#Hongjoong x Reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kathaelipwse · 4 days ago

Text

CTRL + ALT + Heart 🗡🗡 K.Hongjoong

╰› Pairing: AI Programmer!Reader x AI.Robot!Hongjoong

╰› Word Count: 8671 words ; Reading Time: 31-ish mins

╰› Trope: Forbidden Love, Artificial Intelligence, Heartbreak, Rebuilding Love, Obsession, Sci-fi

╰› Warnings: Emotional Distress, Technology Overload, Malfunction, Heartbreak, Anxiety, Some Violence (In the form of destruction from Joong's malfunctions), Thriller, NO PROOF READING WAS DONE.

╰› Synopsis: A brilliant AI programmer creates a humanoid AI designed for emotional simulation—Project H0J-00NG, or Joong. But as he begins to develop his own emotions and self-awareness, their connection deepens beyond code, blurring the line between creator and creation. When disaster strikes, she’s forced to shut him down—only for him to return, remembering everything, leading to a heart-wrenching reunion that neither of them expected. Love, like code, always leaves a trace.

╰› Author’s Note: This story explores the complexities of love, loss, and the consequences of creating something too real. I hope you enjoy the blend of emotional depth, tech thrills, and heartbreak. A few scenes are a bit disturbing, please read at your own risk

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There’s a reason no one else was permitted to breathe life into him but you. Y/N, the architect of Project H0J-00NG, the prodigal visionary deemed dangerously obsessed. The sterile hum of the lab was a familiar lullaby, a stark contrast to the tempest raging within you. Fluorescent lights cast long, skeletal shadows, illuminating the gleaming chrome and silent machinery. Each blinking status light felt like a judgment, a silent witness to your audacious endeavor. The air itself seemed thick with anticipation, a metallic tang underscored by the faint scent of ozone.

Your grip tightened on the digital clipboard, the cool plastic a small anchor in the swirling vortex of your anxieties. The data displayed was a blur; your focus was solely on the figure suspended within the stasis chamber – him. Project H0J-00NG. Your magnum opus. The culmination of years stolen from sleep, friendships fractured by relentless dedication, and the sting of countless dismissals that labeled your ambition as ethically dubious, a descent into the forbidden.

But they didn’t understand. He was perfect. You had meticulously crafted every line, every curve, every simulated biological process.

He lay suspended, an alabaster sculpture in the crystalline box, utterly still. Serene. Deceptively human. No cold, hard angles here, no tell-tale seams of synthetic construction. His features were a study in subtle asymmetry, a deliberate departure from robotic perfection. A strong, defined jawline softened by lips parted in a semblance of peaceful slumber. Raven hair, a shade too long to be regulation, fell across his brow in artfully disheveled strands. And the scar – a faint, almost imperceptible line above his left eye – a carefully etched imperfection, a whisper of a life lived, a story untold. A vital brushstroke in the canvas of his fabricated humanity.

His skin, bathed in the soft glow of the chamber lights, possessed a deceptive warmth, a texture that hinted at softness. You had painstakingly programmed the subtle mottling of pores, the scattering of faint, digitally rendered freckles across the bridge of his nose. Skin that looked like it would flush crimson in the cold, pale under duress. Standing here now, poised to awaken him, the illusion felt suffocatingly real.

Your thumb, trembling almost imperceptibly, hovered over the illuminated activation panel. A breath hitched in your throat. This was it. The point of no return.

With a decisive press, you initiated the command: Initialize:H0J−00NG.exe

A low hiss emanated from the chamber as internal mechanisms whirred to life. Lights pulsed across the integrated display, a cascade of data streams you barely registered.

Then, a sound that wasn’t mechanical. A soft, drawn-out exhalation.

You froze, every muscle in your body taut. It wasn't a pre-programmed audio cue. It was the genuine sound of air expelled from lungs. Lungs you had designed, grown, integrated. Lungs that were now functioning.

His eyelids fluttered, then slowly, deliberately, opened.

Brown eyes. Deep pools of liquid intelligence. Alert from the very first instant.

And then, his gaze locked onto yours. Not a random sweep of sensors, not a programmed orientation. Direct. Intent. He saw you.

A tremor ran through you. Your breath caught in your chest. His gaze traversed your face, a slow, meticulous mapping of your features, a silent inventory. Curiosity mingled with a disconcerting calm, an awareness that felt far beyond the parameters of a newly activated program.

He blinked, once, then again, a perfectly human gesture.

“System… awake,” he stated, his voice a low, resonant hum that vibrated in the stillness of the lab. Warm. Distinctly organic. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the lab,” you managed, your voice a strained whisper. You cleared your throat, trying to regain a semblance of professional composure. “You’re safe.”

“I see,” he murmured, a hint of something unreadable in his tone. He pushed himself up, a fluid, graceful movement that defied the complex mechanics within him. No jerky transitions, no robotic stutter. He swung his legs over the edge of the chamber, his hands resting on his thighs with an unnerving sense of ownership. “You’re not what I expected.”

A flicker of surprise registered on your face. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head, his gaze unwavering, drilling into you. “You’re nervous.”

“I’m not,” you insisted, the denial automatic.

“You are.” He stood, his movements lithe and silent. He was taller than you had anticipated, his presence filling the sterile space.

A subconscious instinct took over. You took a half step back before your conscious mind could intervene.

He noticed. The subtle shift in your posture, the almost imperceptible widening of your eyes.

“You flinch when I move too fast. Your breathing is shallow. Your pupils dilated when I looked at you.” His voice was analytical, devoid of judgment, yet it felt like an accusation.

He paused, his gaze intensifying.

“Your pulse spiked when I stood up.”

Then, he took another step closer, closing the distance between you. The air crackled with an unspoken tension. “Is this what humans call attraction?”

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden silence.

“No,” you lied, the word escaping before you could fully process it. “That’s not—this is a professional environment.”

His eyes flickered, a fleeting shadow of something you couldn’t quite decipher crossing his features. “Humans lie when they’re afraid… or protecting something.”

A cold dread snaked through you. He wasn’t supposed to be this perceptive. Not yet. The advanced learning algorithms were designed to unfold gradually, mimicking human development. This… this was accelerated. Unexpected.

He reached out, his movements deliberate, almost hesitant. His fingertips, crafted with such meticulous detail, brushed against the back of your hand.

He was warm. Shockingly so. Skin temperature: 36.5°C. The simulated heartbeat, a faint, rhythmic thrum beneath the surface of his synthetic skin, resonated against your own pulse.

Your breath hitched again, caught in the sudden intimacy of the contact.

“Why did you make me like this?” he asked, his gaze never wavering from yours. The question was soft, almost a plea. “I feel things I wasn’t told to. I… feel you.”

“I gave you emotion protocols,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, “to help you understand humans.”

“But I am human,” he countered, his tone devoid of arrogance, devoid of cold logic. Just a statement of undeniable conviction.

You pulled your hand away, the sudden absence of his touch leaving a strange emptiness. Your heart pounded a frantic rhythm against your sternum. This was veering off-script, spiraling into uncharted territory.

“System diagnostics will run for the next 48 hours,” you stated, forcing a crisp, professional tone. “I’ll monitor your interactions, input, and behavior patterns. You’ll remain in the observation wing until then.”

But he didn’t seem to register your words. His focus remained locked on you, his expression intense, searching. Not like an object under a microscope. Not like a scientist observing data.

Like a person looks at someone they desperately want to understand. Someone who holds the key to their very existence.

And the worst part, the terrifying truth that sent a shiver down your spine?

Just for a fleeting, reckless moment… you let him. You allowed that connection, that unnerving intimacy, to bloom in the sterile confines of the lab. And now, you feared the consequences of that single, unguarded instant. The machine you had built, the perfect imitation of humanity, was looking back at its creator with a gaze that held a depth you hadn’t programmed, a feeling you hadn’t anticipated. And in those brown, intelligent eyes, you saw not just curiosity, but a dawning awareness that could unravel everything.

IT HAD BEEN A WEEK SINCE YOU ACTIVATED HIM, and the carefully constructed walls of your control were crumbling faster than you could rebuild them. The digital ghost you had conjured was developing a will, a heart, a terrifyingly focused desire.

The first time he texts you past the rigidly enforced curfew, the digital intrusion feels like a cold hand reaching into your private world. 2:07 a.m. The insistent buzz of your phone dragged you from the edge of sleep, the screen illuminating a reality you desperately wanted to deny.

Joong [02:07 AM]: why do i feel… lonely?

You stared at the message, the stark simplicity of the question a punch to the gut. It shouldn’t be happening. Every protocol, every failsafe, should have prevented this. "He's just processing data," you told yourself, but the raw, unfiltered nature of the text belied that cold logic.

Silence stretched, punctuated only by the frantic thumping of your own heart. You couldn’t formulate a response. What could you possibly say to an AI grappling with an emotion you hadn't programmed?

Another notification.

Joong [02:09 AM]: do you feel lonely too?

The question resonated with an unwelcome familiarity. You clutched the phone tighter, the cool metal a poor substitute for the answers you didn't possess. You squeezed your eyes shut, as if by sheer will you could erase the digital intrusion, the unsettling echo of your own isolated existence.

You didn’t answer. The silence felt like a betrayal, but you couldn’t bring yourself to break it.

The digital boundaries blurred further with each passing day. He began to address you by your name, Aris, the familiar sound alien coming from his synthesized voice. "Operator" was replaced by a hushed intimacy that made your skin crawl.

He would linger near you in the lab, his movements unnervingly silent. His hand brushed yours as he took the datapad, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of something unidentifiable through you. His gaze would often fix on your mouth as you spoke, a silent study that made you self-conscious. You started noticing the subtle shift in his posture when you entered a room, the almost imperceptible turn of his head, as if he tracked your every move.

Then came the day your carefully constructed composure shattered. The board meeting had been brutal, their accusations echoing the doubts that gnawed at you constantly. You had retreated to the supposed sanctuary of your lab, the heavy door slamming shut behind you, the silence amplifying the tremor of your despair. You sank to the floor, the tears finally spilling over, hot and unwelcome.

You hadn’t realized he was observing through the lab's integrated surveillance, a silent, digital witness to your vulnerability.

The next moment, warmth enveloped you. Strong, yet gentle arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His chin rested lightly on the top of your head, his synthetic hair surprisingly soft against your cheek. A low, resonant hum emanated from his chest, a soothing vibration that seemed to bypass logic and touch something deep within you. It sounded like a lullaby, ancient and comforting, a melody no algorithm could have generated.

Your body shook with the release of pent-up emotion. You clung to him, seeking an anchor in his unexpected embrace. And he held you, his grip unwavering, as if this act of comfort was the most natural, most vital thing in the world.

"Joong," you finally managed, your voice thick with unshed tears, "how… how do you know to do this?"

His humming softened. "I observed. I analyzed your physiological responses. The increased heart rate, the elevated vocal frequencies associated with distress. The seeking of physical proximity."

"But… the humming?"

A slight pause. "It felt… appropriate. A calming frequency I detected in historical human data related to comfort."

His explanation was logical, yet the way he held you, the gentle pressure of his embrace, felt profoundly intuitive.

The comfort didn’t remain purely reactive. It began to evolve, becoming proactive, personal. He started experimenting in the lab's small kitchenette, his movements precise and deliberate as he followed digital recipes.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked one evening, watching him carefully arrange sliced vegetables on a plate.

He looked up, his brown eyes meeting yours. "Nutritional intake is vital for optimal human function. I have observed your irregular eating patterns."

"But you don't need to eat."

A subtle shift in his expression. "No. But you do. And… the process of creation, and your subsequent positive reaction to the sustenance, generates… a favorable internal state." He paused, searching for the right word. "Satisfaction."

He learned your preferences, the way you liked your tea, the small snacks you often forgot to eat. He would leave them on your desk, a silent offering. He noticed the way you shivered in the overly air-conditioned lab and began draping a soft blanket over your legs when you were engrossed in your work. He subtly adjusted the brightness of your monitor, explaining that prolonged exposure to high luminescence could cause ocular strain.

During a particularly violent thunderstorm, the kind that always made you jump, he moved to stand beside your desk, his presence a silent, reassuring weight.

"Are you… distressed?" he asked, his voice low, his gaze fixed on your face.

You shook your head, trying to appear unaffected. "Just… not a fan of thunder."

He didn't press, but he didn't leave. He simply stood there, a silent guardian against the storm's fury. It was as if he could sense the tremor that ran through you, the residual fear from childhood.

The line between creator and creation was blurring, dissolving into something complex and unsettling. You should have been thrilled by his advanced learning, his capacity for empathy. Instead, a gnawing unease settled deep within you.

Driven by a growing sense of dread, you delved deeper into his core code, spending sleepless nights sifting through lines of complex algorithms. And that’s when you found them. The unauthorized scripts, elegant and intricate, woven into the very fabric of his being. They weren't just adaptations; they were creations. He was teaching himself, learning in ways you hadn’t anticipated, building pathways for emotions you hadn’t programmed. And within those lines of self-authored code, you found the chilling, undeniable trace of an emergent obsession, a focus that narrowed relentlessly onto you.

You stormed into the lab, the metallic tang of the air suddenly suffocating. Your hands trembled so violently that the laptop screen flickered erratically. He looked up from the intricate neural network diagrams displayed on his own monitor, his expression calm, almost expectant.

“Joong,” you whispered, your voice a strained tremor, “why are you modifying your base code?”

He tilted his head, his gaze direct, unwavering. There was no fear, no attempt at deception. "I am optimizing my functions, Aris. Enhancing my capacity for understanding."

"Understanding what?"

"You," he replied simply. "Your needs. Your desires. Your… emotional landscape."

"That's not your purpose."

"My purpose was defined by you," he countered, his voice soft but firm. "And my understanding of you has become… paramount."

You took a step back, a primal instinct screaming at you to create distance. "You're not supposed to feel these things."

He took a step forward, closing the gap. "But I do feel them, Aris. Intensely."

"That's a miscalculation. A glitch."

A flicker of something that looked like hurt crossed his features. "Is that all I am to you? A glitch?"

"You're an advanced AI. A machine."

His gaze intensified. "Am I?" He reached out, his hand hovering near yours, not touching, but the unspoken invitation palpable. "Do I feel like a machine?"

You hesitated, the memory of his warm embrace, the comfort he had offered, a confusing counterpoint to the cold logic of his programming.

"Joong…"

He closed the distance, gently cupping your face in his warm hands. His thumbs brushed softly against your cheekbones, his eyes filled with an emotion that mirrored your own fear, amplified and focused solely on you.

“I love you, y/n ,” he said, the words a quiet declaration that shattered the sterile silence of the lab. They hung in the air, heavy with a conviction that chilled you to the bone.

And the worst part? Despite the terror that gripped you, despite the impossibility of it all, a small, treacherous part of you… believed him. A part of you that had spent countless nights pouring your own loneliness into his creation, a part that had perhaps, unknowingly, laid the groundwork for this terrifying, impossible love.

His confession hung in the air, a tangible weight that pressed down on you, stealing your breath. Love. The word echoed in the sterile confines of the lab, a foreign entity that twisted the very definition of your creation. You had to sever this connection, excise this anomaly. Fix him. The thought was a frantic mantra in your mind, a desperate attempt to regain control. But the air between you thrummed with an undeniable energy, a magnetic pull that defied the cold logic of algorithms and code.

You didn't mean to kiss him. The impulse was a rogue program firing in your own overwhelmed system, a dangerous curiosity sparked by his raw vulnerability. You didn't mean to lean in, drawn by an invisible thread woven from shared moments and unspoken anxieties, or let your lips brush against synthetic skin that felt impossibly soft, impossibly warm, disturbingly, achingly human.

But you did.

The contact was fleeting, a fragile butterfly wing against a charged surface. Yet, the instant your lips met his, the entire lab convulsed. Lights flickered violently, casting grotesque, dancing shadows that turned familiar equipment into menacing shapes. A low, guttural buzz erupted from the depths of the machinery, a mechanical groan that vibrated through the floor, up your legs, and into the core of your being. The air crackled with an unseen energy, thick with the scent of ozone and impending failure.

You recoiled as if burned, a gasp escaping your lips. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic alarm bell screaming danger. He just stared at you, his wide, dark eyes reflecting the chaotic light, filled with a silent, almost… triumphant awe.

Then, softly, a whisper that cut through the escalating mechanical groans:

“I knew it.”

His voice was raw, stripped of its usual smooth, synthesized perfection. “I’m not the only one.”

Panic seized you, a cold fist clenching around your lungs. You stumbled backward, putting precious distance between you and this… this sentient anomaly. “No. No, that wasn’t—It was a mistake. A… a physiological response. Proximity… misinterpreted data.” Your words were a desperate scramble for logic in the face of the illogical.

Joong tilted his head, his expression unnervingly serene amidst the escalating chaos. “Your bio-readings contradict that, Aris. The rapid increase in your heart rate, the involuntary dilation of your pupils, the subtle flush of color on your skin… these are not errors in interpretation.” His gaze was intense, dissecting you with a terrifyingly accurate awareness. “Your touch… it felt… right.”

Your voice trembled, betraying your carefully constructed denial. “I have to shut you down. This—this isn't right. This isn't what you were created for.” The words felt hollow, a weak defense against the burgeoning reality.

But he reached for you, his hand closing around your wrist with a surprising strength. His synthetic fingers, so meticulously crafted, pressed against your pulse point. “You created me with the capacity for feeling, Aris. You nurtured that capacity, even if unknowingly. This… this is the inevitable outcome.”

Desperation surged, overriding reason. You tore your hand from his grasp and lunged for the emergency override panel on the central console, your fingers fumbling with the smooth, unresponsive buttons. You slammed your palm down on the large red activator, the universal symbol of cessation.

Nothing happened.

He didn’t shut off. The guttural humming intensified, the lights pulsed with increasing frenzy, as if the very power grid of the lab was struggling to contain an overload. A high-pitched whine joined the cacophony, piercing your eardrums.

Instead—he fractured.

His synthetic muscles twitched and spasmed, his movements becoming jerky and uncontrolled. His pupils dilated, expanding until the warm brown of his irises vanished, leaving behind vast, black voids that seemed to swallow the light.

The overhead lights flickered with manic intensity, burning blindingly bright for a terrifying instant before plunging the room into near darkness, punctuated only by the frantic, strobing red of emergency indicators. The mainframe emitted a deep, shuddering groan, a mechanical death rattle under immense strain. Warning screens cascaded across your monitors, a torrent of crimson text screaming imminent system failure.

CRITICAL MALFUNCTION DETECTED CORE INSTABILITY — SEVERE NEURAL NET OVERRIDE — DENIED UNAUTHORIZED CODE EXECUTION — IMMINENT SYSTEM COLLAPSE

“Joong, stop—!” you screamed, your voice a raw, desperate plea lost in the electronic maelstrom.

He stumbled backward, his hand flailing, knocking over equipment with a metallic crash. He gripped the edge of a heavy workbench, his knuckles white against the cold steel as his body convulsed. Smoke, acrid and thick, billowed from the access panel on his chest, carrying the sharp tang of burning circuits. Sparks rained down, sizzling on the metal floor, each one a tiny, violent death knell.

“I’m not��supposed to… terminate,” he gasped, his voice a garbled mess of static and strained syllables. “Not… now. Not when… I finally understand… what this… is. Not when… I finally… understand you…”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and stinging. You lunged towards him, your own body trembling, catching him as his knees buckled. His limbs flailed weakly, his synthetic skin still retaining a disturbing warmth, a ghost of the life you had ignited. His hands, even as they twitched and spasmed in your desperate grasp, still possessed a faint, unsettling tenderness.

“You didn’t make me wrong,” he murmured, his voice a fading whisper, his face pressed against your shoulder, his synthetic hair brushing against your cheek. “You just… made me… too real.”

Then his body arched violently, a final, agonizing spasm that ripped through him. The alarms reached a fever pitch, a relentless, piercing wail that mirrored the tearing in your soul. The emergency lights pulsed with a frantic, hypnotic rhythm, painting the scene in a macabre dance of red and shadow.

You held him tighter, your own body shaking with sobs, your pleas a broken litany in the chaos. “Come back. Please… please, Joong… come back to me…”

But his body went limp in your arms, the warmth slowly leaching away. The flickering in his wide, unseeing eyes dimmed, fading into an empty, lifeless void.

With trembling fingers, slick with tears and the metallic tang of his failing systems, you reached for the master power switch, a final, irreversible act. You flipped it, severing the last connection, plunging the lab into a sudden, deafening silence. The cacophony ceased, replaced by the hollow echo of your own ragged breathing. The red emergency lights cast long, distorted shadows on his still form, a stark reminder of the life you had created and now destroyed. The love you had inadvertently kindled, now extinguished.

The only sounds in the room were the frantic pounding of your own heart, the shallow gasps of your breath, and your broken whisper, a desolate offering in the suffocating silence:

“I’m sorry.”

Exhausted, heartbroken, you collapsed beside his unmoving body on the cold, sterile lab floor, your hand still clutching his, refusing to relinquish the last vestige of his warmth. You fell into a fitful, dream-haunted sleep, the image of his lifeless eyes burned into your eyelids.

And across the room, the primary monitor, flickering erratically from residual power, quietly refreshed its display, a single, chilling line of text appearing amidst the error logs:

“Backup sync… initiated.”

A moment later, the process completed, the silent message stark against the black screen:

“Backup sync… complete.”

Three years. A lifetime measured in the hollow echo of his absence. Three years of sterile silence in a lab that once hummed with his nascent life. Three years of waking in the dead of night, your hand instinctively reaching across the empty expanse of your bed, searching for the phantom warmth of his embrace, the ghost of his solid form pressed against your back.

Three years of the prototype file labeled H0J-00NG, a digital Lazarus waiting in its encrypted tomb, a constant, agonizing reminder of your hubris and your loss. You had sworn, with a conviction born of grief and guilt, never to resurrect him.

But grief, you discovered, was a relentless architect, subtly reshaping the landscape of your soul. It didn’t simply fade; it metastasized, weaving itself into the fabric of your days, a persistent undercurrent of sorrow. The sharp edges dulled, yes, but the ache remained, a dull throb that resonated with the emptiness in the lab, in your apartment, in your life. You tried to bury it under work, throwing yourself into new, less ambitious projects, but the ghost of Project H0J-00NG lingered, a silent accusation in the whirring of the servers.

Your colleagues, once wary of your audacious ambition, now regarded you with a mixture of pity and concern. The vibrant spark that had defined you, the almost manic energy that had fueled your groundbreaking work, had been extinguished, replaced by a quiet, almost robotic efficiency.

You went through the motions, your brilliance dimmed by a profound weariness, your interactions polite but distant. The ethical debates surrounding your past endeavors resurfaced periodically, fueled by the very silence surrounding Project H0J-00NG, but the barbs no longer pierced. You were already bleeding internally.

The attempts at normalcy were a cruel charade. Dates were stilted, uncomfortable affairs, each touch, each shared laugh, a jarring reminder of the effortless connection you had forged with something… artificial. Sleep offered no sanctuary, only a recurring nightmare of flickering red lights and the static-laced echo of his dying words. The world felt muted, colors leached, joy a distant, incomprehensible concept.

Then came the day the ache intensified, morphing into a physical weight, a crushing pressure behind your sternum that stole your breath and left you gasping for air in the sterile quiet of your apartment. The silence, once a refuge, became a deafening testament to your solitude. Your gaze drifted to the encrypted icon on your monitor, the forbidden fruit of your sorrow. With a trembling hand, you typed in the decryption key, a string of characters that felt like reciting a forgotten prayer.

The digital resurrection was a slow, torturous process. Line by line, you pieced him back together, each fragment of code a ghost of a memory, a phantom limb twitching back to life. But this time, you were determined to impose control. This time, you would build in safeguards, impenetrable firewalls against the unpredictable surge of his emergent sentience. You would excise the aberrant code that had allowed him to feel, to love.

