obviously unsure of what to do.
Your gaze flicks to him, but you quickly look away, jaw tightening. You’re not in the mood for this, not today.
Hongjoong takes a few tentative steps forward "Hey," He starts, his voice almost too soft, like he’s testing the waters "I... I just wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened yesterday."
You don't meet his eyes. Instead, you pick at your food, pretending to be absorbed in it, but the tension around you is palpable.
He steps closer, a mix of concern and regret pulling at his features "I didn’t mean to hurt you. Whatever I said... I didn’t mean it." His voice cracks slightly on the last word, the guilt obvious "I just—"
"You don’t get it, do you?" You cut him off, voice sharp, though it trembles at the edges. Your hands fist into the napkin on your lap "You can apologize all you want, but nothing will change and you know it."
Your eyes flick to him, but it’s fleeting. You can’t bring yourself to look at him for long.
Mindy watches the exchange with a raised brow, her own discomfort starting to show. She leans in.
"Maybe we should just go...?"
Before Hongjoong can respond, you stand up abruptly, pushing the chair back with a sharp scrape.
"Get lost, nerd." You mutter, voice quiet but resolute.
Without another word, you grab your bag and start walking toward the door. Mindy follows closely behind, glancing at him with a small shake of her head, a silent apology.
Hongjoong watches them leave, his heart sinking. His fingers curl into fists, frustration and confusion surging through him. But you are already out of reach, disappearing down the hallway toward the bathroom.
The bathroom door swings shut behind them with a soft thud, and you lean against the sink, hands gripping the edge. Mindy follows you in, glancing around briefly before her eyes settle on you.
"Okay, babe. Spill it," Mindy demands, arms crossed "What the hell happened between you two?”
You sigh, a deep exhale that feels like it comes from the very core of you. You look at her reflection in the mirror.
"We had a fight yesterday." You pause, fingers running over the bandage on your cheek "I’m tired of this routine.."
Mindy raises an eyebrow "I thought you were already dating.”
You press your lips together, your gaze flicking to the floor "We’re not… at least not yet.”
Mindy softens, her arms uncrossing as she approaches you "Babe—"
“Don't want to talk about it.” You cut her off as you search for your lipstick in your purse.
Mindy chews on her lip for a moment before nodding, though the uncertainty in her expression doesn’t fade.
"Okay, then let me remind you that you’re a terrible liar, babe.” She changes the topic and internally you appreciate it.
You roll your eyes, fixing your lipstick in the mirror “Excuse me?”
Mindy folds her arms “The stairs, YN? Really?”
Fuck, you thought she wouldn’t say anything about it.
You click your lipstick shut “It’s the truth.”
“Bullshit. I know you more than anyone.” Mindy steps closer, voice lower, serious “Tell me what really happened.”
You hesitate. Just for a second.
But you can’t tell her, so you do what you do best.
You smirk, tossing your lipstick into your bag “Why are you so dramatic, babe? I told you, I tripped.”
Mindy doesn’t look away “Was it Mike?”
Just for a second. You freeze.
But Mindy catches it, and for the first time, you feel something dangerous creeping up your throat. Not anger. Not annoyance.
Something far worse.
Something close to tears.
So you swallow it down, just like you always do.
You smile, perfect and unbothered “Of course not.”
And you walk out before Mindy can say another word.
✮ ⋆
The rest of the day is a blur. You move through the halls like a ghost, your usual presence dimmed. People notice, but no one dares to question you beyond whispers.
By the time the final bell rings, you feel exhausted—not just physically, but mentally. You don't want to go home. Don’t want to face Mike. Don’t want to face your parents and worry them with your wounds.
So, instead, you linger.
You head to the rooftop, where few people ever go at this hour. The cool breeze feels good against your burning skin, and for a moment, you close your eyes, letting yourself breathe.
But you aren't alone for long.
Footsteps.
Slow. Measured.
You know who it is before you even turn around.
Seonghwa.
Of course.
“Skipping your driver today?” He teases, coming to stand beside you.
You don't respond. You just watch the sky, waiting for him to leave.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he studies you—the bandage, the quietness.
“You look like shit.”
“Charming,” You mutter.
Hwa leans against the railing, crossing his arms “What happened?”
“Tripped.”
“Try again.”
You glare at him “Not in the mood, Seonghwa.”
He hums, unconvinced “I’ll take a wild guess. Mike?”
Your grip tightens on the railing.
Seonghwa watches, eyes sharp “You know, if you need help—”
“I don’t.”
A beat of silence.
“Fine.” Hwa sighs dramatically “But at least make it worth my time. If you’re going to suffer, at least be entertaining about it.”
You scoff, shaking your head “You’re sick.”
“You love it.”
For a second, they stand there, neither speaking.
Then Seonghwa says “Come out with us tonight.”
You look at him.
You consider saying no. You should say no. But the idea of drinking, forgetting—even for a few hours—is too tempting.
So you nod.
And Seonghwa grins “Good girl.”
✮ ⋆
Wooyoung is not in the mood for this conversation.
He's sitting in the cafeteria, scrolling through his phone, pretending he’s not listening to Seonghwa ramble beside him.
The tension in their circle has been suffocating ever since the rumor and little Hongjoong avoiding you—he knows everyone feels it.
And now, of course, Seonghwa is trying to stir the pot.
Woo sighs, setting his phone down "No."
Hwa blinks, then lets out a short laugh, like Wooyoung just said something ridiculous.
"No?"
"Yeah. No," Wooyoung repeats, leaning back in his seat "Why the hell would I invite Hongjoong?"
Park smirks "Because it’ll be fun."
"It won’t be fun for YN."
"And?" Hwa tilts his head, as if that is irrelevant "Come on, Wooyoung. They’re not even fighting, they’re just—what’s the word? Avoiding each other. So let’s fix it."
Woo gives him a dry look "Since when do you fix things?"
Seonghwa grins "Since it benefits me."
Wooyoung knows this is a bad idea. He knows it in his bones. You are already in a bad place, and dragging Hongjoong into a club—with Seonghwa there? That’s just asking for more drama.
And yet, Seonghwa is persistent.
"Think about it," Hwa says, lazily stirring his drink with a straw "The nerd has been acting weird, hasn’t he? The whole disappearing act after school? The tension with YN?" He pauses, letting it sink in before adding, "A night out could be very interesting."
Woo exhales through his nose, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
"Hongjoong doesn’t even go to clubs," Wooyoung argues.
Hwa shrugs "That’s what you’re for."
Woo groans. He rubs his temple, already regretting everything.
"You owe me one," Seonghwa reminds him, a smug smile tugging at his lips.
Wooyoung swears under his breath "Fine, but if YN gets pissed, you're taking the blame."
Seonghwa just laughs, slapping his back "Relax, Jung. What’s the worst that could happen?"
Wooyoung gives him a flat look, and Seonghwa just winks.
And that is how you know shit is about to go down.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The club is already packed when they arrive.
Music pulses through the air, bass shaking the floor beneath their feet. Neon lights flash overhead, bathing the crowd in shifting shades of red, blue, and violet.
