Compass of the Heart -Poly Pirate AU. ongoing! being edited and rewrote!
Gravity - Alpha OT8 Fated Mates AU ~ ongoing!
Arranged Destiny - OT8Mafia AU ~ ongoing!
Between Takes - Yunho x Actress Reader ~ on hold!
SKZ
Forbidden Harmony - Han x Reader Producer AU. ~ ongoing!
Backstage Hearts - Han x Reader/ Friends to lovers ~ coming soon!
When the Music Stops - Bangchan x Reader/ Breakup ~ coming soon!
Ao3📖 ko-fi☕️
I’m changing a few things to make it easier on my brain!
So if you want to be added to a fics taglist comment on the fics master list to let me know! If you ask anywhere else I will do my best but I make no promises.
If you want to be added to my permanent tag list, (ANY fic I post I’ll tag you) then specify that when you comment!
If you’re already on a taglist you don’t need to re-comment unless you want on the permanent taglist!
So sorry for my unexpected break! I quit my job and kids school was starting and I just need a reboot! Thank you all for all the love already, it means so much!
So a couple of things.
Compass of the Heart isn’t available as some of you know. I’m going to rewrite it. Nothing drastic, it was my first fic I posted and it’s my baby. So I want to give it the love I think it deserves now that I have more experienced and confident. I will keep and update what I have of the original to AO3.
Which brings me to AO3. My plan is to put all fics on there and update both tumblr and AO3 at the same time. Will that happen consistently? Nope, probably not. But I will do my best. I feel like my tumblr will stay Kpop focused. Just feels right. I will post all my other fanfic things on AO3 if you’re interested. I have Jujutsu Kaisen, MHA, One Piece. So if you like it check that out soon. It’s under the same name velvetvisionsaurora.
My coping mechanism for mental health is reading and writing so I have a lot of things I’ve started. I have arranged marriage King Hongjoong, childhood best friend Mingi, Changbin fic, and another poly ATEEZ. Gravity is coming to an end, so I’ll post some new things and kinda of switch around. Arranged Destiny is still going to be updated regularly. It’s such a fun fic I love writing it.
Disclaimer since I have a lot of new followers, I use AI to brainstorm, keep a layout and track of my story (I write complicated timelines and flashbacks) and help me keep continuity. I have stated this fact multiple times and I do not hide that fact. AI does not write it for me and all ideas and character personality version are mine. If you have a problem with that then just don’t fucking read it🙃 It’s simple and unproblematic, then your life and my life will continue just as it was!
Thank you all so so much for the love and support it means the world
Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!
When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.
Authors note: Hello! I’m so so sorry about the MIA. Needed a mental health reboot. But I’m am back and I’ve missed you all 💜💜
<<Previous Next>>
Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️
Chapter 24: Nurturing Fire
You drifted in and out of consciousness, your body thoroughly spent after what felt like endless rounds of pleasure. Wooyoung and Yunho had taken turns with you, sometimes together, sometimes individually, until your heat-crazed omega had finally been sated enough for exhaustion to claim you.
The last thing you remembered was Wooyoung's playful smile as he collapsed beside you, his usual energy completely depleted. "Think we broke her," he'd murmured to Yunho, who had simply pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before darkness claimed you completely.
When you finally surfaced from the depths of sleep, your body felt pleasantly sore, the kind of ache that spoke of thorough satisfaction. Your eyelids fluttered open to find the room dimmer than before, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting everything in warm shadows.
"Welcome back," came a gentle voice that wasn't Yunho's or Wooyoung's.
Turning your head, you found Seonghwa sitting beside the bed, his usual composed expression softened with concern. On the other side stood Hongjoong, his leader presence immediately filling the space with a sense of security.
"Where..." you started, your voice raspy from sleep and hours of crying out in pleasure.
"Wooyoung and Yunho are showering and getting some rest," Hongjoong explained, moving closer to stroke your hair back from your forehead. "They needed it after... well, after taking care of you for so long."
Your cheeks heated as fragmented memories of your time with them flashed through your mind—Wooyoung's mouth between your thighs, Yunho's massive body covering yours, the way they'd taken turns knotting you until you couldn't tell where one alpha ended and the next began.
"How long was I asleep?" you asked, trying to sit up.
Seonghwa's hand immediately went to your shoulder, helping you into a more comfortable position while Hongjoong arranged pillows behind your back. The casual display of care made your omega purr with contentment.
"About three hours," Hongjoong said, his eyes scanning your face for signs of distress. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," you admitted, taking stock of your body. The desperate, all-consuming need of your heat had receded for now, leaving behind a pleasant warmth rather than the burning fever from before. "More... myself."
"That's good," Seonghwa said with approval. "You need to eat and drink before the next wave hits."
As if on cue, he reached for a tray on the bedside table that you hadn't noticed before. It held a bowl of what looked like rice porridge, some cut fruit, and a large glass of water with a straw.
"I made it mild," he explained, noting your glance at the food. "Your stomach might be sensitive after... everything."
The thoughtfulness of the gesture made your chest tight with emotion. Even now, in the midst of your heat, he was thinking about your comfort, your needs beyond the purely sexual.
"Thank you," you said softly, reaching for the water.
Hongjoong settled on the edge of the bed, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. "I'll be staying as long as I can," he said, his voice taking on that leader quality that brooked no argument. "My instincts won't let me leave the pack alone for too long, even with Seonghwa here."
You nodded, Hongjoong, as pack leader, needed to maintain a certain presence, a certain control, even while sharing you with the others.
"I'm glad," you admitted, the words slipping out before you could censor them. "I... I like having you here."
His expression softened, and he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I like being here," he murmured against your skin.
Seonghwa cleared his throat softly, drawing your attention back to the tray he held. "You need to eat," he reminded you, his instincts clearly in full force.
When you reached for the bowl, though, your hands trembled slightly—whether from exhaustion or the lingering effects of your heat, you weren't sure. Seonghwa immediately intercepted, taking the bowl and spoon himself.
"Let me," he said simply, and lifted a spoonful of the porridge to your lips.
You hesitated, something about the gesture feeling unexpectedly intimate. Being fed by an alpha—being cared for in this basic, nurturing way—triggered something deep and primal in your omega instincts. It was different from the sexual care you'd received earlier, but somehow even more meaningful.
"Please," Seonghwa added when you didn't immediately open your mouth. "Let me take care of you."
The simple plea broke through your hesitation. You parted your lips, allowing him to slide the spoon into your mouth. The porridge was perfect—warm, slightly sweet, easy on your stomach—but it was the act itself that made your heart race.
Seonghwa's eyes remained fixed on your face as he fed you, studying every reaction with intense focus. Each time the spoon touched your lips, each time you swallowed, his attention never wavered. It was as if feeding you, nurturing you, was the most important task in the world.
"Good?" he asked softly after the third spoonful.
You nodded, unable to look away from his dark eyes. "Perfect."
Hongjoong watched the exchange with something like wonder on his face, his hand still wrapped around yours. The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on him—the way Seonghwa was caring for you, the way you were accepting his care.
"More?" Seonghwa asked, lifting another spoonful.
"Yes, please," you whispered, and opened your mouth obediently.
The ritual continued in silence, broken only by the soft sound of the spoon against the bowl and your occasional hums of appreciation. With each bite, something shifted in the atmosphere of the room—a tension building that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the primal satisfaction of an alpha providing for his omega.
By the time the bowl was half empty, you could feel it—the subtle change in your body temperature, the heightened awareness of their scents, the growing ache between your legs that signaled your heat returning. The respite had been brief, your omega nature already demanding more from your alphas.
Seonghwa noticed the change immediately. His nostrils flared as he caught your shifting scent, his pupils dilating as his body responded to the silent call of your pheromones. The hand holding the spoon faltered slightly, and you watched with fascination as his eyes slowly began to glow that telltale alpha gold.
"Seonghwa," Hongjoong said quietly, a note of warning in his voice. "Focus."
But it was already too late. The sweet vanilla and cedarwood scent of Seonghwa's alpha pheromones began to fill the room, mingling with Hongjoong's sandalwood and ocean breeze to create an intoxicating mixture that made your head spin. Your body responded instantly, another wave of slick gathering between your thighs as your omega prepared for what was coming.
"I'm trying," Seonghwa replied, his voice strained as he set the bowl back on the tray with careful precision. "But she smells so..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't need to. The gold of his eyes was growing brighter, his alpha responding to your heat in real time. The hand that had been feeding you now gripped the edge of the bed with white-knuckled intensity, as if physically restraining himself from reaching for you.
"Y/n," Hongjoong said, his own voice dropping lower as he fought to maintain control. "Your heat..."
"It's coming back," you confirmed, your words slightly breathless as need began to build again. "I can feel it."
Seonghwa made a sound low in his throat, not quite a growl, but close. The scent of your approaching heat was affecting him deeply, his usual composed demeanor fracturing under the weight of biological imperative.
"Perhaps we should finish eating later," he suggested, though the words were clearly costing him effort. His eyes hadn't left your face, the golden glow growing stronger with each passing second.
"No," you said suddenly, the word surprising even you. "I want... I want you to keep feeding me."
Both alphas went still at your request, the implication clear. What had started as simple nurturing had transformed into something else entirely—a different kind of intimacy, a different way for Seonghwa to care for you as your heat approached.
"Are you sure?" Seonghwa asked, his voice rough around the edges.
Instead of answering with words, you simply opened your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. The gesture was both submission and demand, your omega making her needs clear to the alpha she wanted.
Seonghwa's hand shook slightly as he picked up the spoon again, filled it with porridge, and brought it to your waiting lips. This time, when you closed your mouth around it, you maintained eye contact, deliberately letting out a soft moan of appreciation that had nothing to do with the food and everything to do with the alpha feeding you.
"Fuck," Hongjoong breathed, his own control clearly slipping as he watched the erotic display playing out beside him. "You two are..."
"Alpha," you murmured to Seonghwa as you swallowed, deliberately licking your lips afterward. "More, please."
The honorific broke something in Seonghwa's careful restraint. His scent intensified, filling the room with pheromones so thick you could almost taste them. The next spoonful came faster, more urgent, his movements taking on a predatory grace that made your pulse race.
"Such a good omega," he praised as you swallowed, his voice deeper than you'd ever heard it. "Taking what your alpha gives you so beautifully."
The praise sent a shiver through your entire body, your omega preening under his approval. When the next spoonful came, you deliberately let some of the porridge spill from the corner of your mouth, giving Seonghwa an opportunity you knew his alpha wouldn't be able to resist.
Sure enough, he leaned forward immediately, his thumb catching the drop and then—instead of wiping it away—bringing it to his own mouth. The sight making your breath catch in your throat.
"Delicious," he murmured, his golden eyes never leaving yours.
Beside you, Hongjoong made a sound that was half laugh, half groan. "You're playing with fire," he warned, though his own eyes were beginning to shift from brown to gold as his alpha responded to the charged atmosphere.
"I know," you replied, your voice taking on that omega sweetness that signaled your heat approaching full force again.
The bowl was forgotten now, set aside as Seonghwa moved closer to the bed, his nurturing instincts transformed into something far more primal. His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing your lower lip with a touch so gentle it made you whimper.
"Is that what you want, Tulip?" he asked softly, using Wooyoung's nickname for you in a way that felt startlingly intimate. "To burn with us?"
"Yes," you breathed, turning your face to press a kiss to his palm. "Please, alpha."
That broke through the last of his restraint. With a growl that seemed to come from somewhere deep and primal, Seonghwa surged forward, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that tasted of possession and promise.
Seonghwa kissed with precise passion—each movement deliberate and calculated for maximum effect. His tongue traced the seam of your lips before dipping inside, tasting you with the same focused attention he'd shown while feeding you.
Hongjoong's hand tightened around yours, his own breathing becoming ragged as he watched Seonghwa claim your mouth. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Both of you, so beautiful together."
When Seonghwa finally pulled back, his eyes were blazing gold, all traces of his usual composure gone. "Mine," he growled, the word vibrating through your very core. "Ours."
"Yours," you agreed breathlessly, reaching for him with trembling hands. "Both of you. Please."
Your heat was returning full force now, your body aching with renewed need as two fresh alphas prepared to take care of you. As Seonghwa's hands began to explore your body with reverent intensity, Hongjoong leaned in to capture your mouth in a kiss that tasted of leadership and love.
The nurturing had become fire, and you were more than ready to burn.
Seonghwa's mouth was hot against yours, his tongue exploring with a thoroughness that left you breathless. When he finally pulled back, the golden glow of his eyes had intensified, burning with an alpha dominance you'd never witnessed from him before.
"On your back," he commanded, his voice barely recognizable – deep, rough, authoritative in a way that made your omega instinctively respond.
You blinked in surprise, momentarily frozen by the stark contrast between this Seonghwa and the gentle caretaker who had been carefully feeding you moments ago. This was someone entirely new – someone who carried himself with unmistakable alpha dominance, someone whose very presence demanded submission.
When you didn't move quickly enough, his hand landed on your shoulder, pushing you firmly but not roughly onto your back. "I said, on your back, omega. Now."
Your breath caught at the commanding tone, your eyes darting to Hongjoong who sat watching with obvious amusement. The pack leader's lips curved into a knowing smile as he observed your shock.
"I warned you about getting burned, Tulip," Hongjoong chuckled, settling more comfortably against the headboard. "Our Seonghwa isn't quite what he seems on the surface, is he?"
Before you could respond, Seonghwa's fingers wrapped around your wrists, pinning them above your head in one smooth motion. His face hovered above yours, eyes molten gold, his usual perfectly styled hair falling forward as he studied you with predatory intensity.
"You've been treated too gently," he observed, his free hand trailing down your body with deliberate slowness. "Handled like glass by the others, weren't you? Afraid you might break?"
His fingers skimmed along your collarbone, down between your breasts, across your stomach with teasing lightness that made your muscles contract beneath his touch.
"I—yes," you admitted, your voice catching as his hand dipped lower, brushing over the sensitive skin of your lower abdomen.
"And is that what you want?" Seonghwa asked, his thumb circling your navel as his eyes remained locked on yours. "To be treated like something fragile and precious?"
The question hung in the air between you, loaded with meaning. Your omega, already stirring with renewed heat, knew exactly what it wanted – what you wanted.
"No," you whispered, arching up slightly into his touch. "I don't want to be handled like I might break."
Something dangerous flashed in Seonghwa's eyes – satisfaction, hunger, promise. "Good girl," he purred, the praise sending a shiver down your spine. "Because I have no intention of being gentle with you."
His hand suddenly moved lower, cupping you with possessive firmness. You gasped at the contact, your hips bucking involuntarily as his middle finger slid through your folds, finding you already slick and ready from your returning heat.
"So wet," he commented, his voice clinical and commanding at once. "Is this all for me, omega? Or were you this desperate before I even touched you?"
The crude question from Seonghwa's usually polite mouth shocked you as much as it thrilled you. This wasn't the composed, nurturing pack member who kept everyone fed and the house spotless. This was pure alpha – dominant, demanding, and filthy in a way you never could have imagined.
"Answer me," he insisted when you remained silent, his finger pressing against your entrance without pushing inside, a tease and threat in one. "Who made you this wet?"
"You," you gasped, your omega eager to please this new, commanding version of Seonghwa. "It's for you, alpha."
His responding smile was both beautiful and terrifying in its intensity.
"That's right," he said, finally pushing his finger inside you with deliberate slowness. "For me. For us."
Your head fell back against the pillows as he began to work his finger in and out of you with practiced precision. The stretch was nothing compared to what you'd experienced with Yunho, but there was something about Seonghwa's methodical approach that made it feel more intense, more deliberate.
"Look at her," Seonghwa said to Hongjoong without taking his eyes off your face. "Already falling apart on just one finger. Imagine how she'll look when I'm really fucking her."
The crude language from Seonghwa's usually proper mouth made you clench around his finger, your omega responding instinctively to this unexpectedly dominant alpha.
Hongjoong laughed softly, his hand coming to stroke your hair as he watched Seonghwa work you open. "I told you he was different behind closed doors," the pack leader murmured, his fingers gentle against your scalp even as his eyes darkened with desire. "Our Seonghwa likes to take his time, likes to know exactly what makes his omega tick before he gives her what she needs."
As if proving Hongjoong's point, Seonghwa added a second finger alongside the first, the stretch more pronounced as he curled both digits to find the spot inside you that made your back arch off the bed.
"There it is," he said with quiet satisfaction when you cried out. "So responsive. So perfect."
His thumb found your clit, circling with precise pressure as his fingers continued their relentless assault on your inner walls. The dual stimulation had you writhing beneath him, your wrists still pinned firmly above your head by his other hand.
"Please," you gasped, heat building low in your belly as his skilled fingers pushed you toward the edge. "Alpha, please."
"Please what?" Seonghwa asked, his voice deceptively calm despite the golden fire in his eyes. "Use your words, omega. Tell me exactly what you want."
The demand forced you to voice desires you'd barely acknowledged to yourself. "I want—I need you inside me. Need you to fuck me. Hard."
Something darkly satisfied flashed across Seonghwa's face at your explicit request. "Good girl," he praised, withdrawing his fingers suddenly and leaving you empty and aching. "So honest for your alpha."
He released your wrists and moved back, kneeling between your spread legs. With methodical efficiency, he began removing his remaining clothes, revealing the lean, toned body hidden beneath his usually perfect attire. Unlike Yunho's massive frame or Wooyoung's youthful exuberance, Seonghwa's body was elegant perfection – defined without being bulky, strong without being overwhelming.
When he finally shed his underwear, your eyes widened slightly at the sight of him fully aroused. Like everything else about Seonghwa, his cock was beautifully proportioned – long and elegantly curved, the head flushed dark with desire.
"See something you like, omega?" he asked, wrapping his hand around himself and stroking slowly as you watched. The gesture was deliberately provocative, a display of dominance that made your omega whine with need.
"Yes," you admitted, your eyes unable to leave the hypnotic movement of his hand. "I want it."
"Beg," Seonghwa commanded simply, continuing those slow, torturous strokes. "Beg for your alpha's cock."
The demand should have embarrassed you, but your heat-driven omega felt only desperate need. "Please, alpha," you whimpered, spreading your legs wider in invitation. "Please fuck me. Please, Seonghwa, please."
Beside you, Hongjoong made a sound that was half groan, half laugh. "So pretty when she begs," he commented to Seonghwa. "Don't you think?"
"Beautiful," Seonghwa agreed, positioning himself between your thighs without releasing his grip on himself. "But I think she can do better."
The head of his cock brushed against your entrance, teasing but not entering. The contact made you whimper, your hips trying to push forward to take him inside, but his free hand gripped your hip, holding you in place.
"Please!" you cried out, frustration and desperation making your voice break. "Please, alpha, I need it. I'm yours, all yours, please just fuck me!"
"Better," Seonghwa approved, the head of his cock finally pushing inside, stretching you around him in a way that made your breath catch. "Much better."
You expected him to continue the slow, teasing pace, to make you wait for the satisfaction your body was screaming for. But instead, with one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, the sudden fullness making you cry out in shocked pleasure.
"Fuck," he growled, his usual polite vocabulary completely abandoned as he began to move. "So tight. So perfect around me."
There was nothing gentle about the way he took you. Each thrust was hard, deliberate, aimed perfectly to hit the spots that made you see stars. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, holding you in place as he used your body for his pleasure and yours.
"Is this what you wanted, omega?" he demanded, his voice rough with exertion and desire. "To be fucked like this? Hard and deep, like you were made for it?"
"Yes!" you gasped, your hands clawing at his back as he pounded into you. "Yes, alpha, like this!"
Hongjoong shifted beside you, his hand moving to your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers as he watched Seonghwa claim you. "She loves it," he observed, his voice thick with arousal. "Look at her face, Seonghwa. She's finally getting what she needs."
And you were. After the careful, gentle treatment from the others—the way they'd handled you like something precious that might shatter—Seonghwa's rough claiming was exactly what your omega craved. There was no hesitation in his movements, no careful restraint, just pure alpha dominance taking what belonged to him.
"Mine," Seonghwa growled, one hand leaving your hip to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse race with excitement rather than fear. "Say it. Tell me who you belong to."
"You," you gasped, the slight restriction of your airway intensifying every sensation. "I'm yours, alpha. Yours and Hongjoong's and—"
"All of ours," Hongjoong finished when your words dissolved into a moan as Seonghwa's thumb found your clit again, circling in time with his thrusts. "But right now, mostly his."
The combined stimulation was overwhelming—Seonghwa's cock filling you so perfectly, his hand around your throat, his thumb on your clit, and Hongjoong's fingers teasing your nipples. Your heat responded to the alpha dominance with a wave of fresh slick, making each thrust wetter, louder, more intense.
"Going to come for me," Seonghwa stated rather than asked, his rhythm never faltering. "Going to come on my cock like the perfect omega you are."
His voice, usually so proper and gentle, now commanding and filthy, pushed you closer to the edge. Your inner walls clenched around him as pressure built low in your belly, your body responding to his dominant instructions.
"Yes," you managed, your voice breathy from the pressure on your throat. "Yes, alpha, I'm close."
"Now," he ordered, his thumb pressing more firmly against your clit as his thrusts became even harder. "Come now, omega. Let me feel it."
Your body obeyed as if it had been waiting for permission. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your back arching off the bed as your inner walls pulsed around his length. The orgasm was different from the ones Wooyoung and Yunho had given you—sharper, more intense, almost painful in its perfect satisfaction.
Seonghwa growled his approval, his hips never slowing as he fucked you through your climax. The oversensitivity should have been too much, but your heat-drunk omega only wanted more, craved the edge of pleasure-pain that his relentless pace provided.
"Good girl," he praised, his voice rougher than before, betraying how close he was to his own release. "Perfect omega. Taking me so well."
His hand released your throat, moving to brace beside your head as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. "Going to knot you," he warned, his thrusts becoming shorter, more desperate. "Going to fill you up. Is that what you want?"
"Yes," you gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. "Please knot me, alpha. Need it."
