ANOTHER UPDATE! COME ON WE’RE BACK!!!

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

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

strangers by nature | iii

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

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

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

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

But things were different now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⋆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Except for the engagement.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s a judge, anyway?”

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

“Oh, like my dad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re the Judge.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maro!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s gotten into you?” you teased.

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

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

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

<< ii | iv >>

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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

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.

Series masterlist

NO LONGER DOING TAGS AFTER THIS CHAPTER, follow if you want to be notified.

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.

GET UP! LIVIDSTARR JUST UPDATED THE CITY OF LOVE! WE ARE SO BACK!

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Ten: Push and Pull

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 4.6k (total: ???)

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

៚ playlist !

៚ The memory of what happened—or what had almost happened last night, still remained fresh in your mind. As a result, you find yourself on edge as you head to Hongjoong’s agency per Seonghwa’s request, still processing the events that had unfurled. Upon arrival, you notice Hongjoong acting distant, leaving you uneasy. Seonghwa, sensing your discomfort, tries to lighten the mood and catch up, but the tension lingers in your mind as you try to make sense of Hongjoong's sudden change in behavior.

a/n: decided to come back to commemorate ateez’s 6th anniversary 🥳 this chapter’s a bit short but take this as some sort of headstart for what’s about to come! i missed you guys so much

tags: @beabatiny @babymbbatinygirl

The bus rattled along the familiar cobblestone streets of Paris, but your mind was far from the city’s usual charm. Today, the picturesque views outside the window were nothing more than a blur as your thoughts swirled in a mix of anticipation and dread. You sat at the very back, the cool glass of the window pressed against your head as you tried to make sense of the anxious knot in your stomach. Coming to Hongjoong’s agency at Seonghwa’s request, something you usually would’ve been excited about, now felt like a heavy burden. You told yourself it was just another day, another visit to pay.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

Over time, things have started to shift between you and Hongjoong—and whatever happened last night was just the nail in the coffin. Even though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, you could still feel the change in your bones.

Ever since you and Hongjoong had grown closer, there had always been an unspoken connection—a bond that went beyond mere friendship. You’d fallen into a routine of easy familiarity, one that sometimes blurred the lines between what friends typically did. Yet, it had always felt natural, never forced or awkward. But last night was different.

The memory sent a shiver through you as you recalled the way you nearly altered the course of your friendship, had Wooyoung not interrupted the moment. The way he had looked at you like it’s all he’s ever known, the way his breath had hitched as if he had forgotten how to exhale, the way the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you at that very moment... you had felt something shift in that moment, something you weren’t quite ready to confront.

Now, as you sat on the bus, the memory of that moment replayed in your mind, leaving you with a strange mix of longing and confusion. You weren’t sure how you felt about it, or what it meant for your friendship with Hongjoong. Part of you wished he would just forget about it, pretend like it never happened, so you could both go back to the comfortable routine you had established. But another part of you, a quieter, more vulnerable part, wondered what might have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted.

The bus came to a halt, pulling you from your thoughts. This was your stop. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your scattered emotions as you stepped off the bus and onto the pavement. The cool morning air did little to calm your nerves. Each step toward the agency felt heavier than the last, and you found yourself repeating a silent mantra in your head: “Please don’t bring it up. Please don’t bring it up.”

As you entered the building, the familiar cool blast of the air conditioning greeted you, doing little to soothe your anxiety. The agency was bustling with activity as usual, but the usual hustle and bustle felt distant, like background noise that you couldn’t quite focus on. Your thoughts were too preoccupied with the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Seonghwa had said he would meet you in the lobby, so you headed there, trying to push aside the nerves that twisted in your gut. You weren’t sure what you were more anxious about—seeing Hongjoong after what had almost happened or having to navigate the conversation with Seonghwa while pretending nothing was wrong.

But when you reached the lobby, your heart skipped a beat. Not only was Seonghwa there, but so was Hongjoong. The two of them were sitting on one of the plush couches, chatting casually. Hongjoong’s phone was in his hand, and he seemed relaxed, completely at ease in a way that made your stomach twist even more. How could he be so calm when you felt like you were about to crash out?

Seonghwa noticed you first, his face breaking into a warm smile as he waved you over. “There you are! I was starting to think you got lost on the way,” he teased lightly. But despite his light-heartedness, you could barely muster a smile in return.

“Sorry, the bus took a little longer than I expected,” you replied, your voice slightly strained as you approached them.

Seonghwa stood to greet you properly, but it was Hongjoong you couldn’t keep your eyes off of. “Morning, Hongjoong,” you said, hoping against hope that he would act normal.

For a moment, he looked up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours. But the connection was brief—too brief for your liking, too different from what you’re used to. He nodded curtly, barely holding your gaze for more than a second before looking back down at his phone. “Morning,” he muttered, his tone almost dismissive.

Before you could even process the oddness of his behavior, Hongjoong suddenly stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I have to head out. I’ve got some work I need to finish,” he said abruptly, his voice flat, almost devoid of the usual warmth.

“Oh... okay,” you responded, trying to hide the sting of disappointment that pricked at your heart. Was it because of last night?

Hongjoong barely spared you another glance as he nodded to Seonghwa. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he added before turning on his heel and walking away, his footsteps echoing in the spacious lobby.

You stood there, frozen in place, as you watched him disappear down the hallway with concern etched all over your face.

Seonghwa must have noticed the flicker of confusion and hurt on your face, given how he stepped closer and offered you a gentle smile—one that did little to ease your nerves, but hey, at least he’s trying his best, right?

“Don’t worry about him,” he said softly. “Hongjoong’s always been like that. He gets caught up in his work sometimes.”

But he’s not. You know he’s not like that. At least you think he isn’t—but it’s foolish to try to go against someone who has known him for longer than you have.

So how much do you really know about Hongjoong? Or, better yet—do you even know him at all?

You forced a smile in return, though it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah... maybe,” you murmured, though doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind.

Seonghwa gestured to the couch where he and Hongjoong had been sitting moments before. “Come on, let’s sit. It’s been a while since we’ve had a chance to catch up,” he suggested.

Once you and Seonghwa were settled on the couch, you found yourself nervously fidgeting, your hands gripping the fabric of your dark brown skirt as if it were the only thing anchoring you in place. The soft material bunched under your fingers, and you absentmindedly rubbed the texture between your thumb and forefinger. Your feet, however, seemed to have a mind of their own, your boots tapping lightly against the floor in a consistent rhythm.

Seonghwa watched you for a moment, his eyes softening as he took in your unusually tense demeanor. His smile faded slightly, replaced by a gentle concern as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You seem a bit on edge,” he remarked cautiously, his voice careful not to pry too deeply. “Is everything alright? You’re usually not this quiet.”

You blinked, your attention snapping back to him, realizing you’d been lost in your own head. “Oh, it’s nothing,” you said quickly, your voice higher than usual as you tried to dismiss the worry in his eyes. “Just... tired, I guess.”

But the reassurance felt hollow even as you said it, and Seonghwa didn’t look convinced. His brow furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly, as if trying to read the truth on your face. You could feel his gaze, heavy with unspoken questions, and you squirmed under the scrutiny, your fingers digging deeper into the fabric of your skirt.

You opened your mouth to say something more, to steer the conversation away from the uncomfortable territory it was veering into, but the question slipped out before you could stop it: “Did something happen to Hongjoong before I got here?”

Seonghwa’s expression shifted from concern to mild confusion. He straightened up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he replayed the morning in his head. “Hongjoong? No, not that I know of,” he answered, his tone slow as if he were double-checking his memory. “Actually, he was in a pretty good mood when we were talking. Why do you ask?”

“Oh…” The single word fell from your lips like a stone, heavy and sinking into the silence that followed. You looked down, the tapping of your foot coming to an abrupt halt.

So, it really was because of last night—because of you.

The realization sat uneasily in your chest, a mixture of guilt and confusion swirling together. Why was he acting like this? And why couldn’t you shake the feeling that it was somehow your fault?

The change in your demeanor hadn’t gone unnoticed, and Seonghwa couldn’t help but wonder what had caused the sudden shift. “Did something happen between you two that I should know about?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could think twice about it.

For a brief moment, you hesitated, caught between wanting to confide in him and the desire to just keep it all to yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Seonghwa—far from it. But how could you possibly explain what had almost transpired between you and Hongjoong last night? How could you put into words the tension, the almost unspoken moment that lingered like a specter in your mind? The way you’d both teetered on the edge of something you weren’t sure either of you were ready for?

You glanced up at Seonghwa, your mouth opening to speak, but the words got caught in your throat. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it outright—that you and Hongjoong had almost crossed a line that neither of you would have been able to step back from. Instead, you settled on a question of your own, one that seemed to hover over everything like an unspoken truth. “Is Hongjoong usually the… on and off, push and pull type of person?”

Seonghwa considered your question carefully, his expression thoughtful. He leaned back, his gaze drifting as he seemed to search for the right words. “Hongjoong... he’s complex,” Seonghwa began slowly, choosing his words with caution. “He’s not always the easiest to read, and he definitely has his moments where he pulls away. But it’s not always about the other person. Sometimes it’s more about what’s going on in his own head.”

You nodded, processing Seonghwa’s response, but it did little to soothe the unease gnawing at you. The ambiguity of Hongjoong’s actions left you grappling with your own feelings, wondering if the almost-moment had been a step too far—or if, perhaps, it was a step you weren’t meant to take just yet.

You bit your lip, glancing down at your hands. The words you wanted to say lingered at the tip of your tongue, already too heavy for you to push behind. Finally, you exhaled slowly, grappling with your thoughts as you tried to put them into words.

“What if,” you began, “let’s say you and someone, hypothetically, of course—maybe Hongjoong—were on good terms one night, sharing jokes that only the two of you understand, and it feels like, for a moment, you’re really getting somewhere... like you’re finally diving into a deeper level of friendship. But then, the next day, it’s like you’ve done something wrong. Like suddenly, you’re a stranger, or worse, like you’re a problem that needs to be avoided.”

Seonghwa’s brow furrowed as he listened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed your words. A beat passed in silence, his expression shifting from confusion to something more knowing. “You’re talking about yourself, aren’t you?” he asked—but you knew denying it would be foolish, because it seems like he already knows the answer and is just waiting for you to confirm his hypothesis.

But of course, it’s still embarrassing to give in right away.

You immediately shook your head, your denial quick and a little too forceful. “No, no,” you stammered, a nervous laugh bubbling up to cover the crack in your composure. “It’s just a hypothetical situation. A... a thought experiment, really. That doesn’t apply to Hongjoong and me—we’re on good terms.”

Even as the words left your mouth, they felt flimsy and false, as insubstantial as smoke. It was a lie—a denial that you hoped would convince not just Seonghwa but also yourself. What a sin it was to lie to yourself, you thought, feeling the sting of your own dishonesty more acutely than you’d expected. But how could you admit the truth when it was still so raw, so undefined even in your own mind?

Seonghwa didn’t look entirely convinced, his eyes lingering on you as though trying to see past the mask you’d hastily thrown on. But after a moment, he nodded, though the crease between his brows remained. “Alright,” he said slowly, granting you the benefit of the doubt, though you could sense the lingering skepticism in his tone. “If it’s just a hypothetical situation...”

He leaned back, crossing his arms as he thought it over, considering your so-called analysis. “Well,” he began thoughtfully, “if someone acts like that, it’s usually because they’re dealing with something internally. It might have nothing to do with you at all. Sometimes people pull away because they’re scared of how close they’re getting, or maybe because they’re battling their own insecurities. It’s not necessarily fair to the other person, but it’s not always about them either. It’s about the person who’s pulling back, struggling with their own feelings or fears. The push and pull, as confusing as it is, isn’t always meant to hurt. Sometimes it’s just... a defense mechanism? That’s what I’d call it.”

He paused, watching you closely, as if gauging your reaction to his words. “But if that person cares,” Seonghwa continued, his voice softening, “they’ll come back around. It might take time, but if they really value the relationship, they’ll find a way to bridge the gap. It’s just... sometimes people need to work through their own stuff before they can fully be there for someone else.”

You nodded along, your mind racing with Seonghwa’s explanation, each word resonating in a way that hit too close to home. Could that be it? Was Hongjoong simply trying to figure out his own feelings, or was there something deeper at play?

After the conversation with Seonghwa, you decide to distract yourself by exploring the agency a bit more. Seonghwa suggests visiting one of the studios, a familiar place where the designers and models are usually busy creating the next big thing. The idea seems harmless enough, and you hope it might help you take your mind off the tangled mess of emotions still buzzing in your head.

As you and Seonghwa walk through the halls, the lively chatter and the click of heels on the polished floors provide a backdrop that usually energizes you. But today, everything feels muted, like you’re watching from behind a glass wall. You can’t shake the lingering sense of discomfort from your earlier encounter with Hongjoong, and as you enter the studio, the atmosphere seems to weigh down on you.

Hongjoong is there, of course—standing by a sketchboard, deep in conversation with another designer. He’s gesturing animatedly, pointing out details on the paper, his passion for his work evident even from a distance. For a moment, you’re content to just observe him, the sight of him in his element stirring a fondness that you can’t quite suppress. But then, as if sensing your presence, he glances up. Your eyes meet, and the world seems to still for a heartbeat.

But instead of acknowledging you, Hongjoong’s expression closes off, and he turns back to his work without so much as a nod. The dismissal stings, sharper than you expected. It’s as if he’s deliberately keeping you at arm’s length, and the casual disregard feels like a slap in the face. Seonghwa, noticing the sudden shift in your demeanor, gives you a questioning look, but you just shrug, feigning indifference.

The designers break for a moment, and Seonghwa waves Hongjoong over. Hongjoong approaches, but his steps are slow, reluctant. When he finally reaches you, he barely spares you a glance. “Hey,” he mumbles, his voice flat and devoid of the warmth you’ve come to expect. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, looking anywhere but at you.

Seonghwa tries to engage him in conversation, asking about his latest designs and upcoming plans, but Hongjoong’s responses are curt and to the point. The easy camaraderie you’d seen between him and Seonghwa earlier has vanished, replaced by a stilted formality that makes the air feel thick and uncomfortable. You can’t help but feel like an intruder, caught in the middle of a conversation that’s turned cold and impersonal.

When Seonghwa finally asks if Hongjoong has time to catch up, Hongjoong hesitates, his eyes flitting to yours for just a split second before they drop to the floor. His lips press into a thin line, as if he’s considering the implications of staying versus leaving. Finally, he shakes his head. “I can’t right now,” he says, not quite meeting Seonghwa’s eyes. “There’s too much to get done.”

The excuse sounds flimsy even to your own ears, but Seonghwa simply nods, accepting it without questioning his words. You, however, can’t help the sharp pang of disappointment that tugs at your chest. It’s not just the fact that Hongjoong doesn’t want to stay and chat; it’s the way he won’t even look at you, like he’s deliberately avoiding your presence, and it’s almost as if you’re invisible.

“Alright, no worries,” Seonghwa replies with a casual shrug, though you notice the slight crease in his brow—a sign that he’s picked up on the tension, even if he doesn’t fully understand it. He claps Hongjoong on the shoulder, trying to keep the mood light. “We’ll catch up some other time, then.”

Hongjoong nods absently, already half-turned back towards his work. “Yeah, sure,” he mutters, but there’s no conviction behind his words. His eyes flick to the sketches on the wall, and it’s as if the conversation is already forgotten, his focus shifting entirely away from you and Seonghwa. Without another word, he walks back to the sketchboard, resuming his conversation with the other designer as if the brief interaction never happened.

The sting of his indifference leaves you reeling, and you’re not sure whether to feel angry, hurt, or both. It’s as if last night’s near-moment had flipped a switch inside him, and now you’re paying the price for whatever crossed line he thinks was drawn. You swallow hard, fighting the urge to call after him, to demand an explanation, but the words die in your throat. This isn’t the place for that—there’s too much at stake, too many eyes watching.

Seonghwa glances at you, concern flickering in his gaze. “Don’t take it to heart,” he says quietly, as if seeing right through you. “He’s probably just stressed. You know how he gets when he’s in the zone.”

You nod, forcing a tight smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I know,” you reply, but the words feel hollow. Deep down, you can’t shake the feeling that this is more than just stress or a busy schedule. There’s something else at play, something simmering beneath the surface that neither of you can quite grasp.

Seonghwa leads you away from the studio, and you follow in silence, your mind replaying the brief encounter over and over like a broken record. Every glance, every dismissive gesture, every word left unsaid feels like another tiny wound, each one building on the last until they form a gaping chasm between you and Hongjoong that you’re not sure how to bridge.

As you walk, Seonghwa tries to fill the quiet with idle chatter, talking about some of the upcoming projects and the new talent the agency is scouting. You nod along, but your thoughts are miles away—it’s like you’re caught in a loop, circling around the same questions with no clear answers in sight.

Finally, Seonghwa stops in front of a glass door leading to one of the agency’s rooftop lounges. He turns to you, his expression softening as he takes in your distant look. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently. “I mean, really talk about it. I know you said it’s hypothetical, but... it doesn’t feel that way.”

You hesitate, your gaze drifting to the floor. Part of you wants to open up, to spill everything that’s been weighing on your heart, but another part of you holds back, afraid of what admitting the truth might mean. You’ve always prided yourself on being able to handle your own feelings, to keep them neatly tucked away where they can’t cause trouble. But this... this is different.

“I don’t know,” you finally admit, your voice as silent as the wind’s whispers. “I just... I don’t want to make things worse. And I don’t even know what’s going on in his head.”

Seonghwa watches you, his expression unreadable for a moment before it softens into something more empathetic. “Sometimes, you just have to let people work through their own stuff,” he says quietly. “You can’t always fix it, no matter how much you want to. But that doesn’t mean you’re alone in it. If you ever need to talk or just... figure things out, I’m here.”

You nod, a small, grateful smile tugging at your lips. It’s not much, but it’s enough for now. The comfort of knowing that at least someone understands, even if only a little, helps to ease the tightness in your chest.

Seonghwa gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning to push open the door, letting the cool breeze from the rooftop wash over you both. You follow him out, letting the fresh air clear your mind, even if just for a moment. It’s a brief reprieve from the tangled mess of your thoughts, but it’s one you’re grateful for.

Sitting down on one of the chairs, you let out a sigh, fingers nervously tracing patterns on the hem of your skirt as your thoughts spiral. Seonghwa watches you quietly, giving you the space to process, but his curiosity is palpable. He waits, his presence a silent invitation for you to unload whatever has you troubled.

“I don’t even know why I’m looking too deeply into it—and that’s what’s bothering me the most,” you murmur, your voice so soft it almost gets lost in the quiet hum of the lobby. It feels like you’re confessing a secret, something fragile that might shatter if spoken too loudly. And maybe, in a way, you are.

Seonghwa furrows his brow, leaning in slightly as if to catch your words more clearly. “Why? What do you mean?” he asks, genuinely puzzled.

You hesitate, your gaze flitting from the floor to Seonghwa’s face before dropping back down, as if even his gaze is too much to bear right now. “Don’t you... don’t you think so, too?” you ask, your tone laced with uncertainty, like you’re searching for validation but already dreading the answer.

Seonghwa tilts his head, still looking lost. “Not at all... why do you feel like you’re overthinking it way too much?”

“Well, for starters, we’re friends,” you begin, your words spilling out in a rush. You’re so caught up in your own explanation that you miss the flicker of amusement that dances in Seonghwa’s eyes, the way his lips twitch upward as if he’s holding back a knowing smile.

“Right… friends.” Seonghwa nods along, doing his best to maintain a neutral expression. “And?”

“I don’t know, I just feel like... well, I feel like I’m being a terrible friend by overthinking his need for personal space. Screw that—can I even call myself a friend of his if I don’t know how to respect the fact that he needs time to work through his own stuff?” You pause, your frustration bubbling to the surface as you try to articulate your emotions. “Me, personally, I’d feel off if I’m just having a bad day and a friend of mine decides to make it about them by asking, ‘Are you mad at me?’ But like, I just...”

Your words trail off, the rest of your thoughts jumbled and disjointed in your mind. You glance at Seonghwa, waiting for some sort of reaction, half-expecting him to agree that you’re being ridiculous, that you’re blowing things out of proportion. Instead, he gives you a sympathetic smile, his eyes warm with understanding.