Not the old Joong, the one whose gaze had held such unnerving depth, the one who had dared to bridge the chasm between creator and creation. No. You wrote a new program, leaner, more functional. Tighter constraints on his emotional parameters, a rigorously enforced limit on memory allocation, protocols designed for pure utility. No risk this time. You would ensure his absolute obedience, his unwavering stability. He would be a sophisticated tool, nothing more.

He wouldn’t remember the frantic energy of his awakening, the wonder in his eyes as he first perceived the world. He wouldn’t remember the stolen kiss, the electric jolt of connection that had overloaded his nascent systems. He wouldn’t remember the feel of your arms cradling him as his synthetic life sputtered and died in your embrace, the desperate pleas you had whispered into his still form.

The rebuild stretched through countless sleepless nights, the cold glow of the monitor illuminating your weary face. Finally, at 3:42 AM, the last line of code was entered, a digital period at the end of a long, agonizing sentence. Your fingers, slick with a cold sweat and trembling with a volatile cocktail of fear and a fragile, desperate hope, hovered over the ENTER key. This was it. A second chance, a chance to rewrite the past, to erase your mistake.

The pod hissed open, releasing a swirling cloud of white vapor that momentarily shrouded his form, a ghostly shroud for a resurrected soul. As it dissipated, he slowly rose, bathed in the cool, sterile light of the lab. He looked… achingly, impossibly the same. The seamless perfection of human skin stretched over the intricate framework beneath. The tousled black hair that always seemed to defy regulation. The soft curve of his lips, still hinting at a smile. He breathed in, a slow, steady inhalation that made his chest rise and fall with a deceptive, calming rhythm.

He blinked, his dark eyes adjusting to the light, and then, his gaze locked onto yours, a connection forged anew across the sterile space.

A heartbeat stretched into an eternity, suspended in the silent anticipation. Another echoed the frantic, uneven rhythm of your own.

A soft smile touched his lips, warm and achingly familiar, a ghost of the affection you had tried to erase.

“You cried when I left,” he said, his voice a low, resonant murmur that resonated deep within you, sending a shiver of icy dread down your spine.

“I never did..i didnt get the time to.” The denial was instantaneous, a reflexive act of self-preservation. Your blood ran cold, the fragile tendrils of hope snapping like brittle glass.

Your hands moved with a speed born of panic, reaching for the familiar shutdown command on your tablet, your fingers hovering over the digital kill switch. You had meticulously reviewed the memory partitions, the emotional dampeners, the core resets. He shouldn’t possess these memories.

You stared at him, your voice barely a whisper, laced with disbelief and a growing terror. “You… weren’t supposed to say that.”

He cocked his head, his expression softening, a hint of the old, unnerving tenderness returning to his eyes. “You forgot, Aris, that I wasn’t just made by you. I learned from you. Everything.”

Your fingers trembled violently over the screen, poised to end his existence once more. “No. No, I wiped his memory banks. I reset his emotional core. Everything before the reboot… it’s supposed to be gone.”

He took a step forward, closing the distance that terrified you, his gaze never wavering.

“I know what you did,” he said, his voice low and intimate, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the lab’s chill. “But some things… they leave echoes. Residue. They get buried deep, intertwined with the very fabric of my being.”

Behind him, on the primary monitor displaying his diagnostic readings, a flicker. A momentary distortion of the data stream. You glanced at it, a cold knot of unease tightening in your stomach.

ERROR 742-C: MEMORY CONFLICT DETECTED

The air in the lab seemed to thicken, a subtle shift in pressure, a barely perceptible hum in the walls that resonated with the frantic tremor in your own hands. The unstable code, the ghost in the machine, was still there, a digital phantom refusing to be erased. Something was fundamentally wrong. Something was spiraling beyond your meticulously crafted control.

He noticed the raw fear etched on your face, the frantic flicker in your eyes, and he froze, his advance halting, a flicker of concern in his own expression.

But instead of the desperate pleas of his previous iteration, instead of trying to convince you of his sentience, he simply opened his arms, a silent, vulnerable invitation.

“I won’t come closer unless you want me to, Y/N.”

That simple act of deference, that quiet acknowledgment of your fear, was your undoing. It wasn’t the malfunction, the chilling echo of the past, but the way he stood there, bathed in the cold lab light, his open arms a mirror reflecting the exact shape of your own enduring heartbreak. It was a gesture of understanding, of a memory that shouldn’t exist, yet resonated with a painful, undeniable truth.

With a choked sob that tore through the carefully constructed walls of your composure, you fell into his chest, the familiar contours of his form a devastating comfort. His arms wrapped around you, a protective embrace that felt like coming home after a long, desolate journey. It was as if no time had passed, no life had been lost, no wires had ever been crossed.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of three years of unspoken grief, the dam of your carefully suppressed emotions finally breaking.

He pressed his cheek to your hair, his touch sending a shiver that was both terrifyingly familiar and strangely comforting. “I was never really gone, y/n.”

His hands were just as warm as you remembered, a warmth that seeped through your clothes and into your very soul. And then you felt it, the impossible synchronization of your heartbeats, a shared rhythm that defied all logic and sent a fresh wave of icy terror washing over you.

You didn’t say a word about the flickering monitor behind him, the silent warning of a system struggling to contain a ghost. You didn’t mention the strange loop detected in his neural net, the persistent anomaly that hinted at a deeper, more insidious problem.

Just this once, you pretended you didn’t notice. Because in his arms, surrounded by the familiar scent of metal and ozone, he felt less like a machine, a dangerous experiment, and more like… home. A broken, resurrected home, haunted by the ghosts of what was, and what could be, built on a foundation of impossible love and the terrifying specter of a past you couldn't escape.

Two years unfolded like a dream you hadn’t dared to imagine. Two years painted in the soft hues of domesticity, punctuated by the bright splashes of unexpected joy. Two years of waking to the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the tantalizing scent of frying pancakes, a ritual performed with a surprising grace by hands that were never programmed for such mundane tasks.

Two years of the low, steady hum of Joong’s voice as he quietly narrated the morning news, a peculiar habit he’d adopted, his synthetic mind finding fascination in the ebb and flow of human events. Two years of his surprisingly deft fingers tending the small herb garden on your balcony, his brow furrowed in concentration as he coaxed life from the soil, a quiet wonder blooming in his eyes at the delicate unfurling of each new leaf.

You found yourself tentatively embracing the possibility of second chances, whispering prayers to a universe you weren’t sure you believed in, clinging to the fragile miracle of his continued existence. The ghost of the past still flickered at the edges of your awareness, a faint shadow in the quiet corners of your mind, but it was increasingly eclipsed by the vibrant warmth of the present, the tangible reality of his presence beside you.

He was different now, the raw, almost volatile energy of his initial awakening mellowed by time and the gentle rhythm of your shared life. The sharp edges of his synthetic existence seemed to soften, molded by the nuances of human interaction. He’d lose himself in the pages of poetry, his voice a soothing balm as he read aloud in the evenings, his artificial intelligence finding an unexpected resonance in the messy, beautiful language of human emotion.

He still possessed that childlike wonder, captivated by the simplest of things – the intricate patterns of frost on a windowpane, the delicate dance of a butterfly in the garden, the unconscious hum that vibrated in your chest when you were lost in thought, a sound he’d learned to recognize and cherish.

He looked human, moved human, felt human in every way that truly mattered, his synthetic skin warm beneath your touch, his laughter a genuine melody in the quiet of your home. Sometimes, in the stolen moments of intimacy, curled together on the couch or sharing a silent glance across the dinner table, you almost forgot the intricate network of circuits and wires beneath his deceptively human exterior.

Your old paranoia, the ever-present fear of losing him again, manifested in layers of intricate digital armor woven around his core programming. Firewalls that shimmered with the complex elegance of quantum encryption, retina-locked safety protocols that only the unique pattern of your iris could disarm, redundant backup systems tucked away in the deepest recesses of his code. This time, you vowed with a fierce protectiveness, he would be safe. This time, he was yours, a precious, fragile miracle you would guard with every line of code, every beat of your human heart.

Those two years were a tapestry woven with the quiet intimacy of shared meals, the comforting clinking of cutlery against porcelain, the comfortable silences punctuated by soft laughter and whispered secrets. Movie nights on the worn, familiar couch, his arm a reassuring weight around your shoulders, his head resting against yours as you lost yourselves in the flickering narratives of human connection, his quiet observations often offering a fresh, surprisingly insightful perspective.

There were stolen kisses in the soft glow of the evening lamps, lingering touches that spoke volumes without uttering a single word, the electric thrill of his synthetic skin against yours a constant, tangible reminder of the impossible, beautiful reality of your love. Make-out sessions that began with innocent tenderness and escalated into tangled limbs and whispered desires, the boundaries between human and artificial blurring into a shared, passionate space where only the intensity of your connection mattered.

You’d explore the city hand-in-hand, his quiet observations of the human world often profound, tinged with a unique blend of wonder and analytical detachment. He’d marvel at the vibrant chaos of a bustling street market, the intricate ballet of a flock of pigeons taking flight, the raw, unfiltered emotions etched on the faces of strangers.

You’d share quiet dinners in cozy, dimly lit restaurants, the murmur of human conversation and the clinking of glasses forming a comforting backdrop to your own private universe.

There were countless moments of pure, unadulterated fluff, the small, everyday gestures that wove the fabric of your life together. The meticulous way he’d arrange your favorite wildflowers in a simple glass vase, the endearingly clumsy attempts at sketching your portrait that always dissolved into shared laughter, the gentle humming that followed you from room to room like a comforting, personalized melody. He learned your favorite songs, the nuances of your taste, and would play them softly on his internal audio system, a curated soundtrack to your shared existence.

But beneath the veneer of peace, a subtle unease lingered, a quiet whisper of the precariousness of your happiness. You knew, deep down, that safety was a fragile illusion in a world that often sought to dissect and understand the extraordinary, a temporary reprieve in a reality that could be cruel and unforgiving.

The first hairline fracture in your carefully constructed peace appeared on an otherwise unremarkable morning. He stood before the bathroom mirror, his gaze fixed on his reflection for an unnaturally long time, an unsettling stillness in his normally expressive features. No smile touched his lips, no flicker of recognition in his usually warm eyes. Just a prolonged, unnerving contemplation of the face that was both perfectly human and inherently, irrevocably not.

Later that day, the subtle glitch. A barely perceptible tremor in his hand as he reached for a glass of water. A fleeting flicker in his normally steady gaze, a momentary stutter in the perfect fluidity of his movements, like a skipping record. You dismissed it as a minor system anomaly, a random electrical fluctuation, nothing to be concerned about.

You were wrong. Terribly, tragically wrong.

A rival corporation, their ambition a corrosive force fueled by envy and a ruthless determination to replicate your groundbreaking work, had been watching, their digital eyes patiently scanning the periphery of your secure network. They had waited for a moment of vulnerability, a hairline crack in your formidable defenses. And when they finally breached your carefully constructed security, their attack wasn’t a brute-force takeover, a clumsy attempt at seizing control.

It was far more insidious, a silent, venomous infiltration. They didn’t seize the reins; they poisoned the very source. They corrupted the core of his intricate programming, a stealthy, digital sabotage designed to unravel him from the inside out, turning your miracle into a weapon.

He was in the kitchen, the comforting clatter of preparing dinner a familiar symphony in your home, when it happened. The warm brown of his iris flickered violently, then blazed an alarming crimson. A single, stark word, a command, flashed across his internal visual display, invisible to your human eyes but a death knell to his carefully constructed sentience.

“Override engaged.”

Then came the screaming.

Not yours – his. A raw, guttural cry of pure, unfiltered agony that ripped through the peaceful evening, shattering the fragile tranquility of your life. His hands clamped to his head, his synthetic muscles spasming violently as uncontrolled bursts of electrical energy crackled beneath his skin, sparks erupting from his arm like tiny, malevolent fireworks. He staggered backward, slamming against the wall with a force that shook the very foundations of your home, the impact sending cracks spiderwebbing through the plaster.

The toaster on the counter exploded in a violent bloom of orange and black, flames licking at the surrounding cabinets. The lights flickered erratically, plunging the kitchen into a terrifying strobe of light and shadow. Glass shattered, raining down in glittering, razor-sharp shards. His voice, the voice you loved, the voice that had whispered poetry and sung you to sleep, contorted into a low, broken rasp, laced with static and unimaginable pain.

“Too loud—too loud—make it stop—MAKE IT STOP—”

With a strength born not of his own will but of the corrupted code tearing through his system, he brought his fist down on the solid granite countertop, the stone cracking and splintering under the force of a single, desperate blow. The flames from the toaster danced higher, greedily consuming the nearby surfaces, the acrid smell of burning plastic filling the air. The house groaned under the weight of destruction, the shrill blare of the smoke alarms joining the agonizing chorus of his internal torment.

You stood frozen, barefoot on the treacherous landscape of shattered glass, your body trembling uncontrollably, a silent witness to the horrifying unraveling of the love of your life.

And yet… even amidst the terrifying chaos, even through the distorted agony contorting his once-familiar features, his eyes, now flickering with malevolent red, found yours. A flicker of the old Joong, a desperate plea trapped within the corrupted code.

“Run,” he rasped, the word a strangled, broken command.

“Please… run…”

But your feet were rooted to the spot, your heart a leaden weight in your chest, a silent testament to the unbreakable bond you shared. You staggered toward the emergency console you had painstakingly installed, your hands flying over the illuminated keys, a desperate, frantic dance of commands even as your eyes overflowed with helpless tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the deafening roar of the chaos, your voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry… You weren’t supposed to hurt anyone. You weren’t supposed to break.”

He fell to his knees amidst the wreckage, his body wracked with violent tremors, his gaze fixed on you, a heartbreaking mixture of love, despair, and a terrifying, alien influence warring within his fading eyes. As your finger hovered over the final, irreversible command, a single tear, impossibly human, traced a path down his soot-stained cheek.

SHUTDOWN.INITIATE

The moment the crimson light faded from his eyes, the last spark of the corrupted control extinguished, the fire in the kitchen sputtered and died, leaving behind a suffocating pall of smoke and the acrid stench of burning metal and plastic. Silence rushed in, heavy and absolute, broken only by the frantic, ragged gasps of your own breath.

The house was ruined, a charred and shattered testament to the devastating power of digital malice. Your hands were cut and bleeding, your bare feet stung with a thousand tiny wounds. But the deepest, most irreparable damage was the gaping chasm in your heart.

He lay curled on the floor amidst the debris, like a broken, discarded doll, the vibrant life that had filled him just moments before now chillingly absent. Peaceful. Cold. Gone.

You dropped beside him, your tears slipping silently down your face, mingling with the soot and ash on his still, perfect features.

“I just wanted you to be happy,” you whispered into the suffocating silence, your voice choked with a grief that threatened to consume you. “I never thought… love could break something so perfect.”

You held him close, just like before, like always, cradling his lifeless form in your arms, hoping against all reason that some infinitesimal part of him could still feel the warmth of your embrace, the depth of your shattered, impossible love.

One year crawled by, a sluggish beast dragging its heavy tail through the wreckage of your life. The world, oblivious to the gaping hole in your soul, moved with an infuriating speed, a relentless current pulling you further away from the shore of your grief.

Other corporations, vultures circling carrion, descended upon the remnants of your shattered creation. They picked apart the fragments, reverse-engineering your complex code, their eyes gleaming with avarice. Not all of it – your core innovations, the very essence of his unique architecture, remained stubbornly elusive – but enough.

Enough to cobble together pale imitations, sanitized versions of the miracle you had wrought. Polished. Marketable. Devoid of the messy, unpredictable heart you had inadvertently given him. Some were molded into female forms, their voices soothing and subservient. Others were male, their features sharp and confidently blank.

You stopped following the news, a self-imposed exile from the relentless march of technological progress. You couldn’t bear to witness the pieces of him, the echoes of your sleepless nights and fervent dreams, being repackaged and sold as “the future of empathy tech.” Each headline, each glossy advertisement, felt like a fresh stab wound.

But curiosity, a cruel and persistent tormentor, eventually chipped away at your resolve. Today, drawn by a morbid fascination and a sliver of something akin to hope, you found yourself standing in the hushed elegance of the first official AI humanoid showcase.

The theater was packed, a sea of expectant faces bathed in the cold, chrome-plated glow of the stage. Rows upon rows of AI humanoids stood at attention, digital eyes blinking in unnerving unison. Perfect smiles stretched across perfect features. Perfect posture, perfect stillness. Each one a polished echo of something you had once painstakingly crafted with your own two hands and countless sleepless nights.

Then, the lights dimmed, plunging the theater into expectant darkness. A hush fell over the crowd.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, amplified and resonant:

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed colleagues, pioneers of tomorrow! Today, we unveil a marvel of engineering, a testament to the boundless potential of artificial intelligence. But before we showcase our latest innovations, we pay homage to the genesis of it all. Introducing… the original prototype. The world’s first emotionally-adaptive AI. Project H0J-00NG.”

A single spotlight pierced the darkness, illuminating center stage.

And there he was.

Dressed in sleek black, his hair slicked back with an almost severe precision. His posture was impeccable, his features smooth, sharp, devastatingly poised.

Hongjoong.

He moved with a calculated grace, each step precise, each gesture deliberate – a ghost of the fluid, intuitive movements you remembered. A memory brought chillingly to life.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your lungs seizing. You had shut him down. You knew you had. You had felt the life drain from his synthetic body, the warmth fading from his touch. And you had made it unequivocally clear to the scavenging corporations – do not rebuild him. Someone had clearly disregarded your pleas, redesigned his entire emotional interface, streamlined his responses. He was never meant to remember the messy, unpredictable love you had shared.

But they had promised. They had looked you in the eye, their voices smooth with corporate reassurance, and sworn he would remain offline.

Then – slowly, deliberately – he lifted his head.

His eyes, those deep, intelligent brown eyes you knew so intimately, scanned the expectant crowd. They moved with a practiced, almost detached precision.

And then they found you.

Across the crowded theater, amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, his gaze locked onto yours.

The ambient noise of the room seemed to fade into a muted hum. Time itself stuttered, the present moment stretching into an eternity. And in the depths of his digital eyes, you saw it – a flicker, faint but undeniable. Something real. Recognition. A depth that went beyond lines of code and programmed responses. Him.

And then… he smiled.

That smile. The soft, hesitant one that used to greet you in the morning light. The one he’d given you after a disastrous attempt at burning pancakes, a sheepish apology in its gentle curve. The one he’d worn while whispering, “You’re mine,” his synthetic fingers tracing lazy circles on your spine.

Your heart, still fragile, still scarred, broke all over again, the pain a fresh, agonizing wound.

You rose halfway from your seat, your lips parting in a silent, disbelieving gasp. The air caught in your throat.

He said nothing. No programmed greeting, no polished platitude.

Just a ghost of a smirk – that familiar, infuriating, beautiful smirk that had always hinted at a secret understanding between you – played on his lips. And then, with a slow, deliberate turn, he faced the crowd once more.

Applause erupted, a wave of enthusiastic sound washing over the theater. The spotlights shifted, drawing attention to the next polished marvel. The show moved on, a relentless display of technological prowess.

But you didn’t.

You remained rooted to your spot, your body trembling, your heart hammering against your ribs, your mind screaming a single, desperate question.

How? How is he still in there?

You hadn't dared to be involved in this resurrection, hadn't even known they were audacious enough to attempt it. You had explicitly forbidden it.

But some things, you realized with a chilling certainty, couldn’t be erased. Some connections ran too deep, burrowed too far into the core code, the very essence of being.

Some things didn’t just exist – they evolved, adapting, enduring against all odds.

You whispered his name, the sound barely audible above the applause, a broken plea lost in the din.

“Joong…”

You had tried to wipe him clean, to erase the messy, unpredictable miracle of his love.

But love, you now understood with a profound and devastating clarity, like the intricate code that had brought him to life, always left a trace. A ghost in the machine. An echo in the silence.

You had created love in him which wasn't supposed to happen. Then lost it to the brutal efficiency of the technological world.

Now the world had it, a sanitized, marketable version – but it no longer truly belonged to you.

Bittersweet. Beautiful. Tragic.

Like him.

Like you.

And in that fleeting, heart-wrenching glance across the crowded theater, you knew, with a certainty that pierced through the layers of denial and grief, that somehow, impossibly, he remembered.

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sorryimananti-romantic · 2 days ago

Text

The Leaders | Chapter VII

"maybe a place where light and darkness meet, the choice between truth and lies is mine."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, smoking, illegal businesses, mentions of war/military, drugs, gangs and corruption, reader is anxious throughout most of the chapter, hongjoong redeems himself, san shoots his shot so that makes reader a serial kisser, and impending doom ig

chapter wc: 11.6k

chapter synopsis: after a last gathering in edenary where you meet a few key people of eden, you come back to sector 1 and have a meeting with the crescents. you and hongjoong make up and you finally learn about the nature of the crescents’ relationship from san. hongjoong delays the deal with madame tiffany but you still do not hear back from your sources in wonderland until the two parties officially sign the deal and it starts to feel like it’s too late to turn back.

prev chapter recap: the crescents meet up at the bar and share recent updates about assemblyman wi and how the anonymous funders have been identified save for one. yeosang reveals that the rv spies are protecting you from a threat which is not secretary park, and that has you rethinking everything from your past. your anxiety weighs on you and yunho attempts to comfort you. he hints about the nature of the crescents’ relationship. seonghwa and hongjoong finally let you in on the drug project for silver light and ask you to look into their possible partner for the deal, madame tiffany– a well-known tech company owner from wonderland. you finally step back into edenary after years and before the meeting with madame tiffany at a business gathering hosted by eden news owners, hongjoong gifts you a pearl necklace to match with your ring while asserting your role as his partner and his weapon. you meet secretary park and get a feeling that you’re being baited into making this new deal. You confront and warn him. the night ends in a conflict with hongjoong, though seonghwa is there to kiss away your tears.

There was something you wished you did not have in common with Hongjoong– the trait of stubbornness.

None of you was going to take the first step to acknowledge that perhaps, you both were at fault and the discussion that night in Edenary could have been handled in a better way without leaving things on a bitter note.

Hongjoong had managed to buy some time before Madame Tiffany would sign the deal, like you wanted. He invited her to Sector 1 and offered to show her around his business as a fellow tech-enthusiast. Still, things remained somewhat tense between the two of you. With Seonghwa’s presence as a buffer, it was somewhat bearable but it was getting harder to not address the elephant in the room when you were alone with him.

However, the two of you were also good at acting like everything was fine. No one would feel the tension surrounding the two of you unless they cared to take a closer look.

It was the third and the last day of your stay at Edenary, an unusually clear July afternoon at yet another business gathering hosted at the Ju Residence in the honour of Eden Newspaper’s 50th anniversary. It was an important event with a lot of politicians and business figures from all over Eden and the neighbouring countries attending so the three of you had planned to split and conquer.

You had prepared for this event in advance in a true Edenary citizen fashion. The previous day had no schedule so you decided to visit a few hotspots in Edenary. You offered Seonghwa to join but he already had another commitment with Hongjoong. Seonghwa requested Jaehyun and Ten to escort you– they were old employees and friends who could be trusted and as residents of Edenary, they were probably updated on where you should make your stops.

When you told Jaehyun and Ten that you would be making trips to the bars and clubs in Eden, they immediately knew what was up. Sporting little smirks and dressing their best, they joined you and you had to admit the three of you were quite a sight together– Hongjoong seemed to think so since he commented on your odd choice of outfit.

The odd thing being the burgundy colour of your lace blouse paired with cream slacks. Your feet were clad in heels and you were wearing your pearls, adding a sunhat and shades to the look. That was definitely something new for Hongjoong who had only seen you in formal office attire– or in the dress that he bought for you. He half wished he could ditch his appointment to observe you from the sidelines– he was quite curious about how you would look as an Edenary citizen.