The smell of alcohol, perfume, and sweat lingers in the air, a dizzying mix that makes everything feel a little more reckless.
You step inside first, dressed to kill. Your usual effortless confidence is back in full force, like armor you wear to keep the world at bay. You ignore the way people turn to stare—some in admiration, some in jealousy.
Tonight, you don't want to think about Mike.
You don't want to think about the bruises hidden under your makeup.
You don't want to think about Hongjoong.
You just want to forget.
And for the first few minutes, you do.
Your friends pull you onto the dance floor, and for a while, everything is a blur of movement, music, and laughter. San and Mingi keep close, making sure you don't get too lost in the chaos, but actually you don't mind.
Then Seonghwa shows up at your side, sliding an arm around your waist.
“You look dangerous tonight, baby.” He murmurs into her ear, voice rich with amusement.
You smirk, tossing your hair over your shoulder “Always.”
Hwa’s lips curl into a knowing grin “Then let’s dance.”
Meanwhile Hongjoong hadn't planned to be here. He had ignored Wooyoung's first few messages inviting him out, but when he found out that you were going, something inside him told him to show up.
And now, standing near the bar, his jaw clenched as he watches you, he realizes how much of a mistake this was. He is there, regretting his life choices.
He knew he shouldn’t have come.
The second he stepped into the club, he felt like an outsider—like he didn’t belong in this world. The music is too loud, the lights too disorienting. He’s never liked clubs. Never liked the forced energy of it all.
But here he is.
And the reason for that is standing in the middle of the dance floor, looking like a fucking dream.
You.
His stomach tightens at the sight of you—his girl, glowing under the flashing lights, swaying to the music like you were made for it. But you’re not alone.
Park Seonghwa is with you.
And he’s touching you.
Hongjoong’s jaw clenches.
You don’t push him away, you don’t even seem bothered by it. Instead, you tilt your head back, laughing at something Seonghwa says, eyes half-lidded, lips parted just enough to make something ugly coil in Hongjoong’s chest.
He doesn’t know what the hell he’s feeling, but it’s not good.
Something dark. Something possessive.
He forces himself to look away, gripping the drink Mindy shoved into his hand. He takes a sip, barely registering the taste.
"Didn’t think this was your scene, Joong." Mindy remarks, appearing beside him.
Hongjoong exhales slowly, forcing himself to relax "It’s not."
Samantha hums "Then why are you here?"
He doesn’t answer, but they know why.
And that is when shit gets worse.
Because Seonghwa, the bastard that he is, suddenly turns his head, meeting Hongjoong’s gaze across the club.
And he smirks. A slow, taunting smirk.
Then, keeping his eyes on Hongjoong, Hwa leans in closer to you, whispering something in your ear. His hand slides down your back, fingers teasing the hem of your mini dress.
Hongjoong’s grip tightens around his glass.
He’s going to fucking kill him.
✮ ⋆
You aren't drunk—not yet—but there’s a pleasant warmth buzzing in your veins, making it easier to laugh at Seonghwa’s jokes, to let his hand rest on your waist, to let yourself forget about the weight in your chest.
Because when you drink, you don't think.
And right now, you don't want to think about Hongjoong.
But apparently, the universe has other plans.
Because when you tilt your head back to sip your drink, your eyes flicker across the crowd—
And there he is. Standing a few feet away, stiff as a board, his jaw clenched so tight you can see the tension from here.
And worse—he’s staring right at you.
What is he doing here?
You exhale sharply, dragging a hand through your hair, trying to push down the irritation bubbling up. But before you can even decide what to do, Hongjoong is already moving.
Straight towards you.
Seonghwa notices first, of course. His lips curl into a slow smirk, clearly enjoying this, because he lives for chaos.
“Ah, the nerd finally made it,” He muses, taking a lazy sip of his drink “Took you long enough.”
You tense as Hongjoong stops in front of you, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—his eyes are dark, stormy, swirling with something you can’t quite name.
“Get your hands off her.”
His voice isn’t loud, but it cuts through the music, the air between them suddenly thick with tension.
You blink... The fuck?
Seonghwa chuckles, clearly amused, but he doesn’t move his hand from your waist.
“Relax, man. We’re just talking.”
“That’s not what it looks like.” Hongjoong’s fists curl at his sides, and his voice drops lower “I said, get your hands off her.”
The possessiveness in his tone sends a shiver down your spine—because Hongjoong has never spoken like this before. Never had this sharp edge to him.
Hwa tilts his head, looking far too entertained “And if I don’t?”
You groan, already tired of this “Both of you, stop it.”
You push Seonghwa’s hand away yourself, stepping between them before this escalates further.
“What the hell is your problem, Hongjoong?”
“My problem?” He scoffs, his frustration finally boiling over “Are you serious, YN? You’ve been all over him all night!”
You cross your arms “Oh, so now you care what I do after ignoring me for weeks?”
“I haven’t been ignoring you.”
You let out a sharp, humorless laugh “Really? Because every time I ask you to hang out, you have some excuse. Every single time.”
Hongjoong clenches his jaw, shifting uncomfortably. He wants to tell her the truth—about his job, about why he’s been avoiding her after school—but something holds him back.
And then—Seonghwa just has to add fuel to the fire “Maybe he just doesn’t want to spend time with you, baby.”
You stiffen, and Hongjoong snaps.
His glare cuts straight to the tallest “You don’t get to talk about us like you know anything.”
Seonghwa shrugs, smirking “I don’t need to. It’s obvious, isn’t it? One minute, YN’s your whole world, and the next? You’re running away.” He clicks his tongue “I’d be pissed too, if I were her.”
Hongjoong turns back to you, desperate now, he softly grabs your wrist.
"Come with me."
"What the hell—"
"Now." He snaps, dragging you out of the packed dance floor and into a dimly lit hallway near the bathrooms.
You yank your arm away once they stop "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
“I’m not running away, It’s not like that, pretty.”
You shake your head “Then what is it like, Kim? Because I’m sick of feeling like I don’t matter to you the second school ends.”
“You do matter to me,” He insists, his hands twitching like he wants to reach for you, but something stops him “I just—”
“Just what?”
And then—he blurts it out “I’m not the one all over another guy, YN.”
The words are bitter, sharp, dripping with jealousy.
You inhale sharply, eyes widening.
Hongjoong’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his emotions a mess—anger, jealousy, frustration, all tangled up.
Your lips part, but for once—you don't know what to say.
And for a moment, you just stand there.
Staring at each other.
Two stubborn storms on the verge of collision.
And neither of you willing to back down.
His words linger between you, and it stings in a way you weren't expecting.
Because he 's wrong.
And yet, you can’t deny that Seonghwa complicates things.
“Well,” You muses, swirling the drink in your hand like this is just another game to you “If you’re so bothered, why don’t you do something about it, nerd?”
He knows you are playing with him right now, but Hongjoong—Hongjoong is already on edge, already fueled by emotions he doesn’t know how to handle, and your words only push him further.
And before you can stop him, he does something about it.