His eyes, still blazing gold, locked with yours as his rhythm faltered. With a deep growl that seemed to come from somewhere primal and ancient, Seonghwa drove into you one final time, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his release. The base of his length swelled, locking you together as his hips continued to grind against yours, working his knot deeper.
"Fuck," he gasped, the curse sounding exotic and beautiful on his lips. "So perfect. My omega. Ours."
The feeling of being knotted by Seonghwa—proper, polite Seonghwa who now looked utterly wrecked above you, his hair a mess, his eyes wild, his usual composure completely shattered—sent you spiraling into another unexpected orgasm. Your inner walls clenched rhythmically around his knot, milking every drop of his release as you moaned his name.
"Gorgeous," Hongjoong murmured, pressing kisses to your temple as you shuddered through the aftershocks. "Both of you, so perfect together."
Seonghwa carefully maneuvered you both onto your sides, his knot still firmly locked within you, binding you together. His hand stroked soothingly down your side, a flash of his usual nurturing nature returning even as his eyes remained gold with alpha satisfaction.
"Okay?" he asked, his voice gentler now but still carrying that dominant edge that made your omega purr with contentment.
"Better than okay," you assured him, nuzzling into his neck to breathe in his scent—vanilla and cedarwood now mixed with the musk of sex and satisfaction. "I didn't know you could be like that."
Seonghwa exchanged a look with Hongjoong over your head, something private and knowing passing between them.
"There's a lot you don't know about all of us yet," Hongjoong said, his fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder as he settled beside you. "Plenty of time to discover every side of your alphas."
The promise in his voice made you shiver despite the warmth surrounding you. Seonghwa's knot kept you connected, his arms holding you close as Hongjoong pressed against your back, sandwiching you between two alphas who radiated protection and possession in equal measure.
"Rest while you can," Seonghwa advised, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead that belied the rough claiming he'd just delivered. "Your heat isn't over yet, and I'm not finished with you."
The dichotomy between the polite, nurturing Seonghwa everyone knew and this dominant, commanding alpha who had just fucked you senseless was fascinating—and incredibly arousing. As your eyes drifted closed, your body temporarily satisfied by his knot, you found yourself looking forward to discovering what other surprises your alphas might be hiding.
Behind closed doors, it seemed, even the most controlled of them had hidden depths that only their omega would get to explore.
And your heat was just beginning to reveal them all.
Next>>
Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!
When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.
Authors note: Hello! I’m so so sorry about the MIA. Needed a mental health reboot. But I’m am back and I’ve missed you all 💜💜
<<Previous Next>>
Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️
Chapter 24: Nurturing Fire
You drifted in and out of consciousness, your body thoroughly spent after what felt like endless rounds of pleasure. Wooyoung and Yunho had taken turns with you, sometimes together, sometimes individually, until your heat-crazed omega had finally been sated enough for exhaustion to claim you.
The last thing you remembered was Wooyoung's playful smile as he collapsed beside you, his usual energy completely depleted. "Think we broke her," he'd murmured to Yunho, who had simply pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before darkness claimed you completely.
When you finally surfaced from the depths of sleep, your body felt pleasantly sore, the kind of ache that spoke of thorough satisfaction. Your eyelids fluttered open to find the room dimmer than before, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting everything in warm shadows.
"Welcome back," came a gentle voice that wasn't Yunho's or Wooyoung's.
Turning your head, you found Seonghwa sitting beside the bed, his usual composed expression softened with concern. On the other side stood Hongjoong, his leader presence immediately filling the space with a sense of security.
"Where..." you started, your voice raspy from sleep and hours of crying out in pleasure.
"Wooyoung and Yunho are showering and getting some rest," Hongjoong explained, moving closer to stroke your hair back from your forehead. "They needed it after... well, after taking care of you for so long."
Your cheeks heated as fragmented memories of your time with them flashed through your mind—Wooyoung's mouth between your thighs, Yunho's massive body covering yours, the way they'd taken turns knotting you until you couldn't tell where one alpha ended and the next began.
"How long was I asleep?" you asked, trying to sit up.
Seonghwa's hand immediately went to your shoulder, helping you into a more comfortable position while Hongjoong arranged pillows behind your back. The casual display of care made your omega purr with contentment.
"About three hours," Hongjoong said, his eyes scanning your face for signs of distress. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," you admitted, taking stock of your body. The desperate, all-consuming need of your heat had receded for now, leaving behind a pleasant warmth rather than the burning fever from before. "More... myself."
"That's good," Seonghwa said with approval. "You need to eat and drink before the next wave hits."
As if on cue, he reached for a tray on the bedside table that you hadn't noticed before. It held a bowl of what looked like rice porridge, some cut fruit, and a large glass of water with a straw.
"I made it mild," he explained, noting your glance at the food. "Your stomach might be sensitive after... everything."
The thoughtfulness of the gesture made your chest tight with emotion. Even now, in the midst of your heat, he was thinking about your comfort, your needs beyond the purely sexual.
"Thank you," you said softly, reaching for the water.
Hongjoong settled on the edge of the bed, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. "I'll be staying as long as I can," he said, his voice taking on that leader quality that brooked no argument. "My instincts won't let me leave the pack alone for too long, even with Seonghwa here."
You nodded, Hongjoong, as pack leader, needed to maintain a certain presence, a certain control, even while sharing you with the others.
"I'm glad," you admitted, the words slipping out before you could censor them. "I... I like having you here."
His expression softened, and he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I like being here," he murmured against your skin.
Seonghwa cleared his throat softly, drawing your attention back to the tray he held. "You need to eat," he reminded you, his instincts clearly in full force.
When you reached for the bowl, though, your hands trembled slightly—whether from exhaustion or the lingering effects of your heat, you weren't sure. Seonghwa immediately intercepted, taking the bowl and spoon himself.
"Let me," he said simply, and lifted a spoonful of the porridge to your lips.
You hesitated, something about the gesture feeling unexpectedly intimate. Being fed by an alpha—being cared for in this basic, nurturing way—triggered something deep and primal in your omega instincts. It was different from the sexual care you'd received earlier, but somehow even more meaningful.
"Please," Seonghwa added when you didn't immediately open your mouth. "Let me take care of you."
The simple plea broke through your hesitation. You parted your lips, allowing him to slide the spoon into your mouth. The porridge was perfect—warm, slightly sweet, easy on your stomach—but it was the act itself that made your heart race.
Seonghwa's eyes remained fixed on your face as he fed you, studying every reaction with intense focus. Each time the spoon touched your lips, each time you swallowed, his attention never wavered. It was as if feeding you, nurturing you, was the most important task in the world.
"Good?" he asked softly after the third spoonful.
You nodded, unable to look away from his dark eyes. "Perfect."
Hongjoong watched the exchange with something like wonder on his face, his hand still wrapped around yours. The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on him—the way Seonghwa was caring for you, the way you were accepting his care.
"More?" Seonghwa asked, lifting another spoonful.
"Yes, please," you whispered, and opened your mouth obediently.
The ritual continued in silence, broken only by the soft sound of the spoon against the bowl and your occasional hums of appreciation. With each bite, something shifted in the atmosphere of the room—a tension building that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the primal satisfaction of an alpha providing for his omega.
By the time the bowl was half empty, you could feel it—the subtle change in your body temperature, the heightened awareness of their scents, the growing ache between your legs that signaled your heat returning. The respite had been brief, your omega nature already demanding more from your alphas.
Seonghwa noticed the change immediately. His nostrils flared as he caught your shifting scent, his pupils dilating as his body responded to the silent call of your pheromones. The hand holding the spoon faltered slightly, and you watched with fascination as his eyes slowly began to glow that telltale alpha gold.
"Seonghwa," Hongjoong said quietly, a note of warning in his voice. "Focus."
But it was already too late. The sweet vanilla and cedarwood scent of Seonghwa's alpha pheromones began to fill the room, mingling with Hongjoong's sandalwood and ocean breeze to create an intoxicating mixture that made your head spin. Your body responded instantly, another wave of slick gathering between your thighs as your omega prepared for what was coming.
"I'm trying," Seonghwa replied, his voice strained as he set the bowl back on the tray with careful precision. "But she smells so..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't need to. The gold of his eyes was growing brighter, his alpha responding to your heat in real time. The hand that had been feeding you now gripped the edge of the bed with white-knuckled intensity, as if physically restraining himself from reaching for you.
"Y/n," Hongjoong said, his own voice dropping lower as he fought to maintain control. "Your heat..."
"It's coming back," you confirmed, your words slightly breathless as need began to build again. "I can feel it."
Seonghwa made a sound low in his throat, not quite a growl, but close. The scent of your approaching heat was affecting him deeply, his usual composed demeanor fracturing under the weight of biological imperative.
"Perhaps we should finish eating later," he suggested, though the words were clearly costing him effort. His eyes hadn't left your face, the golden glow growing stronger with each passing second.
"No," you said suddenly, the word surprising even you. "I want... I want you to keep feeding me."
Both alphas went still at your request, the implication clear. What had started as simple nurturing had transformed into something else entirely—a different kind of intimacy, a different way for Seonghwa to care for you as your heat approached.
"Are you sure?" Seonghwa asked, his voice rough around the edges.
Instead of answering with words, you simply opened your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. The gesture was both submission and demand, your omega making her needs clear to the alpha she wanted.
Seonghwa's hand shook slightly as he picked up the spoon again, filled it with porridge, and brought it to your waiting lips. This time, when you closed your mouth around it, you maintained eye contact, deliberately letting out a soft moan of appreciation that had nothing to do with the food and everything to do with the alpha feeding you.
"Fuck," Hongjoong breathed, his own control clearly slipping as he watched the erotic display playing out beside him. "You two are..."
"Alpha," you murmured to Seonghwa as you swallowed, deliberately licking your lips afterward. "More, please."
The honorific broke something in Seonghwa's careful restraint. His scent intensified, filling the room with pheromones so thick you could almost taste them. The next spoonful came faster, more urgent, his movements taking on a predatory grace that made your pulse race.
"Such a good omega," he praised as you swallowed, his voice deeper than you'd ever heard it. "Taking what your alpha gives you so beautifully."
The praise sent a shiver through your entire body, your omega preening under his approval. When the next spoonful came, you deliberately let some of the porridge spill from the corner of your mouth, giving Seonghwa an opportunity you knew his alpha wouldn't be able to resist.
Sure enough, he leaned forward immediately, his thumb catching the drop and then—instead of wiping it away—bringing it to his own mouth. The sight making your breath catch in your throat.
"Delicious," he murmured, his golden eyes never leaving yours.
Beside you, Hongjoong made a sound that was half laugh, half groan. "You're playing with fire," he warned, though his own eyes were beginning to shift from brown to gold as his alpha responded to the charged atmosphere.
"I know," you replied, your voice taking on that omega sweetness that signaled your heat approaching full force again.
The bowl was forgotten now, set aside as Seonghwa moved closer to the bed, his nurturing instincts transformed into something far more primal. His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing your lower lip with a touch so gentle it made you whimper.
"Is that what you want, Tulip?" he asked softly, using Wooyoung's nickname for you in a way that felt startlingly intimate. "To burn with us?"
"Yes," you breathed, turning your face to press a kiss to his palm. "Please, alpha."
That broke through the last of his restraint. With a growl that seemed to come from somewhere deep and primal, Seonghwa surged forward, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that tasted of possession and promise.
Seonghwa kissed with precise passion—each movement deliberate and calculated for maximum effect. His tongue traced the seam of your lips before dipping inside, tasting you with the same focused attention he'd shown while feeding you.
Hongjoong's hand tightened around yours, his own breathing becoming ragged as he watched Seonghwa claim your mouth. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Both of you, so beautiful together."
When Seonghwa finally pulled back, his eyes were blazing gold, all traces of his usual composure gone. "Mine," he growled, the word vibrating through your very core. "Ours."
"Yours," you agreed breathlessly, reaching for him with trembling hands. "Both of you. Please."
Your heat was returning full force now, your body aching with renewed need as two fresh alphas prepared to take care of you. As Seonghwa's hands began to explore your body with reverent intensity, Hongjoong leaned in to capture your mouth in a kiss that tasted of leadership and love.
The nurturing had become fire, and you were more than ready to burn.
Seonghwa's mouth was hot against yours, his tongue exploring with a thoroughness that left you breathless. When he finally pulled back, the golden glow of his eyes had intensified, burning with an alpha dominance you'd never witnessed from him before.
"On your back," he commanded, his voice barely recognizable – deep, rough, authoritative in a way that made your omega instinctively respond.
You blinked in surprise, momentarily frozen by the stark contrast between this Seonghwa and the gentle caretaker who had been carefully feeding you moments ago. This was someone entirely new – someone who carried himself with unmistakable alpha dominance, someone whose very presence demanded submission.
When you didn't move quickly enough, his hand landed on your shoulder, pushing you firmly but not roughly onto your back. "I said, on your back, omega. Now."
Your breath caught at the commanding tone, your eyes darting to Hongjoong who sat watching with obvious amusement. The pack leader's lips curved into a knowing smile as he observed your shock.
"I warned you about getting burned, Tulip," Hongjoong chuckled, settling more comfortably against the headboard. "Our Seonghwa isn't quite what he seems on the surface, is he?"
Before you could respond, Seonghwa's fingers wrapped around your wrists, pinning them above your head in one smooth motion. His face hovered above yours, eyes molten gold, his usual perfectly styled hair falling forward as he studied you with predatory intensity.
"You've been treated too gently," he observed, his free hand trailing down your body with deliberate slowness. "Handled like glass by the others, weren't you? Afraid you might break?"
His fingers skimmed along your collarbone, down between your breasts, across your stomach with teasing lightness that made your muscles contract beneath his touch.
"I—yes," you admitted, your voice catching as his hand dipped lower, brushing over the sensitive skin of your lower abdomen.
"And is that what you want?" Seonghwa asked, his thumb circling your navel as his eyes remained locked on yours. "To be treated like something fragile and precious?"
The question hung in the air between you, loaded with meaning. Your omega, already stirring with renewed heat, knew exactly what it wanted – what you wanted.
"No," you whispered, arching up slightly into his touch. "I don't want to be handled like I might break."
Something dangerous flashed in Seonghwa's eyes – satisfaction, hunger, promise. "Good girl," he purred, the praise sending a shiver down your spine. "Because I have no intention of being gentle with you."
His hand suddenly moved lower, cupping you with possessive firmness. You gasped at the contact, your hips bucking involuntarily as his middle finger slid through your folds, finding you already slick and ready from your returning heat.
"So wet," he commented, his voice clinical and commanding at once. "Is this all for me, omega? Or were you this desperate before I even touched you?"
The crude question from Seonghwa's usually polite mouth shocked you as much as it thrilled you. This wasn't the composed, nurturing pack member who kept everyone fed and the house spotless. This was pure alpha – dominant, demanding, and filthy in a way you never could have imagined.
"Answer me," he insisted when you remained silent, his finger pressing against your entrance without pushing inside, a tease and threat in one. "Who made you this wet?"
"You," you gasped, your omega eager to please this new, commanding version of Seonghwa. "It's for you, alpha."
His responding smile was both beautiful and terrifying in its intensity.
"That's right," he said, finally pushing his finger inside you with deliberate slowness. "For me. For us."
Your head fell back against the pillows as he began to work his finger in and out of you with practiced precision. The stretch was nothing compared to what you'd experienced with Yunho, but there was something about Seonghwa's methodical approach that made it feel more intense, more deliberate.
"Look at her," Seonghwa said to Hongjoong without taking his eyes off your face. "Already falling apart on just one finger. Imagine how she'll look when I'm really fucking her."
The crude language from Seonghwa's usually proper mouth made you clench around his finger, your omega responding instinctively to this unexpectedly dominant alpha.
Hongjoong laughed softly, his hand coming to stroke your hair as he watched Seonghwa work you open. "I told you he was different behind closed doors," the pack leader murmured, his fingers gentle against your scalp even as his eyes darkened with desire. "Our Seonghwa likes to take his time, likes to know exactly what makes his omega tick before he gives her what she needs."
As if proving Hongjoong's point, Seonghwa added a second finger alongside the first, the stretch more pronounced as he curled both digits to find the spot inside you that made your back arch off the bed.
"There it is," he said with quiet satisfaction when you cried out. "So responsive. So perfect."
His thumb found your clit, circling with precise pressure as his fingers continued their relentless assault on your inner walls. The dual stimulation had you writhing beneath him, your wrists still pinned firmly above your head by his other hand.
"Please," you gasped, heat building low in your belly as his skilled fingers pushed you toward the edge. "Alpha, please."
"Please what?" Seonghwa asked, his voice deceptively calm despite the golden fire in his eyes. "Use your words, omega. Tell me exactly what you want."
The demand forced you to voice desires you'd barely acknowledged to yourself. "I want—I need you inside me. Need you to fuck me. Hard."
Something darkly satisfied flashed across Seonghwa's face at your explicit request. "Good girl," he praised, withdrawing his fingers suddenly and leaving you empty and aching. "So honest for your alpha."
He released your wrists and moved back, kneeling between your spread legs. With methodical efficiency, he began removing his remaining clothes, revealing the lean, toned body hidden beneath his usually perfect attire. Unlike Yunho's massive frame or Wooyoung's youthful exuberance, Seonghwa's body was elegant perfection – defined without being bulky, strong without being overwhelming.
When he finally shed his underwear, your eyes widened slightly at the sight of him fully aroused. Like everything else about Seonghwa, his cock was beautifully proportioned – long and elegantly curved, the head flushed dark with desire.
"See something you like, omega?" he asked, wrapping his hand around himself and stroking slowly as you watched. The gesture was deliberately provocative, a display of dominance that made your omega whine with need.
"Yes," you admitted, your eyes unable to leave the hypnotic movement of his hand. "I want it."
"Beg," Seonghwa commanded simply, continuing those slow, torturous strokes. "Beg for your alpha's cock."
The demand should have embarrassed you, but your heat-driven omega felt only desperate need. "Please, alpha," you whimpered, spreading your legs wider in invitation. "Please fuck me. Please, Seonghwa, please."
Beside you, Hongjoong made a sound that was half groan, half laugh. "So pretty when she begs," he commented to Seonghwa. "Don't you think?"
"Beautiful," Seonghwa agreed, positioning himself between your thighs without releasing his grip on himself. "But I think she can do better."
The head of his cock brushed against your entrance, teasing but not entering. The contact made you whimper, your hips trying to push forward to take him inside, but his free hand gripped your hip, holding you in place.
"Please!" you cried out, frustration and desperation making your voice break. "Please, alpha, I need it. I'm yours, all yours, please just fuck me!"
"Better," Seonghwa approved, the head of his cock finally pushing inside, stretching you around him in a way that made your breath catch. "Much better."
You expected him to continue the slow, teasing pace, to make you wait for the satisfaction your body was screaming for. But instead, with one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, the sudden fullness making you cry out in shocked pleasure.
"Fuck," he growled, his usual polite vocabulary completely abandoned as he began to move. "So tight. So perfect around me."
There was nothing gentle about the way he took you. Each thrust was hard, deliberate, aimed perfectly to hit the spots that made you see stars. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, holding you in place as he used your body for his pleasure and yours.
"Is this what you wanted, omega?" he demanded, his voice rough with exertion and desire. "To be fucked like this? Hard and deep, like you were made for it?"
"Yes!" you gasped, your hands clawing at his back as he pounded into you. "Yes, alpha, like this!"
Hongjoong shifted beside you, his hand moving to your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers as he watched Seonghwa claim you. "She loves it," he observed, his voice thick with arousal. "Look at her face, Seonghwa. She's finally getting what she needs."
And you were. After the careful, gentle treatment from the others—the way they'd handled you like something precious that might shatter—Seonghwa's rough claiming was exactly what your omega craved. There was no hesitation in his movements, no careful restraint, just pure alpha dominance taking what belonged to him.
"Mine," Seonghwa growled, one hand leaving your hip to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse race with excitement rather than fear. "Say it. Tell me who you belong to."
"You," you gasped, the slight restriction of your airway intensifying every sensation. "I'm yours, alpha. Yours and Hongjoong's and—"
"All of ours," Hongjoong finished when your words dissolved into a moan as Seonghwa's thumb found your clit again, circling in time with his thrusts. "But right now, mostly his."
The combined stimulation was overwhelming—Seonghwa's cock filling you so perfectly, his hand around your throat, his thumb on your clit, and Hongjoong's fingers teasing your nipples. Your heat responded to the alpha dominance with a wave of fresh slick, making each thrust wetter, louder, more intense.
"Going to come for me," Seonghwa stated rather than asked, his rhythm never faltering. "Going to come on my cock like the perfect omega you are."
His voice, usually so proper and gentle, now commanding and filthy, pushed you closer to the edge. Your inner walls clenched around him as pressure built low in your belly, your body responding to his dominant instructions.
"Yes," you managed, your voice breathy from the pressure on your throat. "Yes, alpha, I'm close."
"Now," he ordered, his thumb pressing more firmly against your clit as his thrusts became even harder. "Come now, omega. Let me feel it."
Your body obeyed as if it had been waiting for permission. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your back arching off the bed as your inner walls pulsed around his length. The orgasm was different from the ones Wooyoung and Yunho had given you—sharper, more intense, almost painful in its perfect satisfaction.
Seonghwa growled his approval, his hips never slowing as he fucked you through your climax. The oversensitivity should have been too much, but your heat-drunk omega only wanted more, craved the edge of pleasure-pain that his relentless pace provided.
"Good girl," he praised, his voice rougher than before, betraying how close he was to his own release. "Perfect omega. Taking me so well."
His hand released your throat, moving to brace beside your head as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. "Going to knot you," he warned, his thrusts becoming shorter, more desperate. "Going to fill you up. Is that what you want?"
"Yes," you gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. "Please knot me, alpha. Need it."
His eyes, still blazing gold, locked with yours as his rhythm faltered. With a deep growl that seemed to come from somewhere primal and ancient, Seonghwa drove into you one final time, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his release. The base of his length swelled, locking you together as his hips continued to grind against yours, working his knot deeper.
"Fuck," he gasped, the curse sounding exotic and beautiful on his lips. "So perfect. My omega. Ours."