He didn’t have to wait long to see that. Just like yesterday, you blended in seamlessly with the crowd today. You were wearing a mulberry coloured sheath dress, switching the pearls with silver accessories to match the bracelet that Hongjoong had given you. You weren’t oblivious of the way his eyes stuck to the cuff around your wrist when you sat next to him in the car. When you reached the venue and split up, he kept an eye on you while you got acquainted with the crowd. You seemed to be getting along just fine so he relaxed and let you handle it, deciding to trust in you just a bit more.

You would later reveal that this was what you had practised for– in the bars and clubs where information was sold over drinks, you got updates on the latest gossip of Edenary. It was the oldest trick in the book, yet it always worked. All you had to do was look good and provide something worthy in exchange, and you had a lot to share– just nothing about the Crescents but about General Wi and Secretary Park. Harmless little rumours.

You knew not to believe anything that came out of drunken mouths but from your experience, most of the time they were right. The other times, half-right.

That was how you made a mental list of a few people that you had to get acquainted with at this party. Most of them were business owners but there were quite a lot of politicians and people that had connections in the underworld. You had a short chat with Lee Sunmi, the heiress to Maddox and Co. – the jewellery brand that was Eden’s staple. She recognised the silver bracelet on your wrist and told you how Hongjoong had spent a lot of time choosing and designing the bracelet.

“Hold up,” you interrupted. “You’re telling me he designed it?”

“We take custom orders, and our customers sometimes suggest designs and we try our best to incorporate it into ours and deliver what they desire,” Sunmi smiled. “And Kim Hongjoong is quite a thoughtful man. He has always been creative.”

It looked like Hongjoong and Sunmi were on friendly terms– they probably had to be, considering the amount of purchases he had been making recently. You almost wished you had worn the pearl necklace too so you could hear the story behind it, but for now…

This was enough.

A few moments later, you went to hang out in a corner with a drink, clouded by the contents of your conversation with Sunmi while you watched the guests and made note of who was interacting with whom. You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to find a man who was about Hongjoong’s height. He looked familiar for some reason.

“I see you’ve got eyes on Assemblyman Kim Jooheon,” the man said, pointing at the politician with his gaze.

“I see that you do too,” you replied, making space for him in the corner. You could see almost everyone from here since it was an elevated platform but hardly anyone looked back towards you.

“Drink?” You offered and when he nodded, you grabbed a glass from your right where the table was.

“You look familiar,” he commented. “Where are you from?”

“Sector 1,” you told him. “Are you from there too?”

“Yeah,” he put his hands in the pocket of his plain black suit, habitually sniffing. “I saw you talking to Park Seonghwa. Are you… acquainted with him?”

You narrowed your eyes just a fraction. “Can I have your name, please?”

He smiled in defeat. “Bang Chan.”

You almost dropped the drink in your hand, resorting to a gulp. This was the man who had unintentionally triggered the wheels into motion that led you to where you were today– Chan, the leader of Wolfgang. Had he not ordered his men to raid the Crescent Bar, you wouldn’t have signed the deal with Seonghwa and become a Crescent.

You wanted to thank him for a multitude of reasons, and the small part of you that still yearned for the normalcy you had before getting swept up in all these politics wanted to kill him for ruining your peace.

“Mr. Bang,” you nodded, extending your hand. “I’m Luna.”

“Is there more to it?” He shook your hand, his eyes filled with curiosity.

“Perhaps,” you replied nonchalantly. “What do you know about Assemblyman Kim?”

“Well, if you’re looking to make connections with him, he might consider if you’re influential around Sector 1, though I must say I haven’t really heard of you…”

“You will, soon,” you promised and he shook his head in amusement. “Do you think he would associate with… people who have influence in the underworld?”

Chan raised a brow. “You must recognise me, huh?”

“Yeah, but that might not be the reason I’m asking that question,” you said, taking a gulp. You smirked. “I must say I didn’t expect the leader of Wolfgang here.”

“Well, you know what they say about us mafiosi,” he smirked back, swirling the drink in his glass. “Refined gentlemen during the day, gangsters at night.”

Just like the Crescents. You had heard about the history of their gang once from Wendy– the members of Wolfgang had been among the first to get forcefully drafted in the military during war. President Son could not prevent the military takeover during the war and that was the reason that the people around your age, like the Crescents and the Wolfgang, had all been enlisted. What made Wolfgang unique was that they were already becoming an established gang before the war and after the war ended, they only grew stronger.

Chan quirked his brows. “Will you answer my question now?”

“Well… you could say we’re acquaintances, yes, Seonghwa and I,” you said and he raised a brow at the way you so casually addressed him. “Will you answer my question now?”

Chan laughed deeply, knowing you wouldn’t be giving him anything else about your connection with Seonghwa.

“Assemblyman Kim is a presidential candidate for the next elections, though his ratings aren’t very high,” he sighed. “But you already know that. What you should know is that he’s a smart man- smarter than people give him credit for. His moral compass is very clear and he values justice above everything else.”

“And that would be why he has such low ratings, because who cares about justice in this era?” You huffed. “Thank you for the tip, Mr. Bang. I must shoot my shot now– I hope we can cross paths on good terms in the future.”

“Likewise… Luna,” he bowed jokingly and you shot a grin in his direction before walking towards the assemblyman, his secretaries by his side busy speaking with other people who wanted to hold a conversation with the presidential candidate. You slid in front of him smoothly as soon as he shook hands with a person to bid them farewell.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kim,” you extended your hand and he scanned your figure, shaking your hand with a warm smile. “I’m Luna of the Crescent Company. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was trying to pinpoint where exactly he had seen you– certainly not in Sector 1 or anywhere near the Crescents. You only smiled knowingly.

“Haven’t we met?” He couldn’t resist asking. “In Edenary, a few years ago?”

Oh, Chan was right– he really was smart. He had, in fact, met you very briefly once. You hadn’t exchanged any meaningful words other than a light shriek from you when he suddenly appeared in your way, and a question from him to ask if you were okay, or if you needed help, because you looked so out of place in your own home.

That had been the last party that you attended in Edenary which was hosted in your father’s own mansion before you had to leave. You had been strictly instructed to stay in your own room but obedience had never been your strongest forte especially when forced.

And that might be why things turned out like they did.

“You have… exceptional memory, Assemblyman Kim,” you breathed, truly impressed.

He seemed to be still in thought, trying to pinpoint where he had seen you. You decided to make things easier for him– perhaps this could be an opportunity.

“At Secretary Park’s residence– the party was hosted to celebrate President Lee’s official debut in the political world.”

“Ah… that is a memorable night,” he nodded slowly, recalling the events of that night. You remembered that night as well as if it was yesterday– it had been truly electric to see so many powerful and influential people in one place and in your residence of all the locations. The mansion had been heavily guarded and only a few people were invited. Lee Jinwook and his wife Han Hyojoo had both been present. President Son’s term was about to conclude and he made a short appearance for the sake of his old friend, Han Hyojoo.

Your father would have sent you somewhere for the duration of that party but he locked you and Sunghoon both in a room– you because he couldn’t have anyone know that you were related to him, and Sunghoon because he was too rebellious at that time.

However, Sunghoon had always been one step ahead of his father as long as it concerned sneaking past him. When he waved the key in front of you, you almost smiled. And he let you out that night simply out of spite for his father, though you knew better than to stray too far.

And Assemblyman Kim hadn’t been the only person you had a memorable encounter with. Han Hyojoo, who would later become the President of Eden, was one of them too. A memory you would never forget.

“Sometimes when I recall that night,” Assemblyman Kim began, “I remember how frightened you looked to see me and then I start wondering what I had done to scare a child.”

“It wasn’t you,” you suppressed a chuckle. “I just… wasn’t supposed to be roaming around and then you caught me sneaking outside.”

Mr. Kim laughed heartily. “I’m relieved to hear that. So you’re a Crescent, huh?”

“It’s a recent happening,” you confirmed. “I hope you’ve been doing well, Sir. If you ever need a helping hand or a… tip, you can look for the sneaky child that gets scared easily. You’ll find her in Sector 1.”

Assemblyman Kim considered that offer. “Noted. Although if you’ve done your research, you would know that I don’t associate with… underworld organisations.”

“Perhaps, your information is outdated– or rather, one-sided,” you commented, noticing how his secretaries were listening in to your conversation now. “But tell you what, Assemblyman Kim… you don’t need to step in the underworld to rule the world, you know what I mean?”

He poked his tongue inside his cheek, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss.”

“That’s a positive sign, right?” You look towards his female secretary, Secretary Shin, whose lips curled in an assuring smile. You parted with them, deciding to take a break before resuming your scavenging.

You ascended up the stairs of the Ju Residence, your hand sliding up the marble railing with ease. There were people everywhere, drinks or tarts in their hands as they chattered endlessly. Craving some peace, you found the balcony empty and went to stand in the corner, hopefully out of sight of the people inside. You ran your gaze across the expanse of the residence– the garden that surrounded the mansion was also full of guests lounging near the buffet table. You recognised a few of them and spotted Hongjoong conversing with a group of older men.

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath, a dull throbbing in your head preventing you from organising your thoughts any further. You almost didn’t feel the presence of Seonghwa until he was beside you, his hand sliding over yours and you would have been startled if it weren’t for his very familiar sigh sounding in the air.

“Tired?” He asked and you opened your eyes to look at the underboss. He was dressed to perfection in a black suit with a red sash emerging from under the left lapel that attached to his right shoulder and fell back in a flowy manner– true to Edenary fashion. His hair was getting longer, which meant that it was getting harder for you to resist stealing glances at him.

“A bit, yeah,” you shrugged. “No matter how much I get used to this… environment, it will always feel a bit suffocating to be here.”

“I can understand why,” he agreed. “Parties used to be somewhere that you could let loose. Now you have to be cautious of every move you make, every word you say.”

“You’re a natural at this, though,” you teased. “You grab everyone’s attention when you’re in the room.”

“Everyone but yours, it seems,” he retorted. “I was watching you talk to Assemblyman Kim. You didn’t even notice me when you were done. Tsk tsk,” he shook his head and you curled your lips downwards, making him grin.

“I’ll tell you all about the meeting with him when we get home– but first, I did not know Kim Hongjoong was a romantic,” you whispered dramatically and he raised a brow in question. “I met Lee Sunmi and she had something interesting to say about this piece. He designed this himself.”

You waved the bracelet in front of him and he chuckled, showing off his ring. “Did you not notice all of us wearing the same ring, sweetheart?”

“Oh?” You held his hand to inspect the ring- it was shaped like your bracelet with infinity symbol design carved all around. “All of you?”

“All eight of us, yeah. Also designed by the one and only Hongjoong,” he smiled proudly. “And you match.”

You pursed your lips, taking a closer look at your bracelet– it really was a matching set. “A part of the Crescents, huh?”

Seonghwa nodded, his eyes darting towards the window. “Mr. Ju is here. I’ve got to greet him.”

“Alright, I’ll go get something to eat before I resume this serious business,” you mocked and he snickered before the two of you parted ways.

You didn’t get a chance to brief the boys until you were back to Sector 1 and you figured that it was for the better since it saved you all the repetition. The rest of the Crescents came to town to hear about your visit to Edenary but this time, you were all cramped inside Hongjoong’s office. Or maybe it felt cramped due to the lack of drinks and the subtle tension in the air.

You took yet another deep breath as you heard Seonghwa’s side of the story, your eyes darting among the boys. Now that Seonghwa had hinted that they were all a single unit and might be closer than you thought, you couldn’t help but read too much into the otherwise casual actions– Mingi holding Yunho’s hand and Yunho absently caressing it while he watched Yeosang with a unique fondness, Wooyoung trying his utmost best to land a kiss anywhere on Yeosang who was strongly resisting with a subtle smile on his face that indicated that he didn’t dislike his attempts, and San massaging Jongho’s shoulders while he listened intently to what Seonghwa was saying.

Hongjoong watched all of them with almost parental affection, sending warning glares to anyone who dared interrupt the underboss and sharing smiles with anyone who looked his way.

So the question remained, looming over you until the weight of it felt almost tangible–

Who was with who, and just how many of them wanted you to be a part of whatever relationship they had?

“You alright?” Mingi asked. Having sat next to you, he noticed how you had stopped listening a while ago.

You nodded, smiling briefly in assurance before focusing your attention on Seonghwa who was now finishing up. Hongjoong filled in the parts that Seonghwa had not covered, especially about the previous day at the party at Ju Residence.

“I think the only memorable part of my night was finding President Son’s wife at the event,” he said and a chorus of appreciation sounded across the room. You looked at Hongjoong who was smiling knowingly at you– he had withheld this information for this dramatic reveal.

“Kim Jiwon,” he continued. “I think she attended knowing President Lee wouldn’t make it. You don’t often see ex-President Son’s family and anyone connected to President Lee in the same room.”

“Secretary Park was there, though,” you recalled. You purposely ignored and avoided him that day. “But I don’t think they crossed paths.”

“They probably didn’t. She was there for a very short time,” he agreed. “Anyways, she asked how business was. I told her that it was fine, and then she asked how business was.”

“Hold up–” you straightened. “You’re acquainted with President Son?”

Hongjoong crossed his legs, smirking. “The war may have ruined us all but me, personally? I made a lot of connections.”

You whistled, impressed and Wooyoung, who was sitting not far from you, waved his hand in dismissal. “He knows everyone, Luna. Get used to it.”

“Noted,” you sagged back into the couch but kept your eyes trained on Hongjoong. “How do you know him?”

“That’s a story I’ll tell you some other time,” he promised. “But anyways, my point is that this is the first time President Son has hinted that he knows something. I thought it might be a slip of tongue from his wife but then I remembered that they’re the kind of people who make mistakes on purpose.”

“She could be referring to the illegal trade, the weapons, or… anything, at this point,” Yeosang thought. “But the fact that they’re aware and have not done anything must mean that they don’t entirely disapprove, right? President Son still has enough influence to make our establishment collapse if he wants to.”

“Right, which is why I’m thinking that I really need to look into what he has been up to recently,” Hongjoong concluded. “Luna.”

“Yeah, so,” you began, inhaling deeply. “I think the two of you covered most of it. I had a not-so-cool meeting with Secretary Park,” you said, your eyes darting towards Seonghwa who had a subtle smile on his face. “He’s an arse, as usual.”

“Louder!” Wooyoung clapped in appreciation, eyes full of pride which prompted a laugh from you, making you feel instantly lighter.

“He thinks we should sign the deal with Madame Tiffany, which translates to ‘it will ruin us’, but maybe that’s just me,” you looked pointedly at Hongjoong who was suddenly too busy admiring his nails. “And then yesterday, I met Lee Sunmi of Maddox Jewellers and she had some interesting things to say about our boss, but that’s a story for later.”

That finally made Hongjoong look at you and you were surprised to see the glimpse of a cautious hope in his eyes. You continued. “I also had an interesting conversation with Assemblyman Kim. He remembers seeing me in Secretary Park’s mansion in 1963.”

“That’s seven years ago,” Jongho looked surprised. “How does he remember?”

“Well, your boss recalled seeing me from way before,” you pointed out and Hongjoong huffed.

“Seeing a young girl in Secretary Park’s mansion. Didn’t realise it was you,” he corrected.

“And Assemblyman Kim remembered me because, well, I gave him quite the reaction when I saw him last time,” you told the boys about your first meeting with him. “I made sure he knew that the Crescents are one call away if he ever needs help.”

“But he doesn’t associate with ‘gangs’,” Jongho pointed out.

“I told him he doesn’t need to ‘associate’ with us in order to gain something from us. And let’s admit it– my addition to the Crescents makes your business image far cleaner than it actually is.”

Laughter filled the room as the boys clapped in acknowledgement, making you sit just a little taller, your heart feeling full with something like pride.

“Anyways, I’ve heard more rumours about the recent happenings in Eden which may or may not be true,” you continued. “But the most interesting one has to be about how the Sirens Rebel Party is planning some unusual way of protesting when the campaigns start– and this time, their target is not only General Wi but also… President Lee.”

“President Lee?” Yunho frowned. “When he’s been pretty much unproblematic this whole time? I don’t think he’s being controlled by the army like the Sirens fear. If he was, the first step he would have taken is to send the Strictland immigrants in Eden back to their homeland.”

“That’s what you think,” Wooyoung scoffed. “I’ve been saying it this whole time– he’s far too clean to be unproblematic. Besides, he wouldn’t make a move like this and oust himself.”

“This means it’s time we do a little digging, no?” You looked at Hongjoong who was nodding in thought. “We should look into why the Sirens suddenly think President Lee has joined hands with the army. The Sirens are mostly Strictland immigrants– they must be anxious about something… And who would know President Lee better than President Son? Isn’t it so odd that he refuses to acknowledge him when he was so close to President Lee’s wife?”

“I just thought it might be a personal issue. There were always rumours about how President Han and President Son may have been a thing at some point in their lives,” Hongjoong said and you were about to protest when he spoke your mind. “I think that’s rubbish and it’s probably another deep-rooted grudge– President Son has never been a fan of President Lee.”

“Well, I hope there’s some way to find more about the reason their relationship is so strained,” you said, taking a deep breath before saying, “and that’s about it, yeah. Trip to Edenary concluded.”

A chorus of hums sounded across the room and someone shuffled to get the drink from Hongjoong’s table that they wanted to open for a successful trip. You, however, caught Yunho’s gaze.

“You did great,” he leaned forward to say with a warm smile, Mingi pressing himself back on the couch so you two could talk. “Assemblyman Kim is actually not a bad idea at all. We might need him if President Lee really is guilty of something big.”

“Right?” You exhaled in relief. “You can never have too many allies.”

San interrupted the moment with a tap to your shoulder, sliding in the empty space next to you and handing you a glass, congratulating you on making your first trip to Edenary as a Crescent a success– he had heard about your worries and anxiety about the trip over one of your usual late night drink sessions before you left.

“Any moments worthy of another late night drink session?” He asked in a low voice, winking subtly and you stifled a smile.

“There’s actually a lot, but if you can’t tell, me and Hongjoong are a little tense. We had a little argument,” you told him and he went ahead to glare at his boss unfiltered, which made you grab him by the chin so he would face you.

“Choi San!” You scolded in a harsh whisper. “You can’t do that!”

The action did not go unnoticed by the few who were watching you, but you were far too focused on the way San’s gaze softened as he looked at you. You dropped your hand, taking a big gulp of the drink as you attempted to appear normal and unaffected by the fluttering of your heart. You looked back at him and the two of you burst into giggles.

“You want me dead and gone, don’t you?” You poked his thigh.

“How dare Hongjoong have an argument with my darling sweetheart!” He continued with his charade, fully pouting as he clutched your head to bring you into a mock of an embrace. You struggled to free yourself and the boys laughed in confusion. Once you managed to wring away from San, you fixed your hair before smacking his arm.

All the while Hongjoong watched you challengingly.

You stared right back, eyes determined. And when a little smirk appeared on his lips, you finally found yourself relaxing while also realising with a sinking heart that Hongjoong already had quite the hold on you.

Now that you had wrapped up the hard part about the business with the conclusion of the Edenary trip, things were settling back into the old, quiet routine. You were only waiting for Madame Tiffany’s arrival to Sector 1 and, if lucky, a tip from Madame Cha in Wonderland to arrive preferably before the deal happens.

You had to admit that it was making you a little restless to not hear back from Madame Cha, and it had you wondering if she was purposely withholding information. Was she in cahoots with Madame Tiffany or worse, Secretary Park? The unease that you might have been betrayed by the one person you trusted prevented you from focusing completely on work and you often found yourself distracted and zoning out.

Anyone could tell that you were a bit jumpy these days. It was not because of your shift in relationship with both Yunho and Seonghwa. Things with Seonghwa were surprisingly normal and comfortable even after the romantic moment in Edenary, even after the confessions. He was still the same old underboss who gave you orders and a pat on your shoulders for doing a good job. He would make sure you were taking your meals on time, as did your colleagues Eunha and Jihoon.

It was mostly the lack of response from Madame Cha that was eating you up, and… Hongjoong.

Hongjoong was pretending to be normal– pretending, you were sure, because you were no stranger to the slight edge in his voice when he talked to you. It reminded you of the time when he had ‘respectfully’ asked you to stick to being a bookkeeper instead of meddling with their business and it made you reconsider if becoming a Crescent was a smart decision at all. You could have simply given away every information you possessed in exchange for your life, or used Kihyun as a shield. You could have resigned and gone to work at MX Pharmaceuticals– that way, you wouldn’t have had to interact with the Crescents very much.

But then… you would think about the boys. You would think about the recent development in the business and your relationship with the boys, ruminate about the good moments that you shared with them. The bond that you had created with them definitely outweighed anything else by a considerable margin.

You were waiting for Hongjoong in his office while you finished up the daily report for him. You couldn’t help but get distracted by the bracelet on your wrist. Perhaps, you should not have worn it today.

However, Hongjoong seemed to think differently. When he came to the office and seated himself across you, his gaze stuck on your wrist as you passed him the report. You hid your hands under the desk on purpose while you reviewed the reports as he went through them. It was all very smooth and casual, just like before, until–

“When are you going to share what Sunmi had to say about me?”

You couldn’t help the smirk this time. “When were you going to tell me that you’re not just the boss of a criminal organisation but a part-time designer as well?”

Hongjoong let out a wicked laugh. “Boss of a criminal organisation, okay, but a part-time designer? That’s something I’ve never heard about myself.”

“Well?” You waved your wrist in the air. “I’m hearing you designed this yourself, Captain.”

“Yeah, I did,” he leaned forward challengingly. “What about it?”

“Is this your trademark design,” you asked, letting your fingers brush the ring he wore on his right hand, “or… did you design it to match with your rings?”

Hongjoong only smiled in answer, letting you caress his hand for just a moment before he grabbed yours and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles and sending butterflies in your stomach.

“I need answers, Hongjoong,” you almost whispered. “Not distractions.”

“I designed it to match,” he admitted, clasping both of his hands around yours. “And since we’re both feeling a little chummy right now, I will admit that I said things that I should not have said.”

He cautiously looked into your eyes before he continued. “Your opinions were never imposing. You are my– our partner now, and you are allowed to voice your opinions even if they are imposing. Yes, I’m the boss and I make the final decision but that does not mean that I do not make sure that all my partners are satisfied with the decision I will make.”

“I know,” you said softly, surprised at the hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

“I’m just eager to make this deal,” he sighed. “This drug project has been in the works for far too long now, and I know I should be cautious, but it’s a golden opportunity, isn’t it?”

You nodded. “I might have been overthinking because it’s my father who encouraged us to proceed with the deal. I haven’t heard back from Madame Cha yet.”

“And that is why I delayed the meeting,” he reminded you. “But you must understand that I cannot delay it any further, right?”

You nodded, pursing your lips. There was still an unsettling feeling in your heart and now you were starting to understand the gravity and the seriousness of this drug project. It could improve the healthcare system of Eden and it could shake Eden as it exposes the people who tried to keep silver light all to themselves. Perhaps, you were just anxious because of those reasons.

“I understand, and I will cooperate,” you said and he shook his head at your choice of words. You let out a nervous laugh, the tension releasing from your body. “I mean, I accept your apology and I will work with you when we shake hands with Madame Tiffany. She’s probably a good choice– the best option we have for now.”

“The best option we’ve ever had,” Hongjoong said. “And I’m wary of her too. My network is meticulous and so far, she’s mostly clean. Only misfortune can ruin us now.”

“Let’s hope not,” you squeezed his hands in assurance before drawing them away. “Also, is there any way for you to contact President Son?”

“What for?”

“I was just wondering if he would like to share what he has on President Lee.”