He grabs your waist, pulling you to him—not rough, not aggressive, but firm.
It’s possessive.
And before you can process it his lips are on yours.
It’s not careful. Not gentle.
It’s desperate.
It’s frustration, jealousy, and something deeper, something neither of you have put into words yet.
And the worst part?
You melt into it.
Because for all of Hongjoong’s insecurities, for all of his awkwardness, he kisses you like he means it.
Like he needs you.
Like you’re his and his alone.
And for a brief, dizzying moment, you let yourself believe it.
When you break apart, Hongjoong’s breathing is uneven, his grip on your waist still lingering.
And that’s when reality crashes back in.
Because this kiss doesn’t fix anything.
It doesn’t erase the distance between you.
Or the secrets he’s still keeping.
And the realization twists something ugly inside of you.
You push him away slightly, your frustration boiling over “I don’t get you, Hongjoong,” You bite out, taking a step closer, your eyes narrowing “You act like you care, like you want to be with me, but when it actually matters—when I need you, when I want to be with you—you push me away!”
Hongjoong opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off, your voice rising.
“Why don’t you just admit it, huh?” You sneer. “You fuck with me because you know I’m popular, right? You just want that—to be seen with the girl everyone knows—so you can brag about it to your friends and tell them you’re the one who’s got me.”
His expression falters, and for a moment, you think you see a flicker of guilt or disbelief in his eyes.
But you don’t care.
“You don’t actually give a damn about me, do you?” You spit out “You just want the status, the validation. I’m just another trophy to you.”
Hongjoong’s face hardens, his hands curling into fists "YN, stop."
You let out a bitter laugh "Why? Because you don’t want to hear the truth?"
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his expression.
"That’s not the truth," He says, his voice lower now, more controlled "You think I care about that? About popularity? I told you that day at the amusement park, I did it just because I want to be with you. I don’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks—I just want you."
You shake your head, crossing your arms "Bullshit."
"It’s not bullshit," Hongjoong steps closer, eyes locked onto yours "I like you, YN. I really like you. And I don’t care if you’re popular or if the whole school hates you—I’d still feel the same way."
You swallow hard, but the ache in your chest doesn’t go away. His words sound good.
Too good.
"If that’s true," You murmur, looking away, "Then why do you keep avoiding me?”
Hongjoong looks pained, like he wants to tell you something but can’t.
"It’s not like that, I—"
"Then what is it like?" You demand, voice cracking "Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re only with me when it’s convenient for you."
"I would do anything for you. Anything, YN. But you won’t even let me prove it."
You inhale sharply, feeling your resolve shake for just a second. But then you remember the countless times he’s avoided you, dodged your calls, made excuses.
And you shake your head "I don’t believe you."
His face drops "YN…"
"No," You cut him off, stepping back "If you really meant that, you wouldn’t keep making me feel like I’m not enough."
Hongjoong stares at you, chest rising and falling like he’s struggling to find the right words, but whatever he wants to say—it’s too late.
Because you’re already turning around, walking away before he can break your heart even more.
He stands there, watching you disappear into the flashing lights and the haze of smoke, feeling you slip even further away.
And just a few feet away, hidden among the crowd—From the shadows, Seonghwa leans against the wall, watching the entire exchange with an amused smirk.
Everything is going exactly as planned.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
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𓇼 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐣𝐢𝐮𝐧𝐠 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Dawn - @luvkyu bf!jiung x male!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Full Of You(r Love) - @sxfterhearts non-idol!jiung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Last Minute Nerves - @loveji non-idol!jiung x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Love Shot - @lixiesfreckless cupid!jiung x succubus!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Sunday Morning - @moonhoures non-idol!jiung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Telekinesis - @wispyxjae bf!producer!jiung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐤 𓇼 𓆞 1:18am - @wispyxjae dom!intak x reader (headcanon) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Driving Force - @blue-jisungs idol!intak x reader (thoughts) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 I Want It To Be Real Too - @soubeomies non-idol!intak x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 On Set - @/hrts4kyo idol!intak x staff!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Untitled - @sxfterhearts bf!intak x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Untitled - @yyawnjun bf!intak x reader (prompt) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐚 (𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥) 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Animal Crossing And Alien Noises - @mini-mews idol!soul x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Being In Love With Soul ♡ - @kissoulie idol!soul x reader (scenarios) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Summer Fun - @bunnysblogs non-idol!soul x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Untitled - @slytherinshua bf!soul x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Untitled - @/sminiac bf!soul x reader (headcanon) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Untitled - @zeroseuniverse idol!soul x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐛 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 #69A0FF - @hanibalistic non-idol!jongseob x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 And They Were Roommates - @random-potat idol!jongseob x idol!reader (smau series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Captured - @jina1028 non-idol!jongseob x older!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Is This Okay? - @dprvivi bf!jongseob x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Jongseob As Your Coffee Shop Crush!! - @/xdinaryvamp artist!jongseob × student!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Loaded And Devoted - @sxtvrns rich!bf!jongseob x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸
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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some secrets you say? 👀
| 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 | Chapter Three
Ot8!Mafia!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: None (If I forgot any, don’t be afraid to tell me!)
Amazing Tags: @n0v4t33z @potatomountain for the inspiration
WC: 2k
Nets: @othersideoutlawsnetwork
Tags: @xomakara @jedi-dreea @beabatiny @ateezaddict24 @spenceatiny18 @18fernanda @prodsh00ky @evercodeee @yizhou-time @smally97 @eshia-16 @daniela-f-uwu u @peachyy-joonie @butterfliesinthenightsky @dassmyname @unlikelysublimekryptonite @dollinno @stay-tiny-things @joongscheese @misskarynie @monstacheol @yeosangcutie0615 @mariaa @pinuspot @amphiroxx @kitten4sannie (MOTIVATION THANK YOU) tags to be continued.
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Days had passed since Y/N was captured. Each day felt like a year being passed, it was agonizing. She wasn’t allowed to leave her room since she tried to escape her first day. She had visitors, mainly Hongjoong. Who she’s come to slowly trust but was still afraid of him.
Hongjoong was a nice man, genuinely. His exterior was soft and he behaved tough with his members but he took care of Y/N so well. He’d brush her hair, calm her down if she had a breakdown.
Just as he was doing now.
“Sh, sh, beautiful. Don’t waste those tears on that beautiful face of yours.” Hongjoong’s fingers were quick to wipe away her tears, “I know you don’t want to be here but it has to be this way. We don’t play about our money. Or being backstabbed.”
Y/N looked at him with tear stained eyes, “I know..I’m just, I’m just scared, Mr Hongjoong. Your people scare me.”
He let out a small chortle, “Oh, beautiful.” A small tut left his mouth, “My men are ruthless, I trained them to be that way but I did however, tell them to treat you gently. Cannot allow our only leverage to be damaged.” No one would believe the amount of times their leverage was killed and they never got their revenge. Or money.
That was Wooyoung's fault last time. He was of course punished accordingly in more ways than one (he liked his punishment so it was useless in the end.)
The tired girl nodded as she let Hongjoong pull her close, his embrace was warm and inviting.