The feeling of being knotted by Seonghwa—proper, polite Seonghwa who now looked utterly wrecked above you, his hair a mess, his eyes wild, his usual composure completely shattered—sent you spiraling into another unexpected orgasm. Your inner walls clenched rhythmically around his knot, milking every drop of his release as you moaned his name.
"Gorgeous," Hongjoong murmured, pressing kisses to your temple as you shuddered through the aftershocks. "Both of you, so perfect together."
Seonghwa carefully maneuvered you both onto your sides, his knot still firmly locked within you, binding you together. His hand stroked soothingly down your side, a flash of his usual nurturing nature returning even as his eyes remained gold with alpha satisfaction.
"Okay?" he asked, his voice gentler now but still carrying that dominant edge that made your omega purr with contentment.
"Better than okay," you assured him, nuzzling into his neck to breathe in his scent—vanilla and cedarwood now mixed with the musk of sex and satisfaction. "I didn't know you could be like that."
Seonghwa exchanged a look with Hongjoong over your head, something private and knowing passing between them.
"There's a lot you don't know about all of us yet," Hongjoong said, his fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder as he settled beside you. "Plenty of time to discover every side of your alphas."
The promise in his voice made you shiver despite the warmth surrounding you. Seonghwa's knot kept you connected, his arms holding you close as Hongjoong pressed against your back, sandwiching you between two alphas who radiated protection and possession in equal measure.
"Rest while you can," Seonghwa advised, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead that belied the rough claiming he'd just delivered. "Your heat isn't over yet, and I'm not finished with you."
The dichotomy between the polite, nurturing Seonghwa everyone knew and this dominant, commanding alpha who had just fucked you senseless was fascinating—and incredibly arousing. As your eyes drifted closed, your body temporarily satisfied by his knot, you found yourself looking forward to discovering what other surprises your alphas might be hiding.
Behind closed doors, it seemed, even the most controlled of them had hidden depths that only their omega would get to explore.
And your heat was just beginning to reveal them all.
Next>>
Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, mxm, multiple, dominant members, group things, more to come!
When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.
As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.
🚨Authors note: I want everyone to make sure to double check warnings from here on out. The next like 4 chapters are just unhinged smut. If you’re not into that I understand, you won’t miss too much storyline. In the masterlist I’ll put “🥵” next to the these heat chapters so if you want to skip you can. 💜 love you all! Enjoy!
<<Previous Next>>
Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️
Chapter 23: Taking Control
The moment you were surrounded by eight alphas all focused intently on you, your omega began to panic. The attention that should have felt comforting instead felt overwhelming—too many scents, too many hands reaching for you, too many voices offering comfort and care. Your breathing became shallow and rapid as anxiety mixed dangerously with your heat hormones.
Hongjoong, ever attuned to the pack dynamics, immediately sensed your distress. "Stop," he commanded sharply, his pack leader voice cutting through the gentle chaos. "Everyone step back. Now."
The authority in his tone was absolute, and all seven alphas immediately froze and took a step away from the bed, giving you space to breathe. Your grateful eyes found Hongjoong's, silently thanking him for recognizing what you needed before you'd even had to ask.
"She's overwhelmed," Hongjoong continued, already working through the problem. "Eight alphas at once is too much, especially at the beginning of her heat. We need to take shifts."
"Shifts?" Wooyoung asked, though he was clearly struggling to keep his distance when every instinct was telling him to comfort you.
"One or two at a time," Seonghwa agreed, understanding immediately. "Give her focused attention without overstimulation."
"Right," Hongjoong nodded. "So who goes first?"
The question sparked immediate debate.
"I should go first," Mingi said firmly. "I'm the strongest—I can handle whatever she needs."
"Physical strength isn't the only consideration," Yeosang pointed out. "Emotional comfort matters too."
"I have the most experience with omegas," San offered, though he looked uncertain even as he said it.
A low growl rumbled from your throat before you could stop it, your omega reacting with pure fury at the mention of San with other omegas. The sound was possessive and angry, your heat-addled mind unable to process the logical context of his statement—all you heard was your alpha talking about being with other omegas while you were right there, needy and vulnerable.
The growl cut through the room like a knife, and Hongjoong immediately reached over and smacked San upside the head with a sharp thwack.
"Idiot," Hongjoong hissed. "Never mention other omegas in front of your mate. Especially not during her heat."
San's eyes widened as he realized his mistake, his hand flying to rub the back of his head. "I didn't mean—I wasn't thinking—"
"That's exactly why you shouldn't go first," Jongho countered, though his voice carried a note of amusement at San's blunder. "This isn't about experience, it's about her comfort."
"I'm the pack leader," Hongjoong said quietly. "Technically, I should—"
"No," Wooyoung interrupted with unusual seriousness. "This isn't about hierarchy. This is about what she needs."
While the alphas continued their increasingly heated discussion about logistics and hierarchy and who was best suited to help you through the initial stages of heat, you found your eyes drawn to Yunho. He hadn't participated in the debate at all. Instead, he knelt exactly where Hongjoong had told him to stop, his gaze locked on yours with an intensity that made everything else fade into background noise.
There was something in his eyes—a combination of love, desire, and complete focus that made your omega purr with recognition. While the others talked about you, he was seeing you. While they debated what you needed, he was simply present, available, waiting for your signal.
"—need to consider her comfort level—"
"—but physical capability is important—"
"—should be whoever she feels safest with—"
"ENOUGH."
Yunho's voice cut through the argument like a blade, sharp and commanding in a way none of them had ever heard from him before. He rose to his feet with fluid grace, his eyes never leaving yours as he moved toward the bed.
"Y/n," he said softly, his voice gentling immediately as he addressed you directly. "What do you need?"
The simple question, asked with such sincerity and focus, made your heart flutter. While the others had been debating among themselves, Yunho had cut straight to what actually mattered—your choice, your comfort, your needs.
"You," you whispered, reaching for him with trembling hands. "I need you, Yunho."
Without hesitation, he climbed over you, his body settling between your legs as his hands framed your face with infinite tenderness. When his lips met yours, the kiss was everything you needed—passionate but controlled, demanding but loving, exactly the right balance of gentle care and alpha intensity.
"If you all can't make a decision," Yunho said against your lips, not even bothering to look at the other seven alphas, "get the fuck out and come back when you do."
The authority in his voice was shocking—this was Yunho, usually the most easygoing and accommodating member of the pack, now giving orders with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
But before any of the others could respond to his unprecedented display of dominance, his mouth was back on yours, swallowing your soft moan as his hands began to roam your overheated skin.
The kiss deepened, became more urgent, as your heat responded immediately to his focused attention. This was what you needed—not a committee decision or a democratic process, but one alpha completely devoted to your pleasure and comfort. The overwhelming sensation of too many people became the perfect intensity of one person who was exactly right.
Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as your body arched against his. The scent of citrus and clean linen surrounded you, mixing with your own jasmine and vanilla to create something entirely new and perfect.
"That's it," Yunho murmured against your neck, his lips trailing kisses along your throat. "Just focus on me, sweetheart. I've got you."
And you believed him completely. In this moment, with his body covering yours and his voice promising everything you needed, the anxiety and overwhelm faded away completely. There was just Yunho—your alpha, your comfort, your choice—giving you exactly what your omega craved.
Behind him, you were dimly aware of movement as the other alphas processed his unexpected command and your obvious response to his presence. Some might have been offended by his presumption, others might have been impressed by his sudden assertiveness, but in this moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care about anything except the alpha who had seen exactly what you needed and provided it without question.
"My alpha," you whispered against his lips, the possessive words slipping out before you could stop them.
"Yours," he confirmed immediately, his voice rough with emotion and desire. "Completely yours."
The promise settled something deep in your omega, and for the first time since your heat had started, you felt perfectly, utterly safe.
As Yunho's hands moved over your overheated skin and his lips trailed fire along your neck, your omega began to spiral into desperate need. The careful control you'd maintained for days completely shattered under the weight of your heat hormones and his intoxicating presence.
"Please," you whimpered against his mouth, your voice high and needy in a way that bypassed rational thought entirely. "Please, Yunho, I need... I need you to mark me."
Yunho's movements stilled for just a moment, his breathing becoming ragged as your desperate plea hit him like a physical blow. Every alpha instinct he possessed roared at him to give you what you were begging for, to sink his teeth into your neck and claim you permanently.
"Sweetheart," he said carefully, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control, "you know I can't do that."
"Please!" The word came out as a broken sob, your hands clawing at his shoulders as waves of need crashed over you. "I need it, I need you to mate me, to make me yours. Please, alpha, please mark me!"
Your begging was getting louder, more desperate, the words tumbling out in a rush of omega desperation that filled the room. The scent of your arousal mixed with the sweet, cloying smell of an omega in distress, creating an atmosphere so charged it was almost suffocating.
"I can't," Yunho repeated, though his voice was breaking with the effort of denying you. "Not while your mind isn't sound. Not while you're in heat and can't think clearly."
"But I need it!" you cried, your body trembling with the force of your need. "Please, please, please, I feel like I’ll die without it, I need an alpha to mark me, need to be claimed—"
Your increasingly frantic begging was carrying clearly to the other alphas who had moved to give you space, and each desperate plea was testing their collective control. But it was Mingi who cracked first.
The sound of his omega—because that's what you were, his omega, his mate—begging for an alpha's mark triggered something primal and unstoppable in him. His alpha heard only the desperate need in your voice, the plea for claiming, and every rational thought was overwhelmed by the drive to give his mate what she was crying for.
"She needs to be marked," Mingi said roughly, his voice carrying an edge that made everyone in the room freeze. "She's begging for it."
He started moving toward the bed with single-minded determination, his eyes flashing gold as his alpha nature took complete control. The sound of your whimpers and pleas was driving him to the edge of sanity—his mate was in distress, crying for something he could provide, and nothing else mattered.
"Mingi, no," San said immediately, stepping into his path with his hands raised. "You know we can't. Not like this."
"She's begging," Mingi growled, his voice barely human now. "Can't you hear her? She needs—"
"She needs comfort, not claiming," Jongho added, moving to help San block Mingi's path to the bed. "This isn't the time."
But Mingi's alpha was in full control now, and the sight of two alphas standing between him and his distressed omega triggered a response that was pure instinct. A growl ripped from his throat—deep, possessive, and absolutely feral. It was the sound of an alpha who would go through anyone and anything to reach his mate.
"Move," he snarled, his hands clenching into fists as his entire body vibrated with barely contained violence. "She's mine too. She's begging for a mark and I can give it to her."
On the bed, your desperate pleas continued, each sob and whimper making Mingi's control slip further. "Please, someone, anyone, I need to be claimed, need to be marked, please!"
The sound of your voice broke something in Mingi completely. With a roar of pure alpha fury, he lunged forward, his only thought getting to you and ending your distress in the most permanent way possible.
San and Jongho caught him, but it took both of them plus Yeosang, who had rushed over to help, to hold him back. Even then, Mingi fought against their restraint with the desperate strength of an alpha whose mate was crying for help.
"Let me go!" he snarled, struggling against the three alphas holding him. "She needs me! She's begging for a mark!"
"Not like this," Seonghwa said firmly, joining the others in restraining their packmate. "Mingi, you know this isn't right. She can't consent while she's in heat."
"She's consenting!" Mingi roared back. "She's begging for it!"
"Heat makes consent impossible," Hongjoong said with pack leader authority, though even he looked strained by the sound of your desperate pleas. "You know that. We all know that."
On the bed, Yunho was trying to soothe you, his hands stroking your hair as he whispered gentle denials to your increasingly frantic begging. "I know, sweetheart, I know you think you need it, but I can't. We can't. Not while you're like this."
"But I need it!" you sobbed, your omega completely overwhelmed by the denial of what felt like a biological necessity. "Please, Yunho, please someone!"
The sound of your broken sobs was torture for every alpha in the room, their instincts screaming at them to give you what you were crying for. But they also knew that the omega begging for claiming wasn't really you—it was your heat talking, your biology overriding your rational mind.
"Four alphas to hold back one," Wooyoung observed grimly from where he stood pressed against the far wall, his own control hanging by a thread. "This is going to be a long heat."
Mingi was still fighting against their restraint, still snarling about giving you what you needed, while your desperate pleas filled the air. It was a scene of barely controlled chaos, of biological imperatives warring against rational thought, of love fighting against instinct.
And in the middle of it all, you continued to beg for something they couldn't give you, no matter how much it broke their hearts to deny you.
"Everyone out," Hongjoong commanded suddenly, his pack leader voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Everyone except Yunho and Wooyoung."
The authority in his tone was absolute, brooking no argument. He'd assessed the situation and made a tactical decision—the three alphas who seemed most in control of their instincts would stay, while the others, especially those struggling to restrain Mingi, needed to remove themselves from the temptation of your desperate pleas.
"But—" Mingi started to protest, still fighting against the hold the others had on him.
"OUT," Hongjoong repeated, his eyes flashing gold with pack leader dominance. "Now. That's an order."
Reluctantly, still restraining a struggling Mingi between them, San, Jongho, Yeosang, and Seonghwa began moving toward the door. It took all four of them to get Mingi to leave, his alpha still convinced that leaving his begging omega was the worst possible thing he could do.
Wooyoung, who had been pressed against the far wall in an attempt to maintain his control, let out an dramatic exhale of relief. "THANK GOD," he exclaimed, his characteristic flair for the dramatic intact even in the midst of the intense situation.
Without hesitation, he practically launched himself from his position against the wall toward the bed, his relief at being chosen to stay evident in every line of his body. The sudden burst of pure Wooyoung energy was so unexpected and so perfectly timed that even in your heat-frenzied state, you couldn't help but giggle.
The sound of your laughter, sweet and genuine despite your desperation, seemed to ease some of the terrible tension in the room. It was a reminder that underneath all the biological chaos, you were still you.
With the room now containing only the three of them, Hongjoong moved to the bed. Yunho shifted slightly to make room, still holding you close but allowing their pack leader access. Gently but firmly, Hongjoong turned your face toward him, his hands cupping your cheeks as he forced you to meet his gaze.
Your purple omega eyes blazed up at him, wild with heat and need, while his own eyes glowed gold with alpha intensity and infinite love.
"Y/n," he said softly, his voice carrying all the authority of a pack leader but all the tenderness of a devoted mate. "Look at me. Listen to me."
Your desperate whimpering quieted slightly as his voice cut through the haze of your heat, your omega recognizing the authority and comfort of your pack alpha.
"I love you," he said simply, the words carrying absolute truth. "We all love you. And if, after your heat is over, when your mind is clear and you can think rationally, you still want us to mark you, to claim you permanently—I won't hesitate for even a second to give you everything you're asking for."
His thumbs stroked gently across your cheekbones as he continued, his voice never wavering despite the difficulty of denying your pleas.
"But right now, sweetheart, I need you to stop thinking about marks and claiming and forever. Right now, I need you to focus on us—on the love we have for you, on the passion, on letting us take care of you the way you deserve."
The combination of his alpha presence, his loving words, and the promise of what could come after your heat seemed to penetrate the desperate haze surrounding your thoughts. Your frantic begging quieted to soft whimpers, your body still trembling with need but no longer fighting quite so desperately against their careful restraint.
*****
"Y/n," Hongjoong murmured, his fingers still cradling your face as your desperate pleas subsided to whimpers. "Focus on us. On what we can give you right now."
Your body was burning from the inside out, every nerve ending screaming for satisfaction as waves of heat rolled through you. The rational part of your brain—the tiny sliver that remained—understood why they couldn't mark you, but your omega was inconsolable at the denial.
Yunho's large hands stroked soothingly down your sides, his touch both comforting and maddening. "We're going to take care of you," he promised, his voice rougher than you'd ever heard it. "Give you everything you need except that one thing."
"Starting slow," Wooyoung added, his usual playfulness tempered by an unusual seriousness as he knelt beside the bed. "Making sure you're comfortable every step of the way."
But your body had other ideas. The ache between your legs was becoming unbearable, wetness gathering as your omega prepared for her alphas. Your scent grew thicker, sweeter, more desperate—the unmistakable perfume of an omega in full heat.
"Please," you gasped, but this time it wasn't for marking. "Please touch me. I need... I need..."
"What do you need, sweetheart?" Hongjoong asked, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "Tell us exactly what you need right now."
"Your hands," you managed between panting breaths. "Your mouths. Anything. Just... please."
The three alphas exchanged a look—a silent communication forged through years of living and working together. Hongjoong nodded once, and suddenly there was movement all around you.
Wooyoung's nimble fingers found the hem of your shirt, lifting it with unexpected gentleness. "Arms up, beautiful," he coaxed, and you complied automatically, desperate for any relief from the burning need consuming you.
As your shirt disappeared, Yunho's large hands moved to your waistband, his eyes seeking permission even as your hips lifted instinctively. "Yes," you breathed, and within moments, your pants joined your shirt on the floor.
Hongjoong remained by your head, his fingers carding through your hair as he whispered soft praises. "You're doing so well, letting us take care of you like this."
The cool air against your overheated skin brought momentary relief, but it wasn't nearly enough. You needed skin on skin, needed their scents to surround you, needed their weight and strength to ground you in the storm of your heat.
"You too," you whimpered, tugging ineffectually at Yunho's shirt. "Please. Need to feel you."
The request triggered something primal in all three alphas. Their careful restraint, their determination to go slowly for your comfort, cracked under the weight of your desperate need.
Yunho stripped his shirt off in one fluid motion, revealing the toned expanse of his chest and abdomen. Wooyoung followed suit, his movements less graceful but no less eager. Hongjoong was the last to undress, his eyes never leaving yours as he removed his shirt with deliberate slowness.
"Fuck," Wooyoung breathed, staring down at you in your underwear, your skin flushed with heat and desire. "Look at her. Just look at her."
"Gorgeous," Yunho agreed, his large hands hovering just above your skin as if afraid to touch something so precious. "Our omega. Ours to care for."
Hongjoong said nothing, but his golden eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch. The pack leader's careful control was slipping with every sweet wave of your heat scent that filled the room.
"Please," you whispered again, the word becoming your mantra as your body trembled with need. "Please touch me."
This time, they couldn't deny you. Yunho's large hands finally made contact with your bare skin, sliding up your ribs with reverent care. Wooyoung leaned down to press kisses along your collarbone, working his way lower with each touch. And Hongjoong—your pack leader, your first mate—captured your mouth in a kiss that left no doubt about how desperately he wanted you.
The triple assault on your senses sent your omega spiraling further into heat-madness. Your back arched off the bed, seeking more contact, more pressure, more of everything they were giving you.
"More," you begged between kisses. "Please, more."
Hongjoong pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, checking for any sign of distress beneath the desperation. Finding only pure need reflected back at him, he nodded once—a silent command to the other two that it was time to stop holding back.
Wooyoung's playful hesitation vanished instantly. His hands found the clasp of your bra, unhooking it with practiced ease before drawing the straps down your arms. The moment your breasts were free, his mouth was there, lips closing around one sensitive nipple while his fingers teased the other.
The sound that left your throat was barely human—a keening cry of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Yunho swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing you deeply as his large hands spanned your waist, anchoring you to the present as pleasure threatened to sweep you away completely.
Hongjoong moved lower, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. "May I?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining this last shred of restraint.
"Yes," you gasped, lifting your hips in desperate invitation. "Please, yes."
The last barrier between your body and their touch disappeared, leaving you completely exposed to their hungry gazes. The combined scent of three aroused alphas filled the room, mixing with your own heat pheromones to create an intoxicating atmosphere that made rational thought impossible.
Wooyoung's mouth released your breast with an audible pop, his eyes tracking Hongjoong's movements with hungry anticipation. "Can I?" he asked, not of you but of his pack leader, seeking permission for whatever he was planning next.
Hongjoong nodded once, and Wooyoung's usual bright smile transformed into something darker, more predatory. He slid down your body, positioning himself between your legs with a focus that seemed entirely at odds with his normally playful demeanor.
"Been dreaming about this," he murmured, his breath hot against your inner thigh.
Before you could process his words, his mouth was on you—hot and demanding and nothing like the teasing you'd expected from him. Wooyoung approached pleasing you with the same enthusiasm he brought to everything, but with a skill and intensity that made your entire body jerk with shock.
"Oh!" you cried out, your hands flying to his hair, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer as pleasure crashed over you. "Oh god, Wooyoung!"
He hummed against your core, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through your oversensitized body. His tongue circled your clit with precise pressure before dipping lower to taste the wetness gathering at your entrance.
"Sweet," he groaned, pulling back just enough to speak. "Sweeter than anything I’ve imagined."
Your head thrashed against the pillows, overwhelmed by the sensations Wooyoung was creating with his skilled mouth. Yunho captured your face between his large hands, forcing you to look at him as pleasure threatened to consume you entirely.
"Stay with us," he said softly, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones. "Let us see you fall apart. Let us take care of you."
The tenderness in his voice was your undoing. With Wooyoung's mouth working between your thighs and Yunho's gentle eyes holding yours, you shattered completely. Your first orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as pleasure unlike anything you'd ever experienced tore through you.
Wooyoung didn't stop—couldn't stop. Your release seemed to drive him to greater heights of determination, his mouth working tirelessly as he coaxed you through the peak and immediately began building you toward another.
"Too much," you gasped, your hands tugging at his hair. "Wooyoung, it's too—oh!"
The protest died on your lips as he slipped one finger inside you, curling it forward to find the spot that made you see stars. Your heat-driven body, far from being satisfied by one orgasm, immediately demanded more, your inner walls clenching desperately around his finger.
"More?" he asked against your sensitive flesh, looking up at you with dark eyes that held none of his usual mischief—only pure alpha intensity.
"Yes," you sobbed, beyond pride or hesitation. "More, please more."
He added a second finger alongside the first, stretching you in the most delicious way as his mouth returned to your clit. The combination was devastating, sending you hurtling toward a second peak before you'd fully recovered from the first.
Hongjoong and Yunho weren't idle spectators to your pleasure. While Wooyoung worked between your legs, Hongjoong's mouth found your breast, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak in a way that made you whimper. Yunho's large hands seemed to be everywhere at once—stroking your hair, caressing your throat, tracing patterns on whatever skin he could reach.