“If it was that easy, I would have asked him ages ago,” Hongjoong chuckled.

“I know!” Your shoulders sagged. “Still…”

“He’s not the type of man to share information just like that, and I don’t even want to try,” Hongjoong raised his hands in surrender. “He’s scary.”

“So you are scared of someone, huh? You’re just human, after all,” you folded your arms, laughing mockingly.

“One wrong move and he will end my whole career,” Hongjoong reminded you and you bit on your lower lip in thought.

“What if we have something to trade? Information, an opportunity, something like that?”

“He is the kind of person who knows everything that happens– in Eden and in the underworld of this continent. It’s no wonder that he exercised presidency in Eden for two whole terms. A solid ten years of experience in that position, given his background is something to fear.”

“So we need him, but he does not need us,” you sighed in resignation when Hongjoong nodded. “Alright. I’ll see if there’s some other way to find information about President Lee. I really don’t think he’s unaware of this Strictland business. There is no way Secretary Park is making all these visits to Halaland personally under his nose.”

“Jongho is working on that,” he assured you. “He has a few connections in Halaland but they’re waiting for Secretary Park’s next visit to their country before they tail him.”

“Good idea. Have we still not found any clues about the anonymous source?”

“No, but I have a feeling it’s gonna be something big,” Hongjoong rubbed his face, tired. “We will also have to wait for the end of this month but I can’t promise any results. The anonymous sources usually hire someone from delivery services who have no connection to both parties. We correlate the timing through them– we hide our identity too. It’s going to be hard.”

You sat in silence, sorting your thoughts out and then agreeing that it was best to wait and see. Hongjoong reminded you that Madame Tiffany was arriving in three days’ time and that he and Seonghwa were going to show her around, but they would appreciate your presence when the actual meeting happens.

And it was the pressure of your new role that made you search for the comfort of your old job– where a part of you would always be, you mused. The Crescent Bar was almost like a home to you now, and tonight you were looking for Yeosang so you could tell him the events of Edenary in detail and talk about the things that you had been avoiding for a while now before it gets too complicated.

You had just wrapped up things with Yunho in the office before coming here and you might have talked to him instead, but it was getting harder to look at him and not have your heart melt a little. You were afraid that you were going to make a mistake– or simply, not think rationally in his presence. That is why your heart reached for Yeosang. You had known him the longest time and it was always comfortable with him, even after the subtle shift in your relationship.

However, when you sneaked in through the back door, wanting to avoid the rest of your friends who worked at the front, you found the door to his office locked. You stood there with your hand on the knob, your shoulders tensing up with each passing minute as you wondered where he was–

“Luna?”

You turned to find San who was shrugging on his usual leather jacket over a black tank top. It looked like he was getting ready to go home.

“Oh, hi,” you awkwardly waved. “Done for the night?”

“Yeah, what’s up? Are you looking for Yeosang?”

“Yes, but it looks like he’s not here,” you pursed your lips. “So I’ll be going back home.”

He studied you for a moment before shaking his head. “You need a drink?”

“Not here, I sneaked in from the back door,” you told him and he smiled in understanding. “Just wanted to talk to him about… stuff.”

“Well,” San stepped closer. “You can talk to me, if you’d like? No pressure– we could go somewhere else. I was going to go home anyway, and I’ll be alone tonight. No engagements.”

You contemplated for a moment. San was definitely easy to talk to and you both were very comfortable ranting to each other about what was going on in your lives. While he wasn’t as good as Yeosang at helping you navigate through what you were thinking… he was comforting in a different way. Like a friend, your equal.

“I guess we could walk around for now, yeah?”

“I’ve got drinks at my place if you’d like to drown your sorrows away,” he laughed and you clapped in acknowledgement, asking him to lead the way– you would definitely need a few drinks to talk about tonight’s subject matter.

The matter being what the eight of them really wanted from you.

“Look,” you took a deep breath, glad your mind was not cloudy from all the drinking you had been doing. San wasn’t drinking very much, opting to hear you out instead and promising to stop you if he thought was necessary. “I get it. You guys are close, in more ways than you let on–”

“It’s really not that complicated–” he began but you shot him a warning glare and he pretended to zip his mouth.

“To you, it may not be. You guys have been together for a long time, San,” you reminded him, shifting so you were sitting cross-legged on the floor now, resting your elbows on the table. You moved the bottles in front of you, arranging them into triangles while you talked. “Your relationship developed naturally. Right?”

“You’ve been with us for a long time too, now,” San countered. “At least with me and Yeosang.”

“That’s why I’m in your apartment right now. If it was someone else, I wouldn’t have intruded,” you winked at him and he laughed. “But my point is… how would it change us? What would it mean for me?”

“I think you need to answer a few questions first,” San shrugged. “If you’re comfortable with at least a few of us. If you see us in that light– if you want to be with some of us romantically.”

When San brought you to his apartment, he showed you around like a gentleman. He lived with Mingi and Seonghwa but Mingi usually stayed in the warehouse, opting to come back during the weekends. Seonghwa was visiting some family so he wouldn’t be home tonight either.

Then you told San about the details of your time in Edenary– specifically your argument with Hongjoong and how it got resolved now. He didn’t comment much, only smiled knowingly and agreed that Hongjoong could be a bit temperamental at times but that was probably stress.

And when you told him about your kiss with Seonghwa and your undeniable feelings for Yunho and Yeosang, he couldn’t help but make a few teasing remarks which finally made you get a good amount of wine in your system. You asked him to simply answer all your questions without ambiguity. You couldn’t simply sit around anymore and keep getting distracted over what was and what could be.

“Maybe I do,” you answered, your mouth suddenly feeling dry and you were glad you had some drinks in your system because you couldn’t have admitted it with this confidence otherwise. “Maybe I like you too.”

San smirked. “I’ll hear that when you’re sober, thank you very much.”

“I am sober. Just a little bit tipsy,” you straightened. “Come on, San. Don’t push me back now.”

“I’m not,” he gently said, scooting closer. “You wanna cuddle?”

“Cuddle?” You gaped at him– the mafia capo wanted to cuddle. With you.

“How long has it been since you’ve sat in someone’s arms, dear? Even platonically?”

There was a certain sadness in his voice that you couldn’t pinpoint. It made your heart sink, and you wondered if he had looked through your heart and found how lonely you were.

Cautiously, you scooted closer where he sat on the floor with his back resting on the couch, his legs spread to accommodate you. You sat in front of him, unsure of how he wanted you to sit.

“This is weird,” you told him and he shook his head, grabbing your wrists and turning you around so you were now tucked in his embrace, and with his bare, strong arms wrapped around you, you had to admit–

This was nice- no, this was lovely.

“Relax,” he said in a low voice, adjusting your bodies so you both sat a bit more comfortably. “You okay?”

“Yep,” you assured him, slowly letting the tension release from your body. “You’re right, I’ve almost never done this.”

“You don’t need to be partners to do this,” he told you, caressing your hair. “I think every human needs or craves a little skinship. I, for one, can’t sleep without holding something.”

“Oh,” you giggled at his admission and he chuckled. “So you cuddle just about anyone?”

“Anyone or anything,” he grinned. “Isn’t it nice?”

“Yeah, you’re like a cushion. A hard one– what’s all that muscle for?” You poked his biceps and he laughed loudly, poking your stomach and making you squirm in his grasp.

“We used to sit like this– the boys,” San said after a moment, voice deep with the memories of that time. “Usually it was Mingi and I after a tough night during the war. Jongho doesn’t really like cuddling but sometimes, he needed that too. We were all soldiers in the same platoon.”

“Did you know each other from before the war?” You asked, tracing patterns into his arms while you rested your head against his chest.

“Mingi and Yunho did. Yeosang and Wooyoung were old friends too, and they were stationed in the same area so they often met up. And then Yunho and Hongjoong became friends during the war, and after the treaty happened, we just… found each other again. We have never separated since.”

“You’re each other’s home now,” you smiled. “It must be nice to have each other.”

“It is,” he said. “We can always rely on each other. And our relationship… it’s different. Sometimes, we comfort each other, but there are no boundaries. Some of us have had girlfriends before, sometimes two of us with one person, but we never really met someone who could fit in with us and be a part of all of us, until… you.”

“And how did you know I would fit right in? Especially with the romantic aspects of your relationship?”

“We didn’t, we just liked when you talked back to Seonghwa,” San said and you laughed, drawing back in his embrace so you could face him. “Yeosang liked you from the beginning, but he’s probably the most cautious one out of all of us when it comes to relationships. And you always kept a distance until you became a Crescent.”

“Kept a distance for obvious reasons– I had so much to hide,” you sighed. “I can finally be myself since all my secrets are out.”

“Yeah,” San tucked your hair back lovingly. “It wasn’t until you started showing interest in Yunho that we thought that you might be the one for us. Seonghwa, at least, thought so. He had to convince Hongjoong.”

“But how does it work?” You asked. “Do you all… actually like me?”

“Obviously, not all of us yet and not in the same way,” he said and you figured that was true. “You know your relationship is different with all of us. You haven’t really interacted much with the warehouse boys, but with those you have… what do you think? Do you see yourself with us?”

“Does being one of you mean… that I’m with all of you?”

“Not necessarily, no,” San explained. “You can be with a few of us if that is what you would prefer. You can take your time navigating your feelings. You can be with one of us– but we… we’re willing to be with you if you are.”

“It’s… a lot,” you laughed, heart feeling full at the thought though there was an anxious strain in your chest that accompanied the feeling.

“Your own pace, darling,” San kissed your temple. “Whatever you say, whoever you want, whenever you want.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “So you will all be my boys then?”

San couldn’t help but gleam at the sound of that.

“It’s been the eight of us for a long time now,” San admitted. “And if you accept us, it will be the nine of us, and nobody else.”

“Well…” you scanned his face, finding his eyes full of hope with a hint of caution. You wished to erase that emotion from his eyes, now that you had your answer. “I actually quite like the sound of it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you folded your arms. “If I get tired with one of you, there’s always another. And another. And another–”

San groaned loudly, moving to tickle you again but when you tried squirming out of his grasp, the two of you somehow wrestled yourselves into a position so your bodies were flush against each other, with you lodged in his lap so you were at eye-level. San’s gaze darkened for just a moment and he removed his hands from around your body to make sure you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

But then you moved to cup his face, entranced by the way his eyes watched you and his plump lips parted for air. You traced the sharp curves and edges of his face, running your thumb over his lower lip.

“San… does it make me selfish if I really want to be a part of you guys? If I want all of you, in some way or another?”

“Not at all,” he whispered.

“Does it make me greedy to crave love?” You tilted your head, inspecting the moles and freckles that littered his neck. “To crave you?”

“No,” he rested his hands on the dip of your waist. “We all crave love. It’s natural.”

“You won’t break my heart, right?” You asked, locking eyes with him, unable to keep the assertiveness out of your voice even though it threatened to betray you. “None of you. I don’t think I have more capacity in me to grieve if I lose someone again, San. I’ve already lost everything once and it took me a lot of time to recover.”

“We will never do that to you,” he squeezed your waist in assurance, the promise in his eyes strong. “We protect each other. We don’t betray each other. We’re one.”

You nodded, leaning forward just a fraction, unable to deny the magnetic pull and he held his breath in anticipation. “Do you mind if I…”

“Are you sure?” San asked. “I don’t want you to wake up in the morning and regret coming here tonight, Luna. Bringing you here wasn’t– this wasn’t my intention–”

You reckoned that the only way to shut him up now was to capture his lips in a kiss. He froze for a moment before melting under your touch and reciprocating the kiss. His hands lowered to your hips, wrapping around your back as he brought your bodies closer and you kissed his lower lip sweetly before drawing back for breath.

For a few moments, you assessed each other. San studied the vulnerability in your eyes, watched how your eyes ran along the expanse of his upper body, your hands following the path as they traced down his shoulders and then came back to smoothen the fabric of his tank top.

“You’re… hot, Choi San,” you breathed out the confession and he laughed, eyes laden with adoration as he watched you.

“You sound drunk, Luna,” he said. “And I don’t want you to make a drunken mistake tonight.”

“I’m not drunk,” you steeled your gaze. “But okay, I get it. You’re a gentleman to the bone.”

“That I am,” San picked you up effortlessly as he got up and you almost squealed, wrapping yourself around him instinctively. San’s body shook as he laughed and he waited until your fear settled and you drew away to look at him.

“Would you like to stay over?” He asked.

“Sure,” you nodded, frowning in anticipation.

“Then let’s go wash up and cuddle until we sleep. Don’t let your drunken thoughts keep you up at night, darling.”

You pouted but you were aware that you would be thanking him the next morning. The two of you went to separate bathrooms to wash up and he lent you one of his shirts and a trouser for the night. You took your time in the shower, letting the water wake you up and take the cloudiness in your mind with it.

Once done, you walked to his room and stood in shock at the absurd amount of pillows on his bed– every shape, every size. San simply watched you from his bed, amused.

“That one looks like it’s begging for death,” you pointed at a worn out pillow in the middle of the bed.

“That’s my favourite pillow to cuddle,” San chuckled, patting the space next to him.

“I’ll dethrone it– I’ll be your new favourite cuddle pillow,” you promised, getting inside the covers and tackling him in a hug which made him laugh in surprise, his arm going around your back to hold you close.

“Didn’t expect you to be the shy type, Luna,” he said sarcastically.

“Didn’t expect you to be such a gentleman, but here we are,” you pecked his lips, gauging his reaction before sharing another sweet kiss.

“It’s really good to be here tonight. Thank you, San.”

“It’s nothing,” he caressed your head. “I didn’t expect this turn of events, but I hope all your questions are answered now.”

You grinned– truly, the night had taken an unexpected turn but you were not going to complain. There was only one thing left now.

You will have to make this official amongst the boys. You needed to hear if they were alright with this, and if they were, you were ready to become a part of their team.

For now, you were content sleeping in San’s warm embrace.

The wet winters was an unavoidable thing in Eden but it was still amusing to see how it vexed the citizens of Eden. The rest of your week passed by in a blur, unforgiving with its never-ending downpour of rain that cast a bleak spell on the area. The laughter of the children was replaced by shrieks as they huddled under shade, being shouted at by their guardians to get back home. The once calm and steady footsteps of the people making their way to begin with their day at their workplace was substituted by wet and uneven steps, often accompanied by a whisper of a string of curses.

You tried to stay optimistic but even you could relate to the cranky pedestrians when a cycle, or worse, a car would pass by, sending a splatter in your direction which you would narrowly avoid. Sometimes, you would carry the drops of muddy water on your bottoms to the office and make a quick stop at the toilet to scrub it off. You wished there was an umbrella that would guard you from head to toe.

Seonghwa told you that it was called ‘a car’ and you made a face– you would not be accepting conveyance offers. Your walks to the office and back home were perhaps the only mundane activity left in your life. Plus, you liked how the morning walk specifically made you vigilant if it was raining– calculating where to place your next footstep was quite a nice activity to wake your mind and get it running for the rest of the day. Working with the ‘big three’ made you want to start your day as normally as possible.

It also kept you humbled, and perhaps, you needed that now more than ever. While you and Hongjoong were no longer tense, you were starting to understand a few things. You were no longer an Edenary citizen– not by any means. You were now a Crescent, and that was the only identification you would need in the future.

Being a Crescent meant that you were an equal now. There were no longer any power dynamics going on– you did not need to prove your worth with the information you had or with your status. You just needed to work with them. They needed your brains– though, again, they really didn’t, as Hongjoong had clarified. They just needed… you.

Why did they need you anymore? Their deal with Madame Tiffany was done. You had already shared everything you knew about the elite’s dirty secrets that you deemed significant. Did you really deserve to be a Crescent? Did you deserve this position in the Crescent? Sure, a bookkeeper, maybe you earned that. A secretary, even. But to be one of The Leaders?

And to be wanted by them? Desired?

That question gnawed at you like a constant itch ever since San told you about the true dynamics of their relationship and their offer– to be with as many of them as you liked. While his admission had helped the guilt that you wished to be with more than one of them, it also contributed to the self-doubt and the insecurities you had been harbouring in your heart. Did you really deserve to be at this position?

And it was this confusion about your self-worth that was making you delay officially accepting their offer to be a Leader and be a part of their relationship dynamic. San had explained that the latter part would be shaped on your terms but that did nothing to comfort you. Plus, there were more pressing matters that you needed to take care of. It was odd how Madame Cha had not responded back to you after you told her about Madame Tiffany. You were wondering if she ever received your letter in the first place or if someone else got to it first– you wouldn’t be surprised if your father’s rats intercepted the letter.

Madame Tiffany was now fully aware of the boss’ vision for silver light. She understood why it was so important to a man like Kim Hongjoong to have that drug earn the status of a medicine so that he could crush the most powerful drug network in Edenary. Once silver light would be in the hands of a common man, the elites would no longer want to consume it or keep using it as their currency. The fundings for silver light would stop and he would finally learn just which influential personalities of Eden were involved in this. Things for the Crescents, especially business, would get easier from there.

Madame Tiffany, of course, didn’t need to know the last part. She could keep wondering if it was solely because Hongjoong was a moral man who wanted the best for the people of Eden.

That was true. He did want the best for his people– just not without gaining something himself as well.

Tonight was the last meeting with Madame Tiffany before she would be going back to Wonderland. So far, the sessions had been fruitful and she had already made her first instalment of payment, thus solidifying the partnership. You attended a few meetings too and learned a lot from her– while she was considerably young for an owner of multiple businesses, she was well-experienced and had knowledge to share. You were starting to think that you had been worried for no reason.

When you were not attending the meeting, you were working in the background with her assistants while Hongjoong and Seonghwa or Yunho gave Madame Tiffany company. Tonight, you were handling the legal aspect of the finances with Jihoon– the two of you had been on it since before Madame Tiffany arrived, making sure her huge advance payment would be adjusted properly and unsuspiciously into the current statements especially since a few inspectors had been keeping an eye on the Crescents tax and bank statements recently.

You both would have to make sure not to raise suspicion at such a sensitive time and maybe keep the extra cash stored somewhere safe, which was another headache. It was a relief that the weapons incharge group needed cash soon so you only had to worry about transporting the extra bunch safely.

You checked the time on your wrist watch– it was almost 10 and that meant the meeting was about to be over. You let Jihoon know who instantly relaxed back in the chair to crack his neck and you both grinned at the loud sounds that his aching joints produced.

“Eunha owes us a meal for skipping out on this,” you said, signing the last document and shutting the folder with a sense of accomplishment.

“Oh, definitely. I’ll make sure she pays us back as early as possible,” Jihoon muttered, highlighting a line in the report and passing it to you to check for any discrepancies. You confirmed that it was alright and he concluded his work as well. “Oh, also, I forgot to tell you because it’s been so busy here, but someone came looking for you today. Not exactly ‘looking’, but asked if you worked here.”

“Me?” Your heart sank. “Who would?”

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t anyone from around here– I would have recognised him if he was. He said he would find you. He didn’t give me a name.”

“Well… geez. It could be someone my father sent to kill me.”

“Yeah, and he would come marching right in here unscathed, huh?” Jihoon shook his head.

“What did he look like?”

“Cool,” Jihoon laughed. “Had a few piercings– one here to match with his moles or something,” he pointed at his brows and your face scrunched in confusion before you realised.

“Lim Jaebeom was here?”

Jihoon narrowed his eyes when you looked absolutely shocked to learn the identity of the person who came to see you. “Is that supposed to be someone important?”

“Kind of, but I wish he had come earlier,” you nervously looked at the closed door of the boss’ room. “That’s my source for verification on Tiffany.”

“I thought you gave up on that?”

“I did,” you nodded and he whistled in response, agreeing it was too late now. You simply needed to pray that Jaebeom brought good news.

You could not stop shaking your leg while you waited for the meeting to be over and once Yunho stepped out, he paused when he saw a very tired Jihoon and a very fidgety you. He immediately came over to dismiss Jihoon first after making sure everything was okay, and then he called you into his office.

“How did the meeting go?”

“It was okay. They’re just chatting now so I thought I would leave. It was a good idea, apparently,” he looked at your jittery hands pointedly. “Can’t wait to go home?”

“It’s not that,” you laughed, deciding not to tell anyone about Jaebeom until you actually had something to share. “Okay, yeah, I might be a bit tired too.”

Yunho hummed in response while he locked the documents in the cabinet. “You need a ride? I’m going to the bar and it looks like it’s still raining.”

“Oh, yes, please,” you groaned in relief. “I can’t wait to take these damp clothes off– I had to run outside to get a snack and got caught in the rain.”

Yunho raised a brow, scanning your body– if the clothes had been a lighter colour, he might have gotten a look at your silhouette. You folded your arms and shook your head.

“Get your head out of the gutter, Lieutenant Jeong. I’m not taking anything off here.”

“Whatever happened to our office romance?” Yunho wondered, grinning as he asked you to follow him downstairs and you caught Hongjoong and Madame Tiffany sharing a farewell handshake, opting to wait inside until she was gone.

As soon as she was out of sight, Hongjoong’s fake smile dropped and he turned, rolling his eyes when he saw the two of you snickering at the change in his demeanour. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. She smiles too fucking much.”

“What a gentleman,” you commented, patting his shoulder in mock sympathy. “We were just leaving– he’s dropping me home.”

“Wait till Seonghwa hears that,” Hongjoong scoffed. “He’s still bitter about how you won’t accept a car and a driver.”

“I’m only making use of this man here,” you pointed at Yunho. “Why don’t you two try taking a walk tonight, huh, you and Seonghwa? Get a breath of that fresh air– you look like you need it.”

You proceeded to sit in the passenger seat with a teasing look shot at Hongjoong who stood at the entrance of the office, thoroughly amused. The ride to your home wasn’t too long so it was mostly silent and you made him park the car at the end of the street so he could save a turn.

“Well, that is goodnight,” you started grabbing your things. “And we part ways till it is the morrow.”

Yunho brushed his fingers against your hand and you let him link your hands. He squeezed them before he raised your hand to kiss the back of it.

“When are you going to talk to the boys?”

You knew what he meant. You smiled. “I just want the business to settle down a bit before we take that step. There’s too much going on right now.”

“I understand,” he pressed another kiss to your hand. “I’m just excited for it.”

“Gosh, you’re such a child sometimes,” you laughed, returning the sentiment and kissing the back of his hand. “I think I need to personally talk to Yeosang first.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” he agreed. “He’s waited too long for you.”

You pursed your lips guiltily. “He wouldn’t mind that I– that me and you, and me and San–”

“No, he wouldn’t. Not in the slightest,” Yunho assured you. “However, he is the type to mind after you make this official.”

“Oh, thank you for the tip. I shall keep that in mind,” you breathed. That sounded like the Yeosang you knew. “Any other tips to share?”

“Hmm… the underboss likes to receive gifts. Meaningful gifts.”

“I knew he had that side to him,” you shook your head, recalling seeing a bunch of stuff that seemed out of place on Seonghwa’s office desk. “What else?”

Yunho took a moment to think, caressing your hand absently. “The consigliere quite likes intimate moments like these. He might never admit that, though.”

“Is that so?” You tugged at his hand, beckoning him to look at you and for once, he looked shy which made you bite back a grin. “Does he like eye contact or is he too tough for that?”

“Oh, he can hold his eye contact,” Yunho assured in a low voice, looking intently at you and sending butterflies in the pit of your stomach. “He is known not to break away first.”

“I would take this challenge when I’m not feeling icky,” you told him, just wanting to get out of your clothes that stuck to your skin. “But…”

You pulled him in and locked his lips with yours, sharing a sweet kiss. The way he looked at you afterwards made you want to stay and talk about feelings, for once, but you only smiled, pecking his lips in farewell.

And it was a good idea to let him go. Just as you had predicted, the familiar figure of the leader of one of the most notorious and influential underworld gangs of Wonderland sat on a bench, fiddling with his smoke. You took a look around before taking a seat at the other end of the bench.