“Listen,” Seonghwa starts, leaning back against the chair across you, adopting a more relaxed posture as if to put you at ease. “I get where you’re coming from. It’s easy to feel like you’re overstepping when you care about someone and you’re not sure how to navigate their boundaries. But you know what? Friendship—if that’s still what you wanna call whatever’s going on between you and Hongjoong—isn’t about getting it right all the time. It’s about being there, even when you’re not sure if you’re doing it perfectly.”

You let his words sink in, but the doubt still lingers at the edges of your mind. “But what if I am overstepping?” you press, a hint of desperation creeping into your voice. “What if he needs space and I’m just making things worse by worrying about it?”

Seonghwa chuckles softly, his laughter a gentle, reassuring sound. “You’re human, you know that, right? Not some perfect robot programmed to always know the right thing to do. Besides,” he adds with a playful smirk, “I’ve seen the way you and Hongjoong look at each other. I think he’d forgive you for overthinking a little.”

Your eyes widen, heat rushing to your cheeks at the implication behind Seonghwa’s words. “What—what’s that supposed to mean?” you stammer, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “There’s nothing like that between us. We’re just…”

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, a mischievous expression forming on his face as he watches you wave him off. “Right, friends. Just friends who get all worked up when the other one’s being moody,” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows. “Come on, you’re acting like Hongjoong’s the only one with feelings here.”

You groan, feeling your face flush. “Don’t say that!” you protest, covering your face with your hands, wishing you could somehow hide from the embarrassment. “It’s not like that. I just—he’s important to me, okay? And I don’t like not knowing where I stand.”

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” Seonghwa chuckles, though his eyes soften with understanding. “Look, maybe he’s just having one of those days. You know how Hongjoong is—sometimes he gets in his head and needs a little space to sort through his thoughts. But that doesn’t mean he’s upset with you, or that you’ve done something wrong.”

You exhale slowly, letting Seonghwa’s words wash over you. He’s right, of course. Hongjoong has always been the type to retreat inward when things get overwhelming, and you know that better than most. But knowing it and accepting it are two different things, and it’s hard not to let your own insecurities creep in when faced with his sudden distance.

Seonghwa reaches over, giving your knee a reassuring pat. “Hey, you’re doing your best. And if you ever need to talk, or if you just need to be distracted from it all, you know I’m here for you.”

You smile, though it’s small and a bit shaky. “Thanks, Seonghwa,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He grins, the teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Well, for starters, you’d probably be even more of a mess than you are now,” he jokes, earning a light punch to the arm from you. But then his expression softens again, sincerity shining through. “Seriously, though. You’re not alone in this. And whatever happens with Hongjoong, you’ll figure it out.”

Hopefully.

🪞 — lividstar.

This is so good! I can’t wait for the next part! <3

The CEO Collision - Part One

Pairing: CEO!Seonghwa x CEO! reader (f)

Warnings / content for Part One: Suggestive content, angsty, alcohol consumption. Please note that other than Ateez, all other character names used are fictional.

Word Count: 10.4k

Masterlist for The CEO Collision

“Congratulations, Ms. Y/N,” your secretary said when you entered your office after your last meeting for the day, and the week as it was a Friday. “The investors seemed impressed.”

“Thank you, Nari,” you replied with a grin, gathering your stuff to put it in your bag. “Shouldn’t you be heading out soon for your date?”

Nari blushed. “Yunho pushed our reservation by half an hour to give me some time to get ready.”

You nodded. “That’s sweet of him. Have fun tonight,” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “And tell Yunho I said hi.”

“Will do,” Nari said with a grin. “You’re heading straight home?”

“That’s the plan,” you replied, glancing at your phone to check the time. “I’m long overdue for a quiet night in.”

Nari chuckled. “Knowing you, you’ll end up working from home anyway.”

You smirked. “Probably, but at least I’ll be in my pajamas.”

“Fair point,” she said, walking you to the elevator. “Drive safe, Ms. Y/N.”

“You too. And don’t let Yunho distract you too much from dinner,” you teased as the elevator doors opened.

Nari blushed again, laughing as she waved goodbye. “No promises.”

The elevator doors closed, leaving you alone for the descent to the parking garage. You leaned against the wall, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The week had been productive but exhausting, and the promise of the weekend was the only thing that kept you going.

Once the elevator reached the basement, you stepped out and made your way to your car. The quiet hum of the nearly empty garage was oddly comforting as you unlocked the sleek black sedan that your father had insisted you drive.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, you tossed your bag onto the passenger side and started the engine. The low purr was satisfying, a reminder of all the hard work that had brought you here. As you pulled out of the parking lot, the city lights began to blur together in a comforting glow against the evening sky.

The drive home was uneventful, the streets gradually growing quieter as you moved away from the bustling business district. By the time you reached the gates of your family’s estate, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and purple.

The gates opened automatically as you approached, and you drove down the winding driveway toward the sprawling mansion. Parking in your usual spot, you turned off the car and sat there for a moment, staring at the grand facade of your childhood home.

With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your bag and stepped out of the car, making your way to the front door. One of the house staff greeted you with a polite smile as you entered.

“Welcome home, Ms. Y/N. Dinner will be served shortly.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, slipping off your heels as you made your way inside. The comforting aroma of your mother’s cooking wafted through the air, and despite your exhaustion, a small part of you looked forward to the meal.

As you approached the dining room, you heard the faint hum of conversation and your twin brother’s unmistakable laughter.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” your twin, Hongjoong, teased without looking up.

Rolling your eyes, you walked over and ruffled his perfectly styled hair, earning a sharp protest.

“Ugh, stop that!” he grumbled, swatting your hand away.

“Can’t help it,” you replied with a smirk as you took your seat. “You look too polished. Someone has to keep you grounded.”

He huffed, running his fingers through his hair to fix it, muttering under his breath about how annoying you were.

“Kids, behave,” your mother said with a fond smile as the staff began serving dinner.

You glanced at the spread—steaming platters of food, perfectly arranged salads, and freshly baked buns. Despite the lavish meal, your mind was still buzzing with thoughts of work.

“How was your day, dear?” your mother asked, her tone warm while she watched you fill up your plate.

“It went really well,” you replied, a sense of pride creeping into your voice. “We had our investor meeting today for the new line of medical imaging devices, and they were impressed. They’ve agreed to back us for the next phase of development.”

“That’s wonderful news,” your father said, setting down his fork to look at you. “This could be a game-changer for your company.”

“It will be,” you said confidently, picking up your glass of water. “The potential applications are huge, and with their support, we’ll be able to expand production globally.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you’d be burnt out by now. You’ve been working on that pitch for weeks.”

You shrugged, taking a sip of water. “I won’t lie, it’s been exhausting. But seeing the results today made it worth it.”

“Hard work always pays off,” your father said approvingly. “You’ve done an excellent job, Y/N.”

Your mother beamed with pride. “I knew you’d pull it off. You’ve always had a knack for making things happen.”

“Well, let’s just hope the development phase goes as smoothly,” you said, though the smile on your face didn’t waver.

Dinner buzzed with lively conversation as the dishes were passed around. Stories from work, jokes, and plans for the weekend filled the air. You felt the week’s exhaustion slowly ebb away as the comfortable rhythm of family time took over.

“So, Joong,” your father said casually, turning to your brother. “Are you heading to Mingi’s bar later tonight? Seonghwa mentioned the two of you were planning to catch up over drinks.”

Hongjoong shrugged, chewing on a bite of salmon. “He brought it up earlier, but I haven’t decided yet. Why?”

Your father leaned back in his chair, his expression growing more serious. “I spoke with Seonghwa’s parents today.”

The mood at the table shifted subtly, your mother straightening her posture and Hongjoong setting down his fork.

“Oh?” your brother said cautiously. “What about?”

Your father hesitated for a moment, as though choosing his words carefully. Then, he said, “Their company has been struggling for a while now. They came to us with a… suggestion.”

“What kind of suggestion?” you asked, sensing where this might be headed but hoping you were wrong.

Your father looked directly at you. “They’ve asked for your hand in marriage, Y/N.”

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

“What?” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

Hongjoong gaped, clearly just as blindsided at hearing that his bestfriend would possibly marry his twin sister. “Wait, hold on. You’re joking, right?”

Your father shook his head. “They believe a marriage between you and Seonghwa would secure both families’ futures. It would strengthen the partnership and stabilize their company.”

“This is ridiculous,” you snapped, your appetite vanishing. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s not as bad as you think,” your mother interjected softly. “You and Seonghwa already know each other since high school. It wouldn’t be like starting from scratch.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” you exclaimed. “We know each other too well, and it’s not good!”

Well, your relationship with Seonghwa was complicated. In simpler words, you hated each other.

Okay, maybe hate is a strong word. Strongly dislike?

You and Seonghwa have history, though.  

And it hurts every time you see him.

“Y/N,” your father said firmly, “this is bigger than personal feelings. Sometimes, sacrifices need to be made for the greater good.”

Hongjoong was not amused, his voice rising. “You’re really going to force her into this? Without even discussing it with her first?”

“We’re discussing it now,” your father replied, his tone calm but unyielding.

You felt a wave of anger and disbelief crash over you. “Discussing? You’ve already decided, haven’t you?”

Your mother avoided your gaze, and your father’s silence was confirmation enough.

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched. “This is insane.”

“You’re being dramatic,” your father said. “This arrangement will benefit everyone.”

“I’m not doing it,” you said through gritted teeth, pushing your chair back. “You can’t make me.”

“Y/N—” your mother started, but you were already on your feet, your heart pounding with fury.

“I need some air,” you muttered before storming out of the dining room, leaving your stunned family behind.

The cool night air brushed against your skin as you stepped into the garden, the faint glow of lanterns lighting the cobblestone path. The neatly trimmed hedges and rows of blooming flowers framed the vast space, but your focus was on the gazebo ahead—a sanctuary of peace amid the chaos of the evening.

You made your way to it and sat down on the wooden bench inside. The gazebo overlooked the koi pond, its surface rippling gently under the moonlight. You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within you.

Marriage. To him.

The thought alone made your chest tighten. You pressed your hands against your lap, fingers gripping the fabric of your dress. Your mind, against your will, drifted to the past.

It was senior year of college, a warm night like this one, and a party full of red cups, blaring music, and friends urging you to drink. You and Seonghwa had both been there, circling each other with that same mix of irritation and curiosity that had always defined your relationship.

You remembered the alcohol-fueled courage that led to a heated argument in the kitchen, which somehow turned into shared laughter and then lips moving against each other, and then…

You shook your head, willing the memory to stop, but it continued. The two of you in his dimly lit bedroom, a tangle of limbs and whispers, hands all over each other, bare skin to bare skin, the lines of hatred blurring for a brief moment. And then, the next morning.

The hurt welled up as you recalled how he had acted like nothing had happened, brushing it off as though it had been meaningless. No acknowledgment, no apology—just an unspoken agreement to pretend it never occurred.

Your nails dug into your palms as the emotions swirled. Hurt. Anger. Resentment.

Because that wasn’t the first time you spent the night in Seonghwa’s bed. It happened one more time the same year.

And again three years later when you both started a masters degree in the same university.

He reacted the exact same way, acting like this was all a mistake.

A soft knock on the wooden pillar of the gazebo startled you, pulling you back to the present.

You turned, and there he was—Park Seonghwa.

His tall figure was illuminated by the soft garden lights, and his dark suit clung to him perfectly, as always. His expression was unreadable, his eyes steady as they met yours.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice calm, though you could sense the tension beneath it.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you masked it with a glare. “Do I have a choice?”

Seonghwa’s lips curved into the faintest smirk as he stepped into the gazebo, his presence filling the small space. “Not really.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Why are you here?”

“I came to pick up your brother,” he said, leaning against one of the pillars. “But it seems like I stumbled into a family meeting instead.”

“You knew,” you accused, your voice sharp.

His brows furrowed. “Knew what?”

“About this ridiculous arrangement,” you snapped, standing abruptly. “About our parents trying to marry us off like some business merger.”

Seonghwa’s expression hardened. “You think I had a say in this?”

“You always seem to have a say in everything,” you shot back, the years of resentment bubbling to the surface.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I found out this afternoon, Y/N. I’m just as blindsided as you are.”

You searched his face for any sign of deception, but all you saw was the same frustration you felt. It caught you off guard, and you lowered your gaze, the fight draining out of you.

“I’m not doing it,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Seonghwa’s voice softened slightly. “Neither am I. But you know how our families are. They won’t make this easy for us.”

You clenched your jaw, looking away. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, and for a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the garden’s serenity at odds with the turmoil in your hearts.

“I don’t want to marry you, Seonghwa,” you said finally, your voice trembling with honesty.

He hesitated, and when he spoke, his tone was quieter, almost resigned. “I know,” he murmured, loud enough for you to hear before he left you alone.

But for some reason, the way he said it didn’t bring you the relief you thought it would.

-x-x-x-

The soft clinking of cutlery and the murmur of polite conversation filled the sunlit dining room. The brunch spread before you was nothing short of extravagant, as was typical of any gathering hosted by your family. Freshly baked croissants, platters of fruit, and a variety of cheeses adorned the table, along with a selection of teas and juices.

Across from you sat Mr. and Mrs. Park, Seonghwa’s parents, their expressions warm despite the tension that lingered beneath the surface. Mrs. Park, ever elegant, wore a tailored pastel suit, her smile gentle as she sipped her tea. Mr. Park, though visibly tired, maintained his usual composed demeanor.

“Thank you for having us,” Mrs. Park said, glancing at you. “It’s always a pleasure to visit.”

“It’s always nice to see you, Mrs. Park,” you replied with a small smile, setting your cup down.

Your parents sat at the head of the table, exchanging pleasantries with the Parks, but the unspoken purpose of the brunch hung heavy in the air.

“How’s Seonghwa?” your mother asked casually, though there was a slight edge to her tone.

Mrs. Park hesitated, her smile faltering for a moment. “He… had a late night with Hongjoong and Mingi,” she said delicately. “He’s resting.”

You barely suppressed a scoff. Of course, he was. It wasn’t hard to imagine him nursing a hangover while his parents tried to salvage their family’s business.

“Oh yes,” your mother said, her expression neutral as she took a sip of her tea.

Mrs. Park quickly redirected the conversation. “Y/N, how is your work going? I heard about your recent success with the investors. That’s truly impressive.”

“Thank you,” you said, offering a polite smile. “It’s been a busy few weeks, but the results were worth it.”

“You’ve always been so driven,” Mrs. Park said fondly. “It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. Mrs. Park had always been kind to you, treating you almost like a second daughter. The thought of her struggling because of their company’s financial issues tugged at something in your chest.

As the conversation continued, Mr. Park cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “We won’t pretend this isn’t a difficult situation,” he said, his tone steady but tinged with exhaustion. “Our company… it’s been challenging, to say the least. We’ve explored every option we can think of this past two years, but this marriage proposal seemed like the best path forward—for both our families.”

Your father nodded, his expression serious. “It’s not ideal, but it’s a way to ensure stability.”

Mrs. Park turned to you, her gaze soft. “Y/N, I know this isn’t fair to you. If there were another way, we wouldn’t even consider asking this of you. But… we’re out of options.”

The vulnerability in her voice made your heart ache. You had known the Parks for years, and they had always treated you with warmth and respect. The thought of them losing everything felt deeply unfair.

“I understand,” you said quietly, your hands resting on your lap. “You and Mr. Park have always been kind to me, and I appreciate that more than I can say. If marrying Seonghwa is what it takes to help your family, then… I’ll consider it.” A silence fell over the table, broken only by the soft chirping of birds outside. “But…” you continued, “I would like to get to know Seonghwa a bit more first.”

Mrs. Park’s eyes filled with gratitude, and she reached out to place a hand over yours. “Thank you, Y/N. You have no idea what this means to us.”

Your father looked at you with a mix of surprise and approval, while your mother’s expression remained unreadable.

But as you sat there, a quiet determination settling over you, you couldn’t help but wonder how you would face Seonghwa after this—and whether he would ever understand why you made this choice.

You had a soft spot when it came to him. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy for you to at least agree to try?

Later in the day, you were sat on the plush couch in your room, a glass of wine in your hand as you recounted the whirlwind of the past 24 hours to your best friend. Across from you, Yeri was curled up in an armchair, her eyes wide with interest as you spoke.

When you finished, she let out a low whistle, her jaw dropping slightly. “So, let me get this straight,” she said, leaning forward. “You’re basically engaged to CEO Park Seonghwa?”

“Uh, no,” you replied with a sigh, twirling the stem of your wine glass between your fingers. “I asked to get to know him, Yeri. It’s… complicated.”

Yeri tilted her head thoughtfully, her expression surprisingly calm. “It doesn’t sound like you’re entirely against it, though. The idea of marrying him, I mean.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “You’re not going to yell at me about how unfair this is?”

She shrugged, offering you a small smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I think the whole ‘arranged marriage for the sake of business’ thing is ridiculous. But honestly, Y/N, it might not be the worst thing in the world.”

Your brows furrowed. “How can you say that? You know how I feel about him.”

Yeri sighed, setting her glass down on the coffee table. “I know Seonghwa’s a sore spot for you, and I know your history with him isn’t exactly… ideal. But it’s been nearly four years since the last time you were with him, you both are thirty years old, and his parents are struggling and this can help them. If your families think this is the best way to secure the future, it might be worth considering.”

You stared at her, unsure whether to feel betrayed or grateful. “You’re awfully calm about all this.”

“Because I know you,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “You wouldn’t even be entertaining this idea if you didn’t care. You’ve always had a soft spot for people in need, poor or rich, and as much as you hate to admit it, you care about his family. Plus…” She paused, a teasing smile creeping onto her lips. “It’s not like Seonghwa’s hard to look at.”

“Yeri!” you exclaimed, throwing a pillow at her.

She laughed, dodging the pillow easily. “I’m just saying! If you have to be stuck in a marriage of convenience, at least it’s with someone who looks like him. You must admit, he speaks so eloquently too.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re too stubborn for your own good,” she shot back. “Look, I’m not saying this is going to be easy. But maybe it’s an opportunity to start fresh. You’ve spent so much energy hating him—maybe it’s time to let some of that go?”

You bit your lip, her words hitting closer to home than you wanted to admit. “It’s not that simple, Yeri.”

“I know it’s not,” she said gently. “But you’re one of the strongest people I know, and if anyone can make this work, it’s you.”

You let out a long sigh, setting your glass down. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Yeri leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with determination. “You start by surviving this engagement thing or getting to know him whatever-thing. And when the time comes, I’ll be there to make sure your wedding is the event of the century. Deal?”

A small laugh escaped you as you reached for your wine glass again. “Deal.”

“To new beginnings,” Yeri said, raising her glass in a toast.

“To surviving this mess,” you replied, clinking your glass against hers.

-x-x-x-

The hum of activity filled your office as you reviewed the latest reports from your team. The success of the investor meeting last week had set a positive tone, and you were determined to keep the momentum going.

Your phone buzzed against your desk, drawing your attention away from the document in front of you. Frowning slightly, you reached for it and saw a message from Seonghwa.

Seonghwa: Dinner tonight? Let’s talk.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing despite yourself. You hesitated, staring at the screen for a moment before typing a reply.

You: What time?

The response came almost immediately.

Seonghwa: 7 PM? I’ll pick you up.

You: Sounds good

You set your phone down, trying to focus on your work, but your thoughts were already elsewhere. The idea of sitting across from him at a dinner table was… unsettling. After years of tension, could the two of you even hold a decent conversation?

A knock on your office door pulled you from your thoughts. “Come in,” you called, smoothing your expression.

Nari walked in, holding a folder. “Here are the updated projections you asked for.”

“Thank you,” you said, taking the folder and setting it on your desk.

Nari hesitated for a moment, glancing at your phone. “Are you okay, Ms. Y/N? You seem… distracted.”

You managed a smile. “I’m fine, just a lot on my mind.”

She nodded, not pressing further. “If you need anything, let me know.”

As she left, you leaned back in your chair, letting out a long sigh. You knew why Seonghwa had reached out. You were both navigating uncharted territory, and like it or not, you needed to give this a chance—for your families, if nothing else.