"Our omega," Hongjoong murmured against your breast. "Taking our care so beautifully."
"Perfect," Yunho agreed, his voice rougher than you'd ever heard it. "So perfect for us."
Their praise, combined with Wooyoung's relentless attention, pushed you over the edge again. Your second orgasm hit even harder than the first, leaving you gasping and shaking in their hold. This time, Wooyoung pulled back, his chin glistening with evidence of your pleasure as he looked up at you with something like awe.
"Fuck," he breathed, his usual eloquence deserting him completely. "You're incredible."
Your heat was far from satisfied, though. Even with two intense orgasms, the ache inside you had only grown stronger, more demanding. You needed to be filled, needed the weight of an alpha above you, needed—
"Please," you whimpered, reaching for Yunho, whose large frame promised the kind of fullness your omega was desperate for. "Need you inside me. Need to feel you."
Yunho's careful control shattered at your words. With a growl that seemed to come from somewhere deep and primal, he moved over you, his massive body covering yours completely as he settled between your thighs.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice strained as the head of his cock pressed against your entrance. "Y/n, look at me. Are you sure?"
"Yes," you gasped, your hands clawing at his shoulders. "Please, Yunho. I need you."
His eyes flashed gold as he pushed forward, entering you with excruciating slowness. The stretch was intense—he was proportional to his height in every way—but your heat-ready body welcomed him eagerly, slick walls gripping him as he pressed deeper.
"Oh fuck," Yunho groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he fought for control. "So tight. So perfect."
"Move," you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. "Please move."
He began to thrust, each movement careful and measured despite the obvious strain of his restraint. Yunho, your gentle giant, was determined to be gentle even as his alpha instincts screamed at him to claim, to mark, to rut without mercy.
"Yunho," you moaned, rocking your hips to meet his careful thrusts. "More. Harder."
"Don't want to hurt you," he ground out, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding back.
"You won't," you promised, reaching up to cup his face. "I need it. Please."
Something in your eyes—some combination of trust and desperate need—broke his last thread of restraint. With a growl that vibrated through his entire body, Yunho's careful control disappeared completely. His hips snapped forward with new force, driving into you with the power his large frame had always promised.
"Yes!" you cried out, your head falling back as pleasure shot through you. "Like that!"
Yunho's hands moved to your hips, gripping tightly as he established a punishing rhythm. Each thrust drove the air from your lungs, filled you so completely you could think of nothing else but the alpha claiming your body so thoroughly.
"Mine," he growled, his usual gentle voice transformed by alpha possession. "Ours."
But even in the grip of alpha frenzy, Yunho remembered their promise. Instead of sinking his teeth into your neck, he buried his face in your shoulder, sucking and biting marks that would fade rather than the permanent claim his alpha craved.
Hongjoong moved beside you, his hand finding your hair and pulling gently to expose more of your neck. "You're ours," he murmured, his voice dark with possession. "Even without marks, you're ours."
"Yours," you agreed breathlessly, the word punctuated by Yunho's increasingly powerful thrusts. "All yours."
Wooyoung appeared on your other side, his playful demeanor completely gone. In its place was something almost frightening in its intensity—pure alpha focus, entirely dedicated to your pleasure and comfort.
"Let go," he urged, his fingers finding your clit as Yunho continued to pound into you. "Let go for us, omega."
The combined sensation—Yunho's cock stretching you impossibly full, Wooyoung's clever fingers circling your clit, Hongjoong's mouth leaving temporary marks along your throat—was too much. Your third orgasm crashed over you with such force that you screamed, your entire body convulsing around Yunho's cock.
The rippling of your inner walls was his undoing. With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house, Yunho drove into you one last time, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his release. The base of his cock swelled, his knot locking you together as his hips continued to rock in small, desperate movements.
"Y/n," he gasped, his large body shuddering above yours. "Fuck, Y/n."
For long moments, there was nothing but the sound of labored breathing as you both came down from the intensity of your shared climax. Yunho's weight above you should have been crushing, but it felt perfect—grounding, secure, exactly what your heat-drunk omega needed.
"Beautiful," Hongjoong murmured, stroking your sweat-damp hair away from your face. "Both of you, so beautiful together."
Yunho carefully maneuvered you both onto your sides, his knot still firmly lodged inside you as he spooned you from behind. The position gave Wooyoung and Hongjoong better access to your front, and they took full advantage, hands stroking and mouths kissing whatever skin they could reach.
Your heat was momentarily sated, the edge taken off by three intense orgasms and an alpha's knot, but you knew it wouldn't last. Soon, the desperate need would return, and you would need more.
But for now, surrounded by three of your mates, filled and held and thoroughly cared for, you allowed yourself to drift in the peaceful aftermath of pleasure.
"Rest while you can," Hongjoong advised, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "This is just the beginning."
And despite the exhaustion pulling at your limbs, you felt a thrill of anticipation at his words. Your heat was just beginning, and you had five more alphas waiting for their turn to take care of you.
As Yunho's knot began to subside and your omega stirred restlessly for more, you knew with absolute certainty that you were exactly where you belonged—in the arms of your alphas, surrounded by their love and protection.
Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, mxm, multiple, dominant members, group things, more to come!
When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.
As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.
🚨Authors note: I want everyone to make sure to double check warnings from here on out. The next like 4 chapters are just unhinged smut. If you’re not into that I understand, you won’t miss too much storyline. In the masterlist I’ll put “🥵” next to the these heat chapters so if you want to skip you can. 💜 love you all! Enjoy!
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Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️
Chapter 23: Taking Control
The moment you were surrounded by eight alphas all focused intently on you, your omega began to panic. The attention that should have felt comforting instead felt overwhelming—too many scents, too many hands reaching for you, too many voices offering comfort and care. Your breathing became shallow and rapid as anxiety mixed dangerously with your heat hormones.
Hongjoong, ever attuned to the pack dynamics, immediately sensed your distress. "Stop," he commanded sharply, his pack leader voice cutting through the gentle chaos. "Everyone step back. Now."
The authority in his tone was absolute, and all seven alphas immediately froze and took a step away from the bed, giving you space to breathe. Your grateful eyes found Hongjoong's, silently thanking him for recognizing what you needed before you'd even had to ask.
"She's overwhelmed," Hongjoong continued, already working through the problem. "Eight alphas at once is too much, especially at the beginning of her heat. We need to take shifts."
"Shifts?" Wooyoung asked, though he was clearly struggling to keep his distance when every instinct was telling him to comfort you.
"One or two at a time," Seonghwa agreed, understanding immediately. "Give her focused attention without overstimulation."
"Right," Hongjoong nodded. "So who goes first?"
The question sparked immediate debate.
"I should go first," Mingi said firmly. "I'm the strongest—I can handle whatever she needs."
"Physical strength isn't the only consideration," Yeosang pointed out. "Emotional comfort matters too."
"I have the most experience with omegas," San offered, though he looked uncertain even as he said it.
A low growl rumbled from your throat before you could stop it, your omega reacting with pure fury at the mention of San with other omegas. The sound was possessive and angry, your heat-addled mind unable to process the logical context of his statement—all you heard was your alpha talking about being with other omegas while you were right there, needy and vulnerable.
The growl cut through the room like a knife, and Hongjoong immediately reached over and smacked San upside the head with a sharp thwack.
"Idiot," Hongjoong hissed. "Never mention other omegas in front of your mate. Especially not during her heat."
San's eyes widened as he realized his mistake, his hand flying to rub the back of his head. "I didn't mean—I wasn't thinking—"
"That's exactly why you shouldn't go first," Jongho countered, though his voice carried a note of amusement at San's blunder. "This isn't about experience, it's about her comfort."
"I'm the pack leader," Hongjoong said quietly. "Technically, I should—"
"No," Wooyoung interrupted with unusual seriousness. "This isn't about hierarchy. This is about what she needs."
While the alphas continued their increasingly heated discussion about logistics and hierarchy and who was best suited to help you through the initial stages of heat, you found your eyes drawn to Yunho. He hadn't participated in the debate at all. Instead, he knelt exactly where Hongjoong had told him to stop, his gaze locked on yours with an intensity that made everything else fade into background noise.
There was something in his eyes—a combination of love, desire, and complete focus that made your omega purr with recognition. While the others talked about you, he was seeing you. While they debated what you needed, he was simply present, available, waiting for your signal.
"—need to consider her comfort level—"
"—but physical capability is important—"
"—should be whoever she feels safest with—"
"ENOUGH."
Yunho's voice cut through the argument like a blade, sharp and commanding in a way none of them had ever heard from him before. He rose to his feet with fluid grace, his eyes never leaving yours as he moved toward the bed.
"Y/n," he said softly, his voice gentling immediately as he addressed you directly. "What do you need?"
The simple question, asked with such sincerity and focus, made your heart flutter. While the others had been debating among themselves, Yunho had cut straight to what actually mattered—your choice, your comfort, your needs.
"You," you whispered, reaching for him with trembling hands. "I need you, Yunho."
Without hesitation, he climbed over you, his body settling between your legs as his hands framed your face with infinite tenderness. When his lips met yours, the kiss was everything you needed—passionate but controlled, demanding but loving, exactly the right balance of gentle care and alpha intensity.
"If you all can't make a decision," Yunho said against your lips, not even bothering to look at the other seven alphas, "get the fuck out and come back when you do."
The authority in his voice was shocking—this was Yunho, usually the most easygoing and accommodating member of the pack, now giving orders with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
But before any of the others could respond to his unprecedented display of dominance, his mouth was back on yours, swallowing your soft moan as his hands began to roam your overheated skin.
The kiss deepened, became more urgent, as your heat responded immediately to his focused attention. This was what you needed—not a committee decision or a democratic process, but one alpha completely devoted to your pleasure and comfort. The overwhelming sensation of too many people became the perfect intensity of one person who was exactly right.
Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as your body arched against his. The scent of citrus and clean linen surrounded you, mixing with your own jasmine and vanilla to create something entirely new and perfect.
"That's it," Yunho murmured against your neck, his lips trailing kisses along your throat. "Just focus on me, sweetheart. I've got you."
And you believed him completely. In this moment, with his body covering yours and his voice promising everything you needed, the anxiety and overwhelm faded away completely. There was just Yunho—your alpha, your comfort, your choice—giving you exactly what your omega craved.
Behind him, you were dimly aware of movement as the other alphas processed his unexpected command and your obvious response to his presence. Some might have been offended by his presumption, others might have been impressed by his sudden assertiveness, but in this moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care about anything except the alpha who had seen exactly what you needed and provided it without question.
"My alpha," you whispered against his lips, the possessive words slipping out before you could stop them.
"Yours," he confirmed immediately, his voice rough with emotion and desire. "Completely yours."
The promise settled something deep in your omega, and for the first time since your heat had started, you felt perfectly, utterly safe.
As Yunho's hands moved over your overheated skin and his lips trailed fire along your neck, your omega began to spiral into desperate need. The careful control you'd maintained for days completely shattered under the weight of your heat hormones and his intoxicating presence.
"Please," you whimpered against his mouth, your voice high and needy in a way that bypassed rational thought entirely. "Please, Yunho, I need... I need you to mark me."
Yunho's movements stilled for just a moment, his breathing becoming ragged as your desperate plea hit him like a physical blow. Every alpha instinct he possessed roared at him to give you what you were begging for, to sink his teeth into your neck and claim you permanently.
"Sweetheart," he said carefully, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control, "you know I can't do that."
"Please!" The word came out as a broken sob, your hands clawing at his shoulders as waves of need crashed over you. "I need it, I need you to mate me, to make me yours. Please, alpha, please mark me!"
Your begging was getting louder, more desperate, the words tumbling out in a rush of omega desperation that filled the room. The scent of your arousal mixed with the sweet, cloying smell of an omega in distress, creating an atmosphere so charged it was almost suffocating.
"I can't," Yunho repeated, though his voice was breaking with the effort of denying you. "Not while your mind isn't sound. Not while you're in heat and can't think clearly."
"But I need it!" you cried, your body trembling with the force of your need. "Please, please, please, I feel like I’ll die without it, I need an alpha to mark me, need to be claimed—"
Your increasingly frantic begging was carrying clearly to the other alphas who had moved to give you space, and each desperate plea was testing their collective control. But it was Mingi who cracked first.
The sound of his omega—because that's what you were, his omega, his mate—begging for an alpha's mark triggered something primal and unstoppable in him. His alpha heard only the desperate need in your voice, the plea for claiming, and every rational thought was overwhelmed by the drive to give his mate what she was crying for.
"She needs to be marked," Mingi said roughly, his voice carrying an edge that made everyone in the room freeze. "She's begging for it."
He started moving toward the bed with single-minded determination, his eyes flashing gold as his alpha nature took complete control. The sound of your whimpers and pleas was driving him to the edge of sanity—his mate was in distress, crying for something he could provide, and nothing else mattered.
"Mingi, no," San said immediately, stepping into his path with his hands raised. "You know we can't. Not like this."
"She's begging," Mingi growled, his voice barely human now. "Can't you hear her? She needs—"
"She needs comfort, not claiming," Jongho added, moving to help San block Mingi's path to the bed. "This isn't the time."
But Mingi's alpha was in full control now, and the sight of two alphas standing between him and his distressed omega triggered a response that was pure instinct. A growl ripped from his throat—deep, possessive, and absolutely feral. It was the sound of an alpha who would go through anyone and anything to reach his mate.
"Move," he snarled, his hands clenching into fists as his entire body vibrated with barely contained violence. "She's mine too. She's begging for a mark and I can give it to her."
On the bed, your desperate pleas continued, each sob and whimper making Mingi's control slip further. "Please, someone, anyone, I need to be claimed, need to be marked, please!"
The sound of your voice broke something in Mingi completely. With a roar of pure alpha fury, he lunged forward, his only thought getting to you and ending your distress in the most permanent way possible.
San and Jongho caught him, but it took both of them plus Yeosang, who had rushed over to help, to hold him back. Even then, Mingi fought against their restraint with the desperate strength of an alpha whose mate was crying for help.
"Let me go!" he snarled, struggling against the three alphas holding him. "She needs me! She's begging for a mark!"
"Not like this," Seonghwa said firmly, joining the others in restraining their packmate. "Mingi, you know this isn't right. She can't consent while she's in heat."
"She's consenting!" Mingi roared back. "She's begging for it!"
"Heat makes consent impossible," Hongjoong said with pack leader authority, though even he looked strained by the sound of your desperate pleas. "You know that. We all know that."
On the bed, Yunho was trying to soothe you, his hands stroking your hair as he whispered gentle denials to your increasingly frantic begging. "I know, sweetheart, I know you think you need it, but I can't. We can't. Not while you're like this."
"But I need it!" you sobbed, your omega completely overwhelmed by the denial of what felt like a biological necessity. "Please, Yunho, please someone!"
The sound of your broken sobs was torture for every alpha in the room, their instincts screaming at them to give you what you were crying for. But they also knew that the omega begging for claiming wasn't really you—it was your heat talking, your biology overriding your rational mind.
"Four alphas to hold back one," Wooyoung observed grimly from where he stood pressed against the far wall, his own control hanging by a thread. "This is going to be a long heat."
Mingi was still fighting against their restraint, still snarling about giving you what you needed, while your desperate pleas filled the air. It was a scene of barely controlled chaos, of biological imperatives warring against rational thought, of love fighting against instinct.
And in the middle of it all, you continued to beg for something they couldn't give you, no matter how much it broke their hearts to deny you.
"Everyone out," Hongjoong commanded suddenly, his pack leader voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Everyone except Yunho and Wooyoung."
The authority in his tone was absolute, brooking no argument. He'd assessed the situation and made a tactical decision—the three alphas who seemed most in control of their instincts would stay, while the others, especially those struggling to restrain Mingi, needed to remove themselves from the temptation of your desperate pleas.
"But—" Mingi started to protest, still fighting against the hold the others had on him.
"OUT," Hongjoong repeated, his eyes flashing gold with pack leader dominance. "Now. That's an order."
Reluctantly, still restraining a struggling Mingi between them, San, Jongho, Yeosang, and Seonghwa began moving toward the door. It took all four of them to get Mingi to leave, his alpha still convinced that leaving his begging omega was the worst possible thing he could do.
Wooyoung, who had been pressed against the far wall in an attempt to maintain his control, let out an dramatic exhale of relief. "THANK GOD," he exclaimed, his characteristic flair for the dramatic intact even in the midst of the intense situation.
Without hesitation, he practically launched himself from his position against the wall toward the bed, his relief at being chosen to stay evident in every line of his body. The sudden burst of pure Wooyoung energy was so unexpected and so perfectly timed that even in your heat-frenzied state, you couldn't help but giggle.
The sound of your laughter, sweet and genuine despite your desperation, seemed to ease some of the terrible tension in the room. It was a reminder that underneath all the biological chaos, you were still you.
With the room now containing only the three of them, Hongjoong moved to the bed. Yunho shifted slightly to make room, still holding you close but allowing their pack leader access. Gently but firmly, Hongjoong turned your face toward him, his hands cupping your cheeks as he forced you to meet his gaze.
Your purple omega eyes blazed up at him, wild with heat and need, while his own eyes glowed gold with alpha intensity and infinite love.
"Y/n," he said softly, his voice carrying all the authority of a pack leader but all the tenderness of a devoted mate. "Look at me. Listen to me."
Your desperate whimpering quieted slightly as his voice cut through the haze of your heat, your omega recognizing the authority and comfort of your pack alpha.
"I love you," he said simply, the words carrying absolute truth. "We all love you. And if, after your heat is over, when your mind is clear and you can think rationally, you still want us to mark you, to claim you permanently—I won't hesitate for even a second to give you everything you're asking for."
His thumbs stroked gently across your cheekbones as he continued, his voice never wavering despite the difficulty of denying your pleas.
"But right now, sweetheart, I need you to stop thinking about marks and claiming and forever. Right now, I need you to focus on us—on the love we have for you, on the passion, on letting us take care of you the way you deserve."
The combination of his alpha presence, his loving words, and the promise of what could come after your heat seemed to penetrate the desperate haze surrounding your thoughts. Your frantic begging quieted to soft whimpers, your body still trembling with need but no longer fighting quite so desperately against their careful restraint.
*****
"Y/n," Hongjoong murmured, his fingers still cradling your face as your desperate pleas subsided to whimpers. "Focus on us. On what we can give you right now."
Your body was burning from the inside out, every nerve ending screaming for satisfaction as waves of heat rolled through you. The rational part of your brain—the tiny sliver that remained—understood why they couldn't mark you, but your omega was inconsolable at the denial.
Yunho's large hands stroked soothingly down your sides, his touch both comforting and maddening. "We're going to take care of you," he promised, his voice rougher than you'd ever heard it. "Give you everything you need except that one thing."
"Starting slow," Wooyoung added, his usual playfulness tempered by an unusual seriousness as he knelt beside the bed. "Making sure you're comfortable every step of the way."
But your body had other ideas. The ache between your legs was becoming unbearable, wetness gathering as your omega prepared for her alphas. Your scent grew thicker, sweeter, more desperate—the unmistakable perfume of an omega in full heat.
"Please," you gasped, but this time it wasn't for marking. "Please touch me. I need... I need..."
"What do you need, sweetheart?" Hongjoong asked, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "Tell us exactly what you need right now."
"Your hands," you managed between panting breaths. "Your mouths. Anything. Just... please."
The three alphas exchanged a look—a silent communication forged through years of living and working together. Hongjoong nodded once, and suddenly there was movement all around you.
Wooyoung's nimble fingers found the hem of your shirt, lifting it with unexpected gentleness. "Arms up, beautiful," he coaxed, and you complied automatically, desperate for any relief from the burning need consuming you.
As your shirt disappeared, Yunho's large hands moved to your waistband, his eyes seeking permission even as your hips lifted instinctively. "Yes," you breathed, and within moments, your pants joined your shirt on the floor.
Hongjoong remained by your head, his fingers carding through your hair as he whispered soft praises. "You're doing so well, letting us take care of you like this."
The cool air against your overheated skin brought momentary relief, but it wasn't nearly enough. You needed skin on skin, needed their scents to surround you, needed their weight and strength to ground you in the storm of your heat.
"You too," you whimpered, tugging ineffectually at Yunho's shirt. "Please. Need to feel you."
The request triggered something primal in all three alphas. Their careful restraint, their determination to go slowly for your comfort, cracked under the weight of your desperate need.
Yunho stripped his shirt off in one fluid motion, revealing the toned expanse of his chest and abdomen. Wooyoung followed suit, his movements less graceful but no less eager. Hongjoong was the last to undress, his eyes never leaving yours as he removed his shirt with deliberate slowness.
"Fuck," Wooyoung breathed, staring down at you in your underwear, your skin flushed with heat and desire. "Look at her. Just look at her."
"Gorgeous," Yunho agreed, his large hands hovering just above your skin as if afraid to touch something so precious. "Our omega. Ours to care for."
Hongjoong said nothing, but his golden eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch. The pack leader's careful control was slipping with every sweet wave of your heat scent that filled the room.
"Please," you whispered again, the word becoming your mantra as your body trembled with need. "Please touch me."
This time, they couldn't deny you. Yunho's large hands finally made contact with your bare skin, sliding up your ribs with reverent care. Wooyoung leaned down to press kisses along your collarbone, working his way lower with each touch. And Hongjoong—your pack leader, your first mate—captured your mouth in a kiss that left no doubt about how desperately he wanted you.
The triple assault on your senses sent your omega spiraling further into heat-madness. Your back arched off the bed, seeking more contact, more pressure, more of everything they were giving you.
"More," you begged between kisses. "Please, more."
Hongjoong pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, checking for any sign of distress beneath the desperation. Finding only pure need reflected back at him, he nodded once—a silent command to the other two that it was time to stop holding back.
Wooyoung's playful hesitation vanished instantly. His hands found the clasp of your bra, unhooking it with practiced ease before drawing the straps down your arms. The moment your breasts were free, his mouth was there, lips closing around one sensitive nipple while his fingers teased the other.