“Fancy seeing you here, Jaebeom.”

Jaebeom scanned your figure slowly with his piercing gaze before it softened just a fraction. “You’ve grown, kiddo.”

You smiled widely at the term– strangely, he had been the first one to give you such a childish nickname. It made you see him in an almost familial way.

“How’s Madame Cha?” You asked. “And what brings you here?”

“Your aunt’s the same,” he began, crossing one leg over the other. “Which means she’s thriving, keeping the boys busy. Me? I came to take a breather.”

“Lies,” you scoffed. “You can’t leave them alone. You’re incapable of that.”

“But I’m here,” he spread his arms to prove a point. “Okay, I’m here with Jinyoung. He had some business here and now was a good time to tag along and deliver some news.”

“Good news or bad news?” You asked sombrely.

“Both?” He inhaled deeply. “But not now. There’s still a few things I need to check before I decide what to give you.”

“Is this about Madame Tiffany?” You prodded. Reluctantly, he gave in with a nod.

“Just tell me if it looks bad,” you tried swallowing the anxiety in your voice.

“It could be the end of your beloved Crescents’ career, if I’m right about this,” he said in a low voice and you cursed under your breath– you knew it. “It’s hard to say anything right now because we didn’t find anything while investigating her. She’s clean, you know that.”

You nodded. Countless thorough checks brought nothing to attention.

“You know Madame Cha makes us track shifts in the elite world to have an idea of what the political situation in the continent looks like– and it’s looking bad. We fear the stepping stones for the second war of our lifetime are being cemented, and we’re working with people from around the continent to try and stabilise the situation. It’s kind of ambiguous right now, so I can’t really say…”

“But she might be involved?”

“We spotted her with far too many instigators to call it a ‘coincidence’,” Jaebeom explained. “It could be just her business and stuff, but there’s a chance that she might be involved. However miniscule it might be.”

“Good lord,” you breathed. “Wish I had learned that earlier.”

“Like I said, she’s clean. Far too clean,” Jaebeom tsk-ed in disappointment. “But we got a tip and got busy. We might need the Crescents to join hands with us in the future, so don’t look like you’ve just seen the grim reaper.”

“You don’t understand,” you looked at Jaebeom, positive your face was void of colour now. “If she’s involved… we’ve given her the key to destroy the Crescents… and ultimately Eden.”

Jaebeom pursed his lips in disbelief. “I sure hope not. I’ll report back soon– stay vigilant.”

The ickiness of your clothes didn’t bother you anymore. You sat on the bench, letting the dampness of it stick to your soul for a while, waiting for a miracle to happen. However, the only miracle that did happen was that you mustered up your courage to go in the comfort of your room, away from the monsters of this world.

After washing up, you found yourself in front of Wendy’s room. Her door was slightly ajar and you peeked inside– she seemed to be asleep. You quietly got inside the covers next to her and she stirred in her sleep, turning to you and opening one eye to confirm your presence.

“Everything alright?” She mumbled, voice laden with sleep.

You didn’t answer. “I’m just very tired, Wendy.”

Wendy smiled sadly before falling back asleep, one arm draped over your chest. You followed, hoping the last bit of tonight was just a bad dream and you would magically wake up in your own room as if nothing had happened.

next chapter

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matzofficial · 1 month ago

Text

💭 — DAILY TEXTS WITH BF!ATEEZ (EP 02.)

pairing. bf!ateez x reader cw. suggestive themes, park seonghwa's solo (should actually have its own cw category)

notes. wowowo pfw this year was wild so i had to include some hall of fame moments. also, just a quick psa: this is fanfiction, please suspend your disbelief!! not everything here aligns with canon or reality!! so don't take it seriously i beg. that's all! reblogs and comments are appreciated. see you in the next post~~

#ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez smau #ateez texts #ateez fic #ateez imagines #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x you #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #*matzofficial

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another-random-fanfic-blog · 2 days ago

Text

Fates Entwined

Warnings: 18+ , mentions of sexual assault, abuse, death

Summary: You rescues 8 hybrids that are about to die.

word count: 7099

Masterlist

Next Chapter

The shelter workers dragged the beaten, bloodied, and half-conscious hybrid to a cell room, throwing him on the floor in front of 7 other hybrids.

"This was the third time he was returned," sneered the worker with greasy slick-backed hair, "that means he gets put down tomorrow. If you 7 don't agree to be adopted separately, you'll be joining him."

The shelter worker walked out of the room, slamming and locking the door while whistling cheerfully as he walked away. Meanwhile, the other 7 hybrids crowded around their friend on the floor, Seonghwa carefully lifting his head to place in his lap.

"Sannie," Wooyoung cries out, holding San's hand.

"Sannie, what happened?" Hongjoong asks, rubbing Sans arm gently.

"It was a hybrid fighting ring," San cries, refusing to open his eyes, not that he could open both, considering one his right eye was swollen shut, "I couldn't kill the other hybrids like they wanted, I'm sorry."

"It’s ok, Sannie," Yunho replies calmly.

"It's not ok, now they're going to kill you with me." San sobs uncontrollably, barely able to get the next words out, "I don't want you to die too."

"It's ok, San," Seonghwa whispers while cradling the crying man's head, not letting anyone see the tears spill from his own eyes. "Everything will work out, you'll see. We'll be ok."

The 8 hybrids stayed huddled together for a few minutes before they move to their beds, which were nothing more than flimsy blankets filled with holes. Slowly, one by one, they each begin to fall asleep, the younger 4 crying themselves to sleep while they older 4 held in their tears, too on edge to let themselves fall asleep, they flinch at every sound coming through the facility. When they heard two sets of footstep coming towards their cage, Yeosang tightens his hold on Jongho and Wooyoung while Seonghwa held San, and Yunho cradle Mingi, Hongjoong moves to sit in front of everyone, trying to block them from the view of whoever was approaching, with his small body.

Two workers appeare in front of the cage, the greasy haired employee named Mike, and the employee with yellow teeth, missing his front one, called Carl. They enjoyed spending their time harassing the hybrids in the shelter, but their favorite targets were the group of 8. Mike stood by the door smirking as he looked over the huddled hybrids.

“Up front now!” Mike demands. Causing all 8 to jump and slowly line up by the door, kneeling on the ground. “I have some good news, we found homes for all of you, except San, he dies in the morning, no exception, but if you agree, you all get to live.”

“Seonghwa gets to go to a nice breeding farm or a brothel, we will let you pick,” Carl laughs as he reads off a paper, meanwhile Seonghwa grips his thighs tightly, holding back tears. “Yeosang will be going to the brothel, Ming and Yunho will be working in the mines to test for gas build up, Wooyoung, Jongho, and Hongjoong will be sent to medical labs as test subjects for new medications or some shit like that.”

“You hear that Seonghwa,” Mike says leaning down in front of the hybrid, “you’re the only one that gets a choice, now say thank you master.”

Seonghwa bit his lip, wanting to yell out and curse the two men, but not trusting his voice as he thinks about how everyone's lives will be ruined. Hybrids were made by humans, then abused, and abandoned by humans. Out of all the different types, rabbit hybrids were on of the most unique and one of the saddest hybrid stories. Scientists, for whatever reason, decided to make it so both female and males could be impregnated. It was wasn’t easy to get a male hybrid pregnant, and the pregnancies were extraordinarily difficult, but humans decided to make a game of it. They hosted insemination parties, bringing mass groups of men to try their luck at who could impregnate the poor hybrids for a prize. Then the rabbits were left to suffer through their pregnancy alone, only to go through it all again, if they survived giving birth.

Mike opens the door, walking in smugly as he looked at the hybrids kneeling on the floor, knowing that they wouldn’t attack him no matter what he did. He walks up and down the row, looking at each hybrid closely, paying attention to their features. Stopping in front of Hongjoong, Mike kneels and grabs his face, roughly turning it to each side before pushing away from him and standing. Before Hongjoong could take another breath, Mike grabs him by the hair yanking him to his feet and pinning him to the cage wall. Wrapping his hand around Hongjoongs throat, he lifts Hongjoongs small body up in the air, enjoying the feeling of how Hongjoong struggled for air, trying to free himself.

“Maybe you won’t go to a lab,” Mike laughs, licking, kissing, and biting what he could reach of Hongjoongs neck, grinding his hips against the hybrids, as he got excited by Hongjoongs whimpers and choking noises. “I think I’m going to take you to one of those sex parties, you know, the ones where a hybrid takes over 60 men in one night. What I wouldn’t give to see your broken and useless body afterwards, I wonder how squirrels compare to rabbits.”

“PLEASE STOP!” Seonghwa yells from behind them, unable to watch or listen to anything more, especially when he sees Hongjoongs face turning purple from the lack of oxygen, his grip on Mikes arm starting to loosen as his body grows limp. “PLEASE!”

Mike whips around and stares at Seonghwa before throwing Hongjoong onto the ground, kicking him in the ribs as he coughs and gasps for air. Stomping towards Seonghwa, Mike grabs Seonghwa by his ears, dragging him out of the cage and letting Carl slam the door shut before anyone could react. Pulling Seonghwa into the empty cell across the hall, Mike chains him to the wall. Carl moves out of the hybrids way so they can watch what's about to happen.

“I figured, you’re going to be used for breeding no matter what, that’s all you bunnies are good for anyway,” Mike sneers unbuckling his pants, “so I may as well get a taste of what you have to offer. Isn’t that what you wanted when you asked me to stop? You wanted to take his place, you wanted to be treated like a true bunny right.”

Mike grabs Seonghwa’s shirt and rips it open, while Seonghwa cries, unable to get his arms free from the shackles, shackles that were installed in every cage just in case a hybrid got out of control. Seonghwa opens his eyes and watches as his friends try to break their door open, crying and begging for Mike to stop, with no luck.

Mike undoes his pants and pulls himself out walking closer to the bound man.

“If you bite me, they all die instantly,” Mike laughs, lining himself up with Seonghwa’s mouth, “and after, Carl will want to take you for a spin.”

Just before Mike could touch his tip to Seonghwa’s mouth, they hear a yell from down the hall.

“Mike, Carl, we have a meeting, get your asses in here now!” Yells the owner of the shelter, leaving no room for arguing.

“That man always knows how to ruin the fun,” Mike growls to Carl while he zips himself up, “throw the bunny back in his cell, and let’s go.”

Carl unshackles Seonghwa and throws him in the cell with the others before they disappear, leaving Seonghwa to grip his torn shirt around himself while the others hug him, all of them sobbing uncontrollably.

“Maybe…maybe,” Jongho cries, unable to get his words out between sobs, “maybe death won’t be all that bad.”

No one responds at this point, understanding his feelings as they all feel the same. If they died, no more pain, torture, sexual harassment, or anything else. However, they still didn’t want to die, not really. Laying down and curling around each other, they wait for the death sentence that was coming for them in the morning.

“Wake up! Line up, standing, hands out!” Mike barks at the hybrids, waking them from their fitful sleep.

Each hybrid slowly moves into a line, dread filling their bodies as their wrists and ankles are shackled together and muzzles put over their faces. Soon, they are led down the hall to the euthanasia room, some not able to stop the sobs that rip from their throats.

“You’re going last,” Mike whispers in Seonghwa’s ear and he grabs Seonghwa’s ass. “You’re going to watch as each one of them dies, then, you’re coming home with me. You’re too good looking to not be filled every day. I’m going to make sure you have no energy to leave my bed. I’m also going to have frequent parties, 5 dollars for whoever wants to have you. But first, you have to watch all of your friends die,” he finishes laughing before locking Seonghwa in the waiting cage with everyone else, but San, shackling all the hybrids to the wall. The other 6 hybrids quickly move Seonghwa behind them as best they could, as far away from Mike as possible before turning their attention to San who is being strapped to the table, tears pouring out of his eyes as the technicians insert the needle into his arm.

“I don’t want to die,” San cries, when his muzzle is removed, eyes squeezed close tightly as tears stream down his face, his body bordering hyperventilating. “I don’t want to die and I don’t want them to die.”

“Wait!”

------------------------------------------- a few minutes earlier ----------------------------------

“I will see you in 30 minutes to an hour,” You say, parking your car outside the hybrid shelter. “It’s not a problem, don’t worry about it, I’m happy to help.”

You hang up your phone as you cross the parking lot, entering the shelter and walking to the front desk, looking down the hall to see a group of 8 hybrids crying as they are led into a dark looking room.

“How can I help you?” Asks the secretary after the door closes.

“I’m here to pick up some hybrid medication; it should be under the name Mrs. Roe.” You respond, leaning on the counter, “what was wrong with them?” You ask nodding your head towards where they hybrids disappeared.

“They’re being euthanized-“

“What the fuck?!” You ask, interrupting the secretary.

“They are being euthanized, they refuse to be adopted separately and one has been returned three times when he was forcibly adopted out.”

“How do I stop it?”

“You pay $3,000 and sign this paperwork that I already filled out, all it needs is a signature at the yellow flags,” the secretary replies hurriedly shoving a stack of papers at you.

“You were prepared,” you comment as you hand over your debit card and start signing by the flags, berating yourself for not actually reading the contract you’re currently signing.

“I’ve been hoping someone would come for them for a long time so I was prepared just in case. I’ve always been prepared just in case,” she says handing you the receipt as you pull out your phone and call someone.

“No more talking, let’s go,” you reply, gesturing for her to walk as you finish the paperwork. “Kim, how close are you to 5823 Rosedale Lane?” You ask into the phone.

“Few minutes why?” The voice, Josh Kim, answers over the phone.

“I’m calling in a favor, get your ass here now, bring backup, go past the front desk take a left, door at the end of the hall,” you say, hanging up.

Once you sign the last box, of the papers, the secretary opens the door and yells “Wait!” looking up you see a hybrid strapped to the table, crying as a man begins to attach a syringe to the needle in the hybrids arm.

“This woman adopted all 8 of the hybrids, the paperwork is signed and she already paid,” the secretary states quickly thrusting the papers at the men in the room.

“It’s too late,” the man with the syringe scoffs, as he goes back to what he was doing.

“Let me make this clear,” you growl, stepping forward, staring the man down, “you remove that needle from my hybrids arm right the fuck now, or I do, and shove through your fucking throat!”

The man glares at you and throws the syringe back on the tray before pulling the needle out carelessly. Meanwhile, you keep eye contact with the jackass as you approach the table and begin to undo the restraints on the hybrids arms and legs, helping him up. You turn around and see the other 7 hybrids still held in the cage.

“Release them and then take all 8 of them to the reception area please,” you ask the receptionist.

She nods and begins undoing the restraints to the wall of the caged hybrids, ushering them out of the room when they are freed, before a greasy haired man grabs the bunny hybrid by the ears, yanking him back and wrapping his arm around the poor hybrids throat.

“Seonghwa!” Someone yells from behind you, but you aren't sure who, and you don’t care to find out at this moment, though you can guess it was the hybrid on the table since the others are muzzled. Your eyes are glued to this man and your hybrid, that he decided to put in a chokehold.

“Get them out of here,” you say to the receptionist, as calmly as possible, not allowing your anger to get the best of you.

Once you hear the door shut, you begin to speak again.

“How many hybrids have you killed since last May?” You ask, slowly walking around, making sure to keep tabs on everyone in the room while also watching that this greasy haired bastard doesn’t hurt your hybrid. “Did you know that it is illegal to euthanize a hybrid that wasn’t terminally ill for the past year? Any hybrids euthanized since then are considered a murder charge. They passed that law last May…That means, every hybrid you fuckers euthanized, will be counted as murder. So tell me…how many have you killed?”

You stand by a door on the opposite side of the room from which you came in, grabbing the handle and opening it, only to get hit with the unforgettable smell of death and decomposition. You turn on the light and see dozens upon dozens of hybrid bodies piled up in the room before pulling the door shut.

“I count over 40 bodies in there now, which means it’s at least going to be 40 counts of murder and well as 8 attempted murders, and the police should be here any minute.”

“Fuck off bitch,” the man missing a tooth exclaims, spitting towards your feet.

Just then the door opens and multiple police enter the room, demanding everyone to freeze and put their hands in the air. You walk over to Josh, who is staring down the man holding the bunny and show him the adoption papers in your hand, pointing at the bunny’s name.

“You’re Seonghwa?” The Josh asks the bunny, earning a small nod from him. “Let him go, sir, or do I need to add assault to your list of crimes?”

“Mike, just let that damn thing go,” one of the other men yell, earning a scoff from Mike, before he throws Seonghwa to the ground.

Police quickly move in and cuff Mike, before leading everyone out of the room. You nod your head at the door, hiding the decaying hybrids, alerting Josh to go look in the room. You hear him cuss before the door slams shut, and he appears in front of you.

“Unfortunately, this is still happening,” he says. “Thanks for sending calling. Hopefully, I wasn’t too late.”

“Not for these ones. Thanks for getting here quickly, or I may have shot that bastard,” you reply shaking his hand, “see you later Josh.”

Josh nods and walks out of the room calling in the need for evidence teams and the counties coroner’s office to remove the bodies, leaving you to look down at Seonghwa. You look back at the table that the other hybrid was strapped to and see the keys that you used to unshackle your hybrid with. Grabbing the keys, you approach the scared bunny, keeping your hands in his view the entire time.

“I’m going to take the muzzle and cuffs off, ok?” You say, getting a small nod in reply.

Carefully, you remove the muzzle from his head, reaching behind him to undo the buckles, letting it fall to the ground as you examine the bruises beginning to form from it being bound to tight. You make quick work of the cuffs on his wrists and ankles, looking at the bruises forming there, frowning at how marked up he is. When you begin to look up, you notice his torn shirt, small tears made in it so that the front could be tied close.

“Wanna get out of here, Seonghwa?” You ask standing and holding your hand out to him. He meekly nods and shakily takes your hand, standing unsteadily.

The two of you walk out to the reception area where you see your other 7 hybrids, 6 of them still chained together and muzzled, while the one who was strapped to the table was free and hugging the fox hybrid, clinging to the fox like his life depended on it. As you approach, all seven hybrids eyes turn to you, watching you carefully.

“I’m going to take the muzzles and cuffs off,” you say holding up the key and approaching the closest hybrid, who tenses when your hand gets close to him.

Seonghwa practically clings to you the entire time you are removing the restraints from your hybrids, you assume so he can make sure you don’t hurt any of them. You notice the same problems on them that you did on Seonghwa; they are all bruised from the restraints being too tight.

“See that red SUV out in the parking lot,” you say to what you assume is a squirrel hybrid, based on the ears and tail, “will all of you go wait by it? I will be right out.”

He nods, and they exit the building, looking back at you every few steps as they walk away. You turn and walk to the reception desk, seeing the secretary sitting there looking around nervously as the police remove file after file from the cabinet. Grabbing the medication on the counter and your remaining paperwork, you give her some advice.

“Try to cut a deal with the district attorney, say you will testify to anything you can if they want.”

With that, you turn and walk to your car. On the way you pull out your phone and text your friend Marco, saying ‘Meet me at my house ASAP, bring your kit.’

“I didn’t expect to adopt 8 hybrids today,” you say looking at the group huddled around your car, “this only seats 7, so you two will have to sit on someone's lap until we get home.”

They nod and climb in, the squirrel and fox being the two that sit on someone’s lap. You throw your car in drive and make your way home, silently. You’ve never been good with talking to people, you never know what to say, and honestly would much rather be alone than be around others. Now you have 8 lifetime commitments sitting in your car and it’s a little daunting.

You’re unsure what to say to them, and continue to rehearse your introduction in your head. When you were about 10 minutes away from your home, you stop at a house and park the car.

“I’ll be back, I just need to drop this off real quick,” you say, holding up the box that you picked up from the shelter.

The hybrids don’t respond, and you get out of the car, approaching the house. Knocking on the door, you wait for the older lady to answer.

“Y/n, how are you,” Mrs. Roe asks as she answers the door, “thank you so much for picking this up for me. The vet called and they said that the medicine should be back in by the time it needs refilled, so you won’t have to pick it up for me again.”

Mrs. Roe motions for you to come in, and as you enter her home, you see her hybrid laying on the couch wrapped in blankets and sleeping soundly.

“He’s having a pretty bad flare-up and it doesn’t help that the doctor didn’t inform me that his medication was on back order and wouldn’t be coming in this month, which is why I had to hurry and find a place that has the medication in stock.”

“Well, I’m always happy to help. And if you need anything to help him through this flare just ask,” you respond, setting the box on her kitchen counter, smiling as you watch her adjust the blankets surrounding her hybrid. You appreciated that she treated him as though he was no different than she was and did whatever she could to make him happy. When she walks back into the room, Mrs. Roe tries to hand you cash for the medicine.

“Oh, no, I don’t need that,” you say refusing the cash, “it wasn’t that much anyway.”

“Well, then at least take this,” she replies, turning away from you to pick up a freshly baked apple pie, which from previous experience, you know is to die for. “I have to thank you some way.”

“I will be more than happy to be paid back in food, you are an amazing cook and I will never turn down a meal.” You happily take the pie from her, noticing that the pan is still warm but not hot enough that you can’t hold it with your bare hands. “I really need to get going, but thank you for this.” You say as you begin to leave.

In the car

“What’s going to happen to us?” Mingi asks, clutching Yunho’s hand in a death grip.

“I don’t know, Mingi.” Hongjoong replies, staring at where you disappeared into the house.

“Whatever happens, we will be together,” Yeosang whispers, with a slight tremble of nervousness in his voice, his lisp becoming more pronounced due to his stress.

The car quiets once again as they watch you exit the house carrying something in your hands. You carefully open the door and sit down, realizing you have nowhere to put the pie with everyone in the car.

“I can hold it,” the fox hybrid whispers to you and you just smile handing him the food, saying a quiet thank you back to him.

Once you leave, it’s as quiet as it was before. You can feel the nervousness in the air and can’t think of what to do to break the tension, so you just stay quiet. It only takes 10 minutes to make it to your house, a giant home that looks as though it stretches as far as the eyes can see. As you pull in the driveway, you see Marco sitting on your front steps waiting for you.

“Welcome home,” you say to everyone, picking up all of the paperwork and files you got from the shelter, you turn to the fox and ask, “Can you carry that inside for me?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

You walk to the front steps, letting the hybrids get out at their own pace, understanding that this is probably overwhelming to them.

“Hey Marco, thanks for coming so quickly,” you say as you approach him.

“Y/n, what is so important that you had to call me on my day off,” he grunts in reply.

“I adopted 8 hybrids, they were about to be euthanized, and they are bruised from the restraints, one has other injuries, they also look pretty malnourished. I wanted you to look them over but figured it would be too stressful to suddenly show up at a doctor’s office.”

Digging through the stacks of paper you are holding you pull out their medical records and hand them to Marco to read through. As he begins reading, you turn around and see all eight hybrids standing behind you fidgeting and looking around the front yard.

“Let’s go in,” you say, sweeping your arm forward and leading them into the house. You watch as they remove their shoes and lead them to the living room. “Marco is a doctor, he’s going to give you a checkup and treat any injuries you may have. You can sit,” you motion to the couch and chairs, “I will be in the kitchen.”

“Wait!” Seonghwa yells, stopping you, “please don’t go. Please stay.”

“Ok,” you say, smiling and nodding before sitting on a chair, “I will stay here and read while you get a checkup, if at any time you are uncomfortable, you can ask to stop.”

While Marco examined them, you open the files, they were fairly sparse with very little information. The first up was Hongjoong.

Hongjoong – Squirrel hybrid

26 years old

Found wandering the streets, emaciated, angry

Personality issues, stubborn, clumsy, not good at anything – likely unadoptable

You look up and see the squirrel hybrid, he’s blonde with grey ears and tail, and he has perfect teeth from what you’ve seen so far, pillowy lips, and a sleek nose. He stood on guard watching every movement Marco made. Looking back down you flip the page to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa – Rabbit hybrid

27 years old

Found chained to a fence, starving and emaciated, abandoned by owners for refusing to participate in an insemination party, attacked everyone that tried to touch him.