“Come now, let’s get you some food.”
Y/N allowed him to gently walk her down the hallway and down a lavish staircase. It led into what she assumed was the grand entrance, but it was heavily guarded and maids were fluttering around, cleaning every corner.
“Kitchen is this way. However I’d advise you not to touch anything until I tell you so. Wooyoung is particular about his kitchen.” Hongjoong pressed his hand against her lower back as he ushered her into the said room.
“Hongjoong is that you?” A voice called out followed by clattering dishes.
“Yeah it’s me, come here, Woo. Want you to meet someone.” With those words, Wooyoung set down his dish and turned around.
A beautiful man was revealed. Was everyone in this house so strikingly handsome? Wooyoung grinned at the newcomer, thoughts already plaguing his mind, “Mm, is this the pretty girl I’ve heard so much about?”
Y/N looked away, all flustered, not used to such compliments or this many at all.
“Wooyoung. Don’t. But yes, this is the shitheads daughter. She’s our leverage till he comes out of hiding.” Hongjoong’s voice only had a moment of authority, shortly returning to a softer tone.
“Oh, okay, well. Can we keep her?” Wooyoung grinned and stepped closer, quickly pushing his leader's buttons.
Y/N stepped behind Hongjoong to avoid the gaze of the man. She wasn’t afraid but his grin was quite compelling, as if to lead her into seduction. It was definitely working. His long hair was stunning and his nose, so damn majestic.
Hongjoong could hear her every thought and he couldn’t help but shake his head, “I swear, between the two of you- you know what, never mind. Anyway, Wooyoung. I have a job for you.”
Wooyoung immediately turned serious, “Yes, sir?”
“I need you to find out more about her father. We need to pinpoint secret hiding locations. Places he’d think we’d never check. If you can, take Y/N to the city and have her show you places. But don’t let her out of your eyesight,” Hongjoong then stepped forward and grabbed Wooyoung’s shoulder, “and don’t do anything stupid. Don’t even try to flirt your way into her pants.”
“Fine, captain.”
“Good, now get ready to go. I have an arms dealer to meet with.” Hongjoong quickly left Y/N to Wooyoung’s devices.
Oh boy, this was gonna be a train wreck.
—
“Ah, ah, slow down little Princess. I was told to keep an eye on you.” Wooyoung scoffed as he tried to chase after the girl. She wasn’t trying to escape, no, she was trying to find her father so she didn’t have to go back.
As she swung the corner to a deli, eagerly looking inside for her father. He was nowhere to be seen. Of course he wasn’t.
He always did this. He ran from his problems and even now, he abandoned his own daughter. Y/N felt lost, betrayed, heartbroken even.
Wooyoung finally caught up to her, “What are you- oh. He’s not here is he?” Wooyoung could feel her disappointment and sheer sadness. He almost felt bad but then again, you don’t fuck with ateez, “Hey, listen. This just means you get to hang out some more with me.” He tried to lighten up her mood but it only made it worse and she broke down.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Wooyoung panicked and lifted her off the ground, “Shit, I’m so sorry, please do not cry.”
Y/N shoved him away but that only angered him. He was trying to be nice and help her.
“Fine, be that way but you’re still going back to the manor.” Wooyoung let her arm go and called Hongjoong, “She’s done being outside for the day, we are coming back, sir.”
Y/N protested as she was flipped onto the man’s shoulder, “Let me go!” Bystanders watched but did nothing.
They knew better not to interfere.
Y/N sobbed in defeat as she pounded onto his back, trying her damndest to get away.
Wooyoung did feel only just tad bad about treating her this way but they need her to find her father. Sure, they could just let it go but then it would set an example for others that they could get away with betraying the group. Wooyoung knew Hongjoong’s ego wouldn’t let that fly. Ever.
“Y/N, please stop flailing around. I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was soft spoken, showing he meant his words. Wooyoung truly didn’t want to hurt her.
Wait.
He had an idea. Maybe ice cream would cheer her up.
What an idiot, he really thought that was gonna solve these issues? He truly forgot what humans were like.
“If you stop smacking my back, I will take you somewhere for a bit and we won’t have to go back to the manor right away.” That seemed to calm Y/N down, only for her to question him.
“What..do you mean?” Her arms came at a rest on his back as she turned to look at the back of his head. Only for him to set the girl down.
“Ateez owns a few regular businesses, so I’m gonna take you to one, maybe get you some ice cream. How does that sound?” Wooyoung tried to console her, reaching to wipe away stray tears. His polished nails caught her eye. Another beautiful trait of his.
“Okay.. that actually sounds good.” Y/N did truly miss her everyday things, maybe ice cream could numb the pain for a moment.
She hoped so.
—
The parlor was near empty, not many patrons but the ones that were there kind of spooked her.
The parlor was bright in color on the inside, just a few tables and one employee around. That person even scared her. They were covered in tattoos from the neck down as far as she could tell. Why would anyone get ice cream here? Why would a mafia own an ice cream shop to begin with?
“Hello, Mr. Jung, it’s good to see you.” The employee behind the counter smiled, immediately greeting Wooyoung, “Are you getting your usual today?” They were quick to start scooping a green ice cream, presumably either mint or pistachio.
“No, actually I’m here to get something for Miss Y/N, think you can whip up some fresh ice cream?” Wooyoung walked the girl to the counter, her head hung low however.
“Yes sir, I can do that. What would you like, Miss?”
Y/N looked up, all shy like, “Um, can I have neopolitan?” She wasn’t sure what flavor she wanted so she went for something basic.
Once the ice cream was handed to her, Wooyoung brought her over to a corner to relax, “So, Y/N, why don’t you tell me about yourself. I can answer some questions if you’d like as well.”
Y/N picked at the melting cream, “Uh, yeah sure. What did you want to know?”
“Well, can you tell me how your father got you into this mess? Why he ran from us?” Wooyoung became serious, yet was still calm.
“I mean, my mom died a few years ago and we received her life insurance money after that. It was about two hundred thousand dollars I think.” Y/N picked at her ice cream some more before pushing it away, “I never got to see it. My dad I guess, in his grief began gambling. A weird way to cope in my opinion. But, he eventually gambled away their shared savings and her life insurance money. He’s evaded loan sharks and debt collectors for a while. I don’t know how he still has the house, it’s in poor condition anyway.”
Wooyoung continued to listen intently, taking notes.
“He eventually started stealing my savings and such, my rent money also. I have my own place and my own car but he’s still taken things from me.” She hated her father and every ounce of his being, yet she still cared, “That day you guys kidnapped me, was the day he took the last of my money I had. Then he disappeared I guess.”
“I see..” Wooyoung hummed in response, “Well, I’m sorry to say, you’re stuck with us until we find him. But don’t worry, you won’t be stuck in a cell. Well, unless you piss off Hongjoong.” Even though he tried to make her laugh, it didn’t work anyway.
“So what do you want to know about me?”
Y/N shrugged, “I’m not sure I really want to know anything. I don’t want to know things I shouldn’t and potentially be killed.”