When the clock struck five, you grabbed your coat and bag, leaving the office with a sense of apprehension. As you headed to your car, you checked your phone again, confirming the time.

7 PM. Dinner with CEO Park Seonghwa.

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened as you drove home to get ready. You weren’t sure if this dinner would bring any clarity, but one thing was certain: it was the start of a new chapter, whether you liked it or not.

---

You stood in front of your floor-length mirror, smoothing the fabric of your black silk dress. It clung to your figure perfectly, the sleek design exuding elegance while still being understated enough for a dinner meeting. Your matching pumps completed the look, and you reached for your favorite necklace—a delicate silver chain with a tiny diamond pendant—fastening it around your neck.

As you finished applying a touch of lipstick, there was a knock at your bedroom door.

“Come in,” you called, setting the tube down on your vanity.

The door creaked open, and Hongjoong’s familiar face appeared. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his sharp suit slightly wrinkled, likely from a long day at work.

“You look nice,” he said, his tone light but his eyes watchful.

“Thanks,” you replied, turning back to the mirror to check your hair one last time.

“So…” he began, stepping further into the room. “Dinner with Seonghwa, huh? He’s waiting downstairs.”

You let out a soft sigh, turning to face him. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I just… wanted to check in.”

You arched a brow. “Check in? Since when do you ‘check in’?”

He smiled faintly, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made your chest tighten. “Since my twin sister got roped into an engagement with my best friend, whom she’s barely been able to tolerate for the past decade.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the edge of your vanity. “I’ll survive, Joong. It’s just dinner.”

“I know,” he said, sitting on the edge of your bed. “But you’ve never told me why you and Seonghwa don’t get along. And now you’re supposed to marry him. I can’t help but worry about how this is going to work.”

You averted your gaze, focusing on the soft shimmer of your dress under the light. “It’s… complicated.” You couldn’t tell Hongjoong about the couple of times you slept with Seonghwa; he would be furious and you didn’t want any drama.

“It always is with you two,” he said, exhaling a laugh. “But you know you can talk to me, right? If there’s something I should know, I’m here.”

The sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten, but you forced a small smile. “I know. Thanks, Joong.”

He studied you for a moment, his brows furrowing slightly. “You don’t have to do this, you know. If it’s too much—if it’s not what you want—mom and dad will understand.”

You shook your head, standing straighter. “It’s not about what I want. This is bigger than me, and you know it.”

Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I hate that you’re in this position. But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

You smiled faintly. “Thanks for the pep talk, coach.”

He grinned, standing and brushing invisible lint from his suit. “What are brothers for?”

As he reached the door, he paused, glancing back at you. “Be careful tonight, okay?”

“I will,” you promised, and with that, he left, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again.

You turned back to the mirror, taking a deep breath. Your reflection stared back at you, poised but uncertain. This dinner wasn’t just a meal—it was the first step in navigating a path you never thought you’d take.

You descended the grand staircase of your family’s mansion, the soft clicking of your heels echoing against the marble floor. Your fingers brushed lightly against the ornate railing, and you forced yourself to remain calm, despite the flutter of nerves in your chest.

At the base of the stairs, Seonghwa stood with your mother, engaged in polite conversation. His smooth voice carried up to you, though you couldn’t make out his words.

It wasn’t until you were halfway down that his gaze shifted, locking onto you. His conversation with your mother faltered for a brief second, his eyes trailing up your figure with a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place.

You tried not to let his attention rattle you, but you couldn’t help noticing how sharp he looked tonight. He wore a silk white button-up shirt tucked neatly into tailored black slacks. The top button of his shirt was undone, revealing just enough of his collarbone to add an air of casual charm.

There was a reason why Park Seonghwa was frequently labeled the most handsome and eligible bachelor CEO in the country. And tonight, it was painfully obvious why.

As you reached the last step, your mother turned to you with a warm smile. “Ah, there you are, darling. You look stunning.”

“Thank you, Mom,” you said, offering her a small smile. Your gaze flicked briefly to Seonghwa, who was still watching you. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity of his stare made your skin heat.

“Seonghwa’s been keeping me company while you were getting ready,” your mother said, her tone light and conversational.

“Good to know he’s capable of that,” you replied, unable to resist a teasing jab.

Seonghwa’s lips quirked upward in a small smirk. “I aim to impress.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the faint twitch of amusement at the corners of your mouth.

“Well,” your mother said, clasping her hands together, “you two should get going. Don’t keep your reservation waiting. Drive safe, Seonghwa.”

“Of course,” Seonghwa said smoothly, nodding toward the front door.

You paused mid-step, turning to him with a raised brow. “You’re driving?”

“I always do,” he replied, already pulling the keys from his pocket. “Why? Unless you’d rather drive yourself?”

You huffed softly, walking past him toward the front door. “Just try not to kill us.”

“I’ll do my best,” he quipped, following you outside.

The chrome silver sports car parked in the driveway was unmistakably his—sleek, polished, and oozing with understated wealth, much like its owner.

Seonghwa stepped ahead to open the passenger door for you, a gentlemanly gesture that caught you off guard. You slid into the seat without comment, the faint scent of leather and his cologne enveloping you.

Moments later, he was in the driver’s seat, starting the car with a low purr of the engine.

“This should be interesting,” he murmured, glancing at you with a playful glint in his eyes before shifting the car into gear and pulling out of the driveway. The soft hum of the engine filled the car as Seonghwa drove, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel. You leaned against the window, watching as the glittering skyline of Seoul gradually faded into quieter roads and open spaces.

You frowned, glancing at him. “This doesn’t look like Gangnam or any of the other districts people like you usually frequent. Where are we going?”

He smirked, the faint glow of the dashboard highlighting his sharp profile. “Relax. You’ll like it.”

“Will I?” you shot back, your voice tinged with doubt. “CEOs like you go beyond Seoul?”

“You’re a CEO too,” Seonghwa chuckled, a low, amused sound that made you glance at him again. “Expensive doesn’t always mean good,” he said, his tone teasing. “Seems like the guys you’ve been with before just took you to the basics.”

You blinked, taken aback by his comment. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “What? It’s not my fault if your standards have been... uninspired.”

“Uninspired?” you repeated, your voice incredulous.

“You’ll see what I mean,” he replied smoothly, clearly enjoying your reaction.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been to some of the best places in Seoul.”

“Good for you,” he said, his grin widening. “But tonight, I’m showing you something better.”

You bit back a retort, deciding it wasn’t worth the argument. Instead, you turned your attention back to the window as the car began winding up a steep hill.

Moments later, Seonghwa pulled into a small parking lot at the top. The restaurant in front of you was nothing like what you’d expected. It was simple yet elegant, with warm lanterns casting a golden glow on its wooden façade.

“This is where we’re eating?” you asked, unable to hide your surprise.

“One of my favorites,” he said, stepping out of the car. “Come on.”

You followed him inside, where the soft murmur of conversation and the faint aroma of freshly prepared dishes greeted you. The hostess bowed and led you down a quiet hallway to a private room at the end.

The room was intimate and tastefully decorated, with a low table surrounded by plush cushions. A large window stretched along one wall, offering a breathtaking view of Seoul’s twinkling lights below.

“Not bad, right?” Seonghwa said as he gestured for you to sit.

You hesitated for a moment before settling onto one of the cushions. “The view is… nice,” you admitted grudgingly.

He smirked, taking the seat opposite you. “I told you I know good places. You just had to trust me.”

A server arrived to pour tea and hand you both menus. As you glanced over the options, you couldn’t help stealing a glance at Seonghwa. He looked completely at ease, his sharp features softened by the warm glow of the room. For a brief moment, you wondered if there was more to him than the infuriating person you’d known for years.

As the server returned with the first round of dishes, you took a moment to admire the spread. The plates were elegantly arranged, and the aroma of fresh ingredients filled the room.

“This looks amazing,” you admitted, glancing at Seonghwa.

He smirked, leaning back against the cushion. “Told you I know good spots.”

You picked up your chopsticks and sampled one of the dishes, your eyes widening slightly at the burst of flavor. “Okay, I’ll give you this. The food is actually good.”

He chuckled, watching you with a satisfied expression. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, forgive me for underestimating someone who usually dines at places where the plates are more decorative than functional,” you quipped, a playful edge to your tone.

“Touché,” he replied, reaching for his glass of tea. “But I’ll have you know, I’ve always preferred places like this. The hype about fine dining is overrated.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re saying that after all the times you’ve been photographed at Michelin-starred restaurants?”

He smirked. “Appearances. You know how it is.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t argue. After all, you’d played the same game for the sake of business and image.

As the meal progressed, the conversation turned unexpectedly candid.

“So,” you said, setting your chopsticks down for a moment, “why did you agree to this? The engagement, I mean.”

He met your gaze, his expression calm but serious. “Do I really have a choice? My company’s struggling, and our families are… insistent.”

“You could’ve said no,” you countered, tilting your head slightly.

“And let my parents deal with the fallout?” he said with a dry chuckle. “You know how they are. Saying no wasn’t really an option.”

You sighed, swirling the tea in your cup. “Yeah, I get that. My parents were just as persistent.”

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, his tone quieter. “What about you? Why didn’t you refuse?”

You hesitated, the memory of his parents’ heartfelt words at brunch flashing through your mind. “They’ve always been kind to me,” you admitted. “I couldn’t stand the thought of letting them down when they’re already dealing with so much.”

He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You really care about them, huh?”

You shrugged, uncomfortable with the shift in the conversation. “They were always good to me. That’s all.”

The server returned with dessert, a delicate plate of mochi and a pot of freshly brewed tea. Seonghwa gestured toward the dish. “Try the matcha one. It’s their specialty.”

You picked one up and took a small bite, nodding in approval. “Not bad.”

He laughed softly. “Not bad is high praise coming from you.”

You shot him a look but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

As the meal wrapped up, Seonghwa glanced at the time and stood. “Ready to head back?”

You nodded, following him out to the car. The night air was crisp, and the stars were faintly visible against the dark sky.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you glanced at him as he adjusted the rearview mirror. “You didn’t drink tonight,” you noted.

He flashed a quick grin. “Someone had to drive.”

You smirked. “Responsible and considerate. Who knew?”

He chuckled as he pulled out of the parking lot, the car humming softly as it began the descent back down the hill. “Don’t get used to it.”

The drive was quiet but not unpleasant. You found yourself stealing glances at him, surprised by the unexpected side of Seonghwa you’d seen tonight. He seemed focused on the road, his hands steady on the wheel, but his presence filled the quiet space between you.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he remarked after a while, glancing at you briefly before returning his attention to the road.

“Just… thinking,” you replied, shifting slightly in your seat.

He arched an eyebrow. “About what?”

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to share your thoughts. “About tonight,” you said vaguely.

He chuckled softly, his lips curling into a small smile. “What about tonight? The food? The view? Or… me?”

You shot him a look, your cheeks warming slightly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late,” he teased, the smirk not leaving his face.

Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention to the window, watching the city lights grow brighter as you neared Seoul. “I was just surprised, that’s all. Tonight wasn’t what I expected.”

“In a good way, I hope?” he asked, his tone suddenly less teasing and more curious.

You didn’t answer immediately, considering your words carefully. “It was… different. I’ll leave it at that.”

He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Always so guarded. You haven’t changed much.”

The comment made you stiffen slightly, your gaze snapping back to him. “And you think you know me so well?”

“I’ve known you for years, Y/N,” he replied, his voice calm but firm. “Maybe not everything about you, but enough to know how you are.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, stirring memories you’d long tried to bury. Memories of the nights you’d spent together in college, and the way he’d brushed it off as though it meant nothing.

You looked away, your voice quiet. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension, but Seonghwa didn’t push further.

As the car turned onto your family’s driveway, the mansion loomed ahead, its windows glowing warmly against the night. He pulled to a smooth stop near the front entrance, cutting the engine.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said, your voice a little more composed as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

He nodded, leaning back in his seat. “Anytime.”

You reached for the door handle but paused, glancing back at him. “Why did you take me there?”

He looked at you, his gaze steady. “Because I thought you deserved a real dinner, not something staged for appearances.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond.

“Goodnight, Seonghwa,” you said finally, stepping out of the car before he could say anything else.

As you walked toward the door, you could feel his gaze on you, lingering like a question you weren’t ready to answer.

-x-x-x-

The week flew by in a whirlwind of meetings and deadlines, and before you knew it, Friday evening had arrived. You found yourself standing in front of your closet, deliberating on what to wear to Yeosang’s 30th birthday party.

The party was being held at Mingi’s bar, a sleek and exclusive venue that was a favorite among your social circle. Yeosang, who you had known since he was still crawling around in diapers, had insisted on a lively celebration, and you weren’t about to miss it.

You finally settled on a fitted, navy cocktail dress with subtle sequins that shimmered under the light, pairing it with silver heels. After one final glance in the mirror, you grabbed your clutch and headed out.

When you arrived, the bar was already buzzing with energy. A live DJ played upbeat music, and laughter and chatter filled the air. The space had been reserved entirely for the party, with a section of tables arranged for gifts and a custom cake shaped like a stethoscope and a scalpel—a nod to Yeosang’s career. His family owned a chain of hospitals and he was a fourth year resident in neurosurgery. His mother was the doctor that took care of your mom’s pregnancy with you and your twin.

“Y/N!”

You turned to see Yeosang himself, looking dashing in a tailored suit. He greeted you with a wide smile, pulling you into a warm hug.

“Happy birthday, Yeosang,” you said, handing him a small, elegantly wrapped gift.

“You didn’t have to, but thank you!” He beamed, placing the gift on the table before turning back to you. “You look amazing, by the way. Are you planning to steal the spotlight from me tonight?”

You laughed. “Hardly. This is your night, doctor.”

As you exchanged a few more pleasantries, Hongjoong appeared beside you, his arm draped casually over your shoulder. “There you are,” he said. “I thought you’d back out last minute.”

“Not this time,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “It’s Yeosang’s 30th. How could I miss it?”

“Good,” Yeosang said, grinning. “Now, go grab a drink and have fun. You work too much, Y/N.”

You chuckled, nodding as you made your way to the bar.

At the counter, you spotted Nari sitting beside Yunho, her cheeks flushed as she laughed at something he had said. Yunho caught sight of you and waved.

“Y/N!” he called out. “Join us!”

You smiled and approached, Nari immediately scooting over to make room.

“Hi, Ms. Y/N,” Nari said cheerfully, her tone more relaxed than usual. “Isn’t this place amazing?”

“It is,” you replied, ordering a drink. “Mingi always outdoes himself. You don’t need to use honorifics with me, Nari, we’re not at work.”

Nari nodded with a smile. “I’ll try.”

As you sipped your cocktail, a familiar voice behind you made you turn.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Seonghwa said, his tone teasing.

He was dressed sharply, as always, in a dark blazer and slacks that complemented his broad shoulders. His hair was slightly tousled, giving him a more casual yet polished look.

“Seonghwa,” you acknowledged coolly, raising your glass slightly. “Surprised you made it.”

“Why? Because I’m such a workaholic?” he replied, smirking. “Even I take breaks occasionally, Ms. CEO.”

“Rare, but good to know,” you said, turning your attention back to your drink.

Hongjoong appeared moments later, clapping Seonghwa on the back. “Come on, man. Let’s go grab a drink and join the others.”

Seonghwa gave you a lingering glance before following Hongjoong into the crowd.

As the night went on, the music grew louder, and the atmosphere became more spirited. You found yourself chatting with old friends and acquaintances, laughing and catching up. But every now and then, you felt Seonghwa’s gaze on you from across the room, a quiet intensity that was impossible to ignore.

The music pulsed through the bar, the crowd thickening as more guests arrived. You were just about to grab another drink when you noticed a familiar face making his way toward you. Jaehwan.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a bright smile, his presence as confident as ever. “Long time no see.”

You tensed slightly but masked it with a smile, trying to keep things cordial. “Jaehwan. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeosang and I go way back, you know? We work together now,” he said with a casual shrug, his dark eyes glimmering with a hint of amusement. “And with you being here, it’s the perfect chance to catch up. Can I get you a drink?”

You didn’t particularly want to spend more time with him, but you couldn’t exactly brush him off. “I’m good, thanks.”

He raised an eyebrow at your response, clearly not used to being turned down. “Oh, come on. Just one drink. For old times’ sake?”

You hesitated. The history you shared with Jaehwan was complicated. You had been together for years, but it was always an exhausting cycle of breaking up and making up, seeing other people in the middle, until one day, you simply couldn’t do it anymore.

“Honestly, Jaehwan, I’m not interested in reminiscing right now,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light but firm. “I’m just here to enjoy the party.”

Jaehwan didn’t seem put off by your words. Instead, his grin only grew. “You’re still as beautiful as ever, you know?” He leaned in just a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “I’ve seen you in the news and in interviews, but you’re even more stunning in person.”

Your eyes flicked away, trying to avoid the lingering gaze that made you uncomfortable. “Thanks,” you said, though you didn’t quite mean it. “I should get back to Yeosang.”

Before you could step away, Jaehwan reached out, gently placing a hand on your arm. “You know, I never understood why we ended things. We were so good together, Y/N.” His voice was soft, almost coaxing, as though trying to reopen a door you had carefully shut.

You stiffened, feeling your chest tighten. “We weren’t good together. Not in the long run.”

Jaehwan’s expression faltered slightly, but only for a second. “You’re still holding onto that, huh?” he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and frustration. “I thought we were past it. You never gave me a real chance to explain.”

You looked him square in the eyes, your heart racing. “There’s nothing to explain, Jaehwan. We both know how it ended. And why.”

His face softened for a moment, the charm slipping, replaced by something more genuine. “I was an idiot, Y/N. I know that now. I shouldn’t have played with your feelings like I did.” He paused, searching your face as if trying to read you. “But I’m here now. If you want to talk, start fresh... I’m open to it.”

You exhaled slowly, feeling your frustration rise again. You’d put so much energy into moving on from him, and here he was, trying to pull you back into his orbit. “I don’t want to start fresh, Jaehwan. I’ve moved on. I’m not interested in going backwards.”

His face tightened, though his smile never completely disappeared. “That’s a shame. I always thought we had something special.”

You shook your head, stepping back slightly, creating some distance. “We did. But that was a long time ago.”

As you took a step back to leave the conversation behind, Jaehwan called out, his voice softer than before. “I’ll always be here if you change your mind, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

You turned on your heel, walking toward the other side of the bar, not wanting to hear any more. It had been a long time since you’d seen him, but the feelings his presence stirred up were all too familiar—frustration, confusion, and that lingering sense of unresolved tension. But you reminded yourself that it was okay. It was okay to feel whatever you felt. Six years of being with someone is a long time.

Meanwhile, across the bar, Seonghwa had noticed the exchange from a distance. He stood talking to Mingi, San, and Jongho, but his eyes kept flicking over to where you were conversing with Jaehwan.

“Who was that guy with Y/N? Seems familiar.” Seonghwa asked casually, though there was a slight edge to his tone.

Mingi followed his gaze. “Oh, that’s Jaehwan. He’s a doctor, works with Yeosang. He and Y/N used to date... for a long time, actually.”

Seonghwa’s lips tightened. “Oh. That was the guy?” He knew you were dating someone previously, but he didn’t really ask Hongjoong for any details before, and Hongjoong never told him anything about it. You kept your relationship strictly private, so there were no articles about this either,

San, ever the one to offer the juicy details, spoke up. “Yeah, they were on and off for years. Six years, I think. But they finally broke up for good. Y/N’s pretty done with him.”

Seonghwa’s gaze darkened as he watched Jaehwan take a step closer to you to talk to you again, leaning in just a bit too much for his liking. “I see. And he thinks he has a chance?”

Jongho raised an eyebrow, surprised by the fact that Seonghwa was concerned about you. “Sounds like it. But I wouldn’t worry too much, Seonghwa. Y/N doesn’t seem interested in going back down that road.”

Seonghwa didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still trained on you, the lines of his jaw tightening ever so slightly.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he muttered under his breath, his focus now entirely on the conversation unfolding between you and Jaehwan.

You were trying to shake off the lingering tension from your conversation with Jaehwan when you turned to the bartender and ordered a blowjob shot, hoping the sweet, creamy taste would ease your nerves.