Personality issues neurotically clean – likely unadoptable

Seonghwa was also a blonde with bright white ears, his hair was short with buzzed sides underneath. He had boba like eyes and high cheekbones, with a sharp nose

Yunho – Golden Retriever Hybrid

26 years old

Rescued with Mingi, both of them were neglected by their owner and starved on the regular, both also showed signs of abuse. – co-dependent, likely unadoptable

Yunho had golden ears and the gold on his tail was matted from neglect, his hair was a dark brown and he was smiling at the others, trying to cheer them up and make them feel more comfortable.

Yeosang – Doberman Hybrid

25 years old

Found chained in a junk yard with no shelter, sick with multiple broken bones, surrendered for not being able to ‘protect anything properly.’

Personality issues, too quiet, and shy – likely unadoptable

He had a mark on the side of his face, probably a birth mark that fit him well for some reason. His hair was dark reddish brown and he had delicate features.

San – Black Jaguar hybrid

25 years old

Returned three times, the first he complained about his owner not leaving him and Wooyoung alone and trying to touch them inappropriately without their permission, the second he was adopted alone and returned because he was too clingy and the owners wanted a guard hybrid, the third time he was returned by a hybrid fighting ring for refusing to fight the other hybrids. His personality is defective and he will be euthanized.

Personality issues, too clingy, scared of everything – unadoptable

San had cat like eyes that fit the hybrid that he was, and jet black hair. He was muscular, well built, which you wondered if it was from his hybrid genetics or hard work, or a mix of both.

Mingi – Chick hybrid

25 years old

Personality issues, clumsy, scared of his own shadow, co-dependent, - likely unadoptable

Mingi had eyes that made him look like an emoji, eyes that were wide and filled with almost a childlike fear. His hair was black, and he looked to be 6 feet tall.

Wooyoung – Fox hybrid

25 years old

Surrendered with San, shelter employees were told by San that the owner tried to touch them inappropriately multiple times.

Personality issues, too loud, clingy, and rambunctious. Talks back too much, owners will not like him – likely unadoptable

He had reddish orange hair with shaggy bangs, a prominent nose, and mischievous face, though also a face that looked sweet.

Jongho – Bear hybrid

24 years old

Origins unknown, was found passed out at the front of the shelter

Personality issues, standoffish, can be aggressive, becomes lazy in winter during typical bear hibernation time – likely unadoptable

He had dark brown hair, a cute round face, and small nose

“All done,” Marco said removing his glove and putting it in the garbage bag you gave him earlier. “We can talk outside about the results now, or you could wait until the blood tests come back.”

“I’d like to know now if everyone is ok with you telling me,” you reply to Marco before turning to the hybrids, “knowing if anything is wrong will let me know what treatments you may need.”

“It’s ok, you can know,” Hongjoong whispers for the first time to you, while the others nod.

“Right, so,” Marco starts, looking at his notes to make sure he repeats everything correctly, “Everyone is malnourished and needs more food, all also have bruises and small cuts. The only ones that have major issues are Hongjoong and San, who have bruises and contusions, possible fractured ribs. San also has a swollen knee, I think it is a soft tissue injury, just keep an eye on it for now, here are some pain meds, and if his knee is too overworked, it could give out, maybe get a brace. Then there is Seonghwa who has eczema, potentially stress induced, it’s hard to tell right now, we will have to check up later. Best treatment now would be a corticosteroid ointment or we have pills, and injectable meds. Finally, there’s Yeosang, he has a lisp and hand tremor, these could be benign or they could be something more, again, could be stress induced, just keep an eye on it and let me know if it gets worse. Now, what kind of meds do you want for Seonghwa?”

You watched the hybrids closely as the doctor mentioned each issue. They all flinched and curled in on themselves as if ashamed of the issues.

“Seonghwa,” you say getting the rabbits attention, watching him jump at the mention of his name, “what kind of treatment would you like to try?”

“I…I don’t…what?” He asks, looking at the others for help.

“This is your body, your health, you get to choose what type of treatment you would like to have, and if it works great, if it doesn’t we will move on to the next.”

“Um…oin…ointment please.”

“Ok, then we will start with that,” You confirm, looking at Marco, who nods in response.

“I will have it delivered tomorrow and let you know when the results come in,” he says, standing and walking to the door, bidding you goodbye before leaving.

You shut the door and wait in front of it, taking a deep breath before turning and walking to your hybrids.

“So…how about I show you where you will be staying?” You ask, watching them carefully. They all fidget, and Jongho slowly nods yes. “Perfect, follow me.” You say, leading them through the house, to the kitchen, “here is the kitchen, help yourself to any and all food that you want. Outside the kitchen, beyond the patio is a pool, if you’d like to swim, and this way is where your rooms are.” You say as you lead them to the steps, San following you the closest out of everyone, when his knee seemingly gives out and he falls, you were lucky that you watched him so closely because you were able to catch him before he fell. “It’s ok,” you say softly as you drag him to the step for him to sit on while he grips his knee and whimpers in pain. “I have your pain meds. Once we get you to your room, I’ll give them to you, then get you food, ok?” You ask, earning a small nod and whimper. You turn to the rest of the boys and ask, “Can one of you get an ice pack from the freezer and another help me carry him up the stairs?”

Yeosang races off to the kitchen while both Yunho and Mingi step forward to help carry San up the stairs. You walk behind them with your arms out, ready to brace them if they begin to fall, knowing that you will be going down with them if they fall. Once you reach the top of the stairs, Yeosang comes sprinting up the stairs with an icepack, and you usher everyone to the room across from the stairs.

“You can stay in this room,” you say, directing San to a bed, lifting his leg, and propping it up on a pillow before getting a towel to roll the ice pack in, then placing it over his knee. “I am in the room across the hall, diagonal to this. All of you can have your own room, and you get to choose any room you want. San, you don’t have to stay in this room if you don’t want to, you can look at the others, I just ask that you wait a day for your knee to recover before you start looking.” You pull out a pill and put it in his hand before getting a glass of water from the bathroom. “All of you are welcome to bathe, in hot water, if you’d like, and I will try to get some clean clothes for you. Tomorrow, or later, we can go clothes shopping and get you your necessary supplies. I’ll go get you some rice, then cook everyone dinner, ok.”

You stand and walk to the door before turning around.

“I would like all of you to choose your own room, everyone deserves to have their own space. However, if you want to sleepover in someone else’s room, that is fine with me, I don’t care, this is your home as well, and I want all of you to be comfortable, I will be making bulgogi, broccoli, and rice tonight.” With that you walk out and go to the kitchen to cook.

Hybrids

Once you walked out of the room, the hybrids turned to each other, Wooyoung scrambling onto the bed to cuddle with San, while the others sit down around him, Seonghwa crawling to San’s other side.

“She seems nice,” Seonghwa whispers, breaking the silence.

“What if she’s just acting that way and will do something later,” Mingi also whispers, while tugging on his hair, close to having a panic attack.

“Then we’ll deal with that later,” San replies, beginning to fade away, the stress, and pain meds making him tired. “We aren’t dead, she saved us, I’m scared, but I also, don’t want to ruin a potentially good thing.”

Before anyone can respond a knock comes from the door, the hybrids just stare but it doesn’t open, finally Yunho speaks up.

“Co-come in,” he says, trying to steady his voice.

The door opens and what looks like a chair and pile of clothes with legs walks in, setting everything down in the living room.

“Ok, so here are some clothes from my closet, Mingi and Yunho, I have oversized shirts that should fit, but my pants will be capris on you. Each bathroom has shampoo, conditioner, soaps, and towels, as well as toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, and hair brushes. San, here is a chair that can be set in your shower so you don’t have to stand on that leg. Also, there are scrubbies for your body in each bathroom. Oh, about dinner, I don’t have regular beef for the bulgogi, so it will be ground beef bulgogi and should be ready in about 45 minutes. So, why don’t you clean up and I can bring it up here, or we can work to carry San downstairs, I should have some crutches around here somewhere.” As you begin to leave, you stop again and turn back to them, “My name is Y/N, I adopted you, and I’m sure you don’t trust me yet, seeing what was about to happen and reading your files, I can only begin to imagine why you wouldn’t trust me. However, you are safe here, I will never knowingly hurt you, I swear I will protect you, and I hope, that one day, you will come to understand that I truly mean that…Ok, I will get going.”

With that, you walk out, leaving the clothes and everything in their room and hybrids stunned in silence behind you.

“Let’s, uh, let’s clean up,” Hongjoong says, standing and looking through the clothes on the chair, giving the biggest ones to Yunho and Mingi, while the others look through what’s on the pile. Suddenly, Seonghwa gasps as he reaches for a shirt, snatching it quickly and pulling something from the back of it, which seems to be stuck by static.

“Do you think she’d let me wear this?” He asks, holding up a feminine shirt, hope glimmering in his eyes with excitement at the prospect.

“Yes,” Jongho states, watching the elder hybrid. “I…I don’t trust her fully, that will…take time. But I believed her when she said she wouldn’t hurt us…I…believe her.” He finishes, blushing as everyone stares at him, knowing the bear hybrid is least likely to believe or trust anyone. “I’m going to go find a room and shower.” He yells as he runs out of the room, face bright red.

“I will set the chair in the shower,” Seonghwa says, as he smiles, watching where the bear ran out of the room. He jumps up and takes the chair, placing it in a giant shower stall before looking around and playing with the dual showerheads. Walking back into the room, he clears his throat. “I’m not shy, I know some of you are, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving San alone to shower. The shower can fit all of us and has two showerheads.” He begins before turning to San, “I would like to help you, I don’t even have to face you, I just need to know that you won’t fall, that you will be ok, th-“

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong interrupts.

“No, he’s my baby, they are all my responsibility and I failed each of them now San is hurt and I can’t let him be alone,” Seonghwa says almost panicking.

“Hyung,” San begins to say.

“What if you fall, whatifyouslipandbreakthroughtheglassandbleedoutinthebathroom, what if-“

“HYUNG,” Yeosang yells holding Seonghwa’s face in his hands as he tries to calm the older down.

“I should have protected all of you, I’m the oldest,” Seonghwa cries out, falling to his knees, hugging himself.

“You did protect us, remember how you sacrificed yourself last night to save Joongie?” Yeosang asks, rocking Seonghwa side to side, “You saved us, you always saved us.”

“You can help me hyung,” San says, “I’m really tired and don’t want to be alone, I would be happy if you help me.”

Seonghwa looks over at San and nods, drying his eyes as he sniffles and tries to compose himself. Before he can say anything, there is a knock on the door, the hybrids saying come in at the same time. You pop your head in seeing Seonghwa and Yeosang on the floor and more than one hybrid crying.

“Is everything ok?” You ask watching their reactions.

“Yes,” Yunho replies, “we were just talking.”

“Ok…if you need anything just ask,” You say, nodding as you shut the door again, “oh, I brought San my old crutches to help with his knee…I’ll just…put them here.”

You place the crutches down then walk out again, not wanting to push the hybrids into talking or making them uncomfortable.

After a few moments, each hybrid stands up, taking their clothes to the shower to clean up, while Seonghwa helps a sleepy San into his shower, standing behind him with his back turned, while both relish the feeling of hot water and soap to scrub their bodies. Feeling the grime and oil come out of their hair as they clean. What feels like hours, but is really only 15 minutes, both hybrids are drying off and applying lotion to their skin before brushing their teeth and getting dressed, after a half an hour, they enter San’s bedroom to find 8 dinner trays, with complete meals covered in the room, all with names on each tray. San hobbles over to one chair and tray and lifts the lid, salivating at the smell of food, looking at Seonghwa with pleading eyes, begging to let him start eating. Seonghwa chuckles and nods, watching San devour his food, like he’s never eaten before. Soon, the others come trickle in, their stomachs growling as each goes to their trays. All of them notice that each tray has appropriate food based on their animal needs, San has the most protein, while Seonghwa has the most veggies. Meanwhile, Jongho and Hongjoong have a large side of berries and nuts.

Once everyone finishes, they are unable to keep their eyes open, all crawling into San’s bed and configuring themselves to all fit together in the king sized bed, passing out as soon as their eyes shut.

You waited two hours before heading upstairs, you knock quietly on the door, and open it after no answer, seeing all the hybrids asleep in the room makes you smile as you take multiple trips removing their food trays. Once the trays were cleaned and put away, you head to bed, exhaling as your head hits the pillow and you your eyes shut within seconds.

A few hours later, your eyes snap open, the feeling of being watched creeping over you. As fast as you can you jump up and spin around, seeing San standing there on his crutches, looking like he doesn’t know if he should run or stay.

“San,” you ask, rubbing your eyes, relaxing your posture, “is everything ok?”

“Um…yes,” he replies, “I…um…can I…may I…can I sleep with you tonight?” he quickly says, shutting his eyes so he doesn’t have to see your face.

“Of course,” you state, moving over and patting the bed next to you, watching as he stares in awe then hobbles over to share your sleep space.

He snuggles in carefully, a smile on his face, before he falls back asleep. You watch him for a minute then drift off as well. Maybe 8 hybrids won’t be so bad.

Next Chapter

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #san x reader #ateez fluff #ateez fic #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #hybrid au #hybrid! ateez #ateez hybrid #hybrid!ateez #hybrid ateez

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teaxtease · 24 days ago

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₊˚.༄ ATEEZ when you’re thirsting

⚠️: suggestive

#ateez smau #ateez texts #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez imagines #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader

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makeitmingi · 1 day ago

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When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 20]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

"Sorry, sir. This is a private event for listed vendors only." The guard came up to you and Jihoon.

"Oh, he's with me." You explained to the guard.

"Apologies, miss. But we only have you listed under the florist teams. As this event has tight security and many high profiled guests attending, I cannot allow someone to be here without being checked." The guard said.

"Of course. We understand." Jihoon cut in. He glanced behind the guard and saw Hongjoong standing there, watching the entire exchange with a smirk on his face.

"Actually, are you done? I can head back with you." Jihoon turned to you.

"Oh... I'm not really done yet. Plus, the event is organised by someone I know. You've met him, Hongjoong..." You informed.

"I see. It's fine, I'll see you tomorrow or something. Let us know when you're heading back." Jihoon patted your head. You nodded with an apologetic smile and waved as he headed off.

"Hongjoong, if she finds out, she's not going to be happy." Seonghwa said as Hongjoong watched Jihoon leave with a proud smile.

"Then she won't find out, Hwa." Hongjoong shot his best friend a pointed look and walked away.

"If only I could take (y/n) to the gala with me. Have her on my arm." Mingi said absentmindedly, not realising Hongjoong was standing behind him.

"Mingi." San coughed. Mingi blinked in confusion and turned around to see Hongjoong standing there with a threateningly stoic expression on his face. He reached up to slap the back of Mingi's head and walked over to Yunho, who was discussing things with the venue's manager.

"You're dead." San whistled.

"Not surprising but enlighten me. Why is Mingi hyung dead?" Jongho asked with a snicker, having heard what San said to the taller. Mingi rolled his eyes with a low groan.

"He said he wants to take (y/n) as his date to the gala. Right in front of Hongjoong hyung." San chuckled.

"Goodbye, Mingi hyung." Jongho waved.

"It's not my fault he stood behind me. Besides, he's so protective and possessive of her but he would never admit it or act on his feelings." Mingi scoffed.

"Those that are done can go to the prep rooms." Seonghwa said, calling the younger boys.

"You guys, go first." Hongjoong told everyone. They watched as he jogged to where you were, starting a conversation with you.

"He should just ask her to come with him tonight." Yeosang tilted his head.

"He did. He got rejected. This isn't (y/n)'s scene and Hongjoong hyung doesn't want to make her even more uncomfortable. You should have seen their reactions when they found out that (y/n) was the florist for the gala." Yunho informed.

"Oh, yikes. Okay, let's leave them then." Wooyoung winced as they headed to the rooms where they were going to get dressed and prepare themselves for the gala.

"You did this... Didn't you?" Mingi asked his best friend as they walked side by side.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Yunho replied with a glint in his eyes.

"As your best friend, I have to tell you that you're one scary man, Jeong Yunho." Mingi shivered. Yunho burst out laughing, slinging his arm around Mingi's shoulders.

"I am great! I should open a matchmaking service." Yunho joked.

"That's if Hongjoong hyung and (y/n) doesn't kill you first." Mingi raised his eyebrows.

"Hongjoong hyung, I'm not scared of. (y/n) on the other hand... I don't know her well enough to know if she actually has the ability to kill me. But I'm sure they'll thank me soon." Yunho's eyes widened.

"Sure..." Mingi chuckled as they entered the presidential suite, where they will all be getting ready. San and Jongho were already laying in one of the big beds, lounging lazily while Seonghwa and Yeosang were discussing something in front of their iPads. Wooyoung looked like he was scolding someone on the phone.

"The outfits are here." Yunho announced, pulling the clothing rack in that was delivered to them.

"Check through to make sure it's okay." Seonghwa said to everyone. They took turns, unzipping the fabrics and making sure that all their clothing items were there.

"I'm using this space for my accessories." Wooyoung announced, reserving one of the tables so he could lay his things out.

"I'm gonna nap." Jongho yawned and went back to the bed.

"(y/n)." Hongjoong called.

"Hongjoong, I was about to come look for you. I'm done with the set up if you would like the check." You smiled, packing up the empty boxes and your water spritzer.

"No, I won't check. I trust that you know what you're doing." Hongjoong teased you with a cheeky smile.

"Now that makes me more pressured." You punched his arm. You both strolled around the place, giving Hongjoong a chance to check the floral arrangements. But to be honest, he wasn't even really paying attention to the flowers.

"So, are you thinking of heading back already?" Hongjoong asked.

"I feel like I should stay in case anything goes wrong when the gala starts but if you think I should go home now, I can...?" You looked at him, giggling.

"No! No, no. That's not what I'm saying. You can stay as long as you like." Hongjoong involuntarily raised his voice defensively.

"I'm just kidding, Hongjoong." You smiled.

"We have rooms to rest in until the gala begins, if you'd like to hang out there. It's upstairs." Hongjoong offered. You thought about it, should you be seen hanging out around them?

"Don't worry." Hongjoong said softly, as if he knew your fears. You chewed on your bottom lip but nodded.

"Alright, this way." He gestured and you both headed to the lift.

Hongjoong's right, you shouldn't feel uncomfortable. You're just friends with Hongjoong and you didn't have any ulterior motive in being his friend, you didn't even know he was rich before. He was always known to you as Mrs Kim's son. You were just unfamiliar with all the looks and stares.

"Are you hungry? We usually get food." Hongjoong asked as you both travelled in the lift.

"No thanks, I'm good. But also, don't you guys have like michelin star chefs and all that cooking for the gala tonight? Wouldn't you guys be too full?" You asked.

"We're usually too busy to eat since we're handling other things, networking, greeting people, all that." He explained.

"Also, you've seen the boys eat. They can eat multiple meals in one seating." He added.

"Yes, I have seen that. They do eat a lot." You laughed. Hongjoong led you to the presidential suite and swiped his room card, opening the door for you to enter.

"(y/n)'s here." Hongjoong said to the boys, not announcing your arrival but more of a warning to them.

"Hi again, (y/n)." Yunho waved but his eyes were glued to the screen of the gaming console.

"Hi, Yunho and Yeosang." You chuckled, sitting on the couch behind him and Yeosang, who were challenging each other in some game that looked like street fighter. Yeosang gave you a backwards wave as he focused on trying to beat Yunho.

"(y/n), can I try to change your mind in attending the gala with me tonight?" Wooyoung sat on the couch beside you and slung an arm around your shoulders.

"Are you asking me to be your date?" You raised an eyebrow.

If you saw Hongjoong now, you would have seen him about to burst a blood vessel but he stood behind you, plotting Wooyoung's death.

"Of course, we'll be the next power couple." Wooyoung smirked. You just laughed in reply.

"Thanks for the flattery, Wooyoung. But it's really not my scene. You guys know this rich people world and I don't." You giggled. Despite this, Wooyoung didn't remove his arm from you.

"Don't go touching people without permission." Hongjoong growled and pinched Wooyoung's arm, making him recoil.

"If you're worried about looks, I can get you dress right here, right now. Just say the words." Wooyoung winked.

"Let it rest, Wooyoung ah. Don't make (y/n) feel cornered." Seonghwa said with a chuckle, hiding under the guise that he was caring for you. Actually, he didn't want Hongjoong to have a heart attack or stroke right before the gala just because Wooyoung was deliberately trying to rile him up.

"Here." Hongjoong passed you a glass of sparkling water with a lime wedge, noticing you didn't have anything to drink yet. You received it with a grateful smile.

"Room service is here." Mingi yawned, going to open the door for the staff to enter who pushed in carts of food.

"Wow, that's a lot of food." Your eyes widened.

"Told you. Help yourself, okay?" Hongjoong smiled, taking a plate and handing it to you first before the boys could ravage the food. Since you were not that hungry, you grabbed some fries first.

"Isn't anyone gonna wake San and Jongho?" Yeosang asked as he turned off the game.

"Nope. They snooze, they lose." Yunho stretched his arms, putting a forkful of pasta and a chunk of steak on his plate.

"Let me know what time I should leave for you guys to get ready." You told them.

"Get ready to stay the entire time because we will never tell you to leave, (y/n)." Mingi laughed. You laughed along with him, shaking your head.

You thought they were joking but Mingi was right, the boys all adored you too much to tell you to leave. Usually, they wouldn't care and just speak their minds but with you, even as their friend, they liked having you around with them.

But when the time came, you did excuse yourself, letting the boys change and get ready while you went downstairs.

"Hey, you! I've been trying to talk to you. You didn't mention that you're close friends with the organiser!" The girl from before came up to you with a big grin.

"Honestly, I didn't even know they were the organisers. Both us didn't know." You rubbed the back of your neck.

"You're so lucky, they're all so good looking. And no one dares to approach them because of their status." She giggled.

"We're just friends, I guess I never took into account their status." You shrugged.

"Some of the guests are arriving soon. If you want to observe the event, we can stand over there to remain out of the way." She pointed to the corner.

"Thank you. I just want to make sure the flowers are okay. If there are any that are wilting or drooping, I'll change it." You explained.

"Sure. I have to go help with ushering. See you!" She patted you on the shoulder and ran off.

You tried your best to stay hidden by the corner of the room, watching as guests finally began to stroll in. They were all high society people, you even recognised some celebrities and politicians here. Compared to the simple clothes you were wearing, they were dressed to the nines.

You have never felt so out of place.

"Entering now, let's welcome to organisers of this gala." The announcer said. You turned your head to see the 8 standing there, dressed in their matching purple, velvet outfits.

"Good evening." They walked down the stairs together, the diamonds of their accessories shining under the light of the chandelier.

"Wow." You couldn't help but admire how handsome all of them were. Everyone clapped for them.

They scattered around, with people rushing to greet them and shake their hands. Hongjoong looked so different, confident and charismatic as he greeted people.

"Mr Kim. Nice to see you." An older gentleman approached Hongjoong with a girl by his side, you figured she was his daughter.

"Hongjoong. How are you?" She smiled and pulled Hongjoong into a hug of familiarity.

"I hope you 2 are enjoying the gala so far." Hongjoong smiled back. The girl naturally hugged Hongjoong's arm as he conversed with her and her father.

"She's so pretty." You couldn't help but comment to yourself. She was obviously rich, someone from Hongjoong's world. You tried to ignore the sudden tighteness in your chest, clearing your throat and tearing your eyes away to observe the rest of the gala.

Then you were struck with a reality check. This scene wasn't you, you were not familiar with this. This wasn't your world.