The sound that left your throat was barely human—a keening cry of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Yunho swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing you deeply as his large hands spanned your waist, anchoring you to the present as pleasure threatened to sweep you away completely.
Hongjoong moved lower, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. "May I?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining this last shred of restraint.
"Yes," you gasped, lifting your hips in desperate invitation. "Please, yes."
The last barrier between your body and their touch disappeared, leaving you completely exposed to their hungry gazes. The combined scent of three aroused alphas filled the room, mixing with your own heat pheromones to create an intoxicating atmosphere that made rational thought impossible.
Wooyoung's mouth released your breast with an audible pop, his eyes tracking Hongjoong's movements with hungry anticipation. "Can I?" he asked, not of you but of his pack leader, seeking permission for whatever he was planning next.
Hongjoong nodded once, and Wooyoung's usual bright smile transformed into something darker, more predatory. He slid down your body, positioning himself between your legs with a focus that seemed entirely at odds with his normally playful demeanor.
"Been dreaming about this," he murmured, his breath hot against your inner thigh.
Before you could process his words, his mouth was on you—hot and demanding and nothing like the teasing you'd expected from him. Wooyoung approached pleasing you with the same enthusiasm he brought to everything, but with a skill and intensity that made your entire body jerk with shock.
"Oh!" you cried out, your hands flying to his hair, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer as pleasure crashed over you. "Oh god, Wooyoung!"
He hummed against your core, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through your oversensitized body. His tongue circled your clit with precise pressure before dipping lower to taste the wetness gathering at your entrance.
"Sweet," he groaned, pulling back just enough to speak. "Sweeter than anything I’ve imagined."
Your head thrashed against the pillows, overwhelmed by the sensations Wooyoung was creating with his skilled mouth. Yunho captured your face between his large hands, forcing you to look at him as pleasure threatened to consume you entirely.
"Stay with us," he said softly, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones. "Let us see you fall apart. Let us take care of you."
The tenderness in his voice was your undoing. With Wooyoung's mouth working between your thighs and Yunho's gentle eyes holding yours, you shattered completely. Your first orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as pleasure unlike anything you'd ever experienced tore through you.
Wooyoung didn't stop—couldn't stop. Your release seemed to drive him to greater heights of determination, his mouth working tirelessly as he coaxed you through the peak and immediately began building you toward another.
"Too much," you gasped, your hands tugging at his hair. "Wooyoung, it's too—oh!"
The protest died on your lips as he slipped one finger inside you, curling it forward to find the spot that made you see stars. Your heat-driven body, far from being satisfied by one orgasm, immediately demanded more, your inner walls clenching desperately around his finger.
"More?" he asked against your sensitive flesh, looking up at you with dark eyes that held none of his usual mischief—only pure alpha intensity.
"Yes," you sobbed, beyond pride or hesitation. "More, please more."
He added a second finger alongside the first, stretching you in the most delicious way as his mouth returned to your clit. The combination was devastating, sending you hurtling toward a second peak before you'd fully recovered from the first.
Hongjoong and Yunho weren't idle spectators to your pleasure. While Wooyoung worked between your legs, Hongjoong's mouth found your breast, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak in a way that made you whimper. Yunho's large hands seemed to be everywhere at once—stroking your hair, caressing your throat, tracing patterns on whatever skin he could reach.
"Our omega," Hongjoong murmured against your breast. "Taking our care so beautifully."
"Perfect," Yunho agreed, his voice rougher than you'd ever heard it. "So perfect for us."
Their praise, combined with Wooyoung's relentless attention, pushed you over the edge again. Your second orgasm hit even harder than the first, leaving you gasping and shaking in their hold. This time, Wooyoung pulled back, his chin glistening with evidence of your pleasure as he looked up at you with something like awe.
"Fuck," he breathed, his usual eloquence deserting him completely. "You're incredible."
Your heat was far from satisfied, though. Even with two intense orgasms, the ache inside you had only grown stronger, more demanding. You needed to be filled, needed the weight of an alpha above you, needed—
"Please," you whimpered, reaching for Yunho, whose large frame promised the kind of fullness your omega was desperate for. "Need you inside me. Need to feel you."
Yunho's careful control shattered at your words. With a growl that seemed to come from somewhere deep and primal, he moved over you, his massive body covering yours completely as he settled between your thighs.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice strained as the head of his cock pressed against your entrance. "Y/n, look at me. Are you sure?"
"Yes," you gasped, your hands clawing at his shoulders. "Please, Yunho. I need you."
His eyes flashed gold as he pushed forward, entering you with excruciating slowness. The stretch was intense—he was proportional to his height in every way—but your heat-ready body welcomed him eagerly, slick walls gripping him as he pressed deeper.
"Oh fuck," Yunho groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he fought for control. "So tight. So perfect."
"Move," you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. "Please move."
He began to thrust, each movement careful and measured despite the obvious strain of his restraint. Yunho, your gentle giant, was determined to be gentle even as his alpha instincts screamed at him to claim, to mark, to rut without mercy.
"Yunho," you moaned, rocking your hips to meet his careful thrusts. "More. Harder."
"Don't want to hurt you," he ground out, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding back.
"You won't," you promised, reaching up to cup his face. "I need it. Please."
Something in your eyes—some combination of trust and desperate need—broke his last thread of restraint. With a growl that vibrated through his entire body, Yunho's careful control disappeared completely. His hips snapped forward with new force, driving into you with the power his large frame had always promised.
"Yes!" you cried out, your head falling back as pleasure shot through you. "Like that!"
Yunho's hands moved to your hips, gripping tightly as he established a punishing rhythm. Each thrust drove the air from your lungs, filled you so completely you could think of nothing else but the alpha claiming your body so thoroughly.
"Mine," he growled, his usual gentle voice transformed by alpha possession. "Ours."
But even in the grip of alpha frenzy, Yunho remembered their promise. Instead of sinking his teeth into your neck, he buried his face in your shoulder, sucking and biting marks that would fade rather than the permanent claim his alpha craved.
Hongjoong moved beside you, his hand finding your hair and pulling gently to expose more of your neck. "You're ours," he murmured, his voice dark with possession. "Even without marks, you're ours."
"Yours," you agreed breathlessly, the word punctuated by Yunho's increasingly powerful thrusts. "All yours."
Wooyoung appeared on your other side, his playful demeanor completely gone. In its place was something almost frightening in its intensity—pure alpha focus, entirely dedicated to your pleasure and comfort.
"Let go," he urged, his fingers finding your clit as Yunho continued to pound into you. "Let go for us, omega."
The combined sensation—Yunho's cock stretching you impossibly full, Wooyoung's clever fingers circling your clit, Hongjoong's mouth leaving temporary marks along your throat—was too much. Your third orgasm crashed over you with such force that you screamed, your entire body convulsing around Yunho's cock.
The rippling of your inner walls was his undoing. With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house, Yunho drove into you one last time, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his release. The base of his cock swelled, his knot locking you together as his hips continued to rock in small, desperate movements.
"Y/n," he gasped, his large body shuddering above yours. "Fuck, Y/n."
For long moments, there was nothing but the sound of labored breathing as you both came down from the intensity of your shared climax. Yunho's weight above you should have been crushing, but it felt perfect—grounding, secure, exactly what your heat-drunk omega needed.
"Beautiful," Hongjoong murmured, stroking your sweat-damp hair away from your face. "Both of you, so beautiful together."
Yunho carefully maneuvered you both onto your sides, his knot still firmly lodged inside you as he spooned you from behind. The position gave Wooyoung and Hongjoong better access to your front, and they took full advantage, hands stroking and mouths kissing whatever skin they could reach.
Your heat was momentarily sated, the edge taken off by three intense orgasms and an alpha's knot, but you knew it wouldn't last. Soon, the desperate need would return, and you would need more.
But for now, surrounded by three of your mates, filled and held and thoroughly cared for, you allowed yourself to drift in the peaceful aftermath of pleasure.
"Rest while you can," Hongjoong advised, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "This is just the beginning."
And despite the exhaustion pulling at your limbs, you felt a thrill of anticipation at his words. Your heat was just beginning, and you had five more alphas waiting for their turn to take care of you.
As Yunho's knot began to subside and your omega stirred restlessly for more, you knew with absolute certainty that you were exactly where you belonged—in the arms of your alphas, surrounded by their love and protection.
Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!
When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.
As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.
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Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️
Chapter 22: Forever
"Wait," you said, your voice coming out higher than usual as your brain tried to process what you'd just heard. "You want to what?"
The words hung in the air between you and eight increasingly nervous alphas. You weren't angry—the stunned expression on your face made that clear—but you were definitely overwhelmed by the magnitude of what they were suggesting.
"A full mating bond," Hongjoong repeated carefully, his leader instincts making him take control of the explanation. "Claiming marks from each of us. Complete pack integration. Making this—us—permanent and official in every way possible."
"A way to formalize our bonds and create the kind of pack stability that would benefit everyone." Seonghwa had added gently.
"All of you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "You want all of you to... claim me?"
"Only if you want it," Yunho said quickly, leaning forward with earnest eyes. "This isn't something we're demanding or expecting. It's something we're offering."
"Because we love you," San added softly from his position on the floor. "All of us. Completely. And we want to make sure you know that this isn't temporary for us. That you're not just our assistant who happens to be our mate—you're our everything."
You looked around the room, taking in eight faces that showed varying degrees of hope, nervousness, and unconditional love. The weight of their proposal was settling over you, and you could feel your omega stirring with interest even as your rational mind tried to process the implications.
"Eight claiming marks," you said slowly, your hand unconsciously moving to your neck where the marks would go.
"Pack bonds of this size are rare," Yeosang confirmed quietly, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. "But not unheard of. There are historical accounts of omega-centered packs with multiple alphas."
"It would mean," Mingi said, his deep voice careful and measured, "that you belong to us completely. And we belong to you. No uncertainty. Just... forever."
"Forever," you repeated, the word carrying weight and possibility in equal measure.
"Think about it," Wooyoung said, his earlier theatrical energy replaced by genuine sincerity. "No more confusion about pack hierarchy. No more territorial disputes. No more running away when two of us are intimate because everyone would feel included, connected."
"Plus," Jongho added with a small smile, "you'd officially be stuck with us. No take-backs."
Despite the overwhelming nature of the conversation, his comment made you laugh—a breathless sound that seemed to ease some of the tension in the room.
"This is a huge decision," you said finally, looking around at all of them. "Life-changing. Permanent."
"We know," Seonghwa said gently. "Which is why we're not asking for an answer right now. We wanted you to know what we're thinking, what we're hoping for, but we don't want you to feel pressured."
"Take all the time you need," Hongjoong agreed. "This only works if everyone is completely willing. If you have any doubts, any concerns, any questions—we want to hear them."
You were quiet for a long moment, your mind racing through the implications while your omega practically purred at the idea of being so thoroughly claimed and protected. Eight alphas, all devoted to you, all committed to building a life together. It was overwhelming and terrifying and absolutely incredible all at once.
"Can I ask you something?" you said finally.
"Anything," came the immediate chorus from around the room.
"Why now? I mean, why this proposal, this solution?"
Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly embarrassed. "Because last night proved that our current arrangement isn't sustainable. Half the pack fled the house rather than deal with the territorial instincts triggered by you and Yeosang being intimate."
"It's not about jealousy," Yunho clarified quickly. "It's about feeling excluded from something that should include all of us. If we're all properly bonded, all claimed and claiming, then your happiness with one of us becomes happiness for all of us."
"Instead of feeling left out, we'd feel... connected," Mingi added. "Like we're all part of the same experience, the same bond."
You nodded slowly, beginning to understand their reasoning. "And the claiming marks? All eight?"
"Would establish the hierarchy clearly," Seonghwa explained. "You as our omega, us as your alphas. No confusion, no territorial disputes."
"Plus," Wooyoung added with a return of his mischievous grin, "you'd look absolutely gorgeous covered in our marks. Very aesthetically pleasing."
"Wooyoung," Seonghwa warned, though his tone was fond.
"What? I'm being honest! Eight claiming marks from eight devoted alphas? She'd be the most thoroughly claimed omega in the history of pack bonds!"
Despite the seriousness of the conversation, you found yourself smiling at his enthusiasm. "That's certainly one way to look at it."
"But seriously," Wooyoung continued, his expression softening, "it's not about possessing you or controlling you. It's about making sure you know, beyond any doubt, that you're cherished. That every single one of us is committed to your happiness and wellbeing forever."
"No matter what," Jongho added quietly. "Through everything. For the rest of our lives."
The sincerity in their voices, the love in their eyes, the way they were all looking at you like you were something precious and miraculous—it was almost overwhelming.
"I..." you started, then stopped, trying to find the right words. "I need to think about this. Really think about it."
"Of course," Hongjoong said immediately. "Take all the time you need."
"But," you continued, and the hope that flared in their eyes made your heart flutter, "I want you to know that this isn't scary because I don't want it. It's scary because I want it so much."
The admission sent visible relief through the entire room. Shoulders relaxed, breathing seemed to ease, and more than one alpha made a soft sound of happiness.
"Really?" San asked, his voice filled with wonder.
"Really," you confirmed, looking around at all of them. "The idea of being yours—all of yours—completely and permanently... my omega is practically singing at the thought."
"But?" Yeosang prompted gently, sensing there was more.
"But it's forever," you said simply. "Once we do this, there's no going back. And I need to be absolutely sure that this is what I want, what we all want, before we take that step."
"That's exactly the right approach," Hongjoong said with approval. "This decision deserves careful consideration."
"How long do you think you'll need?" Mingi asked, then immediately looked embarrassed. "Not that we're rushing you! Take all the time you want. I just..."
"You want to know when you might be able to officially call me yours," you finished with understanding, and his relieved nod confirmed you'd read him correctly.
"A few days?" you suggested. "Maybe a week? I want to really think through all the implications, make sure I understand what this means for our relationships, our future."
"Perfect," Seonghwa said with a warm smile. "And if you have questions during that time, any concerns or thoughts you want to discuss, we're here."
"All of us," Yunho agreed. "Individually or as a group, whatever you need."
You looked around at eight faces filled with love, hope, and infinite patience, and felt your heart swell with emotion so intense it brought tears to your eyes.
"I love you," you said softly, the words encompassing all of them. "All of you. So much."
"We love you too," came the immediate response from around the room, voices overlapping in their eagerness to return the sentiment.
"Now," Wooyoung said, his theatrical flair returning as he clapped his hands together, "who wants breakfast? Because all this emotional sincerity is making me hungry, and I think we should celebrate this milestone with pancakes."
"Everything makes you hungry," Yeosang observed with fond amusement.
"Food is celebratory! And comforting! And delicious!" Wooyoung defended. "Besides, our omega needs proper nutrition while she's making the most important decision of our collective lives."
"He has a point about the nutrition," Seonghwa agreed, already moving toward the kitchen. "And I could use the distraction of cooking."
As the group began to disperse toward the kitchen, chattering about breakfast and teasing Wooyoung about his perpetual hunger, you remained on the couch for a moment, processing everything that had just happened.
The idea should have terrified you, but instead, it filled you with a warmth and rightness that felt like coming home. These eight alphas weren't just offering you their marks—they were offering you their lives, their devotion, their everything.
And despite needing time to think it through properly, deep down, you already knew what your answer would be.
After all, you'd found your pack, your family, your home. Why wouldn't you want to make it official?
"Tulip?" Wooyoung's voice called from the kitchen doorway. "You coming? Seonghwa's making those pancakes you like, and I'm not above bribing you with breakfast foods to influence your decision."
"That's not how this works," you said with a laugh, getting up to join them.
"Maybe not," Wooyoung replied with a grin, "but it can't hurt."
—
The kitchen buzzed with the usual morning energy as Seonghwa flipped pancakes with practiced efficiency while the others gathered around the large island, chattering about everything and nothing. But despite the plate of perfectly golden pancakes sitting in front of you—your favorites, the ones Seonghwa made special with vanilla and a hint of cinnamon—you found yourself barely touching the food.
Instead, you picked at the edges with your fork, your eyes fixed on a particular knot in the wood grain of the table as your mind spiraled through a maze of doubts and confusion. The proposal from an hour ago kept replaying in your head, each repetition bringing new concerns you hadn't considered before.
Were they just saying this because of the high of finding their mate? The intensity of new bonds could make people say things they didn't really mean, make promises they couldn't keep. You hadn't even kissed most of them properly—was it really possible to want to spend forever with someone based on mate bonds alone?
And then there was the timing. Last night with Yeosang had been incredible, life-changing, but was this proposal just a reaction to the territorial chaos that had followed? Were they asking you to commit to forever because of jealousy, because of the inconvenience of managing eight alphas' instincts?
Your fork paused mid-push as another thought struck you like a physical blow. Your pre-heat was still there, lurking beneath the surface like a sleeping animal. The hormone regulator had helped, but you could still feel it waiting, ready to wake up at any moment and flood your system with desperate need. When that happened, you'd be begging them for everything—for their touch, their claim, their marks. Would you even be able to think clearly enough to make the right decision? Or would your biology override your rational mind?
The more you thought about it, the more panicked you became. How could you trust any decision you made while your omega was whispering constantly about mates and claiming and forever? How could they trust any answer you gave when your heat might be influencing your judgment?
Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out in a rush, fast and almost frantic: "Maybe I should be alone for my heat."
The effect was immediate and dramatic. Eight heads snapped toward you in perfect unison, conversations cutting off mid-sentence as if you'd just announced you were planning to jump off a cliff. The silence that followed was so complete you could hear the sizzle of pancakes on the griddle behind you.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, as if a dam had burst, all eight alphas started talking at once.
"Absolutely not—"
"That's not safe—"
"Are you insane?"
"You can't be serious—"
"No omega should go through heat alone—"
"Especially not when you have mates—"
"The emotional trauma alone—"
"—could literally kill you—"
"ENOUGH!" Hongjoong's pack leader voice cut through the chaos, immediately silencing the others. His golden eyes were blazing as he stared at you with a mixture of concern and barely contained panic. "Y/n, what brought this on? Why would you even suggest something like that?"
You looked around at eight faces showing varying degrees of horror, confusion, and worry, and suddenly felt overwhelmed by their collective attention. "I just... I need to be able to think clearly. To make the right decision without my biology influencing my judgment."
"Your biology isn't something to be ashamed of," Seonghwa said gently, abandoning his pancakes to move closer to you. "It's part of who you are."
"But what if it's making me want things I wouldn't normally want?" you asked, your voice small and uncertain. "What if the only reason I'm considering your proposal is because my omega is telling me to? How can I trust my own feelings when I'm in pre-heat?"
"Because your feelings existed before your heat cycle started," Yeosang said quietly from beside you. "The connections we've built, the relationships we've developed—those happened when you were perfectly rational."
"But I haven't even kissed most of you," you continued, your panic building. "How can we talk about forever when we barely know each other intimately? What if—"
"Y/n," Yunho interrupted softly, "have you spent heats alone before?"
The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated before answering. "Yes. I've... I've managed."
The word 'managed' seemed to hit them like a physical blow. Mingi's hands clenched into fists on the counter, his jaw tight with emotion you couldn't quite identify.
"Managed," he repeated, his voice carefully controlled. "Alone."
"Not always alone," you admitted quietly, and immediately regretted the words as a low growl rumbled from Mingi's chest. The sound was pure jealousy and possessiveness, responding to the thought of you with someone else during such a vulnerable time.
Without thinking, you reached out and placed your hand on his thigh, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb the way you'd learned calmed him. The growling stopped immediately, but his muscles remained tense under your touch.
"That was before," San said firmly, his usual gentle demeanor replaced by something more intense. "Before you knew what you were to us. Before you had mates."
"The idea of you suffering through heat alone when we're right here..." Jongho shook his head, looking genuinely distressed. "It's not just cruel to you, it's cruel to us."
"An omega in heat without their mates experiences physical and emotional agony," Seonghwa explained, his voice taking on that gentle but firm tone he used when explaining important concepts. "Your body will cry out for us, and we won't be there. The depression that follows can last for months."
"And the alphas suffer too," Mingi added roughly, his hand covering yours where it rested on his thigh. "Knowing our mate is in pain and we can't help her, can't comfort her, can't provide what she needs—it goes against every instinct we have."
"I just want to make the right decision," you said, tears gathering in your eyes as the overwhelming nature of everything crashed over you. "I don't want to choose forever because my biology is demanding it."
"Then don't think about forever right now," Wooyoung said suddenly, his voice unusually serious. "Think about right now. Think about this moment, sitting here with us, feeling safe and loved and cared for."
You looked at him through blurry eyes, confusion evident on your face.
"The claiming can wait," he continued, glancing around at the others who nodded in understanding. "The marks, the ceremony, the official bond—all of that can wait until you're absolutely certain. But your heat... that's happening whether we make any big decisions or not."
"Let us take care of you," Yunho pleaded softly. "Not as your future permanent mates, but as the people who care about you right now, in this moment. Let us make sure you're safe and comfortable and not suffering alone."
"We can separate the heat care from the mating decision," Hongjoong agreed, his leader voice gentle but certain. "One doesn't have to depend on the other."
"You really think I can make a clear decision after?" you asked hesitantly. "After experiencing heat with all of you?"
"We think," Yeosang said carefully, "that you'll be able to make the decision that's right for you, whatever that may be. But we also think that decision shouldn't come at the cost of unnecessary suffering."
"Besides," Wooyoung added with a return of his characteristic grin, "if our performance during your heat is disappointing, you'll have very clear evidence that we're not worth keeping around permanently."
Despite everything, his comment made you laugh—a watery sound that seemed to ease some of the tension in the room.
You looked around at eight faces filled with love, concern, and infinite patience. Even in their obvious distress at the thought of you suffering through heat alone, they were putting your comfort and autonomy first.
"You really think we can separate the two decisions?" you asked quietly.
"We know we can," Hongjoong said firmly. "Because we love you enough to respect whatever choice you make, even if it's not the one we're hoping for."
"And if I decide... if I decide the mating bond isn't what I want?"
"Then we'll be heartbroken," Seonghwa admitted honestly, "but we'll still be here. Still be your pack, still love you, still want to build a life together in whatever way you're comfortable with."