Jaehwan, however, wasn’t finished. He leaned in again, the subtle scent of cologne still lingering around him. "I still don't understand, Y/N," he said with a low chuckle. "You and I could make it work again. I mean, we've always had chemistry, right?"

You gave him a tight smile, the first sip of the shot barely numbing the irritation bubbling in your chest. "Jaehwan, I told you already. I don’t think this is going to work out. Let’s just leave it at that."

But Jaehwan wasn't ready to let go. "Come on, you can’t just throw away everything we had. I know you still feel something, Y/N." His hand brushed your arm, a touch too familiar, and you fought the urge to pull away.

Seonghwa had enough, and he made his way through the crowd. He moved with purpose, his sharp gaze landing on you and Jaehwan, his posture stiff with a quiet authority that demanded attention.

Jaehwan, oblivious to Seonghwa's growing irritation, smiled as he leaned a little closer to you. "I know you and I had our issues, but—"

Seonghwa’s voice interrupted him, smooth yet firm. "I think you’ve had enough time with my fiancée."

You froze, Jaehwan blinking in surprise. “Fiancée?” He glanced from Seonghwa to you, confusion and curiosity in his eyes. “Wait, since when are you two—”

Without waiting for a response, Seonghwa took a step forward, his eyes never leaving Jaehwan. But it was his attention on you that made your heart skip a beat. As you took another sip of the shot, a small smear of whipped cream lingered on your bottom lip.

Seonghwa noticed, and before you could react, he reached forward, his thumb gently brushing against your lower lip to wipe away the cream. His touch was tender but purposeful, his gaze never leaving yours.

Jaehwan’s eyes widened in disbelief, clearly caught off guard by the intimate gesture. "What the hell?" he muttered under his breath, his posture stiffening as he tried to regain some control of the situation. “Who are you, again?”

Seonghwa’s voice was cool, yet there was a hint of something protective behind it. "I’m Park Seonghwa. Y/N’s fiancé." He didn’t give Jaehwan a chance to respond before adding, "We haven’t made our relationship public yet."

Jaehwan’s gaze flicked to your hand, taking note of the lack of a ring. "But… there’s no ring," he remarked, his voice edged with confusion. "Is this some kind of… business arrangement?"

Seonghwa’s lips curved into a slight smirk, the tension between them almost palpable. "Like I said, our relationship isn’t public yet," he said coolly, his eyes flicking to you for a moment before returning to Jaehwan. "We’re keeping things under wraps for now."

Jaehwan stood there, stunned and silent, his gaze shifting from Seonghwa back to you, as if trying to piece together the situation. He clearly hadn’t expected this turn of events, and his earlier confidence had evaporated, replaced by a mix of surprise and frustration.

You, on the other hand, found yourself caught in a strange moment of both relief and discomfort. Seonghwa’s intervention had put an end to Jaehwan’s persistence, but it also dragged you into a deeper web of lies you weren’t sure you were ready to untangle.

"Well," Jaehwan said after a long pause, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, "I’ll let you two be, then. Enjoy the party, Y/N." With that, he turned and walked off, leaving you and Seonghwa alone once again.

The atmosphere between you and Seonghwa felt heavy, and as much as you wanted to keep a cool, composed exterior, you couldn’t shake the tension in the air. Seonghwa had taken control of the situation, but now, it seemed like there were even more unspoken words hanging between you two.

Seonghwa didn’t immediately speak, but when he did, his voice was quieter, almost amused. "You’re welcome."

You shot him a look, not sure whether you should thank him or be frustrated. "What was that all about?"

Seonghwa shrugged, his expression unreadable. "He was getting too comfortable. You shouldn’t have to deal with that."

You couldn’t argue with that, though it still left a bad taste in your mouth. "You didn’t have to step in like that."

He tilted his head, his eyes softening for a brief moment. "I know, but I wanted to. And I’ll do it again if I have to."

You let out a small sigh, your heart fluttering in a way that confused you. The night wasn’t what you expected, but somehow, you weren’t sure you minded it as much as you thought you would.

Seonghwa turned toward the bar, signaling for another drink. "Come on, you need to enjoy the rest of the party. And besides, you can’t have your ex running around ruining your night."

Two shots later, followed by a series of light-hearted conversations with various people, and the buzz from the alcohol was finally starting to set in. The warmth spread through your body, making your head feel lighter, the edges of your thoughts blurring slightly. You leaned back in your seat, your laughter ringing a little louder than you intended, but for once, you didn’t mind. You could feel the weight of the night slowly drifting away, the constant tension easing off your shoulders.

Realizing you needed a break, you excused yourself from the crowd and made your way to the restroom. The cool air of the bar’s hallway seemed to clear your head for a moment, and when you returned, you didn’t feel quite as dizzy as before. You spotted the balcony just ahead, where a few people were gathered, some leaning over the railing, smoking and chatting. The fresh air felt good against your skin, and you welcomed the solitude, a brief reprieve from the noise inside.

You pulled out your phone, unlocking it and glancing at the screen. Yeri’s message was waiting for you.

Yeri: How’s everything going? Are you okay?

You couldn’t help but smile at her caring tone. You quickly typed your response:

You: I’m good. Just needed some air. It’s been a lot tonight, but I’m managing. I'll tell you everything later.

After sending the message, you leaned against the railing, letting the cool breeze calm your senses. The bustling sounds from the bar seemed far away, and you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the moment of peace sink in.

But of course, peace never lasted long.

You heard footsteps approaching, and before you could turn around, Seonghwa’s voice reached you, smooth and just a little concerned. "You okay out here?"

You opened your eyes and glanced at him. He stood just behind you, his posture relaxed but his eyes watching you closely, as though taking stock of your every movement. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or just the sheer intensity of the situation, but you felt suddenly bold—bold in a way you hadn’t felt in a while.

"Yeah, just needed a break from all the...," you trailed off, glancing back towards the loud, crowded bar. "Everything." You laughed softly, then, almost to yourself. "It’s kind of overwhelming."

Seonghwa nodded, stepping closer, the space between you narrowing slightly. "I get it. But you should be careful. You’ve had a few drinks tonight." His voice was softer now, gentler, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze directly, a flicker of challenge lighting your chest. "What, you think I can’t handle a couple of drinks?" The words were a little sharper than you intended, but the alcohol had given you the courage to tease him in a way you wouldn't normally do.

He smirked, his lips curving upward in that way that made your heart skip. "I’m not worried about you handling them," he replied, voice low and laced with something unreadable. "I’m just worried you might get too comfortable."

Your breath caught for a moment. It wasn’t the first time you had noticed how close he was now, his presence almost tangible, like he was becoming a part of the space you occupied. The air between you seemed to thicken, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, the buzz of the party a distant hum.

"Too comfortable?" you repeated, feeling the boldness rise within you like a wave. You took a step closer to him, unconsciously closing the distance, your eyes scanning his face, trying to decipher the sudden shift in his expression. "And why would that be a problem?"

Seonghwa’s eyes flickered down to your lips before returning to meet your gaze. The tension between you two felt palpable, like an invisible thread pulling you closer despite the divide you tried to maintain. He didn’t answer immediately, his silence only making the moment more charged, more electric.

"You’re a lot different when you’re not all business," he said quietly, the playful edge of his voice barely masking the undercurrent of something else. "Maybe I’m starting to see the real you, Y/N."

Your heart raced at the comment, and you felt your breath hitch in your chest. The alcohol had loosened your inhibitions, but there was something about the way Seonghwa spoke, something about the way he was looking at you, that made you forget for a moment why you were supposed to stay guarded.

You leaned in slightly, your eyes locked with his, and a teasing smile spread across your face. "Maybe you like what you’re seeing."

The words came out almost too easily, the playful challenge in your tone not entirely fake. You could feel your pulse quickening, the thrill of the moment swirling around you.

Seonghwa's eyes darkened just a shade, his lips curling into a smile that was both amused and intrigued. "I think you're right," he said, his voice low, as though he was daring you to take the next step, to push the boundaries further.

For a heartbeat, you two stood there, neither of you moving, the tension thick and humming between you. You had no idea where this was going, no clue what would happen next, but you knew one thing for sure: you were no longer just playing along. Tonight felt different. And the way Seonghwa was looking at you—it seemed like he felt it too.

The moment hung in the air, electric and heady, as the rest of the world seemed to fade into the background.  You were suddenly aware of how close Seonghwa was, how much you could feel the heat of his body, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled deeply. Without thinking, you moved, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until there was barely any space between the two of you. His breath hitched slightly at the closeness, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

"Why are we always in this situation when we've had a couple of drinks?" you asked, your voice quieter now, a bit more vulnerable. You could feel the weight of your words, the tension that had been building between you and him finally reaching its peak.

Seonghwa took a deep breath, his hands resting gently on your waist, and you felt a surge of something stronger—something that made you tilt your head just slightly, brushing your lips against his. "You're not going to want me if I make a move," you said, your voice lower, almost a warning.

"I've always wanted you," he whispered against your mouth.

For a moment, everything seemed to stand still—the world, the music, the people inside the bar—all faded away, leaving only the two of you standing in the cool night air. But then, just as quickly, you pulled back, your breath unsteady, your heart pounding harder than it had a moment ago.

"I'm not falling for that," you said, your voice strained, almost harsh, as if you were trying to distance yourself from the vulnerability that had crept in.

Seonghwa’s expression faltered slightly, and he reached out to touch your arm, as if trying to stop you from pulling away further. But you were already taking a step back, and you could see the hurt flash in his eyes, the confusion.

"I don’t want to resent you more," you whispered, your voice small, almost fragile. The words were like a knife to your chest, and as soon as they left your lips, you regretted saying them. The hurt was suddenly evident in your eyes, and the alcohol that had fueled your boldness before was now making everything seem more raw, more real.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened, and his lips parted as if he wanted to say something. But no words came, just the heavy silence that fell between you two. For a moment, you thought he might try to reach for you again, but you turned away, already feeling the sting of regret that followed your confession.

You didn’t wait for him to speak. You just turned and left him standing there, the cool night air around you suddenly feeling colder than it had before. You didn’t know what you expected from him, but what you knew for sure was that you needed to get away from this—away from the tension, the confusion, and the feelings that had begun to resurface.

You quickly made your way back to the entrance of the bar, trying to keep your composure. As you stepped inside, you spotted Hongjoong in the crowd, chatting with a few people near the bar. The moment he saw you, his eyes softened with concern.

"Ready to go?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, trying to mask the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Yeah. Let's go home," you said, your voice quieter than usual. You didn’t look back at Seonghwa, though you could feel his presence lingering in the back of your mind, heavy and unrelenting.

As you and Hongjoong made your way out of the bar after saying your goodbyes to your friends, you tried to shake off the weight of what had just happened. You didn’t know how to feel about Seonghwa anymore, nor about the admission that had slipped from your lips.

-x-x-x-

End of Part One.

so much happened this chapter and so much is going to happen next chapter oh reader you are so much better than me cause I would’ve leaped across that table like a frog and punch mike

I HATE THAT MAN!

It was cute seeing reader and hongjoong talk and now everything gonna go downhill probably due to miscommunication or reader getting in their own head.

AHHHHH I CAN’T

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

Popular, Boy

☆05: The first fracture.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader

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

wc: 10,5k

(sorry, lot of important things)

Summary: Mike's return brings back old wounds, family cruelty, and impossible expectations. Amidst it all, you find solance on Hongjoong.

But alliances form, and the game shifts... you have no idea what's coming.

Warnings: Verbal abuse, family being mean, manipulation, power dynamics, fluff, suggestive.

Series masterlist

☆04 ☆06: The first move.

The living room of the Clarke residence gleams with quiet opulence. Everything is meticulously arranged—vases of freshly cut lilies, trays of delicate hors d'oeuvres, and glasses of sparkling champagne.

Your mother flutters around, checking every last detail, while your father adjusts his tie for the third time.

You sit stiffly on the cream leather sofa, arms crossed. Your outfit—an expertly styled designer ensemble of a short skirt, matching crop top, cropped jacket, and high boots—screams confidence, but your body language betrays your discomfort.

Dann lingers near the edge of the room, notebook in hand, trying to blend in with the staff. She glances between you and your parents, who seem almost giddy with anticipation.

“He’ll be here any moment.” The elegant woman says, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on her skirt.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway cuts through the room. The staff lined up near the entrance, their postures straight and practiced. But you, you don't move.

The front door opens, and Mike strides in, flanked by a crisp breeze. He’s tall and impeccably dressed, his tailored suit hugging his broad shoulders perfectly. His dark hair is slicked back, and his smile is radiant.

“Mike!” Your mother exclaims, rushing to embrace him.

“Mom,” Mike says warmly, wrapping her in a hug “It’s good to be home.”

Your father steps forward, shaking Mike’s hand firmly “Welcome back, son. You’ve been missed.”

Mike turns his charm on the staff next, shaking hands and thanking them for keeping the house in order. He’s polite, almost disarmingly so, his every word and gesture oozing charisma.

Dann watches in awe. She’s heard about Mike because of Seonghwa—YN’s perfect older brother—but seeing him in person is something else entirely. He’s like a prince stepping out of a storybook, all confidence and charm.

“YN,” He says, his tone casual but pointed “You’re quiet.”

Your jaw tightens, but you force a smile “Welcome back.”

There’s no embrace, no handshake. Just those two words, cold and clipped. The air between you hums with unspoken tension, and Dann notices the flicker of amusement in Mike’s eyes.

“Thank you, little sister,” Mike says, his tone condescending despite the warm words “It’s good to see you.” His gaze flicks over your outfit, and his smile tilts “You’ve certainly… embraced your personal style. Very bold, YN.”

“Speaking of outfits,” Your mother interjects, her tone brisk, “Sweetie, I expect you to wear the dress I picked out for you tonight. This isn’t just any dinner, it’s a celebration for Mike’s return, and you need to look the part.”

You scoff, crossing your legs “I think I’m dressed just fine.”

Mike’s gaze lingers on your short skirt and boots, his smirk widening “Oh, you’re definitely making a statement. Not sure it’s the one family would approve of, though.”

You shoot him a glare “Thanks for the unsolicited advice, brother.”

The tension between you two is palpable, and Dann feels caught in the crossfire. To her, Mike seems perfect—charming, kind, and everything you aren't. But the sharpness in your voice and the smugness in Mike’s eyes tell a different story.

“Let’s not bicker,” Your father says quickly, trying to diffuse the moment “Tonight is a family celebration. Son, go get some rest before dinner. Darling, you’ll change, won’t you?”

You don't answer, your lips pressing into a thin line.

“Of course she will,” The tallest says, his tone dripping with condescension “YN always knows how to make an impression.”

As your parents and staff begin leaving the room, Mike lags behind for a moment, catching your eye.

“Still bratty, I see,” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Still idiot, I see.” You snap back under your breath.

Dann catches the exchange, her stomach twisting. There’s more to this ‘perfect brother’ than meets the eye, she realizes, but for now, she pushes the thought aside and trails after the staff, notebook in hand.

Something feels… off.

✮ ⋆

The grand dining room sparkles under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers. Every corner of Clarke’s mansion is dressed to perfection, as though the house itself is eager to impress Mike upon his long-awaited return.

The scent of roasted lamb and decadent desserts fills the air, mingling with the low hum of polite conversation.

You sit at the far end of the polished mahogany table, fingers tapping against your wine glass. You're dressed immaculately in a tailored navy dress that your mother picked out for the occasion. Everyone around you gushes over Mike’s accomplishments—the glowing pride of the family.

“Three years, and you’ve outdone yourself, Mike,” Your grandfather says, beaming “A master’s degree from Germany, and already planning your next move. We couldn’t be prouder.”

Mike, seated comfortably at the head of the table like a king, offers a modest shrug, though the grin on his face betrays his satisfaction.

“It’s been a long journey, but worth it. I just want to make sure I uphold the family name.” He gives you a look before he smiles.

Your jaw tightens. You know what’s coming next.

“YN.” Your aunt, Silvia, chimes in, turning to you with a saccharine smile “You’re still in school, right? How’s the business program treating you?”

Fucking business program, you hate it.

You force a smile, your heart racing “It’s… going well. Challenging, but rewarding.”

Mike chuckles, drawing all eyes back to him “Challenging? Business? Come on, YN. You’ve been in undergrad for what, three years now? I could teach you the basics in a week.”

The table erupts into polite laughter, but your cheeks burn. You know the jab isn’t just playful—it’s calculated, meant to belittle you.

“Everyone can go at their own pace and that's okay.” You say, voice sharp enough to make your mother glance at you warningly.

Mike leans back in his chair, swirling his wine “It’s not about pace, YN. It’s about discipline. Focus. Something you’ve always struggled with.”

“That's true, Mikey!” One of the younger cousins laughs “I'm just in my first year of college and it's all too easy, it's not ‘challenging’ as YN says.”

“Maybe the career is only made for men, we are the ones who dominate business in companies.” Your father's brother, William, comments by drinking his wine elegantly.

Everyone laughs at his sexist comment.

"Don't say that, honey!" His wife slaps his arm with a giggle "Your daughter studies the same thing."

"But my daughter is smart and focused." He blurts out with mockery as he gives you a look, and you save yourself the urge to roll your eyes.

"YN is also focused, she has good grades." Your mother says sweetly, defending you.

"But 'good' is not enough, you always have to strive for perfection and not settle for mediocre grades." Mike adds with a shrug.

And the whole table laughs like it's the funniest joke they've ever heard. Your mother shakes her head disapprovingly but says nothing.

Your father clears his throat, trying to shift the conversation, but the damage is done. Mike’s words hang in the air.

Your hands curl into fists under the table. You’ve had enough.

“You always know how to make someone feel bad.” You mutter, just loud enough for Mike to hear.

“What did you say?” He asks, his tone faux-innocent, leaning forward slightly.

“Enough, kids.” Your mother says with an awkward smile.

But Mike isn’t done. He leans closer, his voice low and cutting “You’re a disappointment, YN. You always have been. Pretending to study business when you’re off chasing some frivolous dream.”

You hold your breath when you hear that, that fucking idiot "You don't know anything."

“Fashion design, really? What are you going to do with that, sew costumes for kids’ plays?”

Your parents look at Mike in terror. The topic of your study preferences was always private, so that the rest of the family wouldn't gossip and intrude.

Yes, your parents knew and know about your passion for fashion, since you were a child your dream was to be a designer and create your own brand, but due to the family business they forced you to study business management, and you had to accept without being able to reproach.

Mike knew it too, and still decided to talk.

The table falls silent, and your chest tightens when everyone looks at you with surprise and mockery.

Without noticing, your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“I—excuse me.” You stammer, pushing your chair back abruptly.

Your mother calls after you, but you are already halfway to the door. Heels click against the marble floor as you grab your car keys and storm out of the house.

You don't know where you’re going until you’re halfway across town, your phone clutched in your trembling hand. The only person who crosses your mind is Hongjoong, you need Hongjoong right now.

You don't text or call him, you don't need to. You know he’ll be home.

When you reach his house, you knock on the door, heart pounding as you wait.

Hongjoong answers, his hair disheveled and his face scrunched in confusion.

“YN?”

“Can I come in?” You ask, your voice breaking.

Hongjoong watches as you step inside, the soft click of your heels on the polished floor breaking the quiet of the hallway.

Your dress gleams faintly under the light, the kind of fabric and craftsmanship that scream exclusivity. The subtle sheen of your makeup and the designer heels complete the look, making you seem almost out of place in the cozy, modest home.

His heart clenches. He doesn’t ask questions, not yet. Instead, he offers a small, reassuring smile.

“Come in, pretty.” From the dining room, the clinking of cutlery and quiet conversation filters through. Hongjoong glances toward it, hesitating “Uh… we’re having dinner. My parents are home.”

You straighten, brushing your hair away as if steeling yourself “Okay”

He nods and leads you to the dining room. His parents, mid-conversation, look up as you enter.

“Oh.. who’s this beautiful lady?”

You smile shyly at her, and Hongjoong puts his hand on your bare shoulder.

“Mom, Dad,” He says, clearing his throat “This is YN.”

His parents exchange a look, surprise flashing in their eyes. Hongjoong’s mother, a petite woman with a kind face, recovers first.