Wooyoung laughed before he spoke, “Y/N. I’m not going to kill you. But if you have no questions then. That’s fine. Are you done with your ice cream?”
“Yeah, I am.” Even though she had barely touched it, it had already melted.
“I suppose we can head back then.”
—
“Head up to your room. I need to speak with Hongjoong.” Wooyoung ushered her away and made his way to his leader's office.
Three knocks to the wood and he walked in, “Hello captain. I’m sorry to say that we couldn’t find him in the places that we looked. However I got some more information on him.”
“Go on, Wooyoung. I don’t have all day.”
“Sorry sir. I have learned that Y/N’s father has evaded many loan sharks. Just like he has evaded us. It has me wondering if he has someone helping him. And we may need to look into it honestly.” Wooyoung didn’t like the look that appeared on Hongjoong’s face. It reminded him of something that happened in the past. Something he wasn’t ready to remember.
“He what?” A fire burned in his eyes that went deep. His fists clenched as he went to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Fine. He wants to be a coward and run from us. Little does he know he just fucked with a God.”
Wooyoung began to grin as he realized his old captain was coming back, “What are you planning for us, sir?”
“You know damn well what I have planned. Grab Yunho, I’m gonna need him to prepare a few things, notify Seonghwa as well. I’m gonna need him too. It’s time this fucker pays for abandoning a beauty and fucking with me.”
Y/N’s father had no idea just who he screwed over.
mingi randomly telling reader facts oh I would fold and the painting 🥹🥹🥹🥹
strangers by nature | viii
Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.5K Warnings: fluff, mentions of infidelity
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“You’ll need extensive physical therapy,” Dr. Jang said, flipping through his chart the day Mingi was to be discharged.
“Walking will be difficult at first. You’ll experience weakness, dizziness, and possibly some coordination issues.”
Mrs. Song let out a sharp breath, bringing a hand up to her mouth as if to stifle a gasp. Beside her, Mr. Song reached over and placed a firm, reassuring hand on her arm. They had known this was coming, yet hearing it aloud made it all the more real.
“We’ll have to make arrangements,” his mother replied. “Oh, if he’s going to struggle, we can have the physical therapist come to the house.”
“There’s no need,” Mingi rasped, glancing over at you. “Y/N can help me.”
The entire room fell silent.
Dr. Jang stopped mid-page, his eyes flickering up over his glasses. The nurse who had been taking discharge notes blinked so fast it was almost comical. Even Mr. Song, ever composed, arched an eyebrow in surprise.
“W-What? Me?” you stammered, pointing to yourself as if there had been some mistake.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like your help,” Mingi repeated, his voice steadier now, as if the decision had already been made in his mind. There was something almost… gentle in the way he looked at you.
You stared at him in disbelief. Mingi, the man who never wanted anything to do with you, was asking for your help?
“Mingi, are you sure?”
Mrs. Song was still staring at him like he had grown a second head. “But you always—” She hesitated, searching for the right words.
“You’ve never liked being…helped. You always insist on doing things yourself.”
Mingi exhaled, leaning back against the pillows, his fingers twitching slightly against the blanket. “I know,” he admitted. His voice was quiet, almost contemplative.
“But things are different now.”
And for some reason, the way he said it made it feel like he wasn’t just talking about his injury.
You pulled up to the entrance, cutting the engine before stepping out to grab Mingi’s crutches from the backseat. By now, the visits were becoming routine, but each time, it still struck you as surreal.
You turned to him, holding out the crutches. “Do you need anything else? I can grab a wheelchair if you want.”
Mingi shook his head. “No thanks, I’ve got it.”
Then, to your complete and utter bewilderment, he smiled—small, unguarded, but warm in a way you’d never quite seen before. The sight of it sent a strange flutter through your chest, something unfamiliar yet not entirely unwelcome.
Before you could process it, his hand brushed against your arm, a brief touch that sent a gentle warmth trailing in its wake. His fingers lingered just long enough to make you wonder if it was intentional before he gave your arm a light squeeze—as if he were telling you he’d see you soon.
It was fleeting, gone too soon, but the feeling remained, leaving you gripping the car door handle as if it were the only thing keeping you steady.
Mingi had never smiled at you before.
The whole drive home, you were lost in thought, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Confused didn’t even begin to cover it. Lately, everything about Mingi had been confusing.
At first, you thought you were imagining it. But then it became impossible to ignore.
It wasn’t just the way he looked at you now—like he was seeing you for the first time, rather than through you. It was how he acted. How he hovered.
He followed you around the penthouse like a puppy. If you turned around too quickly, he was there, standing just a few feet away. If you rounded a corner, you nearly crashed into him. It was like he was always waiting for something.
Waiting for you.
You could almost see it—the imaginary puppy ears perking up, the wagging tail swishing behind him, hoping you’d notice that he was there.
And as if that weren’t strange enough, he’d also become…talkative. Well, in his own way. Mingi had started initiating conversations with you through animal facts, seemingly random tidbits of knowledge he’d been holding in until they just slipped out.
“Did you know that vampire bats share their food with other vampire bats?”
“What?” You blinked at him, holding your fork mid bite.
“They, um…they regurgitate blood for bats that didn’t eat.” His voice was quiet and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if this was something you’d want to hear but hoped you might find it interesting.
You blinked at him, trying to decide if this was some kind of weird joke. But there was no teasing in his expression—just an earnest kind of hopefulness, like he wanted you to acknowledge his effort.
Like he wanted you to know he was trying.
“Oh…” You let out a small laugh, tilting your head at him. “Are you telling me I don’t eat enough?”
Mingi’s ears tinged pink as he gave a small, sheepish nod.
“Kind of…” he admitted, shifting awkwardly.
“I noticed that sometimes you skip meals when you’re busy or stressed.” His voice dropped slightly, almost as if he was embarrassed to say it aloud.
“It’s not good for you.”
Another instance, you were humming to yourself as you sorted through the laundry, tossing a few shirts into the washing machine. The penthouse was quiet, save for the whir of the dryer running in the background. You reached for the basket when—
“Did you know that wombats poop in cubes?”
You yelped, throwing your laundry into the air as you spun around. Mingi stood just a few feet away, wide-eyed, his hands hovering awkwardly in front of him like he wasn’t sure whether to help or apologize.
“Mingi!” you gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “You scared me!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled, shifting on his feet. “The sugar cubes you put in your tea reminded me of wombat poop for some reason.”
You shook your head as you stepped into the lift back to the penthouse. You weren’t sure how you felt about your husband’s newfound attitude. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful—Mingi had finally woken up, and that should have been enough.
The moment you kicked off your shoes in the foyer, Mrs. Ha, the chef, scurried over, her eyes darting between you and the hallway like she was still in the habit of speaking cautiously.
“Oh, Ms. Y/N!” she whispered urgently, clutching her apron. “How was he?”
You let out a sharp exhale, still trying to make sense of it yourself. “Weird,” you hissed, picking up your pace to match hers as you both hurried toward the kitchen.
“He smiled at me. And—” You hesitated for a second before lowering your voice. “He squeezed my arm.”