"The claiming marks aren't what make you ours," Mingi added, his thumb stroking across your knuckles. "You're already ours, and we're already yours. The marks would just make it official."
You were quiet for a long moment, processing their words and the love behind them. Finally, you took a shaky breath and nodded.
"Okay," you said softly. "Okay, I'll... I'll let you take care of me during my heat. But the claiming decision still needs time."
The relief that washed over their faces was palpable, and you found yourself pulled into a gentle group hug that somehow managed to include all eight alphas without being overwhelming.
"Thank you," Yunho whispered against your hair. "Thank you for trusting us with this."
"Thank you for not making me choose between my biology and my autonomy," you replied, feeling safer and more loved than you had since the proposal that morning.
As the hug gradually dissolved and everyone returned to their breakfast, you finally picked up your fork and took a real bite of your pancakes. They were delicious, sweet and warm and made with love—just like everything else these eight alphas offered you.
Whatever decision you made about forever, at least you knew that right now, in this moment, you were exactly where you belonged.
——
Three days had passed since the claiming conversation, and you'd spent them trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy while your body slowly betrayed your attempts at rational thought. The hormone regulator Dr. Kim had given you was still working, but you could feel it losing its effectiveness as your natural cycle fought against the artificial suppression.
It started with small things—an increased sensitivity to the alphas' scents, a restlessness that no amount of activity could cure, and a growing need for physical contact that you tried to satisfy with casual touches and longer hugs. The pack had been incredibly patient, offering comfort without pressure, affection without expectation.
But tonight, curled up on the couch watching a movie with all eight of them scattered around the living room, you could feel your control slipping away entirely.
You'd chosen to sit next to Yunho on the large sectional, drawn by his warm, comforting presence and the way his citrus and clean linen scent seemed to calm your increasingly agitated omega. His arm was draped casually around your shoulders, and you found yourself unconsciously pressing closer to his side as the movie played.
The film was some action thriller that Jongho had picked, but you couldn't focus on the plot. Every few minutes, you shifted position, unable to get comfortable, your skin feeling too tight and your body temperature fluctuating between hot and cold. Yunho noticed your restlessness, his thumb stroking gentle circles on your shoulder in an attempt to soothe you.
"You okay?" he murmured quietly, his breath warm against your ear.
Instead of answering, you tilted your head to look at him, and the simple eye contact sent a jolt of need through your entire system. His face was so close, his lips right there, and suddenly the careful control you'd been maintaining for days cracked completely.
"Yunho," you breathed, your voice carrying a note of desperation that made his eyes widen with understanding.
Before he could respond, you were moving, climbing onto his lap with graceless urgency and pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Your mouth moved against his with desperate hunger, and your hips began rocking against him instinctively, seeking the friction your body craved.
Yunho's hands immediately came up to steady you, one settling on your hip while the other tangled in your hair. He kissed you back with careful intensity, his alpha instincts responding to your obvious need even as he tried to maintain some semblance of control.
The movement of your hips against his lap, the soft sounds you were making into his mouth, the way your scent was changing and intensifying—it all combined to create an atmosphere so charged that the other seven alphas in the room went completely still.
San, who had been sprawled on the floor in front of the couch, slowly turned around, his nostrils flaring as he caught the shift in your pheromones. Seonghwa paused with his hand halfway to the bowl of popcorn, his senses immediately picking up what was happening.
One by one, all seven other alphas stopped whatever they were doing and turned their attention to you and Yunho, their expressions shifting from casual interest to laser focus as your heat scent began to permeate the room.
"Oh," Wooyoung breathed from his position on the opposite end of the couch, his voice carrying awe and hunger in equal measure. "Oh, that's..."
"Heat," Hongjoong finished, his pack leader instincts immediately kicking in as he assessed the situation. "Her heat's starting."
Your scent was indeed changing, the usual jasmine and vanilla taking on a richer, more intoxicating quality that spoke directly to every alpha instinct in the room. It was sweet and needy and absolutely irresistible, designed by evolution to drive alphas to distraction and ensure the continuation of the species.
"Y/n," Yunho said gently, his voice strained as he tried to maintain control despite your continued movement against him. "Sweetheart, your heat..."
"I know," you gasped against his lips, your hands fisting in his shirt as waves of need washed over you. "I can't... I can't stop. I need..."
"What do you need?" he asked softly, his thumbs stroking soothing circles on your hips even as his own breathing became labored.
"You," you whispered desperately. "All of you. Please, I need..."
The plea in your voice, the way you were trembling with need, the intoxicating scent of omega in heat—it was testing every alpha's control in the room. Mingi's hands were clenched into fists at his sides, while Jongho had gone completely rigid in his chair. Even Yeosang, usually so composed, was breathing hard as he watched you move against Yunho.
"Bedroom," Hongjoong said decisively, his leader voice cutting through the haze of pheromones and desire. "We need to get her somewhere more comfortable."
Yunho nodded, carefully shifting you in his arms as he prepared to stand. "Can you walk, or do you need me to carry you?"
"Carry," you said immediately, burying your face in his neck and breathing in his scent deeply. "Please don't let go."
"Never," he promised, standing smoothly with you wrapped around him like a koala. "I've got you."
As Yunho carried you toward the stairs, the other seven alphas followed in a procession that was both protective and predatory. You could feel their eyes on you, could sense their barely controlled desire, and instead of feeling overwhelmed, you felt cherished, wanted, safe.
"Which room?" Yunho asked as you reached the top of the stairs.
"Yours," you mumbled against his throat, then quickly amended, "No, wait. The master bedroom. Hongjoong's room. Biggest bed."
"Smart omega," Wooyoung commented from behind you, his voice already rough with desire. "Always thinking practically even in heat."
Hongjoong's room was indeed the largest, with a king-size bed that could actually accommodate all of you if needed. Yunho set you down gently on the edge of the mattress, but you immediately reached for him again, unwilling to break contact for even a moment.
"It's okay," he soothed, kneeling in front of you so you could maintain eye contact. "We're all here. We're going to take care of you."
You looked around at eight faces filled with love, desire, and infinite patience, and felt a wave of gratitude wash over you despite the desperate need clawing at your insides.
"Are you sure?" you asked, your voice small and vulnerable even as your body betrayed your uncertainty by pressing closer to Yunho. "About taking care of me? Even though I haven't decided about... about forever?"
"Especially because you haven't decided," Seonghwa said firmly, moving to sit on the bed beside you. "Heat care isn't contingent on mating bonds. It's about love and protection and making sure you're safe."
"We promised to take care of you no matter what," Hongjoong added, his voice gentle but certain. "This is us keeping that promise."
The sincerity in their voices, the way they were all looking at you like you were something precious and beloved, broke through the last of your reservations. Your heat was here, undeniable and overwhelming, and you were surrounded by eight alphas who loved you enough to put your needs above their own desires.
"Okay," you whispered, reaching out to touch as many of them as you could reach. "Okay, please... help me."
The simple request unleashed eight alphas who had been holding back their instincts for days, and suddenly you were surrounded by gentle hands, soft kisses, and whispered promises of comfort and pleasure. Your heat had arrived, but you weren't facing it alone.
You were facing it with your pack, your chosen family, your mates—whether temporary or forever, they were yours for this moment, and that was enough.
Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!
When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.
As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.
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Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️
Chapter 22: Forever
"Wait," you said, your voice coming out higher than usual as your brain tried to process what you'd just heard. "You want to what?"
The words hung in the air between you and eight increasingly nervous alphas. You weren't angry—the stunned expression on your face made that clear—but you were definitely overwhelmed by the magnitude of what they were suggesting.
"A full mating bond," Hongjoong repeated carefully, his leader instincts making him take control of the explanation. "Claiming marks from each of us. Complete pack integration. Making this—us—permanent and official in every way possible."
"A way to formalize our bonds and create the kind of pack stability that would benefit everyone." Seonghwa had added gently.
"All of you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "You want all of you to... claim me?"
"Only if you want it," Yunho said quickly, leaning forward with earnest eyes. "This isn't something we're demanding or expecting. It's something we're offering."
"Because we love you," San added softly from his position on the floor. "All of us. Completely. And we want to make sure you know that this isn't temporary for us. That you're not just our assistant who happens to be our mate—you're our everything."
You looked around the room, taking in eight faces that showed varying degrees of hope, nervousness, and unconditional love. The weight of their proposal was settling over you, and you could feel your omega stirring with interest even as your rational mind tried to process the implications.
"Eight claiming marks," you said slowly, your hand unconsciously moving to your neck where the marks would go.
"Pack bonds of this size are rare," Yeosang confirmed quietly, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. "But not unheard of. There are historical accounts of omega-centered packs with multiple alphas."
"It would mean," Mingi said, his deep voice careful and measured, "that you belong to us completely. And we belong to you. No uncertainty. Just... forever."
"Forever," you repeated, the word carrying weight and possibility in equal measure.
"Think about it," Wooyoung said, his earlier theatrical energy replaced by genuine sincerity. "No more confusion about pack hierarchy. No more territorial disputes. No more running away when two of us are intimate because everyone would feel included, connected."
"Plus," Jongho added with a small smile, "you'd officially be stuck with us. No take-backs."
Despite the overwhelming nature of the conversation, his comment made you laugh—a breathless sound that seemed to ease some of the tension in the room.
"This is a huge decision," you said finally, looking around at all of them. "Life-changing. Permanent."
"We know," Seonghwa said gently. "Which is why we're not asking for an answer right now. We wanted you to know what we're thinking, what we're hoping for, but we don't want you to feel pressured."
"Take all the time you need," Hongjoong agreed. "This only works if everyone is completely willing. If you have any doubts, any concerns, any questions—we want to hear them."
You were quiet for a long moment, your mind racing through the implications while your omega practically purred at the idea of being so thoroughly claimed and protected. Eight alphas, all devoted to you, all committed to building a life together. It was overwhelming and terrifying and absolutely incredible all at once.
"Can I ask you something?" you said finally.
"Anything," came the immediate chorus from around the room.
"Why now? I mean, why this proposal, this solution?"
Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly embarrassed. "Because last night proved that our current arrangement isn't sustainable. Half the pack fled the house rather than deal with the territorial instincts triggered by you and Yeosang being intimate."
"It's not about jealousy," Yunho clarified quickly. "It's about feeling excluded from something that should include all of us. If we're all properly bonded, all claimed and claiming, then your happiness with one of us becomes happiness for all of us."
"Instead of feeling left out, we'd feel... connected," Mingi added. "Like we're all part of the same experience, the same bond."
You nodded slowly, beginning to understand their reasoning. "And the claiming marks? All eight?"
"Would establish the hierarchy clearly," Seonghwa explained. "You as our omega, us as your alphas. No confusion, no territorial disputes."
"Plus," Wooyoung added with a return of his mischievous grin, "you'd look absolutely gorgeous covered in our marks. Very aesthetically pleasing."
"Wooyoung," Seonghwa warned, though his tone was fond.
"What? I'm being honest! Eight claiming marks from eight devoted alphas? She'd be the most thoroughly claimed omega in the history of pack bonds!"
Despite the seriousness of the conversation, you found yourself smiling at his enthusiasm. "That's certainly one way to look at it."
"But seriously," Wooyoung continued, his expression softening, "it's not about possessing you or controlling you. It's about making sure you know, beyond any doubt, that you're cherished. That every single one of us is committed to your happiness and wellbeing forever."
"No matter what," Jongho added quietly. "Through everything. For the rest of our lives."
The sincerity in their voices, the love in their eyes, the way they were all looking at you like you were something precious and miraculous—it was almost overwhelming.
"I..." you started, then stopped, trying to find the right words. "I need to think about this. Really think about it."
"Of course," Hongjoong said immediately. "Take all the time you need."
"But," you continued, and the hope that flared in their eyes made your heart flutter, "I want you to know that this isn't scary because I don't want it. It's scary because I want it so much."
The admission sent visible relief through the entire room. Shoulders relaxed, breathing seemed to ease, and more than one alpha made a soft sound of happiness.
"Really?" San asked, his voice filled with wonder.
"Really," you confirmed, looking around at all of them. "The idea of being yours—all of yours—completely and permanently... my omega is practically singing at the thought."
"But?" Yeosang prompted gently, sensing there was more.
"But it's forever," you said simply. "Once we do this, there's no going back. And I need to be absolutely sure that this is what I want, what we all want, before we take that step."
"That's exactly the right approach," Hongjoong said with approval. "This decision deserves careful consideration."
"How long do you think you'll need?" Mingi asked, then immediately looked embarrassed. "Not that we're rushing you! Take all the time you want. I just..."
"You want to know when you might be able to officially call me yours," you finished with understanding, and his relieved nod confirmed you'd read him correctly.
"A few days?" you suggested. "Maybe a week? I want to really think through all the implications, make sure I understand what this means for our relationships, our future."
"Perfect," Seonghwa said with a warm smile. "And if you have questions during that time, any concerns or thoughts you want to discuss, we're here."
"All of us," Yunho agreed. "Individually or as a group, whatever you need."
You looked around at eight faces filled with love, hope, and infinite patience, and felt your heart swell with emotion so intense it brought tears to your eyes.
"I love you," you said softly, the words encompassing all of them. "All of you. So much."
"We love you too," came the immediate response from around the room, voices overlapping in their eagerness to return the sentiment.
"Now," Wooyoung said, his theatrical flair returning as he clapped his hands together, "who wants breakfast? Because all this emotional sincerity is making me hungry, and I think we should celebrate this milestone with pancakes."
"Everything makes you hungry," Yeosang observed with fond amusement.
"Food is celebratory! And comforting! And delicious!" Wooyoung defended. "Besides, our omega needs proper nutrition while she's making the most important decision of our collective lives."
"He has a point about the nutrition," Seonghwa agreed, already moving toward the kitchen. "And I could use the distraction of cooking."
As the group began to disperse toward the kitchen, chattering about breakfast and teasing Wooyoung about his perpetual hunger, you remained on the couch for a moment, processing everything that had just happened.
The idea should have terrified you, but instead, it filled you with a warmth and rightness that felt like coming home. These eight alphas weren't just offering you their marks—they were offering you their lives, their devotion, their everything.
And despite needing time to think it through properly, deep down, you already knew what your answer would be.
After all, you'd found your pack, your family, your home. Why wouldn't you want to make it official?
"Tulip?" Wooyoung's voice called from the kitchen doorway. "You coming? Seonghwa's making those pancakes you like, and I'm not above bribing you with breakfast foods to influence your decision."
"That's not how this works," you said with a laugh, getting up to join them.
"Maybe not," Wooyoung replied with a grin, "but it can't hurt."
—
The kitchen buzzed with the usual morning energy as Seonghwa flipped pancakes with practiced efficiency while the others gathered around the large island, chattering about everything and nothing. But despite the plate of perfectly golden pancakes sitting in front of you—your favorites, the ones Seonghwa made special with vanilla and a hint of cinnamon—you found yourself barely touching the food.
Instead, you picked at the edges with your fork, your eyes fixed on a particular knot in the wood grain of the table as your mind spiraled through a maze of doubts and confusion. The proposal from an hour ago kept replaying in your head, each repetition bringing new concerns you hadn't considered before.
Were they just saying this because of the high of finding their mate? The intensity of new bonds could make people say things they didn't really mean, make promises they couldn't keep. You hadn't even kissed most of them properly—was it really possible to want to spend forever with someone based on mate bonds alone?
And then there was the timing. Last night with Yeosang had been incredible, life-changing, but was this proposal just a reaction to the territorial chaos that had followed? Were they asking you to commit to forever because of jealousy, because of the inconvenience of managing eight alphas' instincts?
Your fork paused mid-push as another thought struck you like a physical blow. Your pre-heat was still there, lurking beneath the surface like a sleeping animal. The hormone regulator had helped, but you could still feel it waiting, ready to wake up at any moment and flood your system with desperate need. When that happened, you'd be begging them for everything—for their touch, their claim, their marks. Would you even be able to think clearly enough to make the right decision? Or would your biology override your rational mind?
The more you thought about it, the more panicked you became. How could you trust any decision you made while your omega was whispering constantly about mates and claiming and forever? How could they trust any answer you gave when your heat might be influencing your judgment?
Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out in a rush, fast and almost frantic: "Maybe I should be alone for my heat."
The effect was immediate and dramatic. Eight heads snapped toward you in perfect unison, conversations cutting off mid-sentence as if you'd just announced you were planning to jump off a cliff. The silence that followed was so complete you could hear the sizzle of pancakes on the griddle behind you.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, as if a dam had burst, all eight alphas started talking at once.
"Absolutely not—"
"That's not safe—"
"Are you insane?"
"You can't be serious—"
"No omega should go through heat alone—"
"Especially not when you have mates—"
"The emotional trauma alone—"
"—could literally kill you—"
"ENOUGH!" Hongjoong's pack leader voice cut through the chaos, immediately silencing the others. His golden eyes were blazing as he stared at you with a mixture of concern and barely contained panic. "Y/n, what brought this on? Why would you even suggest something like that?"
You looked around at eight faces showing varying degrees of horror, confusion, and worry, and suddenly felt overwhelmed by their collective attention. "I just... I need to be able to think clearly. To make the right decision without my biology influencing my judgment."
"Your biology isn't something to be ashamed of," Seonghwa said gently, abandoning his pancakes to move closer to you. "It's part of who you are."
"But what if it's making me want things I wouldn't normally want?" you asked, your voice small and uncertain. "What if the only reason I'm considering your proposal is because my omega is telling me to? How can I trust my own feelings when I'm in pre-heat?"
"Because your feelings existed before your heat cycle started," Yeosang said quietly from beside you. "The connections we've built, the relationships we've developed—those happened when you were perfectly rational."
"But I haven't even kissed most of you," you continued, your panic building. "How can we talk about forever when we barely know each other intimately? What if—"
"Y/n," Yunho interrupted softly, "have you spent heats alone before?"
The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated before answering. "Yes. I've... I've managed."
The word 'managed' seemed to hit them like a physical blow. Mingi's hands clenched into fists on the counter, his jaw tight with emotion you couldn't quite identify.
"Managed," he repeated, his voice carefully controlled. "Alone."
"Not always alone," you admitted quietly, and immediately regretted the words as a low growl rumbled from Mingi's chest. The sound was pure jealousy and possessiveness, responding to the thought of you with someone else during such a vulnerable time.
Without thinking, you reached out and placed your hand on his thigh, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb the way you'd learned calmed him. The growling stopped immediately, but his muscles remained tense under your touch.
"That was before," San said firmly, his usual gentle demeanor replaced by something more intense. "Before you knew what you were to us. Before you had mates."
"The idea of you suffering through heat alone when we're right here..." Jongho shook his head, looking genuinely distressed. "It's not just cruel to you, it's cruel to us."
"An omega in heat without their mates experiences physical and emotional agony," Seonghwa explained, his voice taking on that gentle but firm tone he used when explaining important concepts. "Your body will cry out for us, and we won't be there. The depression that follows can last for months."
"And the alphas suffer too," Mingi added roughly, his hand covering yours where it rested on his thigh. "Knowing our mate is in pain and we can't help her, can't comfort her, can't provide what she needs—it goes against every instinct we have."
"I just want to make the right decision," you said, tears gathering in your eyes as the overwhelming nature of everything crashed over you. "I don't want to choose forever because my biology is demanding it."
"Then don't think about forever right now," Wooyoung said suddenly, his voice unusually serious. "Think about right now. Think about this moment, sitting here with us, feeling safe and loved and cared for."
You looked at him through blurry eyes, confusion evident on your face.
"The claiming can wait," he continued, glancing around at the others who nodded in understanding. "The marks, the ceremony, the official bond—all of that can wait until you're absolutely certain. But your heat... that's happening whether we make any big decisions or not."
"Let us take care of you," Yunho pleaded softly. "Not as your future permanent mates, but as the people who care about you right now, in this moment. Let us make sure you're safe and comfortable and not suffering alone."
"We can separate the heat care from the mating decision," Hongjoong agreed, his leader voice gentle but certain. "One doesn't have to depend on the other."
"You really think I can make a clear decision after?" you asked hesitantly. "After experiencing heat with all of you?"
"We think," Yeosang said carefully, "that you'll be able to make the decision that's right for you, whatever that may be. But we also think that decision shouldn't come at the cost of unnecessary suffering."
"Besides," Wooyoung added with a return of his characteristic grin, "if our performance during your heat is disappointing, you'll have very clear evidence that we're not worth keeping around permanently."
Despite everything, his comment made you laugh—a watery sound that seemed to ease some of the tension in the room.
You looked around at eight faces filled with love, concern, and infinite patience. Even in their obvious distress at the thought of you suffering through heat alone, they were putting your comfort and autonomy first.
"You really think we can separate the two decisions?" you asked quietly.
"We know we can," Hongjoong said firmly. "Because we love you enough to respect whatever choice you make, even if it's not the one we're hoping for."
"And if I decide... if I decide the mating bond isn't what I want?"
"Then we'll be heartbroken," Seonghwa admitted honestly, "but we'll still be here. Still be your pack, still love you, still want to build a life together in whatever way you're comfortable with."
"The claiming marks aren't what make you ours," Mingi added, his thumb stroking across your knuckles. "You're already ours, and we're already yours. The marks would just make it official."
You were quiet for a long moment, processing their words and the love behind them. Finally, you took a shaky breath and nodded.
"Okay," you said softly. "Okay, I'll... I'll let you take care of me during my heat. But the claiming decision still needs time."
The relief that washed over their faces was palpable, and you found yourself pulled into a gentle group hug that somehow managed to include all eight alphas without being overwhelming.
"Thank you," Yunho whispered against your hair. "Thank you for trusting us with this."
"Thank you for not making me choose between my biology and my autonomy," you replied, feeling safer and more loved than you had since the proposal that morning.
As the hug gradually dissolved and everyone returned to their breakfast, you finally picked up your fork and took a real bite of your pancakes. They were delicious, sweet and warm and made with love—just like everything else these eight alphas offered you.
Whatever decision you made about forever, at least you knew that right now, in this moment, you were exactly where you belonged.