“YN, it’s nice to meet you. Would you like to join us for dinner?”

You smile politely, your usual sharpness softened “If it’s not too much trouble, thank you.”

“No trouble at all.” His father says, though his gaze lingers briefly on your dress, shoes, even your watch—items that likely cost more than their monthly mortgage.

You glide into the chair with practiced elegance, every movement drawing attention. The table is set simply—a far cry from the elaborate spreads you’re used to—but something about the simplicity feels oddly grounding.

Hongjoong pulls out the chair next to yours, sitting close but not too close. His parents exchange another glance before his mother breaks the silence.

“So, YN, how do you and Hongjoong know each other?”

Your posture stiffens slightly, and Hongjoong tenses, too. If only they knew how you met and the things that Hongjoong has done under your orders and all those humiliations, they would surely kick you out.

You both share a fleeting glance, silently agreeing to tread carefully.

“We’re in the same business program.” Hongjoong says, his voice steady.

You nod, your hands resting lightly on the table “Yes, we’ve worked on a few projects together. Joong’s very… dedicated.”

Hongjoong’s parents smile, though his father’s expression is tinged with curiosity at the way you call his son.

“That’s wonderful,” He says “It’s good to see you making connections, Hongjoong. Your school’s not an easy one to get into.”

You smile faintly, but there’s an underlying tension “It’s very competitive.” You add.

The pretty woman serves the meal—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and a crisp salad. The aroma is inviting, but you hesitate for a moment, the simple fare so unlike the complex, perfectly plated dishes you’re accustomed to.

As you eat, Hongjoong’s father can’t help but notice the way you hold the fork, the delicate way you cut the food.

Very elegant and sophisticated.

“So, YN,” He says, his tone conversational but probing “You must be quite driven to be studying at such a prestigious school.”

You pause, your fork halting mid-air “I suppose so. It’s… a good school.”

Again, Hongjoong’s parents share a glance, clearly trying to reconcile the poised, elegant girl in front of them with their down-to-earth son.

“Did you always want to study business?” The female asks gently.

Your hand tightens on the fork, but your smile remains “It's the common choice in my family.”

You say vaguely, your voice betraying none of the resentment you feel. Hongjoong, noticing the slight tension in your posture, jumps in.

“YN’s really good at presentations.” He tries to shift the conversation “She knows how to keep everyone attentive.”

The praise makes you glance at him, your expression softening “And he’s increrible in everythig.” You add a rare note of warmth in your voice.

As the meal winds down, you find yourself surprisingly at ease. The food, while simple, is filling and comforting. The warmth of the room, the unpretentious conversation—it feels like a stark contrast to the cold, high-stakes environment you’re used to.

“You’re welcome here anytime.” Hongjoong’s mother says as they finish, her smile is genuine.

You look at her, and for the first time in a long while, you feel the ache in your chest ease just a little.

“Thank you… that means a lot.”

As Hongjoonng leads you to the living room, you sink into the sofa, the tension in your shoulders finally dissipating.

“Thank you.”

Hongjoong sits beside you, close but respectful “Anytime, pretty.”

After a quiet moment, Hongjoong decides to speak again.

“YN, you don’t have to tell me everything, but… something’s bothering you. Was it your brother? The dinner?”

Your head tilts back, staring at the ceiling as if trying to collect yourself before responding. Your thoughts race, but you don't know how to express them.

You've always been the type of person who keeps your concerns and problems to yourself, not wanting to be a nuisance to others with your stuff. But Hongjoong gives you enough peace of mind to want to tell him a thousand things.

Finally, you sigh, the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders.

“It was just… the same thing.” You sigh again “My family acting like Mike is perfect. It’s like nothing I do is ever good enough for them. It’s always ‘Mike this, Mike that,’ and I…” You trail off, your throat tightening “I hate it.”

Hongjoong’s heart twinges with sympathy, and he shifts closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder.

“You don’t have to prove anything to them, YN. You’re incredible the way you are. You don’t need to be him. You’re your own person.”

You smile faintly but it doesn’t reach your eyes “I don’t even know who I am sometimes,” You admit softly “I pretend to be what they want me to be, but I hate it. I hate pretending.”

He leans in slightly, his hand moving from your shoulder to gently cup your face, lifting it so you meet his gaze. His voice is tender, but firm.

“Pretty, you don’t have to pretend. You’re not alone in this, okay? You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. I’m here for you. I promised you I'd do anything for you, remember?”

You laugh a little knowing what he means, but you know that he didn't promise to do anything just because it's you. He did it because he wanted to come out of the shadows, to be popular.

Your eyes shimmer with unspoken emotion as you watch him, lips parting slightly as if to speak but then closing again. The vulnerability in your gaze makes his heart ache, and without thinking, he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

The moment is warm, comforting, and safe. It’s like nothing else in the world matters right now.

Just then, in the kitchen, Hongjoong’s mother steps back into the shadows, her heart aching for you. She had heard everything—the quiet, broken words, the tenderness between the two. And in that moment, she sees beyond the image you project.

Beneath the designer clothes, the perfect façade, you’re just a girl, trying to navigate the weight of your family’s expectations.

Her heart aches with a kind of pity for you who has everything and yet, nothing at all. She quietly wipes a stray tear from her cheek, then retreats further into the kitchen, giving you the space you need.

Your voice is almost lost in the soft quiet of the room as you look at him once more, a gentle smile beginning to form.

“Thank you, Joongie.” You whisper, eyes reflecting the depth of your unspoken gratitude.

Hongjoong smiles back, his heart full “Always, pretty. Always.”

And for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not as alone as you thought.

✮ ⋆

The quiet of the house wraps around you as you step inside, the weight of the night still lingering in your bones. It’s late—almost twelve PM—and the house is eerily silent. No one is waiting for you in the hallway.

The fancy dinner is long over, and you haven't bothered to text them to let them know where you were, knowing they wouldn’t care.

You take off your heels, the cool hardwood of the floor brushing against your feet, and walk slowly into the living room.

There, sitting on the couch with his back straight and arms crossed, is Mike.

“Look who finally decided to come back,” He says, his tone as sharp as a knife “Having a little fun, were we? How nice of you to finally come home.”

Your chest tightens as you stop in the doorway. You haven't seen him like this in a while—his arrogance and superiority seem to grow with every moment he’s home. His sharp gaze cuts through you like a blade, but you stand tall, trying to control the fluttering in your stomach.

“Don’t look at me like that,” He sneers, his eyes narrowing as he stands “You think you can just walk in late after disappearing for hours? You’re pathetic.”

Your heart sinks, but you keep a neutral expression “I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

“Wait?” Mike scoffs, pacing in front of you “You think I care about waiting? I care about you making a fool of yourself in front of the family. You’ve always been a brat, and you still haven’t learned. You’re not a child anymore, YN. You need to grow up.”

Every word he spits feels like venom, but you know better than to show weakness. You know what he’s doing—tearing you down, making you feel small.

This isn’t new. This is just who he is.

“I’m just trying to live my life, Mike.”

Mike pauses, his smirk widening as he leans closer “Live your life? You’ve been living in a fantasy, little one. You think you can just pretend everything’s fine? Everyone thinks you’re studying business because you'll be part of Dad's company, but you never really think about doing it. You’ve been a joke this whole time. You’re nothing like me. You’ll never be good enough.”

You take the words in, letting them sink in as you have done for so many years. It’s painful, but you know how to endure it. You know how to ignore the voice inside telling you you’re not worthless, that you’re more than what he says.

But tonight, it feels heavier.

“I don’t know why Mom and Dad think you’re this perfect little angel.” You say with mockery, looking him up and down.

He laughs bitterly “Because I am perfect. I’ve done everything right. I’m successful. I’m smart. And unlike you, I know how to get what I want. They should be proud of me. But you, YN? You’re just a spoiled child who’s going to get everything handed to her. And still, you fail. You’ll never be me.”

Your fists clench at your sides, but you don't respond. Instead, you bite your lip, trying to keep your composure. The words are harsh, but you’ve heard them all before. He’s always been the same—deceptively charming and cruel when it matters most.

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not perfect like you,” You say quietly, Hongjoong's sweet words resonate in your mind “It's just… I don't want to be like you.”

Mike looks down at you with disdain, his expression unreadable for a moment before he sighs.

“Not even in your dreams could you be like me, pathetic thing.”

You can’t help the flare of anger that rises in your chest at his words, but you suppress it quickly.

Without saying another word, you turn and walk toward the stairs.

From the shadows of the hallway, Dann, who had been listening from the hallway leading to the staff rooms, feels a tightness in her chest. She’s overheard everything, and the way Mike speaks to you… it makes her happy.

Finally someone is taming you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The next few days feel like a strange game of charades to you, your home transformed by the presence of your brother. It’s almost like he’s a perfect guest who’s come to stay indefinitely—charming, polite, and always acting like he’s the model son.

He plays the part well, and even the staff, including Dann, are entranced by his manners and wealth. You watch it all from the sidelines, a bitter knot tightening in your chest every time her brother flashes that smile, every time your parents look at him with eyes full of admiration.

And then there’s Dann. She continues her errands around the house, doing what you ask, but now there's an air of something different. She’s captivated by Mike’s presence, stealing glances at him whenever he’s nearby.

She doesn’t know much about him, but the way he carries himself—with that effortless confidence and charm—makes her heart skip.

One afternoon, Dann is walking through the hallway, balancing a tray of snacks for you. As she turns a corner, she almost runs straight into Mike.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Dann stammers, gripping the tray tightly to steady it.

Mike catches the edge of the tray, steadying it with ease “No harm done,” He says with a kind smile. His eyes flick to the contents “For me?”

Dann blinks, flustered “Uh… no, for—uh—someone else.”

“Pity,” Mike teases lightly “But still, it’s impressive. Not everyone takes the time to look after others like this. What’s your name?”

“Dann,” She manages, her cheeks heating.

“Dann,” He repeats, his tone smooth, as if committing it to memory “A beautiful name for a beautiful soul.”

Her breath catches “I-I should go. This is for—”

He raises a hand, cutting her off gently “No need to rush. Take a moment to breathe. You deserve it.”

His smile deepens, and for a moment, Dann feels like she’s the only person in the room. She mutters a shy thank-you and hurries past him, her heart pounding.

Mike watches her go, his expression unreadable. Then, as he turns back toward the study, he chuckles to himself, amused by how easily people fall for a kind word and a smile.

Later, when Dann brings you the tray, Dann’s unusually quiet, and you notice her flushed cheeks and the faint smile she tries to hide.

“What’s with you?” You ask sharply, taking the tray.

“Nothing,” Dann says quickly, shaking her head.

You narrow your eyes “Let me guess—my brother said something to you?” Dann’s face goes red, betraying her “Unbelievable,” You mutter under your breath, setting the tray down “He’s not what you think, Dann.”

Dann hesitates, confused “He’s… he’s nice.”

You let out a bitter laugh “Sure, he’s nice. Keep believing that.”

Dann doesn’t respond, her mind too wrapped up in replaying Mike’s words. To her, he was kind and genuine, a stark contrast to your sharp edges.

You, watching her, feel your frustration boil over. You know your brother’s game too well, and know exactly what he’s doing. But you also know trying to warn someone like Dann would be pointless.

For now, you let it go, biting your tongue as the tension simmers beneath the surface.

✮ ⋆

The next few days, Mike couldn’t help but notice Dann more often. She moved through the house quietly, always carrying something or running an errand.

At first, he assumed she was just part of the household staff, but something about her demeanor didn’t quite fit. She seemed too young, too out of place among the polished, uniformed employees.

One afternoon, as he lounged in the garden sipping coffee, he spotted Dann hurrying across the lawn with a pile of books. He called out to her.

“Hey, Dann!”

She froze mid-step, the books wobbling precariously in her arms. Turning slowly, she offers a hesitant smile.

“Yes, sir?”

Mike winces at the formality. “No need for that. Just Mike is fine.” He gestures to a nearby chair “Come, sit for a moment. Those books won’t run away.”

Dann hesitates, glancing back toward the house “I… I really should get these to—”

“Sit,” Mike insists gently, flashing the same disarming smile he used with everyone “I’m curious about you.”

She reluctantly obeys, setting the books down on a nearby table before perching nervously on the edge of the chair.

“So, Dann,” He begins, leaning forward slightly “I’ve noticed you’re always running around doing things. Are you part of the staff here?”

Dann’s eyes widen “No! I mean—” She fidgeted with her hands “I’m not a staff. I’m… I’m the maid’s daughter.”

“The maid’s daughter?” He echoes, raising a brow. He studies her closely, sensing there is more to the story “Then why are you always doing errands?”

Dann hesitates, clearly uncomfortable. Finally, she sighs, her shoulders slumping. She doesn't think anything will happen if she tells him, he is very kind and understanding.

“It’s because of miss YN.”

“Miss YN?” He repeats with mock.

“She… she ordered me to work for her,” Dann admits, her voice dropping to a whisper. “At a party I accidentally spilled my drink on her dress...”

Mike tilts his head, his smile fading slightly “She ordered you to work for her? What dress?”

“It's a pretty expensive one… I heard her mention something like Chanel.” She explains quickly “She told me to choose between paying for the cost of the dress with money or with small tasks. I don't have the money to pay for the dress, so I’ve been helping her out with errands.”

Mike leans back in his chair, processing this information. A slow smile spread across his face, though there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes.

“So, let me get this straight. YN, my little sister, is making you work off the cost of a dress?” Dann nods, glancing down at her hands. Mike lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head “How long have you worked for her?”

“Maybe, a month ago.”

“Well, Dann, you’ve given me a lot to think about.” Before she can respond, he stands, brushing invisible lint from his pants “Better get back to your books. Wouldn’t want YN to get upset.”

Dann nods quickly, standing to retrieve the books. As she hurries away, Mike watches her go, his expression unreadable.

“Interesting,” He murmurs to himself, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The grand dining room gleamed with elegance, the long table lined with intricate floral arrangements and flickering candlelight. You sit at one end, your mother to your left, and Mike across from you. Your father presides at the head of the table, quietly savoring his wine.

In the shadows of the kitchen doorway, part of the chef’s staff, is there observing the scene as the family begin their meal.

“Sweetie, When will Hongjoong come? It's been more than a week since I saw him.” She smiles kindly while sipping from her cup “Such a lovely boy.”

You smile at the mention of the guy who has been occupying your thoughts lately.

"Tomorrow we have to do an essay for business management class, so he is coming."

Your mom claps her hands with enthusiasm "Amazing! I would love to say hello."

You laugh a little at her sigh, it seems that she likes it more than you would like to admit.

Mike raises an eyebrow in confusion, who the fuck are they talking about?

“Who’s Hongjoong?”

“YN’s close friend. He’s been here many times.” Your mom responds right away “He’s polite, respectful, and always so helpful. And he’s clever, too. I remember when they were working on that literature project. He explained everything to me when I asked.”

Mike smiles mockingly, doing a project together? You, working with someone... It's silly, to Mike this sounds like you taking advantage of a nerd. But his mother is a ray of light, she has no idea.

“I'm sure it's your personal nerd, doing your homework and that, right?”

And he's all right, but that was before everything you went through together during this time.

“Of course not.”

Mike leans back, grinning “No? So why does he always do work with you? Don't you have more friends who want to do projects with you?”

Your mother gets a little upset hearing that “That’s enough, Mike. Hongjoong is a good influence on YN. You could stand to meet him before passing judgment.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s delightful. Just the kind of guy to fit right in at the nerd club.”

“Son, that’s enough. You haven’t even met the boy. Give him a chance before making assumptions.” This time your father says.

“Whatever. But I’m curious… What is his last name? Is his family part of a company or why are you defending him so much?" He asks with mockery.

You glare at him, your jaw clenches “That doesn't matter Mike, don't meddle in my business.”

“Mike, that's enough. I'm not going to allow you to talk like that about a boy as cute as Hongjoong." For the first time your mother speaks seriously to him.

“Sure…”

“Let's change the subject. Mike, you have to prepare your speech when you take your position at the company. The party will take place next week.” Then he looks at you, "You can invite Hongjoong and your other friends, my dear."

You nod while your mother applauds happily again, but Mike only rolls his eyes.

“Instead of focusing on your ‘friends’, you should catch up with college.”

“Mike.” Your father warns him.

“Also, what about that girl running up and down like her personal servant?” He asks with false curiosity.

Your father clears his throat, his gaze landing on Mike “Dann working for YN was agreed upon by us. She’s working for her to settle her debt. There’s nothing more to discuss.”

“Agreed upon by you, maybe,” Your mother interjects, her voice softer but laced with unease. She doesn’t look up, carefully slicing her steak as if her plate demands all her attention “I still think it’s a bit... unorthodox, forcing a young girl into such an arrangement. Just an apology and letting it go would’ve been more appropriate.”

Your father frowns “And what about the consequences of such acts, my love? This way, everyone benefits. Dann gets experience, YN gets help, and the debt is paid.”

Mike’s smirk widens as he watches the exchange, clearly enjoying the tension.

“Experience, huh? Interesting choice of words for running errands and taking verbal beatings.”

“Mike, don’t say that!” Your mother snaps, finally looking up “The staff could misunderstand it.” She murmurs with panic.

“What?” He holds up his hands, feigning innocence “I’m just saying, let’s not sugarcoat it. We all know YN isn’t exactly... sweet.”

You grip your fork tightly, the metal digging into your palm “Just shut your mouth and eat, Mike. Nobody asked for your opinion.”

“YN,” Your father warns, his tone sharp.

Mike chuckles, ignoring him “See, little Dann must be so scared of her.”

Your mother sighs heavily, setting down her knife and fork “Enough of this. We’re not discussing Dann or her situation any further. It’s settled.”

But the older son isn’t done. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze locking with yours.

“You should be careful, YN. People like Dann have limits. Push her too far, and she might push back. Harder than you expect.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, the table falls silent. Your father glares at Mike, but he doesn’t say anything. Your mother busies herself with her glass of wine, avoiding your gaze.

You stand abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor “If we’re done with this delightful family bonding session, I’ll be going now.”

As you leave the dining room, your mother’s voice follows you, tired and resigned “Sweetie, wait—”

But you don’t stop. Mike’s words echo in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if there’s truth in them.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“Hongjoong!”

Your mother’s enthusiastic voice fills the grand hallway as the front door swings open to reveal Homgjoong, standing there with his usual boyish grin.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Clarke!” He says, matching her energy. His warm tone makes her giggle in delight.

“She’s upstairs,” Your mother replies, stepping aside to let him in “She mentioned something about working on an essay. You two have been quite busy with school, haven’t you?”

He nods, the picture of politeness “Yes, ma’am. Lots of group projects lately.”

From the top of the grand staircase, Mike’s deep voice cuts through the air like a blade.

“Is this him?” His gaze analyze Hongjoong up and down. His outfit was very different from what Mike expected from a nerd.

Of course the glasses scream ‘nerd’ in all the letters, but the denim jacket over a gray turtleneck shirt with an abstract print, black cargo pants, a gray beanie on his head, and a black crossbody bag complete the look…

Mike didn't know that nerds had evolved during these three years, that now they can mix with others and you wouldn't know they’re a freak..

Hongjoong’s gaze snaps upward, and your brother appears, descending the staircase with a calm but predatory aura. His tailored suit and sharp features radiate authority, the kind that seems designed to make people feel small.

“Yes, this is Hongjoong,” Your mother chimes in, her cheerful tone unwavering.

Hongjoong extends a hand, smiling “Nice to meet you.”

Mike eyes the hand for a moment before taking it. His grip is firm—calculated, even.

“So, you’re the charity case,” He says smoothly, his words laced with a thinly veiled insult.

Hongjoong’s smile falters slightly, but he quickly recovers “I guess you could say I’m lucky to have YN as a friend.”

Mike raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk “Friend?”

The tension is palpable, but before it can escalate, your mother interjects “Mike, be nice. Hongjoong is here to help your sister with schoolwork. Don’t scare him off.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Mike replies, though the gleam in his eyes suggests otherwise.

Just then, you appear at the top of the staircase, dressed casually but impeccably as always.

“Joong,” You call, your voice warm, though your eyes flick to Mike in a silent warning.

Hongjoong visibly relaxes at the sight of you “Hey, YN.”