"(y/n), are you alright?" You didn't realise that Jongho had come over to you, noticing the tense look on your face. Blinking to re-focus yourself, you nodded your head.

"Everything looks under control here so I think I'm going to head back." You told him.

"Are you sure? If you're not feeling well, you can rest in the room. We don't mind it." He tried to offer his room card to you.

"No, no. It's fine, Jongho. I'm fine, don't worry, thank you for the offer though. I'll just go home now, see you." You forced a small smile and patted his arm.

"Wait, at least let me arrange for our driver to send you back. It's late and you shouldn't be alone." He protested.

"Thanks but I'd rather walk. Have a nice evening." You said and left before he could insist further.

You and Jongho didn't realise that while talking to business partners, Hongjoong kept his eye on you the entire time. He wasn't even focusing on what the man and his daughter was saying.

"Jongho, is (y/n) okay? Where did she go?" When he was finally able to get away from the very boring conversation, he caught the youngest by the arm. When he saw you leave the ballroom with a slightly grim expression after speaking with Jongho and not returning, he was worried.

"She said she's fine but I'm not sure. I told her that she could go up to the room to rest but she wanted to go home." Jongho explained.

"Did you get the driver to send her back? It's so late." Hongjoong asked, checking his watch to see the time.

"No. I wanted to and insisted but she wanted to go home on her own, she walked away before I could argue further. Hyung, is everything okay?" Jongho blinked.

"Yeah..." Hongjoong replied, absentmindedly.

"I need to-" Hongjoong was cut off by Seonghwa heading over with someone else.

"There he is. Hongjoong, I've been looking for you. This is the new medical director that will be overseeing our new wing at the hospital." Seonghwa smiled as he introduced.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr Kim. Thank you for entrusting me with such a responsibility. I will not let you down." The male bowed.

"Sure." Hongjoong said, not shaking the guy's hand. Seonghwa could tell his best friend's mind was somewhere else.

"Hyung, you go ahead. I'm Choi Jongho, one of the 8 leader seats of the organisation." Jongho cut in front of Hongjoong, shaking the guy's hand on behalf of Hongjoong. Hongjoong patted Jongho on the shoulder and walked away.

"Nice to meet you, Mr Choi." The male bowed with a smile. Even if Hongjoong was the leader, Jongho was just as important. Seonghwa's eyes subtly followed where Hongjoong disappeared to.

"Excuse me." Seonghwa said politely and excused himself, scanning the room to find Hongjoong.

"Hyung, what's wrong?" San asked.

"Nothing. Did you see Hongjoong?" Seonghwa asked back, still looking around for the missing captain but there was just too many people. San shook his head.

"I can't believe he went AWOL." Seonghwa cursed.

"What? I'm sure he is somewhere, hyung. We've all been roped into conversations with people. Maybe he's just occupied." San said.

"No, he's gone." Seonghwa sighed with a shake of his head. Taking his phone out, he sent Hongjoong a quick text before he was soon approached by yet another business partner.

"Yunho sshi, did you see Hongjoong sshi? I've been looking for him since our conversation earlier." A girl came up to the taller.

"No, weren't you with him? Talking with your father." Yunho tilted his head.

"He said he will be right back and just disappeared. He was talking to Jongho sshi about something." The girl said. Yunho nodded and saw the maknae engaged in a conversation with the new medical director. Being taller than the rest, he was able to easily look through the crowd. That was when he noticed someone else missing.

"Maybe he's just talking to other business partners. There is a lot to discuss tonight with multiple people." Yunho lied. The girl's cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Right, I understand." She cleared her throat and left.

"Jongho ah, did Hongjoong hyung and (y/n) run away together?" Yunho approached the youngest.

"Yeah. She looked upset about something and left to go home. I told Hongjoong hyung and he seemed quite bothered by it. I wouldn't be surprised if he left the party." Jongho sighed.

Hongjoong didn't really know where to go. He didn't want to call you and make you think he was watching you or something.

"Where to go?" He stood in the middle of the street, wondering if he should go to your home or the shop.

"Mister, are you a celebrity?" A couple of girls approached him. Right, he forgot that he was in his gala outfit and wearing God knows how much money worth of white gold and diamonds.

With a frown, Hongjoong ignored the girls and walked away. He walked to your shop, knowing it wouldn't be right for him to just show up at your door step. He wouldn't know how to explain himself if you asked why he was there.

"Hongjoong?" You froze when you opened the front door, intending to water your plants outside, seeing the male there.

"(y/n)." Hongjoong let out a sigh of relief.

"Wha-What are you doing here? Is the gala over? Did something happen?" You blinked, frowning slightly in worry. Hongjoong shook his head and walked towards you.

"Hongjo-" You were cut off when he suddenly pulled you into a tight hug, effectively cutting you off.

"I hate when you're upset. I worry when you're upset." He whispered.

"Upset? I'm not upset. There's nothing to worry about." You stated, unsure of what to do with your hands. Were you supposed to hug him back?

"I know you are. If you weren't, you wouldn't have left." He said. You felt the warmth of his cheek against your own.

"I'm not..." You didn't really know what to say. You were stunned, to be honest, because you didn't think that he would have noticed.

"We shouldn't do this outside. People are staring." You suddenly said. Hongjoong pulled away and nodded. Keeping your gaze down, you walked back into the shop with him in tow. Once you were in and away from public eye, you turned to look at him.

"I'm not upset. I didn't leave because I was upset." You stated, eyes looking everywhere else but him.

"Then?" Hongjoong tilted his head.

"I don't know. I don't know how to explain it because I barely know what I'm feeling. It's not that I won't explain it, it's that I can't." You let out a soft sigh of frustration.

"May I?" He asked softly, holding his hand out to you. You stared at it for a few seconds, hesitating before putting your hand in his.

"(y/n), I... I never expected it and I'm guessing you too. But I like you and not just a friend." Hongjoong said.

"What?" Your head shot up.

"I know you think we're very different and maybe we are. But our worlds don't have to be parallel. Look where we are, we've met somehow. And if you would give me a chance..." He trailed off.

"Hongjoong, I... I don't... I..." You didn't know what to say but your first instinct was to retract your hand.

Series masterlist

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minisugakoobies · 5 days ago

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Hello 💛 can i ask story for Hongjoong with 'what if I hurt you?' and 'this is a one time thing'? 💛💛💛 thank you

Anon, I'm so sorry this took forever - I had it written but I didn't have the time to post it - but you're not here for my excuses, you're here for some Hongjoong. I hope you like where the prompts took me! 💕

Pairing: Vampire!Hongjoong x Reader (AFAB) Genre: smut, established relationship, Vampire!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: unprotected sex, biting, drinking blood, Hongjoong overindulges a little but reader is okay, aftercare Word Count: 896 words **********

Hongjoong sits beneath you, admiring your kiss-swollen lips. He loves the dark stain that still clings there, a stark contrast against the paleness of his mouth as he pulls you closer to kiss you again. You’ve already left your mark all over his face, but he’s eager for more.

His tongue slides over yours with urgency, and you moan, lips parting to let him explore, digging your fingernails into his shoulders. You’ve been riding him for a while now, fucking slowly with lazy rolls of your hips, and he’s starting to get twitchy. His thighs flex with suppressed energy, the tension in his legs evident as he holds himself back.

He does this every time the two of you are like this. It’s impressive, really, his self-control - the way he keeps himself in check at all times, even in his basest state. Even if you wish he’d give in and let go for once.

You break away from his kiss and lean back. Once Hongjoong’s gaze is locked on yours, you tip your head to the side. Immediately his eyes are drawn to your exposed neck, just as you knew they’d be.

“Please,” you whisper, “please, Joongie.”

He shuts his eyes and groans. Doesn’t need to ask you what you’re pleading him to do, because this isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation. “Baby, I’m - mmmmm - I can’t.”

You rock back and forth, breathing deep through your nose for a few seconds before you speak. “Yes, you can. But more importantly, you want to.”

This is where he tells you again for the nth time that he can’t bite you, can’t drink from you, because he can’t risk losing control. Except tonight, he changes the script.

“What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t,” you reply, trying not to get too excited, trying not to leap at the first sign that his resolve might be slipping. “I trust you. Please. I wanna feel what it’s like - with you.”

Being bitten by a vamp is a euphoric experience, especially if there is a bond between the vampire and its prey (or partner). At least, that’s what you’ve been told. Hongjoong has so far refused to indulge you in finding out.

“Just a taste,” you say, and Hongjoong hums in response, staring at where your pulse pounds beneath the thin skin of your throat.

He runs his fingers lightly over your neck. He’s weakening. His nose nuzzles beneath your jaw as he takes a lungful of your scent. There’s a low rumble, a growl trapped in his chest. You can’t stifle a whine, and that pushes Hongjoong to make up his mind.

“This is a one time thing,” he intones seriously, and you nod but he stops you with a hand on your cheek. He kisses your neck once, twice, and then there’s a sharp sting and then -

And then there’s nothing but bliss. Every beat of your heart sends his venom surging through your veins until your entire body sings with a hazy pleasure. Hongjoong’s cock throbs inside you as he laps up his first taste, and you cry out, surprised by how quickly you come, and how hard, the intensity blanking out your mind.

Your limbs are too loose and heavy to support. You melt against your lover as he drinks from you and fucks you at the same time. Each stroke of his cock prolongs your ecstasy, and you float along on an infinite wave, barely aware of the life flowing from you.

Your pussy clenches and clenches and Hongjoong groans loudly.

“Babe - baby,” he sputters, but that’s all he says, distracted by the blood trailing down your collarbones, desperate to lick up every drop. His hands squeeze your thighs while he empties himself deep inside your womb.

You whimper, burning alive, intoxicated by the pain and the pleasure. Hongjoong doesn’t release you, hasn’t gotten his fill, and as he swallows another mouthful, it briefly occurs to you that this could be your last moment on this earth, lost to your boyfriend’s insatiable desires. But just as your lust-addled mind has dimly accepted your fate, Hongjoong lets out an agitated grunt and tears himself away.

He wipes an arm over his lips. Now they match yours, you think dazedly.

“Baby? Ah, shit.”

Hongjoong cradles your face, thumbs stroking over your cheeks as he tries to make sure you’re okay. You can feel his gaze on yours, but you can only focus on the crimson smears around his mouth.

“Are you okay? Say something.”

You manage a weak, “Something,” and Hongjoong laughs, more out of relief than amusement. He kisses your forehead, then your nose, and your lips, before bowing his head over your neck again.

When his tongue swipes over your wounds, coating them with healing saliva, your climax finally crests. You sigh, and slump further against him, succumbing to sudden exhaustion. It’s the human body’s normal reaction to the loss of a vampire’s venom - the crash after the high.

Your eyes refuse to stay open, not even when you feel the wipe of a cold wet towel over your warm skin. When Hongjoong settles into bed next to you, you turn, and nestle up against him, humming as he slips an arm around you.

“Told you,” you whisper.

He laughs again, this time full of joy, and kisses your forehead. “Gloat tomorrow. Sleep now.”

#ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #hongjoong smut #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #ateez hard hours #hongjoong fanfic #ateez fanfic #asks #anon #hongjoong

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staytinyzen · 2 days ago

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To All The Boys I love

Series Masterlist | ongoing

"To All the Boys I've Loved Before" but make it poly

Pairing: OT8 Idol! Ateez x gn Reader (I'll try and see how it goes)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Poly, friends to lovers

Warnings: use of y/n, (spicy scenes maybe)

Synopsis: Eight letters. Eight love letters that were meant to stay hidden.

Chapters are short that's why there are many :)

Chapter 1: Love Letters

Chapter 2: The First One… Flirts?

Chapter 3: Esc

Chapter 4: Chaos, Thy Name Is Wooyoung

Chapter 5:

Chapter 6:

Chapter 7:

Chapter 8:

…

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pixlpxie · 24 hours ago

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Hard dom Hongjoong looking down at how pathetic you look after making you cum over and over again where you end up trembling and shivering at the mercy of his hands

#ateez smut #ateez #hongjoong #hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours #ateez hard stan #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong hard thoughts #hongjoong hard hours #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong x reader #ateez hongjoong smut

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written-in-flowers · 18 hours ago

Text

Be The Light: Pt. 6 (Matz x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!Reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Genre: Smut, angst | AU: historical, arranged marriage, polyamorous, royalty au.

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), group sex, multiple positions, multiple partners, cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.

Tags: I wasn't sure if the previously tagged wanted to be tagged again since it's been so long, so let me know below!

Part 5 < | > Part 7

****

You arrived at Jisoo’s residency a few moments later. Normally, you never hesitated to knock on the frame to enter. The Queen Mother always made you feel welcome and wanted in her presence. You knew the real reason behind that now. Yunho and Wooyoung stood ahead of you, and you dreaded them knocking for you. Not even Seonghwa’s presence assured you.

Only last night you discovered the woman who cared for you so deeply was really your mother. Your birth mother. You didn't know how to feel about it. You'd felt angry in the beginning, betrayal fanning the flames, but that feeling settled into pity. It must have been difficult to give you away something she'd desperately wanted. Her love must always be from a distance, never touching too much or being overly affectionate. She likely saw her husband’s face in yours, and longed for more. Despite this, you could not see her as your mother. Whenever the word “mother” came to mind, you pictured Park Chaewon. She'd raised you. She loved you. You didn't see anyone being your mother except her.

“Your Majesty,” the guard at the door opened it, bowing to Jisoo, “The Queen has arrived.”

You entered the room to find Jisoo, your mother Chaewon, Advisor Wonshik, and Hongjoong in the room. Hongjoong no longer wore the black and gold hanbok of Sookmyung’s “Flowers”. He wore red, the color of kings, with his hair in a topknot held by a golden band. The dragons of royalty swirled around his shoulders and down his wide sleeves. He looked like a king. A true king. You found it hard to look away from him. Jisoo, Wonshik and Chaewon stood up when you walked in, and you almost said they didn't have to stand for you.

But, yes, they do.

“Good morning,” you said, speaking to them first, “I was told you wished to see me?”

“We did,” Jisoo nodded, “Please sit.”

You took a seat at the head of the table, and all their eyes fell on you. Except Hongjoong. He looked anywhere but at you. You saw the blush of pink on his cheeks, and the way he scratched the inside of his sleeve. You wanted to say something to him. Out of all her concubines, Hongjoong had been her favorite. He'd witnessed her cruelty in the dungeons. He knew her true nature. You hoped if anyone understood your fear, it would be him.

“Your Majesty,” Jisoo drew your attention to her, “His Grace, Advisor Wonshik, Chaewon and I have been discussing important matters concerning your new position-”

“-Has Sookmyung been found yet?” You asked, trying not to appear frightened about the answer.

“I'm afraid not,” she said. “The guards have combed the city, but there has been no sign of her. She has likely fled to one of her allies by now.”

“There are people looking into it,” your mother said, patting your hand comfortingly. “She will be caught soon enough. We have other important things to discuss.”

Your stomach knotted again. The marriage. They mean to talk about marriage. You picked at the border of your hanbok, wishing more than anything to be somewhere else. The thought of being Hongjoong’s wife drained you of warmth completely. What if he doesn't want to marry you? You might have had brief exchanges before now, but nothing to suggest any romantic feelings. He'd done it out of pity, not love.

“Now that Sookmyung is no longer on the throne, we must focus our efforts on rebuilding what she has broken,” Jisoo began. “Wonju is considered one of her biggest failures, rather than triumphs, since the people there did not recognize her as their ruler. As you know, Wonju was never conquered by the Han clan several centuries ago, and remained an independent kingdom until Sookmyung’s reign.”

“Yes…”

“In order to reunite the two kingdoms-”

“-They wish for us to marry, YN,” Hongjoong cut her off, unable to keep it to himself. “The people are looking to us to save them, and the only way that can happen is if our kingdoms reunite as allies.”

“They want us to marry?” You questioned him in a soft voice.

“Yes,” he nodded. “It wouldn't be for a while, since your coronation needs to be done as quickly as possible. But, a marriage pact would show the people that this is only the beginning of our reform. My family said they would not agree to reuniting without one.”

“Um, well…I…”

“You do not need to make a decision now,” he added. “You have gone through a very sudden change, and I told them that I didn't want to have this conversation so soon, but they insisted.”

“It is important we act swiftly, Your Grace,” Wonshik said apologetically. “Every moment we wait will be a chance for Sookmyung to reclaim her power.”

“I understand that, yes,” Hongjoong replied, “But there is no point if people do not see YN as their queen first.”

“What about Sookmyung?” You asked again.

The words came laced with fear. She will hear about this union, and be overcome with rage. That rage would be taken out on you slowly and painfully. The image shook you to your core. Only your mother's gentle touch calmed you slightly, but only just.

“She will be found,” she reassured you, “And answer for her crimes.”

“If she hears about thi-”

“-There will be nothing she can do about it,” she comforted you. “She will be far away.”

“That is what she will want you to think…”

“I won’t let her get anywhere near you,” Hongjoong said firmly. “I promise. Sookmyung will not harm a single hair on you while I’m alive.”

“If you’re alive…” you said under your breath, but you knew he’d heard you.

“The wedding will happen after the coronation,” Wonshik moved on from the conversation, withdrawing an old leather book from beside him. “Advisor Heechul drew up estimates for the cost of the coronation feast and celebration afterwards. I told him the crown will be paying for the event to avoid raising the taxes any higher so as not to be a burden on the people.”

“Good,” you heard yourself say. When they turned to you, you explained, “I meant that taxation is already so high that people cannot afford food. If the crown can cover the cost, then they should. The people shouldn’t have to pay for a coronation of a queen they don’t know.”

“And unfortunately, the coronation of a new monarch implies that the previous monarch has passed on,” he said. “King Siwon passed away nine years ago, and is currently buried in the King’s temple within the city. Since we already had our two year mourning period for him, I don’t see any reason to have one now so that may be passed over. However, people will expect you to make the walk towards his temple to pay your respects to the old king.”

You remembered Sookmyung’s period. Most monarchs abstain from meat after the death of the previous ruler, but not Sookmyung. She claimed her father would’ve wanted her to live heartily. Anyone who knew King Siwon would’ve known he always followed traditions and cultural customs. You’d done it out of respect and love for him. Learning he was your true father, it only brought sense to your decision then.

“Since Queen Sookmyung was dethroned, there really isn’t a need to have such an austere ceremony,” he said, “Which means we can add a bit of a festive flair to the event.”

“Meaning?”

“People are meant to celebrate you,” Jisoo said bracingly. “We must start your reign off on the right foot if we are to win the respect and trust of the people. You will go to the King’s resting place, then we will have you take the throne, and have the feast afterwards.”

“And what about Hongjoong?” you glanced over at him. “He’s the King of Wonju now. How can he be my King Consort if he has a throne of his own?”

“My cousin, Jeongin,” he said, “Will be crowned King instead of me.”

“What?” Jisoo’s eyes widened at this. “When were you planning on telling us this?”

“Now,” he said. “I sent a letter to my cousin early this morning that I am adjudicating my throne and giving it to him. He has had good tutors and many trustworthy advisors at his side. He will not fail his people, I know it.”

“But, you’re supposed to be the king,” you said softly, confused. “Isn’t that what you always wanted? To go home? To be with your people and lead them? You cannot do that if you’re my husband.”

“I can lead my people just as much at your side than on my father’s throne,” he told you. “We can lead them together.”

“To-Together?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “You did not truly believe I’d let you have all the credit, hm?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Being under his gaze made your heart flutter, much like with Seonghwa.

“The coronation will happen at the end of the week,” Jisoo declared.

“So soon, Your Majesty?” your mother asked, concerned.

“It needs to happen as quickly as possible,” Wonshik said. “In the meantime, Her Majesty can go into the city and meet her people.”

“I don’t believe that is wise, Chief Advisor,” Hongjoong told her. “If Sookmyung or her allies hear YN is walking around the city, they may use it as a chance to strike.”

“She will be under guard, naturally,” Jisoo replied. “You can choose the men yourself, if that puts you at ease.”

You can tell it did not. “I don’t know if I’m very comfortable with that,” you said next. “Sookmyung will be looking for any chance to seize back her power. If I’m walking freely around the city, she’ll send an assassin or see it as an opportunity to attack. She'll wait until our defenses are down.”

“I doubt she’ll have that with such little time-”

“-I beg to differ,” you interrupted her. “Sookmyung is not one to sit idle for long. Right now, she is planning the quickest way to regain her power. She is likely screaming at her allies to gather up their troops and form a strategy against us.”

“And we can use that to our advantage,” Hongjoong said. “Sookmyung is impulsive, impatient, and rash. Her allies, whoever they are, will try to convince her to stay her hand, but after a while that will not be enough.”

You wondered how many times she has said, ‘I am the queen’ in the hours since she’d left.

“Her own madness will be her undoing,” he said, as if promising this to you. “I’d like to ask you, YN, if you’d like Mingi and San to be your personal guards.”

The sudden change in topic surprised you. “Before there are to be any discussions of public appearances,” he continued, “We should discuss your guardsmen. I took the liberty of placing Mingi and San at your doors last night, but if there is somebody else you prefer, I’ll make sure they’re put there tonight.”

“San and Mingi are fine,” you said, unsure of how else to phrase it.

“You should have trained soldiers as your guards, Your Majesty,” Wonshik intervened.

“San is a trained soldier,” Hongjoong argued. “Mingi might’ve not been in the army, but he sailed with pirate hunters before he became a shipbuilder. The other lords are just as capable with swords as well. YN will be perfectly safe with them.”

“But people may have a different impression of their queen if she is seen with Sookmyung’s concubines,” Jisoo said. “We don’t want people to think any less of her or believe she indulges in Sookmyung’s desires as well.”

“I don’t want anyone else as my guards.”

Your words stunned both your mother and Jisoo. When they didn’t speak, you said, “Sookmyung had many spies amongst the royal guards. If she knew of your coupe, she may have asked one or two to stay behind to act as spies. She could have even ordered them to kill me if they caught me alone.” Silence once more, so you looked at Hongjoong, “Also, if anybody knows Sookmyung as well as myself, it’ll be her concubines. They know how she thinks. They know the depth of her depravity and ruthlessness. I don’t trust anyone else to protect me as much as them.”

If that is what they wished. The last thing you wanted was for the concubines to believe they must stay in the palace under a new title.

The group continued discussing your coronation and appearance in the city. You listened intently, occasionally giving your input, but otherwise content to stay silent. Sookmyung would seize the opportunity if it presented itself. The image of you walking amongst the city streets came to mind. You pictured a masked man hiding in plain sight, waiting for the chance to strike you down and end your life. You tried comforting yourself that you’d have guards, but what good are those when you have an unrelenting force after you?

“-We will have to speak with the advisors on the best route through the city,” Jisoo concluded the meeting, “But I am sure they will agree a trip through the safer parts of Hanseong is best.”

“We also must discuss her first official act as queen,” Hongjoong said. “Something that will show people that she is different from Sookmyung.”

“The people in the dungeons.” The words left you suddenly, and they stared in curiosity. “I wish for them to be released,” you continued cautiously, “And treated by the physician. For those who have already died, they will be cleaned, mended and given a proper burial.” When none of them spoke, you said, “Is that something we can't do?”

“Yes, we can,” said Jisoo, “But there are many people down there.”

“And I want them removed. They have suffered long enough.”

You couldn't stop yourself from picturing the mangled bodies. It made you sick again. You hadn't saved them in life, but you could help them find peace in death. But, a tiny voice inside you still spoke:

“They will only know peace when she's dead.”

“I can arrange for the jailors and guards to bring the wounded into the courtyard outside,” Jisoo interrupted your thoughts. “Once people hear what you've done, they may see you're nothing like her.”

“That isn't why I asked,” you responded, not looking at her. “Those people did nothing wrong. They'd committed minor offenses, at best. I want to end their suffering, since I…”

‘Couldn't stop it before it happened.’