——
Three days had passed since the claiming conversation, and you'd spent them trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy while your body slowly betrayed your attempts at rational thought. The hormone regulator Dr. Kim had given you was still working, but you could feel it losing its effectiveness as your natural cycle fought against the artificial suppression.
It started with small things—an increased sensitivity to the alphas' scents, a restlessness that no amount of activity could cure, and a growing need for physical contact that you tried to satisfy with casual touches and longer hugs. The pack had been incredibly patient, offering comfort without pressure, affection without expectation.
But tonight, curled up on the couch watching a movie with all eight of them scattered around the living room, you could feel your control slipping away entirely.
You'd chosen to sit next to Yunho on the large sectional, drawn by his warm, comforting presence and the way his citrus and clean linen scent seemed to calm your increasingly agitated omega. His arm was draped casually around your shoulders, and you found yourself unconsciously pressing closer to his side as the movie played.
The film was some action thriller that Jongho had picked, but you couldn't focus on the plot. Every few minutes, you shifted position, unable to get comfortable, your skin feeling too tight and your body temperature fluctuating between hot and cold. Yunho noticed your restlessness, his thumb stroking gentle circles on your shoulder in an attempt to soothe you.
"You okay?" he murmured quietly, his breath warm against your ear.
Instead of answering, you tilted your head to look at him, and the simple eye contact sent a jolt of need through your entire system. His face was so close, his lips right there, and suddenly the careful control you'd been maintaining for days cracked completely.
"Yunho," you breathed, your voice carrying a note of desperation that made his eyes widen with understanding.
Before he could respond, you were moving, climbing onto his lap with graceless urgency and pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Your mouth moved against his with desperate hunger, and your hips began rocking against him instinctively, seeking the friction your body craved.
Yunho's hands immediately came up to steady you, one settling on your hip while the other tangled in your hair. He kissed you back with careful intensity, his alpha instincts responding to your obvious need even as he tried to maintain some semblance of control.
The movement of your hips against his lap, the soft sounds you were making into his mouth, the way your scent was changing and intensifying—it all combined to create an atmosphere so charged that the other seven alphas in the room went completely still.
San, who had been sprawled on the floor in front of the couch, slowly turned around, his nostrils flaring as he caught the shift in your pheromones. Seonghwa paused with his hand halfway to the bowl of popcorn, his senses immediately picking up what was happening.
One by one, all seven other alphas stopped whatever they were doing and turned their attention to you and Yunho, their expressions shifting from casual interest to laser focus as your heat scent began to permeate the room.
"Oh," Wooyoung breathed from his position on the opposite end of the couch, his voice carrying awe and hunger in equal measure. "Oh, that's..."
"Heat," Hongjoong finished, his pack leader instincts immediately kicking in as he assessed the situation. "Her heat's starting."
Your scent was indeed changing, the usual jasmine and vanilla taking on a richer, more intoxicating quality that spoke directly to every alpha instinct in the room. It was sweet and needy and absolutely irresistible, designed by evolution to drive alphas to distraction and ensure the continuation of the species.
"Y/n," Yunho said gently, his voice strained as he tried to maintain control despite your continued movement against him. "Sweetheart, your heat..."
"I know," you gasped against his lips, your hands fisting in his shirt as waves of need washed over you. "I can't... I can't stop. I need..."
"What do you need?" he asked softly, his thumbs stroking soothing circles on your hips even as his own breathing became labored.
"You," you whispered desperately. "All of you. Please, I need..."
The plea in your voice, the way you were trembling with need, the intoxicating scent of omega in heat—it was testing every alpha's control in the room. Mingi's hands were clenched into fists at his sides, while Jongho had gone completely rigid in his chair. Even Yeosang, usually so composed, was breathing hard as he watched you move against Yunho.
"Bedroom," Hongjoong said decisively, his leader voice cutting through the haze of pheromones and desire. "We need to get her somewhere more comfortable."
Yunho nodded, carefully shifting you in his arms as he prepared to stand. "Can you walk, or do you need me to carry you?"
"Carry," you said immediately, burying your face in his neck and breathing in his scent deeply. "Please don't let go."
"Never," he promised, standing smoothly with you wrapped around him like a koala. "I've got you."
As Yunho carried you toward the stairs, the other seven alphas followed in a procession that was both protective and predatory. You could feel their eyes on you, could sense their barely controlled desire, and instead of feeling overwhelmed, you felt cherished, wanted, safe.
"Which room?" Yunho asked as you reached the top of the stairs.
"Yours," you mumbled against his throat, then quickly amended, "No, wait. The master bedroom. Hongjoong's room. Biggest bed."
"Smart omega," Wooyoung commented from behind you, his voice already rough with desire. "Always thinking practically even in heat."
Hongjoong's room was indeed the largest, with a king-size bed that could actually accommodate all of you if needed. Yunho set you down gently on the edge of the mattress, but you immediately reached for him again, unwilling to break contact for even a moment.
"It's okay," he soothed, kneeling in front of you so you could maintain eye contact. "We're all here. We're going to take care of you."
You looked around at eight faces filled with love, desire, and infinite patience, and felt a wave of gratitude wash over you despite the desperate need clawing at your insides.
"Are you sure?" you asked, your voice small and vulnerable even as your body betrayed your uncertainty by pressing closer to Yunho. "About taking care of me? Even though I haven't decided about... about forever?"
"Especially because you haven't decided," Seonghwa said firmly, moving to sit on the bed beside you. "Heat care isn't contingent on mating bonds. It's about love and protection and making sure you're safe."
"We promised to take care of you no matter what," Hongjoong added, his voice gentle but certain. "This is us keeping that promise."
The sincerity in their voices, the way they were all looking at you like you were something precious and beloved, broke through the last of your reservations. Your heat was here, undeniable and overwhelming, and you were surrounded by eight alphas who loved you enough to put your needs above their own desires.
"Okay," you whispered, reaching out to touch as many of them as you could reach. "Okay, please... help me."
The simple request unleashed eight alphas who had been holding back their instincts for days, and suddenly you were surrounded by gentle hands, soft kisses, and whispered promises of comfort and pleasure. Your heat had arrived, but you weren't facing it alone.
You were facing it with your pack, your chosen family, your mates—whether temporary or forever, they were yours for this moment, and that was enough.
Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, poly ateez, violence and weapons, mafia ateez, organized crime, parental death and grieving process, bullying, possessive and controlling behavior,
Summary: When Y/n Ricci is forced to marry Kim Hongjoong—leader of the notorious ATEEZ organization and one of eight men who cruelly abandoned her seven years ago—she finds herself trapped in their heavily guarded compound with the ghosts of her past. As she navigates the dangerous world of mafia politics and her own wounded heart, Y/n discovers that all eight powerful, irresistible men still harbor deep feelings for her, suggesting an unconventional solution to their shared dilemma. But before she can consider forgiving them, let alone loving them again, she must uncover the dark secret that tore them apart—a truth that could either heal their fractured bonds or destroy them all completely.
18+ only- No Minors
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Masterlist
Chapter 8: Morning After
Sleep had been elusive, your dreams a confusing kaleidoscope of past and present—bonfires and gunfire, kisses both innocent and desperate, eight faces that shifted between boyhood and manhood. By the time morning light filtered through your curtains, you'd given up on rest entirely, your mind too full of the previous night's events.
The kiss with Yunho played on repeat in your mind. What had possessed you? One moment of weakness, of relief that they'd all returned safely, and you'd thrown away weeks of carefully maintained distance. Worse, you couldn't even bring yourself to regret it—the feel of his lips against yours, the solid warmth of him beneath your hands, had felt right in a way that was deeply unsettling.
And then there was Hongjoong's appearance at the door, his expression carefully blank but his eyes missing nothing. What had he thought, seeing you and Yunho alone in the medical room, both of you flushed and breathless? Did it matter what he thought?
Yes, a small voice inside you whispered. It matters.
You groaned, pressing your palms against your eyes. This was exactly what you'd feared—getting pulled back into their orbit, feeling things you didn't want to feel, caring when you'd promised yourself you wouldn't.
A glance at the clock told you it was already past nine. The compound would be awake, everyone dealing with the aftermath of the mission. Hiding in your room was tempting, but you'd done enough of that already. Better to face them directly, to prove to yourself (and to them) that last night hadn't changed anything fundamental.
The kiss with Yunho was just fulfilling a promise. Nothing more.
With renewed determination, you showered and dressed in simple black jeans and a fitted t-shirt, forgoing your usual armor of formal wear. Today called for comfort, not posturing.
Voices guided you to the kitchen, where several of the members were already gathered. Seonghwa stood at the stove, expertly flipping pancakes while discussing something in low tones with Hongjoong, who sat at the island nursing a cup of coffee. Jongho and San were engaged in what appeared to be a friendly argument about protein supplements, while Yeosang silently scrolled through something on a tablet.
And there, propped dramatically on a stool with his leg elevated on another, was Wooyoung. His "injury"—which appeared to be nothing more than a minor graze—had been neatly bandaged, but he had somehow acquired a crutch from somewhere and was gesturing with it expressively as he regaled a patient-looking Mingi with a highly embellished account of last night's events.
"And then," he was saying, his voice carrying across the kitchen, "I single-handedly took out three gunmen while doing a backflip to avoid the sniper fire—"
"That's not even remotely what happened," San interrupted without looking up from his protein shake. "You tripped over your own feet and scraped your leg on a piece of metal."
Wooyoung gasped in outrage. "I was SHOT! Heroically! While saving all of your ungrateful lives!"
"The bullet barely grazed you," Seonghwa commented mildly from the stove. "The tetanus shot I gave you afterward was probably more painful."
"Betrayed by my own family," Wooyoung lamented, throwing his arm across his forehead in theatrical despair. "Wounded in battle, denied my rightful glory, and worst of all—" he fixed his gaze directly on you as you entered the kitchen, his eyes narrowing accusingly, "—denied my rightful kiss!"
All conversation ceased, all eyes turning to you. The kiss. Of course Wooyoung would bring it up immediately, in front of everyone. Subtle, he was not.
You maintained your composure, moving to the coffee machine as if completely unbothered. "Good morning to you too, Wooyoung."
"Don't 'good morning' me," he pouted, his expression comically wounded. "I was robbed! I was definitely going to reach the extraction point first before I was cruelly shot down in my prime."
"You were the last one to the vehicles," Jongho pointed out helpfully. "I literally had to wait for you."
"BECAUSE I WAS SHOT!" Wooyoung exclaimed, waving his crutch for emphasis. "Which makes my heroic effort even more impressive and kiss-worthy!"
You couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you poured your coffee. Wooyoung had always been like this—dramatic, persistent, wearing his heart on his sleeve for all to see. Even as kids, he had been the one most likely to throw himself on the ground in theatrical despair when things didn't go his way.
"I distinctly remember Hongjoong saying no one was getting a kiss," you reminded him, taking a careful sip of your coffee.
"Hongjoong isn't the boss of kisses," Wooyoung muttered rebelliously, then quickly added, "I mean, he's our leader and we respect him completely in all mission-related matters, but kiss distribution is clearly outside his jurisdiction."
A few chuckles broke the tension in the room. Even Hongjoong's lips twitched slightly, though his eyes remained carefully neutral as he watched the exchange.
"Besides," Wooyoung continued, warming to his theme, "it's a matter of principle now. A promise was made. A sacred vow. You can't just—"
"For god's sake," you sighed, setting down your coffee cup and crossing the kitchen to where he sat.
Before he could react, you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "There. Better?"
Wooyoung froze, his eyes widening comically, all dramatic pretense vanishing in an instant. A deep blush spread across his face as he stared at you in stunned silence—a rare sight indeed for someone who always had something to say.
The kitchen had gone completely still, everyone watching the exchange with varying degrees of surprise. You straightened, picking up your coffee again as if nothing unusual had happened, though your own cheeks felt warmer than you would have liked.
"I—you—that—" Wooyoung stammered, apparently having lost all command of language.
"Use your words, Wooyoung," San teased, though his own expression was a mix of amusement and something else—envy, perhaps?
Wooyoung finally managed to close his mouth, only to open it again with a dazzling smile that lit up his entire face. "I'll never wash this cheek again," he declared solemnly.
"That's disgusting," Yeosang commented without looking up from his tablet.
"It's romantic," Wooyoung corrected, still beaming. "Which you wouldn't understand because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon."
"At least I have the vocabulary of an adult," Yeosang retorted mildly.
Their familiar bickering resumed, breaking the moment's tension. Conversation gradually returned to normal, though you could feel eyes on you—particularly Hongjoong's, whose gaze you carefully avoided.
You took your coffee and moved to sit beside Mingi, who had been unusually quiet throughout the exchange. His injury was clearly more serious than Wooyoung's, a fact emphasized by the careful way he held himself and the pallor beneath his tan skin.
"How are you feeling?" you asked quietly.
His eyes, warm and gentle despite the pain he must be in, met yours with surprise at the direct question. "I've had worse," he said with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"That's not an answer," you pointed out.
Mingi's smile widened slightly, becoming more genuine. "No, it's not. I'm sore, but the bullet just grazed me. Seonghwa says I'll be fine in a week or so."
You nodded, relieved despite yourself. The thought of any of them seriously injured bothered you more than you wanted to admit.
"What about you?" he asked, his deep voice pitched low enough that only you could hear. "Last night was... intense. Especially for your first mission."
You shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. "I've seen worse."
He studied you for a moment, his dark eyes far too perceptive. "That's not an answer either," he said, echoing your words back to you.
A reluctant smile tugged at your lips. "No, it's not."
Mingi waited, patient as always. He had been like that even as a kids—willing to sit in silence until you were ready to talk, never pushing but always present.
"It was... eye-opening," you admitted finally. "Seeing what you all do now. Who you've become."
He nodded, understanding the layers in your statement. "A lot has changed in seven years."
"And some things haven't changed at all," you added, your eyes drifting to Wooyoung, who was now attempting to convince Jongho to sign his bandage like a cast.
Mingi followed your gaze, a fond smile softening his features. "Wooyoung will be eighty years old and still acting like that."
"Probably," you agreed, surprising yourself with the genuine warmth in your tone.
A comfortable silence fell between you, broken only when Seonghwa announced that breakfast was ready. As everyone moved to take their places at the table—a process complicated by Wooyoung's insistence on being helped despite being perfectly capable of walking—you found yourself watching them all with a strange sense of déjà vu.
How many meals had you shared like this, in various kitchens and dining rooms throughout your childhood? How many mornings had started with Seonghwa cooking, Wooyoung being dramatic, Jongho and San bickering good-naturedly, Yeosang observing quietly, Mingi's steady presence, and Hongjoong overseeing it all?
It was disorienting how easily you could slip back into these patterns, how familiar they still felt despite everything that had happened. Like muscle memory, your body remembered where it belonged in their orbit even as your mind rebelled against the ease of it.
As if sensing your thoughts, Yunho appeared in the doorway, freshly showered and dressed, his injured arm neatly rebandaged. Your eyes met across the room, and for a moment, everything else faded—the kitchen, the others, the years between then and now. There was only Yunho, looking at you with an expression that made your heart skip a beat.
Then Wooyoung's voice broke the spell.
"Yunho! You're just in time to witness the greatest injustice! Y/n gave me a pity kiss on the CHEEK when I clearly deserved a real one for my heroic sacrifice!"
Yunho's lips curved into a small, private smile that you felt certain only you could interpret. "Did she now?" he asked mildly, moving to take his seat at the table.
"It was tragic," Wooyoung continued, unaware of the silent exchange. "A complete violation of the sacred promise."
"The promise was for the first person to reach me," you pointed out, taking your own seat. "Which, as multiple witnesses have confirmed, was definitely not you."
"Details," Wooyoung dismissed with a wave of his hand. "The spirit of the law is what matters”
"Since when do you care about any laws?" San asked, passing a plate of pancakes around the table.
"Since they should benefit me, obviously."
The banter continued throughout breakfast, light and familiar, carefully avoiding any mention of the mission's failure or the questions it raised. It was only when everyone had finished eating that Hongjoong finally addressed the elephant in the room.
"We need to discuss what happened last night," he said, his tone shifting from casual to authoritative. "Command center, thirty minutes."
The atmosphere immediately sobered, nods exchanged around the table. As everyone began to clear their plates, Hongjoong's eyes found yours.
"Y/n, I'd like you to join us," he said, surprising both you and the others. "You were there. Your perspective might be valuable."
It wasn't a request, despite the phrasing. You nodded once, accepting the implicit olive branch for what it was—acknowledgment that you were no longer just a protected asset but potentially an ally.
As the kitchen emptied, you found yourself alone with Yunho, who had lingered behind under the pretext of refilling his coffee.
"About last night," he began, his voice low.
"It was fulfilling a promise," you said quickly, before he could continue. "That's all."
He studied you for a moment, then nodded, accepting your defense even if he didn't believe it. "Of course."
"And Wooyoung's cheek kiss was just to stop his pouting," you added, feeling strangely compelled to explain.
A small smile touched his lips. "I know. Though I doubt it will stop his pouting for long."
As if on cue, Wooyoung's voice carried from the hallway. "And another thing! A real hero would get a parade, not just a kiss! I'm thinking confetti, a marching band, maybe some fireworks—"
You and Yunho exchanged a look, and suddenly you were both laughing—a genuine, shared moment of amusement that felt both new and achingly familiar.
"Some things never change," Yunho said softly when your laughter subsided.
"No," you agreed, your smile fading as reality reasserted itself. "But some things do."
The unspoken weight of seven years hung between you—all the changes, all the growth, all the pain that couldn't be erased by one kiss or one moment of shared laughter.
"Command center, twenty minutes," you reminded him, breaking the moment before it could deepen into something you weren't ready to face.
As you walked away, you could feel his eyes following you, and you knew with uncomfortable certainty that whatever walls you'd built around your heart were crumbling faster than you could repair them.
The question was no longer whether you could keep them out, but whether you even wanted to.
* * *
The command center hummed with technology—screens displaying maps, surveillance footage, and data streams that painted a digital picture of last night's mission. The eight men had taken their usual positions around the large central table, with you seated between Seonghwa and Yeosang, directly across from Hongjoong.
As Hongjoong outlined what they knew about the ambush, his voice was measured and authoritative, commanding attention without raising in volume. You tried to focus on his words—something about intercepted communications suggesting the Russo family had been tipped off about their surveillance—but found your attention drifting.
When had it happened? When had the overwhelming hate that had sustained you for seven years begun to let in this undercurrent of... something else? Something that made you hyperaware of every movement, every gesture, every physical detail of the men around you.
Your eyes caught on Yunho's hands as he manipulated the digital map, zooming in on the compound's perimeter. His fingers were long and elegant, deftly navigating the technology with practiced ease. The same fingers that had tangled in your hair last night, that had pulled you closer as his lips moved against yours. You swallowed hard, forcing your gaze elsewhere.
San leaned forward to point out a potential security breach, the movement causing his fitted t-shirt to stretch across his shoulders. When had he developed those muscles? The San you remembered had been lithe and wiry, built for speed rather than power. Now he looked like he could bench press a small car without breaking a sweat, his frame solid and defined in a way that made your mouth inexplicably dry.
"The surveillance was compromised here, and here," San was saying, indicating two points on the map. "They knew exactly where our blind spots would be."
"Which suggests inside information," Hongjoong concluded, his presence filling the room despite his relatively compact stature. There was something magnetic about him now—an air of absolute authority that hadn't been fully formed when you'd known him before. He wore leadership like a second skin, confident and unwavering.
You shifted in your seat, uncomfortable with the direction of your thoughts, and let your gaze drift to the others. Jongho, discussing entry points with Wooyoung, had grown into his strength, no longer the awkward teenager who sometimes didn't know his own power. Yeosang beside you was still quiet, still observant, but there was a new sharpness to his intelligence, a focused intensity that was subtly intimidating.
And Seonghwa—elegant, composed Seonghwa—had somehow become even more refined, his movements economical and precise as he pulled up security protocols on one of the screens.
"The most concerning aspect," Seonghwa began, his voice cutting through your wandering attention, "is how they anticipated our exact approach. Our tactics aren't public knowledge."
As he continued speaking, your eyes landed on Mingi, who sat directly opposite you. He had tilted his head back slightly, closing his eyes as if in concentration or perhaps pain from his injury. The movement exposed the column of his neck—strong, tanned, with the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.
Your mind, traitorous and unbidden, conjured an image of yourself crossing the room, leaning over him, pressing your lips to the pulse point at the base of his throat and working your way upward. Would he moan under your touch? Shiver as your lips found that sensitive spot behind his ear? Say your name in that deep voice that had affected you so strongly as a teenager, when your feelings for all of them had begun transforming from childhood friendship into something more complex?
The thought sent heat coursing through you, unexpected and unwelcome. This was Mingi—who had once called you clingy and desperate, who had been part of your heartbreak, who had disappeared from your life without a proper goodbye.
Yet here you were, imagining the taste of his skin.
When your gaze finally lifted to his face, you found Mingi's eyes open and fixed directly on you, dark and intense with unmistakable heat. He had caught you staring, had perhaps even read the direction of your thoughts in your expression.
Instead of looking away in embarrassment, you held his gaze, a silent challenge in your eyes. Something flickered in his—recognition, maybe, or memory. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something, though he remained silent.
The moment stretched between you, charged and dangerous, until you felt the weight of another gaze on you. Shifting your eyes slightly, you found Yunho watching the exchange, the same heated intensity in his expression but tempered with a knowing smirk that told you he understood exactly what was happening.
Heat rushed to your cheeks then, the dual attention suddenly too much. You quickly redirected your focus to Hongjoong, who was thankfully still discussing tactical failures rather than your apparent inability to maintain professional composure.
"—which brings us to the most critical question," Hongjoong was saying. "How did they know we were coming?" His eyes swept the room, landing briefly on you before continuing. "Until we understand the source of the intelligence leak, we have to assume our security has been compromised."
"Could it be coincidence?" Jongho suggested, though he didn't sound convinced. "Maybe they were already on high alert because of recent territorial disputes."
"That level of preparation wasn't coincidence," Seonghwa countered. "They had reinforcements stationed precisely where we planned to enter. They knew our extraction route."