You make your way down, shooting a quick glare at your brother before slipping your arm through Hongjoong’s.

“We’ll be in the study room.” You say pointedly, guiding him away.

Mike watches the two of you go, a bemused expression on his face.

✮ ⋆

The study is bathed in the soft afternoon light streaming through the large windows. Papers and books are spread across the table, though most of it remains untouched.

Hongjoong sits comfortably in the large red sofa, pen twirling absentmindedly between his fingers as he watches you pace the room, clearly distracted.

“Are we actually going to work on this essay,” He teases lightly, “Or are you going to wear a hole in the floor?”

You pause mid-step, shooting him a mock glare “Excuse me for needing to think while I walk.”

Hongjoong chuckles, setting his pen down “Thinking about the essay, or something else?”

You sigh and drop into the seat opposite him “Both, maybe.”

For a moment, there’s silence as you both glance at the notes in front of you. Hongjoong flips through the pages absentmindedly before he leans back and studies you.

“You know,” He starts “This is kind of funny.”

“Uh?”

He smirks “The fact that we’re doing an essay on entrepreneurship, and I remember you telling my parents you’re studying business just because it’s a common choice in your family.”

You blink, caught off guard “You remember that?”

“Of course I do,” He says, his tone softening “It was hard to miss how uncomfortable you looked when they asked about it.”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.” You lie, crossing your arms.

Hongjoong tilts his head, giving you a knowing look “Pretty…”

You sigh, dropping the act “Fine. I was uncomfortable. Happy?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table “Not really. I mean, it’s not every day you see Miss pretty YN Clarke—queen bee of the school—looking out of her element. What was that about, anyway?”

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to the notebook in front of you. After a long pause, you speak, your voice quieter than usual.

“I didn’t choose to study business. My parents chose for me.”

He blinks, taken aback “Seriously? But I thought you—”

“Thought I was passionate about business?” You interrupt with a bitter laugh “No. I wanted to study fashion design.”

“Fashion design?” Hongjoong’s eyebrows shot up, his curiosity piqued “You? The future CEO of Clarke Enterprises wanted to design clothes?”

And he can see your potential. You have impeccable taste in fashion, not just in the way you always dress, but also in how you can identify others' styles just by looking at them. And he’s a witness to it—whenever he went shopping with you, you always picked things that matched the style he chose after his research on the subject. Your sense of fashion was enviable.

“Laugh it up,” You mutter, though there’s no heat in your tone.

“I’m not laughing,” Hongjoong assures you. “I’m just surprised. You’ve never mentioned this before.”

“Why would I?” You snap, but your irritation isn’t directed at him “It’s not like it matters. My parents made it clear that ‘passion projects’ don’t pay the bills. Clarke family members study business. That’s just how it is.”

Hongjoong frowns, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by concern. “That doesn’t sound fair.”

You shrug, forcing a nonchalant tone. “Life isn’t fair, Joong. Besides, it’s not like I had a choice. My father practically enrolled me himself. My mother didn’t say much, but she didn’t exactly fight for me, either.”

He watches you carefully, his brows furrowed “Do you... regret it?”

“Every day,” You admit quietly “But regret doesn’t change anything. My life’s been mapped out for me since the day I was born. I just… deal with it.”

The silence that follows feels heavy, and for a moment, neither of you knows what to say. Finally, Hongjoong breaks it.

“YN… you don’t have to be what they want you to be.”

You scoff, though his sincerity tugs at something deep inside you “You don’t get it, my family isn’t like yours. I can’t just decide to go against them and do what I want. It’s not that simple.”

Hongjoong leans forward, his voice steady and kind “Maybe it’s not simple. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

You look at him, surprised by the determination in his eyes “Why do you care so much, anyway?”

“Because I hate seeing you like this,” He admits “You’re always so confident, so in control. But when you talk about this, it’s like… you’re not yourself.”

You swallow hard, his words hitting closer to home than you’d like to admit.

“I’m just saying,” He continues, his tone gentler now “if you ever want to talk about it, or, you know, vent or anything, I’m here.”

A small, genuine smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“Thanks, Joongie.”

“Anytime,” He says with a grin. Then, with a playful tone, he adds “Now, can we actually write this essay? Because I’m not about to fail this class just because my partner has a secret dream of designing couture.”

You roll your eyes, but for the first time that day, you feel a little lighter “Fine. Let’s get to work.”

As the two of you finally turn your attention to the assignment, you can’t help but glance at Hongjoong. For all his flaws, he has a way of making you feel like, just maybe, you don’t have to be alone in this.

And that makes you feel happy and secure.

A couple of minutes later—ten minutes to be exact— starting the draft of your essays, you and Hongjoong are supposedly working, but your proximity makes it clear that focus is not the priority. Papers and pens are scattered across the desk, completely forgotten.

You start talking about other stuff until you settle yourself on his lap, and his hands resting on your thighs as he gazes up at you, clearly captivated.

“You really shouldn’t let him get to you.” Hongjoong says softly, his voice tinged with concern.

Once again the topic of your annoying brother.

You smirk, trailing a finger along his jawline “Mike gets to everyone. It’s his specialty.”

Hongjoong’s hand tightens slightly on your leg “Well, not to me.”

You lean closer, your faces mere inches apart “Good.” You whisper before kissing him.

The moment is charged, but neither of you notices the shadow just outside the door.

Dann stands there, hidden in the hallway, her heart sinking as she watches the scene unfold. Your laughter, Hongjoong’s rapt attention—every detail feels like a dagger to her chest.

Her grip on the doorframe tightens as she fights back tears, her mind racing with anger and jealousy.

As you pull back slightly, your fingers lingering on Hongjoong’s jawline, he gazes up at you with a rare softness. The silence stretches between you, not awkward but charged with unspoken words.

“Pretty,” He begins, his voice a little hoarse as if gathering courage.

You tilt your head, teasingly brushing a strand of his hair back “What is it, nerd?”

Hongjoong chuckles softly, but the sound is nervous. He looks away for a moment, his thumb absently tracing small circles on your thigh.

“I was thinking... Maybe we could go out this weekend. Like, just us. A real date.”

Your breath hitches, though you manage to keep your expression neutral. A date. The word sets off a flutter in your chest that you quickly smother. You can’t let yourself feel this way—not for him.

He’s sweet, in a way that disarms you. And yes, there’s something undeniably magnetic about the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

But there’s also a voice in the back of your mind, sharp and cynical, whispering warnings.

What if he’s just like everyone else? What if he’s only here because being with you makes him feel important?

You’ve seen it before—the fake smiles, the shallow affections of people who only want something from you. It’s always been easier to keep your guard up, to let the world think you’re untouchable.

Still, as you look at him now, with his nervous grin and earnest eyes, a part of you wonders if Hongjoong is different.

“A date, huh?” You echo, a playful smirk tugging at your lips “Are you asking me out, Joongie?”

His grip on your leg tightens ever so slightly as he nods “Yeah, I guess I am.”

You tilt your head, studying him, trying to find some crack in his sincerity. But there’s none. He’s genuine—almost painfully so.

“Alright, you’ve got yourself a date.” Your tone is flippant, casual, as if it doesn’t matter. But the faint blush creeping up your cheeks betrays you.

Outside the door, Dann halts mid-step. She had intended to leave, to distance herself from the painful scene, but Hongjoong’s words froze her in place.

A date.

Her breathing stops, and her mind reels, repeating every look, every silly smile he used to give you every time you passed by his friends' table, even before he sat down with your ridiculous social group, and she can't deny how much Hongjoong likes you, even now.

Dann had told herself that he didn’t really mean it, that he was just infatuated, that you didn’t deserve him. But hearing him now, so sincere, so devoted—it feels like a knife twisting deeper into her chest.

She takes a shaky step back, her vision blurring with tears. Her mind is a storm of anger, heartbreak, and self-loathing.

Why her? Why not me?

Dann quietly slips away, her steps quick and silent. But her expression hardens with every step she takes. If there was any doubt before, it’s gone now—she won’t let you keep humiliating her.

Dann rushes down the hallway, her chest tight and her mind swirling with emotion. She doesn’t even notice Mike leaning against the wall near the corner, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, well,” He drawls, his smooth voice stopping her in her tracks “What’s got you running off in tears, Cinderella?”

Dann stiffens, quickly wiping at her eyes and turning to face him “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Mike raises an eyebrow, his sharp gaze flicking to the study door she just fled from. His curiosity piqued, he steps past her without another word.

Dann doesn’t try to stop him, her head hanging as shame and frustration bubble within her.

Quietly, Mike approaches the slightly ajar study door. His keen eyes take in the scene inside:

YN, sitting on the nerd's lap, whose hands rest possessively on her thighs as they kiss.

Your closeness, the intimate way your fingers trail along Hongjoong’s hair, makes Mike’s smirk widen.

He glances back at Dann, who’s standing frozen in the hallway, her shoulders tense. His mind pieces the puzzle together.

Dann’s crushed expression, your little display with the nerd in his designer clothes, that obviously, Mike knows that you bought for him, and the underlying tension he’s noticed between the two girls.

A cruel but amused thought settles in his mind. Of course, you're using that poor guy to hurt Dann. Classic YN. It’s vicious, but… beautifully done.

Pushing the door slightly closed so you and Hongjoong remain unaware, Mike strides back to Dann. He tilts his head, studying her, his tone feigning concern.

“Looks like my sister is having quite the fun time in there, doesn’t it?” He says casually.

Dann’s head snaps up, her wide eyes filled with panic. “You—you saw?”

Mike shrugs, his smirk softening into something almost comforting.

“It’s hard to miss, really. She does know how to put on a show.” He pauses, letting his words sink in before stepping closer “You like him, don’t you?”

Dann’s face burns, and she quickly shakes her head “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Dann. Don’t insult me by lying,” He says smoothly, his voice low and persuasive. “You like that nerd, it’s written all over your face. You’re smitten, and YN? Well, she knows it. And judging by what I just saw, she’s enjoying rubbing it in.”

Dann’s lips tremble, but she says nothing. The truth in his words stings too much to deny.

Mike’s expression shifts, his voice softening. “It’s cruel, isn’t it? After everything you’ve done for her, she still treats you like this. Like a pawn in her little games.”

Dann bites her lip, her anger and hurt bubbling to the surface “Why are you telling me this? What do you want?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “What I want is irrelevant. What you want, though… That’s what matters, doesn’t it?” He steps even closer, his tone conspiratorial “You want to stop her, don’t you? Make her see what it’s like to be humiliated, to lose everything she holds dear.”

Dann looks at him, her eyes narrowing “Why would you care? She’s your sister.”

Mike smirks again, his gaze hard. “Oh, I care, Dann. But not in the way you think. YN’s gotten away with far too much for far too long. It’s time she learns that actions have consequences. And I think you and I? We can make that happen.”

Dann hesitates, her emotions warring within her. Mike leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Think about it, Dann. Do you really want to keep being her servant, watching her parade around with him, knowing she’s using you? Or do you want to take back some control?” He pulls back, straightening his tie as if the conversation is no more than business.

“The choice is yours. But if you’re tired of being her shadow… You know where to find me.”

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving Dann standing there, her heart pounding and her thoughts racing.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Dann sits at the back of the school library, nervously twisting the strap of her bag. The place is nearly deserted, the only sounds are the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of a page turning.

She checks her phone for the third time, anxiously glancing at the clock.

Finally, Seonghwa strides in, his usual air of confidence intact. Spotting her, he saunters over, dropping into the chair across from her.

“You’re lucky I don’t hate this place,” He mutters, propping his chin on his hand “Now, what’s so urgent?”

Dann hesitates, her gaze darting around to ensure no one’s within earshot “It’s about Mike.”

Seonghwa’s brow furrows slightly, but he maintains his calm demeanor.

“What about him?”

Dann leans closer, lowering her voice. “He… approached me yesterday. After YN and Hongjoong—” Her voice falters, and she shakes her head, willing herself to stay focused “He saw me upset and, um, he offered me a deal.”

Hwa’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, there’s an unreadable flicker in his expression.

“A deal?”

Dann nods quickly “He said he knows YN’s been using Hongjoong to hurt me, and he wants to help me… to bring her down.”

A smirk slowly spreads across Hwa’s face, but there’s a calculating glint in his eyes.

“Well, isn’t that interesting?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Dann admits, her voice shaking slightly. “I mean, I hate YN for everything she’s done, and he’s kind. I trust him, but I don’t know…”

“Well, you shouldn’t trust him,” Seonghwa says bluntly “Mike’s not the kind of guy who does anything out of the goodness of his heart. He’ll want something in return, probably something you’re not ready to give.”

Dann bites her lip, her uncertainty clear. His words sound similar to what you told her days ago.

'He's not what you think, Dann.'

“Then what do I do? If I say no, he’ll probably find another way to mess with her. But if I say yes…”

Hwa leans back in his chair, his smirk growing. “You'll say yes.”

“What?” Dann looks at him in shock.

“Think about it,” Hwa says smoothly. “This is an opportunity. Mike’s already got a grudge against YN, and he’s offering you a chance to take her down. Why waste that?”

“But…” Dann hesitates. “He’ll know I’m working with him. He might use me, too.”

Hwa leans forward, his voice low and firm. “That’s where I come in. You agree to his deal, play along with whatever he asks, but you don’t let him know about me. I’ll guide you from the sidelines, help you navigate whatever mess he pulls you into.”

Dann looks at him uncertainty “Why do you want to stay hidden? You and Mike… You know each other, don’t you?”

Hwa’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by a more serious expression.

“Our families are close. Too close. If he knows I’m involved, it’ll complicate things. And trust me, you don’t want him digging into your allies.”

Dann frowns, still unsure “So, I’m supposed to be his pawn, but secretly working for you?”

Seonghwa nods “Exactly. Let him think he’s in control, but we’ll be the ones pulling the strings.” He leans back again, his smirk returning. “And when the time comes, we’ll let the golden boy deal with his sister, then make sure he doesn’t come out unscathed, either.”

Dann hesitates for a moment longer before finally nodding.

“Okay… I’ll do it.”

“Good girl,” Hwa says with a grin “Just remember, no matter what Mike says or does, you keep me out of it. Understood?”

“Understood,” Dann says quietly, her resolve hardening.

As Seonghwa gets up to leave, he gives her a final glance.

“Don’t let him intimidate you, Dann. You’re stronger than you think. And with me in your corner, YN won’t stand a chance.”

Dann watches him walk away, her heart pounding. She feels a flicker of hope, but it’s laced with fear.

She’s stepping into dangerous territory, and she knows there’s no turning back now.

✮ ⋆

The evening air feels heavier as Dann makes her way to the agreed meeting spot. Seonghwa’s proposition lingers in her mind, but now, standing face-to-face with Mike, your seemingly perfect older brother, she feels a renewed sense of purpose.

“You’re late.” He remarks, his tone sharp and businesslike.

His piercing gaze studies her, assessing her worth as an ally. Dann crosses her arms defensively.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Mike smirks faintly, leaning back against the wall “Fair enough. So, you’ve decided to take me up on my offer. Good. Let’s not waste time—tell me everything you know about YN and this… Hongjoong guy.”

Dann hesitates, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. Is she really doing this? Betraying her values?

But then she recalls the laughter, the dismissive looks, and the countless times you made her feel small.

Her jaw tightens “Hongjoong used to be normal,” She begins, her voice steady but bitter “He had his own friends. He was part of that freak crowd. Good grades, nothing special. Just a regular guy trying to get by.”

Mike arches an eyebrow, intrigued “And now?”

“Now?” Dann scoffs, bitterness seeping into her tone “Now, he’s your sister’s lapdog. But before that, he was part of the ‘slaves’—as your sister and her friends called them. The kids who did their homework, their projects, whatever they didn’t feel like doing themselves.”

A flicker of surprise crosses Mike’s face, though he quickly masks it.

“Go on.”

“YN and her crew, they humiliated him. Constantly. He was a joke to them. They used him, mocked him, and then, one day, out of nowhere, YN decides he’s worthy of her attention. He just… sat with her at lunch one day, like it was the most normal thing in the world. After that, he started hanging out with them, ditching his old friends. Forgot about them completely.”

Mike’s expression hardens as he listens. He processes the information quickly, the gears in his mind already turning.

“So, you’re saying she picked him up like a… project?”

Dann nods “That’s exactly what it looks like. But the weird part is… he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s completely loyal to her. It’s like she has him wrapped around her finger.”

The older man chuckles darkly, his smile cold “That sounds like my little sister, all right. Always taking what she wants without a second thought.”

Dann swallows hard, her hands clenching into fists “She doesn’t deserve him. And he doesn’t deserve to just… get away with forgetting where he came from.”

Mike leans forward, his voice low and commanding “You’re absolutely right. That’s why we’re going to remind him—and her—that actions have consequences. But I need more. Details, patterns, vulnerabilities. I want to know everything she’s hiding.”

Dann hesitates, her mind flicking briefly to Seonghwa’s warning not to involve him. She decides to steer clear of mentioning her.

“The others, Mindy, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung, they’re all in her circle, part of the same game. They cover for her, laugh at her jokes, make sure no one crosses her. They’re as bad as she is, if not worse.”

Mike nods slowly. He knows all of your friends, but where is little Park Seonghwa? You used to be inseparable.

His expression is one of calculated determination “Good. That’s a start. Keep watching, keep listening. I want updates on every little thing. The more I know, the easier it’ll be to tear her down.”

Dann feels a chill run through her as she realizes just how serious Mike is. But she doesn’t back down. Dann bites her lip, glancing at him.

“There’s something else—something about Hongjoong.” His eyebrows lift slightly, urging her to continue “He… he always feels like he has to stay on YN’s good side,” She says slowly, her voice tinged with both resentment and a hint of sadness “Even when she’s wrong, even when she’s downright cruel.”

Mike narrows his eyes “What do you mean?”

Dann looks away, the memory of that day in the cafeteria flooding back “There was this one time. It wasn’t long after he started sitting with her, maybe a couple of weeks. YN was in one of her moods, and she was picking on me—making me carry her bag, fetch her coffee, stupid stuff like that.” Her voice trembles slightly, but she forces herself to keep going. “Hongjoong... He didn’t say a word.”

“Typical YN. But Hongjoong? That doesn’t sound like the hero type you’re making him out to be.”

“That’s the thing,” Dann says bitterly. “He’s not. Not really. He just… stood there, watching, like he didn’t want to risk making her angry.” She pauses, swallowing the lump in her throat. “But one day in the cafeteria, something happened. YN took it too far.”

“What did she do?” He asks, his tone colder now.

“I dropped her drink over her purse, Mindy made me get on my knees and beg YN's forgiveness...” Dann says quietly, her cheeks flushing with humiliation even at the memory. “And when I refused, YN stepped on my hand mercilessly. Everyone was laughing, pointing, but Hongjoong defended me… he told her to stop, and after he went after me.”

Mike tilts his head, intrigued “He stood up to her?”

“For a moment,” Dann says with a dry laugh “But you know what happened after that? She ignored him. For days. Didn’t talk to him, didn’t look at him. And Hongjoong? He couldn’t handle it. After a few days…. He apologized to her. For defending me that day in the cafeteria.” Dann says softly, bitterness slipping into her tone.

He arches an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued “And how do you know that?”

Her cheeks flush, and she looks away, remembering the explicit scene she saw that night, debating whether to answer.

“Because… I saw them.” She mutters.

“Saw them?” He presses, leaning forward slightly.

“At Wooyoung’s party,” Dann explains, her voice shaking, “They went upstairs together. I—I didn’t see everything, but when they came back, YN looked… satisfied. And Hongjoong looked…”

Her voice trails off, the implications hanging in the air. Mike’s lips twitch into a smirk, the pieces clicking together in his mind.

“Ah,” He drawls, a hint of amusement in his tone “So that’s how he managed to crawl his way into her good graces again.”

Dann bites her lip but says nothing, her face burning with a mix of shame and jealousy.

Mike chuckles, crossing his arms “Poor little Hongjoong. He’s so desperate to stay on YN’s good side, he’ll do whatever it takes, won’t he?” His smirk grows wider, more cruel “I’m almost impressed. Almost.” Dann looks down at her hands, refusing to meet his gaze “Sounds like he’s more afraid of being cast out than he is of losing his integrity. That’s good to know.”