Mrs. Ha gasped so dramatically you thought she might faint. “No.” She shook her head as if refusing to believe it.
“I know,” you muttered, half-joking, but not really. “He used to pretend I didn't exist. Now he’s…” You trailed off, struggling to find the right word.
Warm? Inviting? Considerate?
It felt strange to say out loud, but stranger still that it might actually be true.
Mrs. Ha grabbed your wrist as if trying to steady herself, or maybe you. “Ms. Y/N,” she said gravely, “do you think he hit his head too hard?”
You swallowed, the thought lingering in your mind longer than it should. Mingi’s accident had been severe. He’d been unconscious for months and it was a miracle he woke up at all.
And yet, this wasn’t just waking up. This was different. The Mingi you knew had been cold, distant, cruel even. He never touched you unless absolutely necessary, never smiled at you unless it was laced with sarcasm or condescension. But today?
Today, he’d looked at you like he actually saw you.
Could head trauma really alter someone’s personality that drastically? Had the accident shaken something loose inside him?
“Can you believe he asked me about plants?” Yohan scoffed, handing you a cup of tea as you stepped into the kitchen.
“Mingi and plants.” He shook his head in disbelief, leaning against the counter. “I can’t believe he’s actually considering keeping something alive besides himself.”
You snorted, though the humor was short-lived. The shift in Mingi’s behavior was too drastic, too unnatural. You took a sip of your tea, the warmth doing little to ease the uncertainty. This new Mingi was too good to be true, and you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mingi’s kindness, his warmth—it didn’t make sense. Not when he had spent so long resenting you.
“This morning, he casually mentioned that zebras can’t sleep alone,” you murmured, tapping your fingers against the cup.
“Well he said he’s looking forward to dinner!” Mrs. Ha interjected.
“Three months ago, he barely spoke to anyone, including Y/N and now he’s making conversation?” Yohan shook his head, placing a hand on his hip.
“This is suspicious.”
No one wanted to say it out loud, but you all felt the same way. Mingi’s recovery wasn’t just physical. He was changing, bit by bit. And for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t for the worse.
⋆
“Your grip strength is starting to improve, as well as the mobility on your left side. Soon, you won’t need the crutches anymore,” Dr. Lim noted encouragingly.
Mingi exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he steadied himself. The session had been brutal, as they always were, but hearing that he was making progress gave him a small sense of victory.
“That’s it for today. We’ll see you next week.” The physical therapist gave him a nod of approval before turning away, already moving on to his next patient.
Mingi nodded, gripping his crutches tightly as he made his way toward the exit. Every movement still felt like an uphill battle. He had spent the last two months relearning how to move, how to function without feeling like his own body was working against him. The physical therapy sessions were grueling, pushing him to his limits, but he refused to back down.
The accident had nearly killed him. Three broken ribs, a fractured femur, and nerve damage. Though it wasn’t extensive, it was enough to remind him that no matter how much he pushed, there were still limits.
And he hated that.
He hated the way his body trembled when he overexerted himself, the way his right arm sometimes felt too weak to grip things properly. He hated that he still struggled to get up without support, that simple tasks took twice the effort they used to.
But he didn’t hate the way you anticipated his struggles before he could voice them. The way you reached for his arm before he could stumble, or placed things in a way that made it easier for him to access. And he didn’t hate how easily you entertained his ramblings, even when they were about the most mundane things.
For an hour and a half each week, he hated being away from you.
Because no matter how frustrating the setbacks were, no matter how exhausting the battle of recovery became, seeing you at the end of each session reminded him of his purpose and his promise to Hongjoong and Wooyoung.
The thought of going home had him biting back a grin as he adjusted his crutches and made his way out of the rehabilitation center. He was already looking forward to sliding into the passenger seat beside you, exaggerating the difficulty of his new balance exercises and guessing what Mrs. Ha had whipped up today.
The anticipation carried him forward until it came to a screeching halt.
The moment he stepped into the rotunda, his fingers instinctively tightened around the crutches, his body going rigid. The hospital lobby was a blur of white coats and murmured conversations, but all he could focus on was the figure standing in front of him.
Ahri.
Her arms were crossed, her manicured nails tapping impatiently against her sleeve. She looked annoyed with her lips pressed into a thin line as her sharp gaze raked over him.
The sight of her made something curdle in his stomach—something sharp, bitter, and unwelcome.
“What are you doing here?” Mingi asked flatly.
Ahri scoffed, stepping closer. “Are you seriously asking me that? You’ve been avoiding me ever since you woke up.”
“Maybe that should tell you something,” he muttered, but he already knew Ahri wouldn’t take the hint.
Ahri rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Mingi. Don’t act like this. We need to talk.”
“No,” he said simply, his grip tightening around the crutches until his knuckles turned white.
“We really don’t.”
“You’re being dramatic. I was worried about you—”
“Don’t,” he cut in, his voice low, firm.
Ahri’s mouth opened, then closed. For the first time, she looked uncertain, like she hadn’t expected him to be this direct. Her expression faltered for a split second, But then, just as quickly, she recovered, her lips curling into a sneer.
“So that’s how it is?” she scoffed. “You wake up and suddenly forget about us? Is it because you want to play house with her?”
Mingi’s jaw tensed but his silence spoke volumes.
“What’s wrong with that?” he replied quietly.
That made her pause. Just for a second. But then she shook her head, scoffing again like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Oh, give me a break,” she snapped. “You spent so long telling me how miserable you were, how you were trapped with her.” She let out a bitter laugh.
“But now what? You wake up from a coma and suddenly, she’s the one you want? You told me you wished you’d never married her, that you never loved her.”
She took a step closer, her voice dropping to something softer, something almost pleading as if she could still reach him.
“Mingi, you told me I was the only thing that made you happy.”
And maybe, once, he had believed that.
Maybe, once, he had convinced himself that Ahri was the answer, the escape he craved, the proof that he was still alive, still capable of feeling something. But standing here now, after dying and coming back, after losing everything and being given a second chance, he saw it for what it truly was.
A mistake. A desperate attempt to outrun his own self-destruction.
But you—you had always been real. And this time, he wasn’t going to run.
This time, he was going to love you the way he should have all along.
“You weren’t,” he said steadily. “You never were.”
Ahri’s face twisted, something wounded flickering across her features before it morphed into anger.
“Bullshit! If that were true, then why did you keep coming back to me?”
"You were there when it was easy, Ahri. When it was fun. But when I was lying in that hospital bed, barely clinging to life, you were nowhere to be found."
Ahri’s lips parted, but no words came out.
“And you know what? I don’t blame you,” Mingi said, tilting his head.
“Because we were never real, were we? We were just two selfish people feeding off each other’s worst impulses.” He exhaled sharply, as if the weight of it all was finally lifting off his chest.
“I don’t owe you anything.”
People turned, pausing in their tracks, stealing glances at the commotion, but Mingi could care less. Instead, he stepped past her without another glance, heading toward the one person who mattered—
You.
"You think you can just walk away from me?" Ahri's voice rose, sharp and unhinged.