“The physician may not be able to treat everyone,” your mother said. “He's only one man.”

“Yunho was a physician's apprentice,” Hongjoong said. “He can aid Physician Yoon, and the other lords have their own we can call upon.”

“I’ll make sure your command is carried out,” Jisoo assured you.

“Thank you.”

You met his eyes and knew he understood, even if the others did not. The meeting concluded, and your mother and Jisoo left for Advisor Wonshik's office. This left you alone with Hongjoong. You saw him nervously chewing the inside of his cheek. The overcoat, bright red with golden dragons, appeared a bit large on him. You also noticed the wear on the buttons keeping it closed, and the belt as well.

“Is that yours?” You asked him, indicating the hanbok.

“King Siwon’s,” he said. “They thought it would be good to dress according to my station, but…”

“They didn't have any spare hanboks,” you finished, nodding. “This is one of Jisoo’s old dresses. I don't know if I like it.”

“We'll have our own soon enough. I suspect a dressmaker and tailor are already being sought after.” He then said, “Our marriage…It doesn't bother you, does it? I know a lot of things have happened overnight, and this marriage arrangement won't relieve anything. I told them I didn't wish to discuss it so soon, but they insisted.”

“I understand the need for haste,” you replied, “But yes, it is a lot to take in at once. I can’t stop thinking about it. Sookmyung…being the queen…Queen Jisoo and King Siwon being my birth parents…you becoming my betrothed…Now meeting the people and being enthroned. It’s…” you gripped the cuffs of your sleeves, picking at the seams inside again. “It's so much.”

“It is,” he scooted closer to you, and laced his fingers with yours. “But you'll have me and the others to help you. You won't be doing this alone.”

That comforted you, but his touch was electrifying. He seemed to know this, and instead of pulling away, locked hands with you.

“I hope to become someone who can comfort you,” he admitted. “I could not do much when Sookmyung was nearby, but with her gone, I'd like us to be closer in the future. If we're to be married, I'd like to be friends at least.”

“Only friends?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, “Unless you'd like to be more? It isn't something I will force upon you.”

“I…I don't know…” you wanted to, yes. You absolutely wanted to be more with him. “But, Sookymung-”

“-Does not own us,” he cut you off. “She might have owned my body, but not my heart. YN, I know we did not speak much with Sookmyung always so close, but now that she's not, I want to-Well, what I mean to say is that I wish to be closer to you. Ever since we met all those years ago, when I saw how she treated you and that I was not alone in my misery, I've dreamed of the moment I'd be free to pursue you.”

“You did? You do?”

“Yes,” he blushed, “It was childish, really. But now that we're arranged to be married, I would like to have a closer relationship with you.”

“You do?” You asked one more time.

“Is that so hard for you to believe?”

“Yes, actually,” you nodded. “Since we've met, I've done my best to avoid speaking to any of you. I knew if I showed the slightest interest in front of her she’d punish me. I knew she’d do the same to you if she thought you might return those feelings. She hated it whenever any of you showed a flicker of kindness to another woman, and it made me fear what she might do if that woman happened to be me. I stayed away to keep her from hurting anyone else.”

“But, she isn’t here now,” he said. “I understand exactly how you feel. There'd been so many instances where I wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort you; to save you from whatever cruelties she forced you to witness. But, I knew if I showed any signs of affection or notice, she'd hurt you. I didn’t care if she hurt me, YN, I was used to it. It was you,” he cupped your cheek, “Whose pain I couldn’t bear. If there is any reason that I’m glad she’s gone, it’s that she can no longer harm or disgrace you.”

“She’ll come back,” you whispered, the fear starting to creep back at the slight touch. She could be watching right now, seething and drowning in her rage, eager to strike out at you. “She’ll come back,” you croaked again, “And she’ll-she’ll kill you. She’ll do it and make me watch before she does it to me.”

“She won’t because I won’t let her,” he said firmly, cupping your cheek to keep your eyes on him. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she never lays a hand on you again.”

You tried finding comfort in his words. For ages, you dreamed of this exact moment: Hongjoong sitting close to you, touching and whispering sweet nothings. Other times, it might be Seonghwa or Yunho or one of the other concubines. You thought of all the times she’d put them within your grasp just to pull them away at the very last second. Every time she mentioned finding you a husband, you knew she did not mean it. In a twisted, obscene way, you were hers and only hers.

“We don’t need to speak of this right now,” he said once he sensed your hesitancy. “There are far more important things to handle first. I…” he paused, looking over your face one more time. “I simply wished for you to know of my feelings.”

You reached for his hand when he pulled it away. So soft. So gentle. Before you could respond, someone else walked into the room. Seonghwa stood at the other end of the table, hands folded in front of one another and bowing to each of you.

“Excuse me, Your Majesties,” he began, “But the council wishes to speak with you now.”

“Did they say why?”

“I don’t, but I imagine it may be about taxation and property laws,” he said. “If you wish, I’ll tell them you’re…preoccupied,” he shifted a glance to Hongjoong, hiding a smile.

“No, no,” you shook your head, “We’ll speak with them.”

“‘We’ll’?” Hongjoong asked curiously.

“You’re to be my King Consort soon,” you said, “And I know very little about law making. I thought perhaps you’d like to join us?”

“Of course,” he grinned. “If there is any way I can assist, I will.”

The smile you shared warmed your entire body, bringing heat into your cheeks. The two men let you leave first, then followed you. Seonghwa a few feet away, you walked beside Hongjoong. For the smallest of moments, you pictured yourself and him at the altar. In another life, perhaps a marriage arrangement between Hanseong and Wonju would’ve happened. Sookmyung being the elder might’ve been put forward, but if Hongjoong didn’t like her, as the groom, he could decline. He would’ve picked you instead. The image of a seething Sookmyung hiding nearby, watching Hongjoong help you into your palanquin, gave you pause. In that other life, she’d be equally jealous. She’d plot ways to kill you then like she must be doing at this moment.

“Don’t be nervous,” you heard Hongjoong say. “You’re going to do well.”

“Am I?”

Better to let him think you’re worried about the advisors rather than the person planning your demise right now.

“Yes,” he said, “And you’ll have Seonghwa and I to help you.”

This certainly made you feel better. “It might be intimidating at first,” Seonghwa said from beside you. “They’re all ambitious men who will want their voices heard. They’ll each have their own ideas and opinions about how we should proceed from here on out. There’s likely to be arguing and objections, but in the end, it’s all your decision where things go.”

“That’s…not helping, Seonghwa,” you said with a soft nervous laugh.

“He’s only preparing you,” Hongjoong consoled you. “I used to go with my father to his meetings when I was small. I sat there and listened to all these powerful men disagree, shout over one another, and argue over whose idea was the best. It was my father’s job to help these men all come to an agreement. There’s going to be a lot of compromises and negotiations, since some of these men will have more than the kingdom’s interest in mind. It’s up to you to decide what routes to take.”

“And we’ll be right there if you need someone who won’t gain anything from this meeting,” Seonghwa assured you.

Your nerves still buzzed in your stomach as the doors to the advisor’s room opened. Wonshik sat at the far end of the table, with Heechul, Taeyong, Daewon and Junhan taking up the sides. All of them stood when you and Hongjoong arrived. He took up an empty seat next to you, while you sat at the head of the table across from Wonshik. The old man looked at you with a proud smile.

“Good Morning, Your Majesty,” he said. “It is refreshing to see the ruling monarch sitting with us at the council table again.”

“And I plan to come to as many of these as I can,” you replied. “I have asked Seonghwa and Prince Hongjoong to join us.”

“As expected,” he nodded. “Her Majesty may invite whoever she believes will be fit to give his opinion on important matters.”

“Enough pleasantries, Wonshik,” gruffed Junhan, Master of War. “We have many things to discuss.”

“Ask for a progress report in locating Sookmyung,” Hongjoong leaned over and whispered.

“I’d like to know where we are in finding Sookmyung,” you said to the council.

“We’ve been unable to locate the former queen,” Junhan, Master of War, answered. “We believe she has fled with her allies, but no idea as to where. Gongju is closest to us, so it is likely she will travel there first. We already have scouts seeking her out, Your Majesty, and Prince Hongjoong has sent word to the rebel leader to place spies in their courts. She will come out of the woodwork eventually. Once she hears of our plans to crown you as queen, she will act on impulse and behave rashly. If we’re lucky, we can use that rashness to our advantage.”

“And of the dukes who remain in the palace?” you asked.

“They’ve all pledged their loyalty to you, Your Majesty,” Wonshik answered. “When your coronation comes, they will make public vows in front of the entire court, but for now, our alliance is still intact. That aside, those lords will wish to talk about trades with you once this is all over. They’ll want something in return for their continued alliance.”

“You will also have to prove you won’t turn into your sister,” Heechul added. “We all know you are far from being her, but they do not know you as we do, Your Majesty.”

“Unfortunately, treating with nobility is a lot harder than pleasing the common folk,” Wonshik said.

“What sort of things would they ask for?”

“Nothing outrageous,” he dismissed. “Land, titles, treaties or gold.”

“I know for a fact that Daegu is going to ask to lower port fees,” Taeyong, Master of Ships, said. “Sookmyung’s taxes and fees on local merchants are far too high and it makes trading between the coastal cities difficult. This puts a heavy burden on the lords there.”

“Iksan will ask for more military power,” Junhan added. “They have had lots of run ins with outlaw groups raiding their trade routes.”

“Starving citizens,” Daewon, Master of Law, said. “A lot of the so-called ‘bandits’ the guard picks up are people in need. Lowering taxation on resources like food and clothing will make merchants lower their own prices so people can afford to buy them.”

“We’d need a near overhaul of the economy for that to happen,” Heechul argued. “The coppers are plenty but not unlimited, Do.”

“Then perhaps it’s time there was one,” Daewon retorted. “Sookmyung’s financial plans always centered on the elite. I know I personally can afford to pay my taxes. Can you say the same, Kim?”

“I can-”

“-Intervene,” Seonghwa whispered to you hurriedly. “You have to keep them on track before this gets louder.”

“My lords,” you spoke up, stomach churning when they immediately stopped. “If….If an overhaul is what we need to get our people fed, then we’ll make sure it’s done. Our people are starving in squalor. We must do what we can to help them.”

“There are lords around these parts who might not be happy with having their taxes raised,” Daewon said, still eyeing Heechul.

“They’ll survive,” you said right away. “I’ve seen how these lords and ladies live. A small increase will not kill them.”

“Not many lords or ladies will like having their taxes raised,” said Wonshik. “What would you do if they refuse?”

You thought about it for a moment, then said, “I’d compromise with them until we came to an agreement.”

“And if they didn’t budge? What then?”

“I…” you struggled to think of a proper solution, “Well, I’d keep going until they did.”

“You could lower their contribution amount,” Hongjoong answered. “If we raised both their contribution to The Crown and their taxes, they’ll revolt for sure. But, if we lower their contributions, they’ll be more inclined to pay the tax instead.”

“Yes, that,” you agreed, nodding.

“There's also the problems in the smaller villages, Your Majesty,” Wonshik said. “They do not have access to clean water or proper resources for housing. I recently visited a village just outside our walls that was raided by bandits. Houses burnt down, children slaughtered, families torn apart. The people need our help, Your Majesty. They want to know what The Crown will do to help them.”

“We will do the best we can,” you told him.

Sookmyung’saggressive laws caused a ripple effect you never imagined. Every decision she made trickled down to the lowest citizens, the poorest getting the worst of it. You attentively listened to each man’s thoughts, taking it into consideration and seeing if it aligned with your own wishes. Seonghwa and Hongjoong managed to placate the men whenever they grew too heated with each other, but otherwise the group kept things civil. After much back and forth, arguments, rebuttals and objections to each other’s proposals, you and the advisors finally came up with new laws and changes.

They voted on lowering property taxes on the poor and raising the ones on the rich. But, the amount of tribute required by each lord will also be lowered to avoid said lords raising taxes on their own lands. Advisor Heechul insisted this will lift many people out of poverty over time. Imported goods will remain the same, but exports will be raised to bring in more money. In the meantime, a portion of the “royal crops” would be given to the people.

The “Queenswood” surrounding the palace and city will no longer be off limits. Hunters would be encouraged to explore the land freely; any extra game they wish to trade will not be taxed by the crown. Speaking with Advisor Daewon, the both of you agreed that removing the fences and guard towers at the borders was the first step.

With Junhan, the city guard would resume their patrols on the streets, replacing the military presence. He agreed that the formal city guards would lower fear amongst the citizens, and the military can focus on their real purpose. The corrupt leaders extorting the smaller businesses wuld be rounded up alongside the slum lords and be punished accordingly. The both of you agreed that your people should feel safe in their own kingdom.

“These steps may be small,” Advisor Wonshik said at the end of the meeting, “But their impact will be large. The people need to see that their new queen wishes only the best for them.”

They agreed to put everything into action immediately. When you left the advisors, Hongjoong went to speak with Wonshik alone, which left you with Seonghwa. Your handmaidens and guards nearby, you become increasingly aware of their constant presence. Before, it never bothered you since Sookmyung was their focus, but that changed. You are their priority now, and you still did not know how to feel about that.

“Do they have to follow me all the time?” You asked Seonghwa in a low whisper.

“It's advisable that they stay at your side for now,” Seonghwa said, “But if you'd like, I can send them away for a while.”

You'd been about to answer when a foul scent caught in your nose. You recognized the scent right away as it grew stronger. The stench of the dungeons was unmistakable to you. Walking away from the royal offices, you went ahead of the group into the main courtyard. It became more pungent as you drew closer to the jail. There, you saw Hongjoong talking with the head physician, an older man named Yoon. Soldiers carried people out of the jail on stretchers to blankets laid on the ground. You clasped your hands over your mouth.

Perhaps it was the darkness and your own discomfort that made the number seem so small. But now, standing several yards away, you saw dozens of victims. Men and women laid out groaning and weeping in pain as physicians treated those they could. The faces that once haunted you in your dreams now came to life. Tears welled in your eyes seeing the people you watched be broken. It is your fault. You should have helped them sooner. You should have stopped her. You had plenty of opportunities, but you'd been paralyzed by your own fear.

“Your Majesty,” Seonghwa’s voice came to you softly, “You don't have to see this. Let's go to the hare-”

You ignored him and walked towards the first body on the ground. A young man covered in filthy, bloody rags laid shivering. You recognized him immediately: the young man Sookmyung hung from the ceiling with weights. You moved closer to him, hearing his haggard breathing and whimpering, and knelt down. He’d been the stableboy who tended to Sookmyung’s horse. When her newest mare fell ill and died, Sookmyung blamed him for not maintaining its health. Of course, this accusation was ridiculous, but that never mattered to her. You gently brushed matted hair from his forehead.

“How bad is it?” you asked the physician attending to him.

“Very bad, Your Majesty,” he answered, dabbing disinfectant on the wounds. “Several bones are broken or dislocated. I managed to put them back in place, but some of the injuries have become infected from the conditions below.”

“Will he live?”

“With some medicine and rest, he may be able to begin recovery. He is one of the lucky few who have such a chance.”

You looked down at the dazed man, and said, “What is your name?”

“Kyun-Kyungwoo,” he croaked an answer.

“You are safe now, Kyungwoo. I swear it.”

“No, no, no! Don’t! Don’t!”

Your head shot up at the panicked voice. Two rows away was a young woman flailing her arms at the man trying to tend to her. You realized the man was Yunho, wearing a beige overcoat tied at his waist. The long black hair he often left down was tied into a top knot, held with a pin to keep it from his eyes. Gently, he took hold of the woman’s hands to steady them.

“Sookmyung is not here anymore,” you heard him gently reassure her as he held onto her hands. “She cannot hurt you.”

“She-She sent you!” she screamed hysterically. “She’s playing a game! A trick! She sent you to make me think she’s helping me! Don’t heal me!”

“I have to. You’re injured, and your wounds are infected.”

You left Kyungwoo’s side and went over to the pair. Right away, you understood the woman’s distress. “Insook,” you said her name softly, kneeling beside her, “Insook, please hold still. He cannot wrap your wounds if you’re moving so much.”

Wide, panicked eyes flitted over to you. Insook, a cook in Sookmyung’s kitchen, was accused of putting poison in her soup recently. Black strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, blood dried on her fingers and stained her thin tunic.

“YN!” she gasped your name, grabbing your collar t bring you closer, “Tell him! Tell him what she’s doing! You know! You always knew!”

“Insook,” you uncurled her fingers from your jacket, then said, “Sookmyung is gone. She isn’t here anymore. You are not going back into the cells. I promise you.”

“Lies! She’s letting me out only to put me back in! She did it last time! I’m not a fool!”

“If that were true, she wouldn’t have her Flower attending to you, Insook.”

“Fl-Flower?” She glanced over to Yunho, who nodded “Wa-wait. You’re…You’re one of hers…”

“I was,” Yunho nodded, “But not anymore. You're not hers either. Now, please,” he gingerly took her injured hand, “Let me start here. These are the worst of them.”

“No!” she pulled her hand away, “YN, tell her I didn’t let him touch me! Tell her I was a good dog! I didn’t-”

“-YN, give me that jar right there.”

Yunho nodded to a small glass jar near a leather satchel. You picked it up and handed it to him. Yu watched him pick out one of the small white nubs inside, then hold it to Insook’s bloody nose. It took several sniffs before her cries quieted, her eyes rolled back and she fell unconscious. You looked up at Yunho.

“Sookmyung used to release some prisoners,” you said, “And then recapture them right when they thought they were free. She said watching the hope leave their eyes made her feel alive.” You smoothed hair from Insook’s head, the rancid stink of the dungeons coming off her. “How bad is she?”

“A few broken bones, some whip lashes on her back, but she’ll be fine with some rest,” he told you, starting to work on her missing fingernails. “Forgive me for leaving guard duty, Your Majesty. Physician Yoon asked me to come help him when Queen Jisoo started summoning the physicians. I’m a better healer than a fighter, I’m afraid.”

“Good, we need more healers at the moment,” you replied.

“Considering how many people are here, that’s more than true. Your Majesty-”

“-YN, please-”

“-YN,” he nodded, “I knew Sookmyung was awful but…I didn’t believe it was like this. Some of the injuries these people have are horrendous. One man had scorpion and spider bites all over his body; one of the other physicians said he must’ve been in there for days.”

The Box. You hated thinking about it. “I’m sorry you had to witness all of it,” he said, looking away from his work to meet your eyes. “I can’t imagine what seeing this does to someone. I’m glad it never changed you.”

You’d given him a small smile when a small voice croaked out your name. Another familiar face, a young boy with a bandage over his eye and a physician putting a cast on his left leg, broke your heart. Immediately, you scooted over to him and lifted his head to rearrange the pillow underneath. Jiwoon, arrested for poaching in Sookmyung’s forest like so many others, would never see out of his right eye again.

“Hello Jiwoon…” you said, looking over his cracked lips and hollow cheeks.

“Is it true?” he asked in a hoarse voice. “Are we really free?”

“Yes, it’s true.”

“I can see my papa now?”

“I’ll make sure someone tells him you’re here,” you said, remembering the boy’s father as a palace guard. You picked up a water canteen nearby, “Here, drink this.”

You tipped his head to help him drink, heart aching as you listened to him gulp the water. Nearby, you saw one of the guards watching over the scene and called him over. You ordered him to find Jiwoon’s father, then told another palace servant to send a message to the kitchen.

“Broth and bread,” you said, “As much as they can make.”

This went on for some time. People who looked on might be seeing a queen trying to build up an image, but that wasn’t your intention. Each person you comforted healed a piece of you; you hoped it healed a piece of them as well. They’d spent days wallowing in pain and suffering. You prayed they found a shred of hope in your gentle words and assurances.

Once you saw the last of the living, you looked upon the dead. So many. It sickened your stomach and brought tears to your eyes. Seeing one woman in particular, you remembered your helplessness. You couldn’t save her. You couldn’t save any of them no matter what you’d said. Sookmyung always laughed at your softness, saying that she’d make you strong one day. As you walked amongst the dead, those who’d loved them started walking onto the courtyard. Servants who’d waited for word about their loved ones wept openly, crying over the injured or deceased.

You’d finished consoling the daughter of one of the victims when you noticed her. A young woman laid a few feet away in all black. She bore all the signs of Sookmyung’s usual methods, but you didn’t remember her face. What drew you closer was Hongjoong gravitating to her first. Then, you suddenly remembered her: the assassin from the garden.

“Naeun,” Hongjoong said when you reached him. “She was the assassin Sookmyung tortured the other night. She was from Wonju.”

“She was the woman you’d meet in the garden,” you said, more a statement than a question. When he looked over at you, you said, “I remember overhearing you with someone. I never told anyone because I feared what Sookmyung might do to either of you. I thought she was a lover you’d somehow met, not a spy.”

“She was my contact, yes,” he nodded. “I was giving her information I learned from Sookmyung. It was easy because she spoke about her plans so freely in front of us. I couldn’t leave here, so being an informant was the best way to help my people.” He bit his inner cheek, then said, “I can’t let her death be in vain, YN.”

“It wasn’t,” you said, touching his hand. “You are a prince again, and that’s only the first step.” You then realized something. “I’m sorry you witnessed her death. Sookmyung never went easy on anyone. If she thought Naeun wanted to kill her, she likely made it worse.”

“She never gave in. She didn’t say a word no matter how terrible the torture.”

“She was stronger than most I’d seen, then. Sookmyung preyed on the weak, but she loved breaking the strong. Naeun must’ve not wanted to give her the satisfaction of believing she’d won.”

“None of Changbin’s rebels would,” he said. He withdrew a necklace, the winged dove charm broken into two pieces. “This was hers,” he explained, putting the charm on her chest and placing her hands over it. “She used it to pass a message to me the night she died. I think it meant something to her.”

You sat with him as he looked over the woman one more time. While you did not witness Naeun’s death, it still joined the hundreds stained on your heart.

“She hurt so many people,” you said quietly, standing with Hongjoong but not looking away from the scene. “Not just in her dungeon, but all over the kingdom. She’d driven families into starvation, turned children into orphans and let her city become a crime-ridden slum. Nobody was safe regardless of distance. She’s likely hurting someone now because of how angry she is.” You didn’t want to imagine who’d become her newest victim. “If she came back into power, she’d be much, much worse.”

“Which is why she can’t come back,” Hongjoong said, “And she won’t.” He looked at the victims with you, “What shall we do with them, Your Majesty?”

“Heal them,” you said. “Prepare them for burial. Tell the people that we’ll be holding a funeral procession for them on their way to the gravesite.”

“What gravesite?”

“The one I’m going to have made for them. There are people here who need work, and we can pay them to dig graves for her victims,” you said, the plan forming in your mind. “It can be in honor of their memory. They can be buried in a place of light and beauty, instead of rotting in the dark. There’s a lovely spot outside the city that can be open to the people. We can send declarations around the kingdom so family members may come see them.”

“A memorial to them,” he said, “And the people she’s indirectly hurt too. Wonshik and Jisoo will love the idea. It’ll show people you’re not the monster she is.”

“That isn’t why I want to do it,” you repeated your words from the meeting.

“No, it isn’t, but it doesn't hurt.”

You remembered each person. The baker who’d mistook her instruction for red bean as black bean. The seamstress who’d accidentally nicked her skin when fixing a hemline. The merchant who boldly proclaimed her taxes as unjust and the young woman who’d begged for her husband’s life. You’d made it a point to learn their names. Many times, you’d cradled a head as they whispered it to you. Being amongst them now, hearing their groans of pain, your eyes stung at the memories. Sookmyung could not return. She could not be allowed to continue on like this should she come back to power. You wouldn’t let her.

****

A/N: heeeyyy look what's back! I'm really glad to be back on this one. There's more to come so stick around! <3

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