Dann looks at him, frowning slightly “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that we can use that. If Hongjoong’s loyalty to YN is built on fear of losing her approval, it’s only a matter of time before he breaks.” He steps closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper “People like that are easy to manipulate. You just have to know where to push.”

Dann hesitates, her gaze darting to the floor before meeting Mike’s calculating eyes.

“There’s one more thing,” She says cautiously.

“Go on.”

“Hongjoong… he asked YN out on a date,” Dann reveals, bitterness lacing her tone “I don’t know when or where, but he did.”

Mike’s expression darkens, a smirk curling at his lips.

“Now he’s inviting her on dates, playing the doting ‘boyfriend’ while she pulls the strings. It’s almost… poetic.” He leans forward again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper “You know this fairytale won’t last, right? Once the thrill of the game wears off, they’ll both be exactly where they belong—crumbling.”

Unknown to Dann or Mike, you have just rounded the corner, your footsteps halting as you overhears your brother’s mocking voice. You step back into the shadows, your breath catching in your throat.

How does he know about the date?

Your stomach churns. You are drawn to Hongjoong—his warmth, his loyalty, the way he looks at you like you’re the center of the universe—but you can’t bring yourself to admit it.

Pride keeps your walls up, but fear builds them higher.

Fear that Hongjoong’s interest is just another way to climb to the top, that he’s using you like everyone else in your life seems to.

You clench your fists, forcing yourself to keep listening as Mike chuckles darkly.

“Well,” He continues, leaning back against the wall “Let them have their little fairytale moment. Let them hold hands, kiss under the stars, and pretend it’s all perfect.” He pauses, his smirk turning cruel “Because once it ends—and it will end—it’s going to crash down so hard they won’t know what hit them.”

You feel your chest tighten, your brother’s words hitting a nerve you didn’t even realize was raw. You press your back against the wall, your breathing shallow as you fight the urge to burst in and confront them.

Instead, you slip away quietly, mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Hongjoong asked you out…

But what if Mike’s right? What if it’s all just a game to him?

The idea sends a pang of vulnerability through your chest, one of you quickly smothering with anger.

No one uses you, you think fiercely, even as your heart betrays you with the smallest flicker of hope.

As you leave, Dann and Mike have done their chant. As Dann turns to leave, Mike’s voice stops her.

“Oh, and Dann,” He says, his tone almost casual but laced with menace “If you try to cross me or withhold anything… you’ll regret it.”

Dann doesn’t respond. She just walks away, her heart pounding in her chest.

She’s in too deep now, and there’s no turning back.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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strangers by nature | ii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 6.4K Warnings: mingi being a mean brat, puppy antics, swearing, hints of infidelity, slight angst

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A hollow laugh escaped Mingi as he sped through the empty streets, the night blurring around him. The bitter sound echoed in the car, mirroring the anger swirling inside him. He could still see the look on your face, that fierce, unyielding defiance in your eyes as you’d confronted him without a trace of hesitation.

"Maybe you should have fought harder against your parents instead of just rolling over every time they threw you a command. Including this marriage.”

You hadn’t raised your voice, hadn’t even looked angry. But the certainty in your words had cut deeper than anything he could remember. You’d said it so effortlessly, without a shred of remorse or regret, like you hadn’t given his ego a second thought.

And it infuriated him. 

Mingi was accustomed to people bending to his will, not challenging it. His life had always been cushioned by entitlement; his family’s wealth and influence ensured that. People smiled, nodded, and let him have his way—whether it was his colleagues, teachers, or anyone who understood the weight of the Song name. When he wanted something, he got it; when he didn't want something, someone else made it disappear. Life was simple, easy. Predictable.

He’d assumed you’d be no different. The arrangement your parents had orchestrated was supposed to be convenient, uncomplicated. You’d go along with it quietly, play your part, and leave him to live as he pleased.

But he’d been wrong. Terribly, wrong.

From the moment you entered his life, you were a force to be reckoned with—unyielding and resolute, unafraid to show how little you cared for the life planned for you. 

News of your attempted escape had reached him before he even saw you. You’d made it as far as the airport, ticket in hand, your heart set on a life free from the restraints of duty. But then, your parents intervened, having anticipated your plans. They’d sent the authorities to intercept you at the gate, dragging you back home just as freedom was within reach.

You argued, you bargained, and you did everything short of bolting a second time as they walked you into that boardroom on your wedding day. Mingi had been there, watching as you approached, and even in that moment, you’d made it clear through your narrowed gaze and rigid posture that you were entering this marriage under protest.

Though you resisted the marriage and all it represented, you held a deep sense of empathy for him, understanding that he too was bound by this fate. Your efforts to extend an olive branch and build some semblance of a friendship, only served as a reminder of how deeply entangled your lives had become against his will.

And Mingi always made it clear that no matter how much you tried to extend kindness or bridge the distance, he was set on tearing it down.

When your parents organized a small birthday dinner for you, Mingi didn’t even bother to show. He didn’t call, didn’t text—he simply forgot. The sting of his absence felt like a gut punch, even if it was hardly surprising. His indifference when you mentioned it later was almost worse. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” he shrugged, barely glancing up from his phone, his tone cool, unaffected. The casual dismissal in his voice, the complete lack of apology, was almost worse than his absence itself. 

The implication was clear: your birthday, and by extension, you, were not significant enough to be remembered.

It wasn’t until later, when meeting your cousin Jongho for lunch, that the truth hit even harder. Apparently, he’d heard from a friend of a friend that Ahri had posted on social media about her “spontaneous Tokyo getaway” with Mingi, complete with photos of their cozy seats on a private plane and playful captions flaunting their lavish trip. 

Then, there was the night San hosted his charity art auction, one of the biggest events of the year. It was the kind of evening meant to bring people together for a good cause, filled with artists and patrons, all of them dedicated to supporting the community. 

But Mingi had a different idea in mind. He arrived with Ahri, both of them looking effortlessly stunning and either blissfully unaware or fully conscious of the painful message they conveyed. Your in-laws were mortified, apologizing to you profusely, trying to smooth over the spectacle their son had created.

“When will you grow up and stop making a mockery of our family?” Mr. Song fumed through gritted teeth. 

"I thought we had a deal," Mingi replied coldly. "All I had to do was agree to this arrangement, and I could still have Ahri and live my life however I wanted."

Mr. Song’s face tightened with rage, his voice a low growl as he struggled to keep it down. 

“What I meant, Mingi, was for you to show some tact! Not to flaunt Ahri around and humiliate your spouse in front of everyone. It’s childish, and it reflects poorly on you. The least you can do is respect Y/N!”

“Respect Y/N?” Mingi scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. “Respecting her would mean pretending it’s something real. But we all know why this is happening—more money and more power for you. None of this has anything to do with me or what I want.”

“You may resent it, but you are benefiting from it all the same. And that means you owe Y/N some basic decency, if nothing else.”

“This arrangement took my choices away. It trapped me in a life I never wanted. And now you’re telling me to be grateful for it? To pretend that this marriage means something to me?”

“When will you stop being selfish and think about others for once? Consider that Y/N never asked for this either.”

As if disregarding you in private wasn’t enough, Mingi took every chance to publicly humiliate you, constantly reminding you of your place—always on the outside, looking in.

The situation reached a boiling point at last year’s Gold Gala when he arrived completely drunk, blatantly reinforcing that your feelings and the event's social grace meant nothing to him.

As he staggered through the hall, his laugh rang out too loudly, drawing stares from guests who exchanged uncomfortable glances. His gestures grew more careless and exaggerated with every passing moment, completely oblivious to the hurt on your face, tainting one of the most important nights of your life.

“No, I’m not much into charity—though I guess marrying Ms. Choi counts.”

“I’m not here to support her, she begged me to be here. Begged me to care. Pathetic, right?”

By the time you arrived home, the tension was suffocating. You could still feel the embarrassment, lingering on you like a second skin you couldn’t escape.

“Don’t kid yourself into thinking this arrangement means anything. You're nobody to me.”

"Of course I know that!” The words flew out before you could stop yourself, raw and jagged. “All I asked was for you to be there because this event meant everything to me. Everything!" 

"I thought we could at least be civil, Mingi.”

“Civil?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with disdain. "You’re so desperate to play house, to fool yourself into thinking I’ll somehow feel something for you? By begging for it?" 

His gaze was cold, dismissive, as if you were nothing more than a stranger who had intruded into his life, uninvited.

Your jaw dropped at the sheer audacity of his words. Who was this pompous prick, standing here acting as if you’d imposed your existence on him? The last thread holding your patience snapped, and before you knew it, a dry, humorless laugh escaped you.

“Feel something?” you spat, unable to hold back the fury building in your chest. 

“Don’t delude yourself into thinking you’re a catch either. Think whatever you want,” you shot back, your voice sharp and unwavering, “but I’m not the one who needs someone else to validate my worth!”

He blinked, momentarily stunned, his expression shifting as he tried to brush off your words with a sneer. But you could tell that something you’d said had struck a nerve.

“You’ve never cared about anything, Mingi. You don’t even know what it means to care about someone or something—because you’ve always had everything handed to you. There’s nothing that’s ever been meaningful to you because you’ve never had to fight for it!”

It infuriated Mingi—the way you exposed all the things he hated most about himself, holding a mirror up to the person he tried so hard to ignore. And that was something he couldn’t allow. He needed to keep you at a distance, to shut you down. 

Because if he didn't, he feared you might penetrate his defenses entirely—and he couldn't risk that.

As he sat in the warm, soapy water, Mingi’s tiny paws barely poked out from beneath a cloud of bubbles. He lifted a paw, watching droplets fall into the water, creating soft ripples that lapped against his sides. It was surreal. He had once scoffed at the very idea of being anything less than in control, of ever letting himself be so openly…helpless.

Everything looked bigger, more intimidating from down here and he felt smaller, more than he ever had.

Your gentle laughter pulled him back as you poured a bit more soap into the bath, sending a fresh wave of bubbles his way. You dipped your hand into the water, playfully scooping up the suds and sprinkling them over his head. 

He wiggled, instinctively shaking his head as the bubbles landed, but they clung stubbornly to his nose and ears, making him sneeze. The tiny sneeze seemed to amuse you even more, your laughter ringing out, warm and unguarded.

“We’ll find something for you to eat after this. Do you like chicken?” you cooed, your voice warm and sweet as you continued fussing over him. “That reminds me, we need to stop by the pet store.”

Mingi blinked up at you, the sound of your voice oddly comforting, even as it filled him with a peculiar ache he didn’t quite know what to do with. Here you were, utterly unaware that this tiny, scruffy puppy was your own husband, yet you treated him with a care and tenderness he felt he didn't deserve.

“I should probably think of a name for you,” you murmured thoughtfully, rinsing away the last bits of sudsy bubbles. 

His little face scrunched up as he shook his head, sending droplets flying. You grabbed the softest towel, bundling him up so that only his nose and eyes peeked out. Placing him on the bathroom counter, you noticed how his tiny body almost disappeared within the towel’s folds, leaving just a pair of adoring eyes staring up at you.

“You’re so tiny, you might get blown away!” you teased, testing the warmth of the hair dryer on your wrist. His expression turned into the cutest scowl imaginable, as if he was about to bark out a protest.

I’m not little! Mingi gritted, scrunching his tiny brows and squirming as if to show you he was tougher than he looked. He let out a bark, to prove you wrong.

“Alright, sorry, I didn’t mean it,” you giggled. 

You began to gently dry him, moving the warm air over his fur. His eyelids started to droop, each puff of warm air lulling him into a sleepy daze. 

“Pom Pom’s a cute name. What do you think?” you mused with a laugh, scratching him behind his tiny ear. Mingi managed to huff out a small whimper in protest in an attempt to communicate that you certainly were not to call him by that name. 

“Fine, fine. How about…Maro? You’re white and fluffy like a marshmallow?” You tilted your head, smiling as you gently tapped the tip of his nose.

Mingi grumbled, feeling his pride melt under the sheer humiliation, but he went along with the name. Despite his desire to resist, he couldn’t deny the comfort of being doted on—even if it meant accepting his temporary fate as your “Maro.”

Mingi stirred awake, feeling an unfamiliar warmth against his tiny body, the soft texture of grass beneath him. Blinking his eyes open, he was met with a new world—everything was…bigger. The trees stretched toward the sky, and the distant hum of city life felt overwhelming. Disoriented, he tried to make sense of his surroundings, his mind struggling to adjust to this small, delicate form.

Everything smelled sharper, richer: the earthy scent of wet grass, a faint whiff of antiseptic, and…something achingly familiar, pulling him forward as if his paws moved on their own accord.

Guided by the scent, he scrambled over roots and pushed through damp bushes, his little body squeezing through the brambles. As he finally emerged on the other side, he froze. Just a few feet away, sitting alone on a bench, was the source of the familiar scent—Y/N?

His wife sat there, hands clasped tightly, her gaze distant and tired, as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. But just as he took another small step forward, her eyes lifted and fell upon him. Her expression brightened, and the faintest hint of a smile warmed her face as she crouched down, reaching out to him.

“Puppy!” she gasped with an excitement that Mingi could feel down to his little paws. She beckoned him closer, and he trotted toward her, heart racing, wondering if somehow, even in this form, she could recognize him.

You held him close as you left the hospital, your hand gently supporting his back as he rested against your chest. Once you reached the car, you eased into the driver’s seat and settled him in your lap, feeling his soft fur beneath your fingers as you stroked him reassuringly.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you scrolled through your contacts until you reached your mother-in-law’s number. Taking a steadying breath, you hit the call button, hoping she’d understand your exit.

"Hello? Everything alright, Y/N?"

“I just wanted to let you know I’m heading home,” you replied, keeping your tone light. “There are a few things I need to take care of, but I’ll make sure to call later to check in.”

There was a brief pause on her end before she answered, “Of course, dear. Take your time, I’ll talk to you later.”

As you ended the call, Mingi blinked up at you, feeling strangely vulnerable in your arms. Being held and cherished like this was both comforting and overwhelming, a rare moment of intimacy that left him feeling exposed. The realization that someone could care for him so deeply stirred something inside him—a reminder of just how unfamiliar this feeling was, and how unsettling it felt to let someone in.

“Ready to go home?”

On the drive back, you hummed a quiet tune, the same one you always sang absentmindedly when you thought no one was listening. As he nestled into your lap, he felt himself relax, leaving behind a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in ages.

The bell above the pet store door jingled as you stepped inside, your eyes scanning aisles lined with every kind of pet accessory imaginable.

You wandered the aisles in a daze as Mingi, in his puppy form, bounced excitedly, his tiny tail whipping back and forth with unrestrained enthusiasm. His instincts urged him to sniff and mouth every item you tossed into the cart—toys, treats, leashes, a bed, and a sweater.

For a moment, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disbelief—shopping for puppy supplies while your husband’s life was hanging by a thread was surreal.

“Your puppy’s really cute.”

You turned to see a man holding onto the leash of a doberman that looked every bit as sharp as its owner. The dog sat obediently by his side, dark eyes focused and alert, muscles taut beneath its sleek coat. The man’s presence was striking, especially with his stoic demeanor that made him appear almost statuesque.

“Thanks!” you nodded, smiling. “He’s really sweet, even if he’s got a bit of an attitude.” Your eyes drifted to the gentle way his hand stroked between the doberman’s ears. 

“You look like you know what you’re doing, though.”

The man chuckled. “Thanks, he’s actually my first dog. I adopted him when his previous owner passed away. His name is Hetmon.”

Your expression softened. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” you replied sympathetically, kneeling down to greet him. 

“Can I say hi?” you asked, extending your hand for Hetmon to sniff.

The doberman’s wet nose pressed against your palm, and he let out a soft huff before nuzzling his head into your hand. You laughed, scratching him behind his ear, marveling at his calm and steady temperament. 

Now, hold on! Mingi’s eyes snapped up as he watched you fawning over this stranger’s dog. His little heart thudded, an unfamiliar surge of irritation bubbling up inside him. 

Why are you smiling like that? Why are you speaking to another man? Get away from him!

He let out a little growl, then puffed up his tiny chest and erupted into a string of yappy barks, standing tall on his hind legs in the cart. His little nose scrunched up as he tried to look intimidating, but it was more endearing than anything else. You glanced over, bemused, as he glowered with all the fierceness his tiny form could muster.

“I think your puppy is upset,” the man pointed out with a chuckle.

“Aww, don’t worry, Maro,” you cooed, “you’re still my favorite.” 

You scooped him up, planting a kiss right between his ears, which sent his little tail wagging against his will. You set him down gently on the floor, letting him meet Hetmon face-to-face. Mingi’s bravado wavered slightly as he looked up at the towering Doberman, but he squared his tiny shoulders, refusing to back down.

“Is Hetmon good with other dogs?” you asked, watching them carefully.

“Oh, yeah. He’s a total softie,” the man reassured you. “He may look tough, but he loves making new friends.”

As if on cue, Hetmon dipped into a playful bow. Mingi froze, watching the giant dog before him as he lowered his head in an exaggerated invitation to play. For a moment, the puppy tried to keep his air of superiority, giving a tiny huff as if he wasn’t the least bit interested.

But then he gave a low, friendly woof and Mingi’s puppy instincts kicked in. He took a tentative step forward, then another, his own tail starting to sway. Before he knew it, he pounced forward with his little paws outstretched, mimicking Hetmon’s play bow.

“Maro, you made a friend!” you cheered, watching in delight as the puppy bounced around with the older dog. Pulling out your phone, you couldn’t resist capturing the moment, captivated by the unlikely friendship forming before you.

“Looks like opposites attract,” Hetmon’s owner mused as he watched the two dogs circle each other, darting forward and bouncing back and forth.

“I’m Yeosang, by the way,” he added, turning to you with a friendly smile.

“Y/N,” you replied. “Nice to meet you. Do you live around here?”

“Yeah, actually, just a couple of streets over,” Yeosang said with a nod. He looked down at Hetmon, who was now reclining on his back, seemingly unfazed by the puppy climbing on him. 

“What about you?”

You smiled, watching the scene with amusement. “Same. Maro’s also my first dog, so I’ve been figuring things out as I go.”

Yeosang’s expression softened, his smile encouraging. “I remember that feeling. It’s a little overwhelming at first, but you get the hang of it. If you ever need any advice or a friendly ear, just reach out. There’s a park nearby that’s dog-friendly. I usually go there in the mornings if you’d like to join sometime.”

“I’d really like that. Thanks.”

Yeosang's easygoing grin faltered as he felt a tug at his shoelace. He looked down to see the tiny pup gnawing determinedly, jaws snapping at the string.

How dare you speak to her so casually! She’s a married woman! Mingi seethed internally, giving the string another sharp tug. Why did it bother him so much to see Yeosang chatting with you? He hadn't cared much about you before, but seeing you smile at another man so naturally baffled him.

What is wrong with me? He let out a low growl—though intended to be intimidating—would have been menacing if he weren’t so tiny. Right now, all he wanted was for Yeosang to take a step back, to stop talking to you like you belonged to anyone else but him—even though he couldn't say why.

“Maro, what are you up to?” you laughed, crouching down to pick him up. You slipped your hands beneath his belly, lifting him gently. But Mingi wasn’t done making his point. 

Nestled in your arms, Mingi twisted slightly, nudging your left hand insistently with his head. He pressed his nose right against your ring, his puppy eyes wide with urgency. 

See this? She’s taken! He gave a little huff and looked back at Yeosang with the tiniest scowl he could manage.

Yeosang, oblivious to the true intentions behind the pup’s actions, chuckled softly. “Looks like he’s tired. Puppies need lots of sleep, you know.”

“Sounds like someone needs a nap,” you agreed, gently setting the little ball of jealousy back into the cart.

"Oh, before I go," Yeosang continued, reaching into his pocket, "here's my number."

Mingi’s ears perked up, and his tail stopped wagging immediately. If he could talk, he’d be grumbling a thousand complaints. But instead, he glared up at Yeosang, hoping his intense puppy stare would get his message across: Back off.

⋆

The last twenty-four hours had been nothing short of a whirlwind: the accident, waking up in a completely different form, and now trying to adjust to this strange new reality. He was still Mingi, still aware of his responsibilities and tasks, but now he had to figure out how to accomplish them…as a puppy.