Mingi didn’t flinch. He didn’t react at all.
And that set her off.
"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"
Her lips curled, a smirk. "You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you?" She let out a breathless, almost manic laugh, her eyes glinting with something unhinged.
"Especially when you fucked me on your wedding night!"
A murmur rippled through the gathering crowd. Gasps. A sharp intake of breath. Someone muttering under their breath. But Ahri was past caring. Her hands trembled at her sides, whether from rage or something deeper, something uglier, even she wasn’t sure.
“You threw her away like she was nothing. And now, you think you can just have her?”
Ahri let out a broken laugh, something desperate and wild.
"She’s stronger than you ever gave her credit for." Ahri’s voice turned quiet, almost pitying.
“She doesn’t need you."
Mingi’s breath hitched, and for the first time since this entire confrontation began, doubt slithered in, coiling tight around his chest.
Because what if Ahri was right?
What if you never forgave him? What if everything he had done, all the cruel words, all the neglect, had built a wall so high between you that he’d never be able to climb over it?
He remembered the way you had looked at him when he was just a clumsy, oversized puppy, tail wagging, tongue lolling, no words to defend himself—only his actions. And still, still, you had cared for him. Fed him. Sheltered him. Loved him, even when you hadn’t known it was him.
Mingi clenched his jaw. He could fix this.
Because if he had been capable of love then, stripped of his pride and his excuses, then he was capable of love now. And he would prove it to you. No matter what it took.
He would not lose you.
"Ms. Jeong," a voice said smoothly, "I suggest you leave before you embarrass yourself any further."
Mingi tensed. He didn’t need to turn to know what he’d see—that infuriatingly calm expression, always so composed, so sure with his stupid face and stupid hair.
Seonghwa.
The hospital director's voice was calm, but the authority behind it was unmistakable. He stepped into Ahri’s path, yet the weight of his presence alone was enough to send a chill through the air.
Ahri whirled on him. "Stay out of this, Park Seonghwa!" she snapped. "This has nothing to do with you!"
Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "You’re causing a disturbance in my hospital. That makes it my problem."
Her chest rose and fell with sharp, angry breaths, but Seonghwa remained unfazed.
"You’re humiliating yourself. If you don’t leave, I’ll have security escort you out."
Ahri’s lips parted, her eyes darting between Seonghwa and Mingi, as if searching for an opening—one last attempt to regain control of the situation. But Mingi had already turned his back, walking toward the exit. Toward you.
And you—you had just barely managed to keep your knees from buckling.
You had been standing just around the corner, heart in your throat, ears ringing with every word that had left Mingi’s mouth.
"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"
You didn’t have an answer for that. Not yet.
But Mingi, your husband, the same man who once treated your marriage like a prison sentence—was choosing you.
Your phone chimed, interrupting your conversation with Yohan and Mrs. Ha.
Pick up Mingi.
“Has it already been an hour and a half?” Yohan sighed, leaning back in his chair.
Mrs. Ha chuckled as she wiped her hands on her apron, already turning back to the half-prepped vegetables on the counter.
“Time flies when you’re talking shit, I guess,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone.
Conversations like these had once been a source of relief, a safe space where you, Yohan, and Mrs. Ha could freely air out your frustrations about Mingi and his insufferable attitude. It had been cathartic, a necessary way to bond over shared grievances, particularly in the way he ignored Yohan’s presence, dismissed Mrs. Ha’s kindness, and, worst of all, the way he had treated you.
The usual satisfaction of venting was absent, replaced instead by something heavier.
Guilt.
You weren’t sure why.
Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered now, softer, searching, as if trying to memorize every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. Like he was looking for something—hoping for something.
Or maybe it was the way he hesitated before speaking, as if he wanted to be understood but didn’t know how. As if he was afraid that one wrong step would send him tumbling right back into the version of himself you had every reason to despise.
And that’s what made your chest ache.
You sighed, grabbing your keys from the counter and with a quick farewell to Yohan and Mrs. Ha, you made your way down to the garage. The drive to the hospital was quiet, the high rises casting fleeting shadows as you navigated the city streets.
Your mind wandered. Mingi was still a mess of contradictions—still the person who had hurt you more than anyone else ever had. And yet, in the past two months, something had shifted. He’d been different.
You weren’t sure what that meant for you, if it meant anything at all.
Pulling into the hospital lot, you glanced at the time. You were early. With minutes to spare, you found yourself hesitating, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You could just wait here, let Mingi find his way out like always.
But today, something in you wavered.
Maybe, just this once, you’d meet him halfway.
Sighing, you turned off the engine and walked into the hospital. The automatic doors parted soundlessly as you entered, the sterile scent of antiseptic and faint traces of coffee from the café wrapping around you.
You weaved through the familiar hallways toward the rehabilitation center, past patients in wheelchairs and staff exchanging clipped instructions.
And then—
"You think you can just walk away from me?"
You stopped.
Ahri.
Her voice carried through the clinic, too loud, too reckless for a public space, but she didn’t seem to care.
A few steps ahead, just past a row of columns, Mingi stood—partially obscured, his broad shoulders stiff with tension. Ahri stood in front of him, heaving with anger, her expression twisted into something between fury and despair.
Your instincts told you to walk away before you were pulled into something you weren’t meant to witness. But your feet wouldn’t move. Instead, you ducked behind the corner, pressing yourself against the wall, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.
"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"
You sucked in a breath. That stopped Mingi and Ahri knew it. You peeked out just enough to catch the smirk curling at the edges of her lips and the cruel glint in her eyes.
"You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you? You fucked me on your wedding night!"
The words slammed into you, knocking the air from your lungs. You had known what you were getting into when your parents arranged your marriage to Mingi. You had no illusions about love or loyalty, not when his heart had already belonged to someone else. You had told yourself his affair with Ahri didn’t matter, that you weren’t some naive child clinging to false hope.
But hearing the words now, so bluntly and irrevocably, felt different. It was like an old wound you thought had scarred over, threatening to tear open all over again.
A murmur of voices rippled through the onlookers—gasps, hushed whispers, stolen glances exchanged in uneasy silence. Mingi remained frozen, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful, his fists curling and uncurling around his crutches.
Your fingers curled into your sleeves, nails pressing crescent marks into your skin. The way Mingi stood there, facing Ahri’s wrath without backing down, without crumbling the way you might have expected, made your chest tighten.
For the first time in your marriage, Mingi was choosing you.
The realization sent a flutter through you, foreign and unwelcome and you had to keep your knees from buckling beneath you.
This wasn’t forgiveness.
But it was something.
Swallowing hard, you spun on your heel and hurried back to your car. By the time you reached the door, your hands fumbled slightly, a little shaky as you slid inside and shut yourself away from the world.
You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the strange, fluttery feeling in your chest to go away. But it lingered, stubborn and insistent, curling around the edges of your thoughts. Ahri’s words still echoed in your mind, but even louder—more impossible to ignore—was the quiet whisper of, What if?
What if Mingi really was choosing you?
Not out of obligation. Not because there was no one else left. But because he wanted to.
A breathy laugh escaped you, more out of disbelief than amusement.
“What do you think, Maro?”
The name slipped out before you could stop it, but it felt natural, like Maro was still here, curled up beside you, tail wagging, waiting for you to spill your heart out.
You swallowed, gripping the steering wheel as if it could ground you.
“It’s stupid, right?” Your voice was tentative as you leaned your head against the headrest.
“It doesn’t change anything. Just because he—” You stopped, shook your head, trying to chase away the warmth threatening to creep in.
“It doesn’t mean I should believe in something that’s never been real.”
You could imagine Maro pressing his head into your palm like he understood everything you couldn’t say. Like he was telling you that you didn’t have to figure it all out alone.
“God, I don’t even know what's happening anymore.”
A sudden, sharp knock against the window jolted you upright. Your heart lurched into your throat as you turned, only to find Mingi standing just outside, giving you a small wave. Your face burned. Huffing, you fumbled for the lock with clumsy fingers before scrambling out of the car.
“I got it,” Mingi said with a chuckle, adjusting his grip on his crutches. His voice was light, but his gaze lingered on you, studying you with an expression softer than you were used to.
“You okay?”
You forced a small smile, brushing imaginary dust off your sleeves in an attempt to steady yourself. “Yeah, just tired.”
Mingi didn’t look convinced. He lingered for a second longer, his eyes searching yours as if debating whether to press further. But he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, nodded, and slid into the passenger seat.
The drive home passed in a blur. The streetlights stretched long across the pavement, casting soft, flickering patterns against the windshield, but you were lost in the whirlwind of thoughts brewing in your mind.
Did he really love you?
⋆
"Y/N…can you call my phone? I can’t seem to find it."
Mingi had been more flustered than usual lately—not that he wanted to admit. The accident had left him disoriented, but it was unlike him to be clumsy. But lately, he kept doing things that frustrated him to no end like pushing against a pull door and standing there and now, misplacing his phone for the third time this week.
He was also never one to ask for help—especially from you.
Before the accident, he had gone out of his way to keep his distance. He had made it clear he wanted nothing from you, and you had gotten the message. Eventually, you stopped offering. And for a while, that’s what he thought he wanted.
Now, he couldn’t stand the thought of it.
If you were in the kitchen, he was suddenly rummaging through the cabinets for a snack he didn’t actually want. If you were on the couch, he was sitting on the opposite end, scrolling through his phone but not really paying attention to it.
And if you got up to leave the room? Well…so did he.
Because he wasn’t afraid of being clingy. Not with you. Not when the thought of you leaving, of not having you here, was far scarier than anything else.
You nodded, pressing the call button as Mingi shuffled past you, disappearing into his room. Your gaze lingered on the doorway long after he was gone.
For the duration of your marriage, you had never once stepped foot inside this room. The door had always remained shut, a silent boundary he had drawn long before he ever knew you. A reminder that no matter what legal document bound you together, there would always be parts of him you would never reach.
But as you took a step forward, following the faint sound of his phone vibrating somewhere in the great beyond, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let you glimpse into the parts of himself he had kept locked away.
You stood hesitantly by the threshold watching your husband rifling through his laundry, digging through pockets, and muttering to himself under his breath. The Mingi you had married would’ve cursed under his breath, thrown something, or blamed someone else for his misplaced phone.
But this version of him? He simply kept looking, patient and persistent.
His room was dimly lit with the faint scent of paint and cologne filling the space. Canvases leaned against the walls, some vibrant and abstract, others more detailed and unfinished sketches scattered across his desk.
Your gaze landed on a small canvas resting on the edge of his desk. The soft eyes and the cheeky glint, the little nose, and that signature smile. It wasn’t finished, but there was no mistaking it.
Maro.
“There it is,” Mingi muttered, plucking his phone from the ground next to his bed.
As he swiped the screen to end the call, his gaze flickered toward you, then followed yours to the canvas on his desk. He watched you carefully, half-expecting sadness, maybe even confusion. But instead there was something unexpectedly tender.
And then you looked at him, and Mingi felt it.
Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he had done something right for once. Like you saw him in a way that made his heart squeeze. His ears burned. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I… picked up painting,” he admitted. “My physical therapist said it’d help with motor skills and strengthening my hands and fingers.”
He swallowed. “I hope you don’t mind that I painted Maro. I… I wasn’t sure if I got the eyes right,” he admitted, almost shyly.
You stepped closer, drawn in by the familiar shape on the canvas. “It looks just like him,” you murmured, reaching out to trace the dried brushstrokes with your fingertips. The texture of the paint, the careful detail—Mingi had poured himself into this.
Mingi let out a sigh of relief but then, as if realizing something, tensed again a second later. “I—uh, it was supposed to be a surprise,” he blurted out, his eyes widening slightly, as if he’d just realized his mistake.
You blinked up at him. “A surprise?”
“For you,” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands.
“I wanted to give it to you when I felt like it was perfect. But, um… I guess I kind of ruined that, huh?” He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head.
“You painted this for me?”
He peeked at you through his lashes, leaving something softer and more vulnerable in its place as he gave you a small nod.
“I just… I know how much you loved—love Maro, and I thought maybe… you’d want something to keep. Something I made for you.”
Something only for you.
Your breath caught in your throat.
Oh. Your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice and the way he’d poured so much of himself into a piece just for you was overwhelming.
“Oh, Mingi…” you breathed.
Emotion swelled in your chest, thick and impossible to name. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was stare at him—the quiet hope in his eyes, the way he watched you like he wasn’t sure what you’d do next.
“I love it,” you said, and you meant it. Not just the painting, but the thought behind it. It was just a painting. But it wasn’t. It was a piece of him—his effort, his sincerity, his quiet way of saying what he couldn’t put into words.
“Thank you.”
The words felt small, insufficient for the weight of what he had given you. But then he smiled—a slow, relieved, utterly radiant smile that knocked the breath from your lungs.
And suddenly, the moment stretched—too long, too precarious.
Your eyes flickered around the room, a sharp awareness settling over you. Mingi’s room. When did he get so close? When did you even come in here?
“I should…” You cleared your throat, glancing toward the door. “I should let you get back to painting.”
Before he could say anything, you turned, slipping out of the room, closing the door gently behind you. For a moment, you leaned against it, trying to steady the sudden pounding in your chest. But before you could make sense of anything—
The door creaked open.
“Wait.”
You turned, as Mingi poked his head out. There was a hint of bashfulness in the way his fingers gripped the doorframe, but his eyes held no hesitation.
“…You can leave it open.”
<< vii | ix >>
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I see it, especially the music one since i’m listening to music right now 😭
I saw this floating around amd wanted to try it!
Go to pinterest and search “my vibe aesthetic” and post the top 6 results!
Tagging: @mimikittysblog @fizzyapplecandy
𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎
𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙳𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝙱𝚢 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 "𝚁𝚞𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎"
𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚗 𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕
𝙻𝚎𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎
𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙾𝚗𝚎
𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚃𝚠𝚘
𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚂𝚒𝚡 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙴𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚃𝚎𝚗
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