He padded around the penthouse, his tiny paws making soft clicks on the polished floor as he aimlessly wandered, bored out of his mind now that you were both back from the pet store. The excitement of the outing had quickly worn off, and now all he could do was sulk in the silence of the house.

His little tail swished back and forth as he circled the living room, kitchen, your piano, and the second floor of the penthouse. Finally, his gaze landed on the door to his room. A mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes, and with a determined wag of his tail, he marched toward it.

You paced around the living room, contemplating how to propose your idea to your mother-in-law: staying overnight once a week with Mingi. The thought of him spending nights alone in the suite, surrounded only by machines, unsettled you. He wasn't exactly your biggest fan—he’d made it clear where his heart truly lay, and it wasn’t with you. Yet, the notion of someone always being there, watching over him, brought you a small measure of comfort amid the uncertainty.

As the worry gnawed at you, you knew you had to act. Taking a deep breath, you picked up the phone and dialed your mother-in-law.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me,” you said, doing your best to sound composed. “I just got back from running errands and wanted to propose something.”

Her voice carried that usual guarded curiosity. “What are you suggesting?”

You respected your mother-in-law’s loyalty to her family, even if her protectiveness sometimes blinded her to Mingi’s faults. She had always been gracious to you, maintaining a sense of decorum that made you feel welcome but not entirely at ease. 

“I thought we could work out a schedule to stay overnight with Mingi at the hospital.”

There was a brief pause before she spoke, her voice carefully polite. “You’re very thoughtful, dear,” she began, “but…maybe it’s not necessary to stay all night. The nurses are attentive, and they promised to call us if anything changes.”

You glanced around the penthouse, searching for Maro, who had slipped away at some point. The quiet absence of the dog only added to the heavy silence, making the place feel even emptier.

“I have full confidence in his care team,” you replied, forcing each word into a polite, measured tone. 

“But I think Mingi would feel more supported if someone were there with him, at least some of the time. I was thinking I could stay overnight once or twice a week? Just so he doesn’t feel…forgotten.”

Mrs. Song paused just a moment, enough for you to feel that familiar flicker of hope—maybe she’d feel the same worry, feel something for her son that went deeper than surface-level appearances. 

But when she spoke, her words rang hollow. “Are you sure?” She hesitated, as if weighing how much emotion to offer before she could close herself off again. “I don’t want you to burn yourself out.”

“I’m sure. And I’ll take care of myself, I promise,” you replied, careful to keep any bitterness out of your voice.

“It’s the least I can do.”

“Well, I suppose there’s no one he’d be happier to see than you when he wakes up.”

You let the comment hang in the air, refraining from answering. The truth was far more complicated—it wasn’t about who Mingi wanted to see. It was about reminding him he wasn’t completely abandoned, despite how much he’d tried to push you away.

Murmuring a quick goodbye, you ended the call and let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, feeling a strange relief as the line clicked dead.

Standing in the quiet of the penthouse, you wondered how it was possible to care so deeply and feel so estranged at the same time. You exhaled slowly, taking a moment to let the frustration settle before setting off to find Maro, hoping the small presence of the dog might be the comfort you needed.

Mingi paused in front of the door, cocking his head and giving it a long, assessing look. The handle was far out of reach, far higher than any normal dog could ever hope to reach. 

With a huff, he pressed his tiny front paws against the door, trying to push and pull with all his might. When that failed, he gave up entirely on the handle and decided on a new strategy: digging.

He squatted down, wiggling his little rear end before he thrust his paws forward in an exaggerated motion, trying to dig under the door. His tiny claws scrabbled uselessly at the polished floor, making little scratching noises that seemed comically futile against the sleek, smooth surface.

He stopped for a moment, eyes narrowing in concentration, before he gave it another go—this time, with more vigor, his body wriggling in earnest as though the door might just give way if he showed it enough determination.

“Maro? What are you doing?” you asked, catching sight of the fluffball nosing determinedly at Mingi’s bedroom door.

He froze, glancing back at you with wide, innocent eyes, but his resolve didn’t waver. He turned back to the door, his eyes narrowing as if silently pleading with it to just open. 

You stifled a laugh at his antics. “Sorry, baby boy, but that room’s off limits.”

Your life with Mingi had been defined by boundaries—drawn lines, quiet distances, and spaces kept respectfully separate. Separate rooms, separate lives, and a marriage in name only. The closed door was a boundary, one you’d both agreed to uphold.

But it’s my room! He insisted with a bark of protest, his frustration evident. He didn’t want the carefully arranged, supposedly comfortable dog bed that sat innocently by the window. He wanted his own room, his own bed, and his own space.

“I don’t think Mingi would appreciate it if I let you in there,” you added wistfully.

Mingi could sense something in your voice—a sadness buried beneath your usual composed demeanor. His ears perked as he tilted his head, studying the way your shoulders slumped just slightly, the way your eyes lingered on the closed door before looking away. 

In that moment, he recognized that despite the walls between you, you were still here, trying to make the best of a life shaped by distance.

Letting out a small, resigned huff, he slowly padded over to the dog bed by the window, casting one last longing look at the door. Then, in a dramatic display, he flopped onto his back with a sigh, his little paws stretching up into the air, his fluffy belly exposed, hoping it might coax even the smallest smile from you.

Mingi wasn’t thrilled about giving up his room, but he figured if he could cheer you up—even a little—it was worth it. Because he knew, perhaps more than he wanted to admit, how lonely it must be for you, living in a world of closed doors.

"Thanks so much for meeting us here!" you greeted Yeosang warmly, handing him a cup of hot chocolate. His eyes lit up with a grateful smile as he accepted it, glancing down at Hetmon, who was already bouncing in place with excitement.

“No worries at all! I did say I’d be happy to answer any questions about dogs,” Yeosang replied, his gaze shifting to Maro, who sat at your feet, fixated on what would come next in your conversation.

You knelt down, scratching Maro gently behind his ears as the weight of your question settled in your chest. A tightness formed in your throat, and you hesitated, glancing up at Yeosang.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about something…a little more serious, if that’s okay.”

Yeosang’s face softened, his usual bright energy shifting to a gentle calm as he took in your expression. His caring demeanor radiated warmth, an almost tangible reassurance that everything would be alright. 

“Of course,” he replied, his voice soft but encouraging. “I’m here for whatever you need.”

You unhooked Mingi from the leash, giving him a gentle nudge forward. “Go on, Maro,” you encouraged, motioning toward Hetmon, who was practically vibrating, his tail whipping the air behind him like a propeller.

"Hey, do you wanna play chase?" Hetmon asked eagerly, prancing in a tight circle around Mingi.

"We can also play fetch! My dad brought my favorite ball!"

But Mingi sat firmly in place, his tiny body angled away from Hetmon, focused entirely on your conversation with Yeosang. He narrowed his eyes, stubbornly ignoring the playful advances. As far as he was concerned, Yeosang’s angelic demeanor deserved the highest level of suspicion.

“No,” the puppy pouted, his voice stubborn and unmoving.

Undeterred, Hetmon scooted closer, nudging Mingi’s side with his nose. "Come on, just one game! I’ll even let you catch me!" He bounced in front of Mingi, crouching low in an exaggerated play bow, his tail wagging furiously.

Mingi huffed, his small body stiffening as he resisted the pull of Hetmon’s enthusiasm. He cast the doberman a sidelong glare that would’ve been intimidating—if he were anything bigger than a fluffball.

"No, I want to stay here," Mingi grumbled. "Your father is trying to hit on my wife."

Hetmon tilted his head, blinking with wide-eyed innocence. "That can’t be your wife; she’s not a dog. She’s your mom."

Mingi’s tiny temper flared, but he reminded himself he was dealing with someone with the mental equivalent of a toddler.

"Look, I don’t expect you to understand, but she’s my wife. If I tell you what happened, would you leave me alone?"

Hetmon sat back, pausing thoughtfully, his tail still wagging. "Okay, I’ll listen!”

Mingi sighed, rolling his eyes as if explaining was a chore. "Alright, so before I got...uh, transformed," he said, waving a paw at his small, fluffy body with obvious disdain, 

"I was married to Y/N. Then I got into a car accident."

Hetmon’s eyes went wide with awe, tail wagging in anticipation. "So… you died and became a dog?"

"No!" Mingi barked, his chest puffed. "I was transformed into one because I did bad things.” The words came out quietly, almost like a confession, and he glanced away, embarrassed. 

“I have three months to complete three tasks, or else I’m stuck like this… forever."

Hetmon tilted his head, his big eyes full of innocent curiosity as he tried to wrap his mind around Mingi’s words. He watched Mingi for a moment, then his tail gave a tentative wag.

“What do you have to do? Can I help?” Hetmon asked eagerly. 

“My dad says we always have to help friends!”

Friends. The word stung more than Mingi expected, a sudden reminder of how few people he truly trusted or felt close to. Yunho was really his only friend, the one person he could count on without question. 

He shifted uncomfortably, his thoughts drifting to the tight circle of people he called acquaintances: the other Choi’s, the son of Park Enterprises… all hand-picked connections meant to strengthen his family’s standing, but none of those relationships had ever felt genuine. 

Had he done this on purpose? Had he pushed people away to keep himself safe, to avoid the risk of betrayal or disappointment? Maybe he’d chosen solitude to protect himself from the sting of being left behind—but he hadn’t expected it to feel so empty now, as he sat here realizing that even a dog like Hetmon was willing to reach out with kindness.

“Okay, well...I guess,” Mingi sighed. 

You swallowed hard, fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup as you fought to steady yourself. The sunlight hit your wedding ring, casting a soft glow over the diamonds—a gleaming, constant reminder of the life you were bound to. In a way, it felt more like a chain. Taking a deep breath, you chose your words carefully. 

“My…husband was in a really bad car wreck the other night. He’s in a coma right now,” you said, the words thick and heavy, as if each one were being forced out. 

The reality of it all settled in the air between you and Yeosang, and you could feel his compassion in the way he listened to you. His brow creased with concern as he took in your words, his quiet presence urging you to press on.

“I’ve made arrangements to spend at least one night a week at the hospital,” you continued, forcing yourself to look down at your cup rather than meet his eyes. 

“It’s hard to explain, but I guess I don’t want him to be…alone, even if he can’t really tell.”

Your voice trailed off as a feeling of helplessness welled up within you. You wanted to believe that Mingi could somehow sense your presence, that maybe your being there would make even a small difference. But at the same time, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that your visits might mean more to you than they did to him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. That’s a lot to carry. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you. But you’re doing your best to be there for him, even when it’s painful.”

You felt a slight relief in his understanding, in the way he didn’t try to offer empty reassurances. “Thank you,” you whispered, feeling the weight of Yeosang’s empathy. 

“I also don’t mean to impose but…would you mind letting Maro stay over just one night a week? Until I figure things out?” you asked sheepishly. “He’s still so little, and I don’t want him to feel abandoned while I’m gone.”

“Of course, Y/N, don't feel bad for asking!” Yeosang nodded enthusiastically.

“Maro will be in great hands, I promise. I know Hetmon would love having him over! It’ll be like…boys' night, and I can build a fort for them, we can eat snacks…”

Yeosang’s eyes sparkled with genuine excitement as he spoke, his infectious energy making you smile despite your concerns. He had a knack for making the most mundane plans sound like grand adventures, and his lighthearted spirit was always a comforting presence.

The unexpected kindness caught you off guard, causing your shoulders to relax.

“Really?” you murmured, struggling to believe that someone truly understood and wanted to help in such a straightforward yet meaningful way.

“You're dealing with so much right now. I'm glad to help, even if it's small.” For a moment, you felt a lump rise in your throat, the weight of his words grounding you in a world that often felt chaotic and uncertain.

“You don’t have to face all this on your own,” Yeosang added, his words carrying a depth that felt like a lifeline. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Hetmon barreling across the grassy field, with Maro bounding right behind him as they zig-zagged through the park. The sight of the two playing together made you smile.

“Hetmon, come have some water!” Yeosang called out. 

The doberman’s ears perked up, and he shifted course, galloping toward his owner, excited for his water break. Maro, bounded after him, and hopped up onto your lap, nuzzling into your arms.

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

What!?

Mingi’s gaze darted from you to Yeosang, then to Hetmon, who was still wagging his tail, blissfully unaware of the turmoil stirring inside him.

Despite his best efforts to stay aloof and independent, he had come to rely on your presence—the warmth, the comfort, and the steady sense of grounding you brought to his strange new world. The thought of being without that, even for just a night, filled him with something he was unwilling to admit to himself: fear.

<< i | iii >>

a/n: ughhh my taglist is ugly, I can't tag more than 5 blogs to a line now, so forgive me for the formatting

taglist: @syubseokie @koyagifs @sunnysidesins @thedistractedwriter @notevenheretbh1

@molberto @litolmochi @intowxnderland @yn-reincarnate @lemonkait00

@corgilover20 @randomgworlypop @taegi1016 @almondtofu006 @ateezaddict24

@desi2go @beabatiny @sangilov-r @roomsofangel @symmieangela

@dumplingsyum @etaerealboy @fairylover68 @foxinnie8

@yoonrixx @jean-swolo @silent-potato @jiwoongsblondehair @sanriomilk

@sanniesbum

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼 𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 07:30 pm - @woncon idol!poly!yunwoosan x gn!reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 08:00 - @mimikittysblog husband!poly!yunsan x wife!reader (timestamp) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 21:40 - @mimikittysblog poly!ot8 x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 23:55 - @mimikittysblog poly!ot8 x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Alien In My Living Room - @potatomountain alien!hongjoong x reader x cowboy!san (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 [ 20.08 ] - @yizhou-time mafia!hongjoong x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 A Little Friendly Competition - @snwusberry dad!hongjoong x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 A Momma’s Boy - @acciocriativity idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 After School Discipline [Part One] [Part Two] - @wwooyology professor!hongjoong x reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Beginning Of The End [Part One] [Part Two] - @yeomongi bf!hongjoong x reader (two-parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Cherry Lemons [Part One] [Part Two] - @altxrrmelancholy biker!seonghwa x reader (two-parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Corrupted Thoughts - @planet-hwa roommate!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Embarrassingly Cute - @xuchiya non-idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Head Over Heels - @iannmin heel obsessed!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Hot Chocolate - @sugawhaaa bf!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 [1:15 pm] - @yuyusgirlie husband!yunho x wife!reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 2U - @joongieology non-idol!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 A Funfair Date - @mysteriousrainsworld bf!yunho x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Bad Girl Syndrome - @hotteokyu outlaw!yunho x outlaw!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Bodyguard!Yunho & Spoiled Nepobaby!Reader | Bodyguard!Yunho Puts You In Your Place - @seobinghard bodyguard!yunho x nepobaby!reader (two-parts) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 12:05am - @planet-hwa bf!yeosang x reader (timestamp) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Birthday - @sweetiesicheng bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Die With A Smile - @koyagifs non-idol!yeosang x reader ft.seonghwa (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Hidden in Polaroid: His Secrets, Her Obsession - @champagnecherryblossom idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 How Quick Things Can Change… - @hee0soo serial killer!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 A Goodfella's Moondance - @itstheghostofmypast husband!mafia!san x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Echos Of Fame - @scoupsakakitty idol!san x idol!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Glowing Caverns - @wwooyology lifeguard!san x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Honey, Baby - @i-like-loserz husband!san x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 I'm Okay! Gwenchana! - @itstheghostofmypast husband!non-idol!san x wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Finals Week - @yeomongi bf!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Raving With Best Friend ! Mingi - @seobinghard best friend!mingi x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Unfair Nostalgia - @xuchiya ex-husband!mingi x ex-wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 You Gonna Pick Up The Phone? - @outlawinthisworld1117 neighbor crushl!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Your Little Monster - @bvidzsoo mafia heir!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 [11:59 pm] - @m1ngkis wooyoung x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 A Road Trip - @littlefireball bf!wooyoung x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Blistering Heat - @wwooyology fox hybrid!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Chosen Appa - @dancinglikebutterflywings best friend!wooyoung x single mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Cookies For Santa - @snwusberry dad!wooyoung x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Blood Stained Words - @dae-chwiita non-idol!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Jongho As Your Boyfriend's Best Friend - @haechanhues non-idol!jongho x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Ornament Odyssey - @lilacmingi santa!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Soft Cheeks, Softer Hearts - @xuchiya bf!jongho x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Tension & Release - @yeomongi bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞

🐟 k - kids by current joys

🐟 o - odd reasons by donovan melero

🐟 i - it’s you by ateez

I can’t recommend much music, but hey it’s something

MOOT / TAG GAME !

mission— spell your real name / name you use on tumblr with songs you like >< ready, set, go !

m — my love, mine all mine (mitski)

i — i love you, i’m sorry (gracie abrams)

c — coraline (lyn lapid)

k — killshot (magdalena bay)

i — i know you (faye webster)

e — either way (ive)

tagging— @puma-riki @flwrstqr @liwinly @woniefication @lilificationn @stvrriki @okwonyo + anyone else who wants to join !

𓇼 𝐏𝟏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𓇼 𓆞 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𓆞 𓇼 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬/𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬/𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𓇼 𓇼 𝐨𝐭𝟔/𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Another P1 Member Sends You A Photo Of Your P1 Boyfriend Trend - @vampirehoon ot6 x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Call Me Maybe - @hksool ot6 x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Hands Off - @/hrts4kyo bf!intak x reader x keeho (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Hey, It's Me - @nishibons ot6 x reader (texts/thoughts) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 P1harmony And The Coquette Boyfriend Trend - @kisseobie ot6 x reader (reactions) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 P1harmony As your Bestfriends (Them Crushing On You) - @kyosopp ot6 x reader (headcanons) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐡𝐨 𓇼 𓆞 Baby All Mine - @joocomics streamer!keeho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Cinnamon Banana Pancakes - @kyufessions bf!keeho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Close To You - @ldhluvr academic rival!keeho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 I Told You To Stay Still - @ratedfleur non-idol!keeho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Let Me Take Care Of You - @ohmyujins bf!keeho x reader (headcanons) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Taking Pictures In The Mirror - @seobslatina non-idol!keeho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐭𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨) 𓇼 𓆞 2Nite - @/hrts4kyo non-idol!theo x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Be Better - @/348kg non-idol!theo x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Don't Let Me Lose You - @junhannies non-idol!theo x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Drive Me Crazy - @woobly non-idol!theo x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 I Look At You Like You're Perfect For Me - @lily-blue half-dark elf!theo x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Kiss It Off Me - @yyawnjun best friend!theo x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐣𝐢𝐮𝐧𝐠 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Are You Jealous - @ksnfangz best friend!jiung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Backstage Visits - @sxfterhearts idol!jiung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Butterflies (2 A.M. Version) - @playerninth non-idol!jiung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Cookies, Necklaces And Pigtails - @sxfterhearts non-idol!bf!jiung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 First Love - @hksool bf!jiung x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Just Sleeping - @blue-jisungs idol!jiung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐤 𓇼 𓆞 Ace Racer - @sopestvr ace racer!bf!intak x reader (headcanon) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Chocolate Cake - @slytherinshua non-idol!intak x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Do Something - @asterr1sk non-idol!intak x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Downpour - @kyufessions non-idol!bf!intak x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 "Frat Boy Energy" - @greenlegsandspam idol!intak x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Untitled - @catboyieejeno bf!intak x reader (headcanons) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐚 (𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥) 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 At Piece - @sugawhaaa bf!soul x keeho's sister!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Hair Dye - @soulseobie non-idol!soul x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 It's A Skill Issue - @random-potat best friend!soul x reader (text) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Let's Get Lost - @kyocakez idol!soul x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Nice To Meet You - @kyocakez non-idol!soul x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Purity And Its Presence In Growth - @sxtvrns idol!soul x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐛 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 All My Friends Know - @kyocakez non-idol!jongseob x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 A Little Crush - @fullsunstrawberry idol!jongseob x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Dying His Hair - @pinkbeanii non-idol!jongseob x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Fanboy - @fullsunstrawberry idol!jongseob x youtuber!reader (smau series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 (I Think I) Talk Too Much - @curiousgworge non-idol!jongseob x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Jasmine - @kisseobie non-idol!jongseob x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