"What about Don Ricci?" San asked, glancing at you. "Could someone from his organization have passed information?"
You stiffened at the implied accusation. "My father would never—"
"Not your father," San clarified quickly. "But someone working for him. You said yourself his resources are stretched thin lately. That creates vulnerability."
You frowned, considering the possibility. It was true that your father's operation had been dealing with internal issues lately—something Marco had hinted at in your recent conversations.
"It's possible," you admitted reluctantly. "There have been... changes in personnel recently. New people brought in to replace trusted lieutenants."
Hongjoong nodded, his expression thoughtful. "We'll look into it. In the meantime, we tighten security here and suspend external operations until we identify the leak."
"What about the Russo compound?" Yeosang asked. "They'll know we're onto them now. They'll move their operation."
"Let them," Hongjoong replied. "We've confirmed they're expanding their territory. That's what we needed to know."
The meeting continued, shifting to security protocols and surveillance upgrades, but you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Your awareness of the men around you had sharpened to an almost painful degree—every movement, every glance, every shift in posture seemed magnified.
When Mingi leaned forward to contribute to the discussion about perimeter defenses, your eyes tracked the fluid movement of his shoulders. When Yunho reached for a tablet, you noticed the play of muscles in his forearm beneath the bandage you had applied. When Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair in a rare gesture of frustration, you found yourself wondering how those fingers would feel against your skin.
It was maddening. Infuriating. You had spent seven years hating these men for abandoning you, for the cruel words they had spoken, for disappearing when you needed them most. You had built walls around your heart specifically to keep them out. And now here you were, imagining how they would taste, how they would touch, how they would sound whispering your name.
What was wrong with you?
"Y/n," Hongjoong's voice cut through your spiraling thoughts. "You've been quiet. Any insights from an outside perspective?"
All eyes turned to you, expectant. You straightened in your chair, scrambling to gather your scattered thoughts into something coherent.
"The approach was wrong," you said finally, latching onto something that had been bothering you since watching the mission unfold. "Too direct. Too... expected."
Hongjoong's eyebrows rose slightly. "Go on."
"You're ATEEZ," you continued, finding your footing. "Everyone knows your reputation for precision, for calculated risk. The Russo family would have expected a careful, strategic approach." You gestured to the map. "Which is exactly what you gave them. It was too by-the-book."
"What would you suggest instead?" Seonghwa asked, his tone genuinely curious rather than challenging.
You leaned forward, pointing to a different section of the map. "Chaos. Unpredictability. Create a distraction here, where they'd never expect it because it makes no tactical sense. While they're scrambling to understand what you're doing, slip in through their most heavily guarded entrance."
"That's extremely high risk," Jongho pointed out.
"Exactly," you nodded. "They'd never expect you to take it. The best way to surprise someone who knows your playbook is to throw the playbook away."
A thoughtful silence followed your suggestion. Then, surprisingly, Hongjoong smiled—a small, genuine expression that transformed his usually serious face.
"She's not wrong," he said, looking around the table. "We've become predictable."
"Calculated," Seonghwa corrected diplomatically.
"Predictably calculated," Yunho offered with a slight grin.
"Boring," San contributed, earning a sharp look from Seonghwa.
"Effective," Seonghwa insisted.
"Until last night," Hongjoong pointed out. He looked back at you, something like approval in his eyes. "Your father always said unpredictability was his greatest asset."
"He still says it," you confirmed. "Right before he does something completely insane that somehow works out perfectly."
Wooyoung leaned forward eagerly. "So next time we go in loud and crazy? I vote for explosions. Lots of explosions."
"No one is letting you handle explosives again," Jongho said firmly. "Not after the Montenegro incident."
Wooyoung pouted.
"You blew up our safe house," San reminded him.
"The mission was successful!"
"We had nowhere to sleep!"
"Details," Wooyoung dismissed with a wave of his hand.
The tension in the room had lightened considerably, the familiar banter a welcome break from the serious discussion. Even Hongjoong seemed more relaxed, watching the exchange with something close to fondness before bringing everyone back to focus.
"We'll adjust our approach," he decided. "Incorporate more unpredictability. But first, we need to identify the leak." He looked around the table. "Yeosang, San—I want a complete review of our security protocols. Seonghwa, Jongho—reach out to your contacts, see if anyone's heard whispers about the Russos having inside information. Yunho, work with Mingi on reviewing the surveillance footage from the past week—look for any unusual patterns or visitors."
Each of them nodded in acknowledgment of their assignments.
"What about me?" Wooyoung asked, gesturing dramatically to his bandaged leg. "I'm wounded, but my mind is still sharp as ever."
The skeptical looks he received from around the table made you bite back a smile.
"You'll assist Y/n," Hongjoong said unexpectedly, causing everyone, including you, to look at him in surprise. "She knows her father's organization better than any of us. The two of you will compile a list of possible leak sources from that end."
You blinked, surprised at being given an actual role rather than just being included as an observer. "I haven't been actively involved in my father's business for years," you pointed out.
"But you know the players," Hongjoong countered. "The relationships, the loyalties, the grudges. Sometimes an outside perspective sees patterns that those in the middle miss."
It was a logical assignment, using your knowledge effectively. Still, it felt strange to be suddenly included in their operations, to be treated as a potential ally rather than a reluctant houseguest or unwilling fiancée.
"Fine," you agreed. "But I'll need to speak with Marco. He'll have more current information."
Hongjoong nodded. "Arrange it. But keep the details vague—secure lines only, no specifics about what happened last night."
The meeting concluded shortly after, everyone dispersing to their assigned tasks. As you rose from your chair, you found Mingi waiting by the door, his dark eyes still holding that heat that had caught you off guard earlier.
"A word?" he asked quietly as you approached.
You hesitated, torn between curiosity and self-preservation. After that charged moment across the table, being alone with Mingi seemed dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with physical safety.
"About the mission," he added, reading your hesitation correctly.
"Alright," you agreed, following him into the hallway.
Once outside the command center, he led you a short distance before stopping, turning to face you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken despite your best efforts.
"Your suggestion in there," he said, his deep voice pitched low. "About unpredictability. It was good. Really good."
"Thanks," you replied cautiously, unsure where this was going.
Mingi studied you for a moment, something like admiration in his gaze. "You've changed," he said finally. "Grown. In ways I didn't expect."
"Seven years will do that," you said, a hint of the old bitterness creeping into your voice.
He nodded, accepting the implied rebuke. "I know. I just..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I want you to know that I see it. The woman you've become. It's... impressive."
The compliment caught you off guard, warming you despite your determination to remain unmoved. "I didn't have much choice," you pointed out. "Adapt or break."
A shadow crossed his face at that. "I never wanted—" he began, then stopped himself. "None of us wanted that for you."
"Yet here we are," you said softly.
Mingi took a step closer, close enough that you had to tilt your head back slightly to maintain eye contact. This close, you could see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes, could smell the subtle cologne that was so distinctly him—earthy and warm with notes of sandalwood.
"Here we are," he agreed, his voice even deeper than usual. "And for what it's worth, I like who you've become. Even when you're glaring at me across the table with murder in your eyes."
A reluctant smile tugged at your lips. "I wasn't glaring."
"No," he agreed, a knowing look entering his eyes. "You weren't. Not in that moment, at least."
Heat rushed to your cheeks as you realized he had definitely caught you staring at his neck, had read your thoughts as clearly as if you'd spoken them aloud.
"I should go," you said quickly. "Wooyoung will be waiting to start on that list."
Mingi didn't move immediately, his tall frame still blocking your path. "One more thing," he said, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes.
Your breath caught, embarrassment and anticipation warring within you.
"Yes?" you managed, your voice steadier than you felt.
A small, devastatingly attractive smile curved his lips. “Next time you make a competition, I’m winning,” he whisper into your ear. “Waited too long to not know what you taste like. And I’m not dying before I do.”
With that, he stepped aside, leaving you frozen in place, your face burning and your heart racing as he walked away with a satisfied smile.
How the hell was this your life now? And more importantly, how were you supposed to maintain your righteous anger when your body was so insistently reminding you of all the feelings you'd once had for these men—feelings that apparently hadn't died so much as gone dormant, waiting for the right moment to flare back to life?
You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself before heading off to find Wooyoung. This was getting complicated in ways you hadn't anticipated when you'd arrived at the compound.
The walls around your heart weren't just cracking now—they were developing gaping holes through which eight very specific men were finding their way back in.
And the most terrifying part was that you weren't sure you wanted to stop them.
Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, poly ateez, violence and weapons, mafia ateez, organized crime, parental death and grieving process, bullying, possessive and controlling behavior,
Summary: When Y/n Ricci is forced to marry Kim Hongjoong—leader of the notorious ATEEZ organization and one of eight men who cruelly abandoned her seven years ago—she finds herself trapped in their heavily guarded compound with the ghosts of her past. As she navigates the dangerous world of mafia politics and her own wounded heart, Y/n discovers that all eight powerful, irresistible men still harbor deep feelings for her, suggesting an unconventional solution to their shared dilemma. But before she can consider forgiving them, let alone loving them again, she must uncover the dark secret that tore them apart—a truth that could either heal their fractured bonds or destroy them all completely.
18+ only- No Minors
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Masterlist
Chapter 8: Morning After
Sleep had been elusive, your dreams a confusing kaleidoscope of past and present—bonfires and gunfire, kisses both innocent and desperate, eight faces that shifted between boyhood and manhood. By the time morning light filtered through your curtains, you'd given up on rest entirely, your mind too full of the previous night's events.
The kiss with Yunho played on repeat in your mind. What had possessed you? One moment of weakness, of relief that they'd all returned safely, and you'd thrown away weeks of carefully maintained distance. Worse, you couldn't even bring yourself to regret it—the feel of his lips against yours, the solid warmth of him beneath your hands, had felt right in a way that was deeply unsettling.
And then there was Hongjoong's appearance at the door, his expression carefully blank but his eyes missing nothing. What had he thought, seeing you and Yunho alone in the medical room, both of you flushed and breathless? Did it matter what he thought?
Yes, a small voice inside you whispered. It matters.
You groaned, pressing your palms against your eyes. This was exactly what you'd feared—getting pulled back into their orbit, feeling things you didn't want to feel, caring when you'd promised yourself you wouldn't.
A glance at the clock told you it was already past nine. The compound would be awake, everyone dealing with the aftermath of the mission. Hiding in your room was tempting, but you'd done enough of that already. Better to face them directly, to prove to yourself (and to them) that last night hadn't changed anything fundamental.
The kiss with Yunho was just fulfilling a promise. Nothing more.
With renewed determination, you showered and dressed in simple black jeans and a fitted t-shirt, forgoing your usual armor of formal wear. Today called for comfort, not posturing.
Voices guided you to the kitchen, where several of the members were already gathered. Seonghwa stood at the stove, expertly flipping pancakes while discussing something in low tones with Hongjoong, who sat at the island nursing a cup of coffee. Jongho and San were engaged in what appeared to be a friendly argument about protein supplements, while Yeosang silently scrolled through something on a tablet.
And there, propped dramatically on a stool with his leg elevated on another, was Wooyoung. His "injury"—which appeared to be nothing more than a minor graze—had been neatly bandaged, but he had somehow acquired a crutch from somewhere and was gesturing with it expressively as he regaled a patient-looking Mingi with a highly embellished account of last night's events.
"And then," he was saying, his voice carrying across the kitchen, "I single-handedly took out three gunmen while doing a backflip to avoid the sniper fire—"
"That's not even remotely what happened," San interrupted without looking up from his protein shake. "You tripped over your own feet and scraped your leg on a piece of metal."
Wooyoung gasped in outrage. "I was SHOT! Heroically! While saving all of your ungrateful lives!"
"The bullet barely grazed you," Seonghwa commented mildly from the stove. "The tetanus shot I gave you afterward was probably more painful."
"Betrayed by my own family," Wooyoung lamented, throwing his arm across his forehead in theatrical despair. "Wounded in battle, denied my rightful glory, and worst of all—" he fixed his gaze directly on you as you entered the kitchen, his eyes narrowing accusingly, "—denied my rightful kiss!"
All conversation ceased, all eyes turning to you. The kiss. Of course Wooyoung would bring it up immediately, in front of everyone. Subtle, he was not.
You maintained your composure, moving to the coffee machine as if completely unbothered. "Good morning to you too, Wooyoung."
"Don't 'good morning' me," he pouted, his expression comically wounded. "I was robbed! I was definitely going to reach the extraction point first before I was cruelly shot down in my prime."
"You were the last one to the vehicles," Jongho pointed out helpfully. "I literally had to wait for you."
"BECAUSE I WAS SHOT!" Wooyoung exclaimed, waving his crutch for emphasis. "Which makes my heroic effort even more impressive and kiss-worthy!"
You couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you poured your coffee. Wooyoung had always been like this—dramatic, persistent, wearing his heart on his sleeve for all to see. Even as kids, he had been the one most likely to throw himself on the ground in theatrical despair when things didn't go his way.
"I distinctly remember Hongjoong saying no one was getting a kiss," you reminded him, taking a careful sip of your coffee.
"Hongjoong isn't the boss of kisses," Wooyoung muttered rebelliously, then quickly added, "I mean, he's our leader and we respect him completely in all mission-related matters, but kiss distribution is clearly outside his jurisdiction."
A few chuckles broke the tension in the room. Even Hongjoong's lips twitched slightly, though his eyes remained carefully neutral as he watched the exchange.
"Besides," Wooyoung continued, warming to his theme, "it's a matter of principle now. A promise was made. A sacred vow. You can't just—"
"For god's sake," you sighed, setting down your coffee cup and crossing the kitchen to where he sat.
Before he could react, you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "There. Better?"
Wooyoung froze, his eyes widening comically, all dramatic pretense vanishing in an instant. A deep blush spread across his face as he stared at you in stunned silence—a rare sight indeed for someone who always had something to say.
The kitchen had gone completely still, everyone watching the exchange with varying degrees of surprise. You straightened, picking up your coffee again as if nothing unusual had happened, though your own cheeks felt warmer than you would have liked.
"I—you—that—" Wooyoung stammered, apparently having lost all command of language.
"Use your words, Wooyoung," San teased, though his own expression was a mix of amusement and something else—envy, perhaps?
Wooyoung finally managed to close his mouth, only to open it again with a dazzling smile that lit up his entire face. "I'll never wash this cheek again," he declared solemnly.
"That's disgusting," Yeosang commented without looking up from his tablet.
"It's romantic," Wooyoung corrected, still beaming. "Which you wouldn't understand because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon."
"At least I have the vocabulary of an adult," Yeosang retorted mildly.
Their familiar bickering resumed, breaking the moment's tension. Conversation gradually returned to normal, though you could feel eyes on you—particularly Hongjoong's, whose gaze you carefully avoided.
You took your coffee and moved to sit beside Mingi, who had been unusually quiet throughout the exchange. His injury was clearly more serious than Wooyoung's, a fact emphasized by the careful way he held himself and the pallor beneath his tan skin.
"How are you feeling?" you asked quietly.
His eyes, warm and gentle despite the pain he must be in, met yours with surprise at the direct question. "I've had worse," he said with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"That's not an answer," you pointed out.
Mingi's smile widened slightly, becoming more genuine. "No, it's not. I'm sore, but the bullet just grazed me. Seonghwa says I'll be fine in a week or so."
You nodded, relieved despite yourself. The thought of any of them seriously injured bothered you more than you wanted to admit.
"What about you?" he asked, his deep voice pitched low enough that only you could hear. "Last night was... intense. Especially for your first mission."
You shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. "I've seen worse."
He studied you for a moment, his dark eyes far too perceptive. "That's not an answer either," he said, echoing your words back to you.
A reluctant smile tugged at your lips. "No, it's not."
Mingi waited, patient as always. He had been like that even as a kids—willing to sit in silence until you were ready to talk, never pushing but always present.
"It was... eye-opening," you admitted finally. "Seeing what you all do now. Who you've become."
He nodded, understanding the layers in your statement. "A lot has changed in seven years."
"And some things haven't changed at all," you added, your eyes drifting to Wooyoung, who was now attempting to convince Jongho to sign his bandage like a cast.
Mingi followed your gaze, a fond smile softening his features. "Wooyoung will be eighty years old and still acting like that."
"Probably," you agreed, surprising yourself with the genuine warmth in your tone.
A comfortable silence fell between you, broken only when Seonghwa announced that breakfast was ready. As everyone moved to take their places at the table—a process complicated by Wooyoung's insistence on being helped despite being perfectly capable of walking—you found yourself watching them all with a strange sense of déjà vu.
How many meals had you shared like this, in various kitchens and dining rooms throughout your childhood? How many mornings had started with Seonghwa cooking, Wooyoung being dramatic, Jongho and San bickering good-naturedly, Yeosang observing quietly, Mingi's steady presence, and Hongjoong overseeing it all?
It was disorienting how easily you could slip back into these patterns, how familiar they still felt despite everything that had happened. Like muscle memory, your body remembered where it belonged in their orbit even as your mind rebelled against the ease of it.
As if sensing your thoughts, Yunho appeared in the doorway, freshly showered and dressed, his injured arm neatly rebandaged. Your eyes met across the room, and for a moment, everything else faded—the kitchen, the others, the years between then and now. There was only Yunho, looking at you with an expression that made your heart skip a beat.
Then Wooyoung's voice broke the spell.
"Yunho! You're just in time to witness the greatest injustice! Y/n gave me a pity kiss on the CHEEK when I clearly deserved a real one for my heroic sacrifice!"
Yunho's lips curved into a small, private smile that you felt certain only you could interpret. "Did she now?" he asked mildly, moving to take his seat at the table.
"It was tragic," Wooyoung continued, unaware of the silent exchange. "A complete violation of the sacred promise."
"The promise was for the first person to reach me," you pointed out, taking your own seat. "Which, as multiple witnesses have confirmed, was definitely not you."
"Details," Wooyoung dismissed with a wave of his hand. "The spirit of the law is what matters”
"Since when do you care about any laws?" San asked, passing a plate of pancakes around the table.
"Since they should benefit me, obviously."
The banter continued throughout breakfast, light and familiar, carefully avoiding any mention of the mission's failure or the questions it raised. It was only when everyone had finished eating that Hongjoong finally addressed the elephant in the room.
"We need to discuss what happened last night," he said, his tone shifting from casual to authoritative. "Command center, thirty minutes."
The atmosphere immediately sobered, nods exchanged around the table. As everyone began to clear their plates, Hongjoong's eyes found yours.
"Y/n, I'd like you to join us," he said, surprising both you and the others. "You were there. Your perspective might be valuable."
It wasn't a request, despite the phrasing. You nodded once, accepting the implicit olive branch for what it was—acknowledgment that you were no longer just a protected asset but potentially an ally.
As the kitchen emptied, you found yourself alone with Yunho, who had lingered behind under the pretext of refilling his coffee.
"About last night," he began, his voice low.
"It was fulfilling a promise," you said quickly, before he could continue. "That's all."
He studied you for a moment, then nodded, accepting your defense even if he didn't believe it. "Of course."
"And Wooyoung's cheek kiss was just to stop his pouting," you added, feeling strangely compelled to explain.
A small smile touched his lips. "I know. Though I doubt it will stop his pouting for long."
As if on cue, Wooyoung's voice carried from the hallway. "And another thing! A real hero would get a parade, not just a kiss! I'm thinking confetti, a marching band, maybe some fireworks—"
You and Yunho exchanged a look, and suddenly you were both laughing—a genuine, shared moment of amusement that felt both new and achingly familiar.
"Some things never change," Yunho said softly when your laughter subsided.
"No," you agreed, your smile fading as reality reasserted itself. "But some things do."
The unspoken weight of seven years hung between you—all the changes, all the growth, all the pain that couldn't be erased by one kiss or one moment of shared laughter.
"Command center, twenty minutes," you reminded him, breaking the moment before it could deepen into something you weren't ready to face.
As you walked away, you could feel his eyes following you, and you knew with uncomfortable certainty that whatever walls you'd built around your heart were crumbling faster than you could repair them.
The question was no longer whether you could keep them out, but whether you even wanted to.
* * *
The command center hummed with technology—screens displaying maps, surveillance footage, and data streams that painted a digital picture of last night's mission. The eight men had taken their usual positions around the large central table, with you seated between Seonghwa and Yeosang, directly across from Hongjoong.
As Hongjoong outlined what they knew about the ambush, his voice was measured and authoritative, commanding attention without raising in volume. You tried to focus on his words—something about intercepted communications suggesting the Russo family had been tipped off about their surveillance—but found your attention drifting.
When had it happened? When had the overwhelming hate that had sustained you for seven years begun to let in this undercurrent of... something else? Something that made you hyperaware of every movement, every gesture, every physical detail of the men around you.
Your eyes caught on Yunho's hands as he manipulated the digital map, zooming in on the compound's perimeter. His fingers were long and elegant, deftly navigating the technology with practiced ease. The same fingers that had tangled in your hair last night, that had pulled you closer as his lips moved against yours. You swallowed hard, forcing your gaze elsewhere.
San leaned forward to point out a potential security breach, the movement causing his fitted t-shirt to stretch across his shoulders. When had he developed those muscles? The San you remembered had been lithe and wiry, built for speed rather than power. Now he looked like he could bench press a small car without breaking a sweat, his frame solid and defined in a way that made your mouth inexplicably dry.
"The surveillance was compromised here, and here," San was saying, indicating two points on the map. "They knew exactly where our blind spots would be."
"Which suggests inside information," Hongjoong concluded, his presence filling the room despite his relatively compact stature. There was something magnetic about him now—an air of absolute authority that hadn't been fully formed when you'd known him before. He wore leadership like a second skin, confident and unwavering.
You shifted in your seat, uncomfortable with the direction of your thoughts, and let your gaze drift to the others. Jongho, discussing entry points with Wooyoung, had grown into his strength, no longer the awkward teenager who sometimes didn't know his own power. Yeosang beside you was still quiet, still observant, but there was a new sharpness to his intelligence, a focused intensity that was subtly intimidating.
And Seonghwa—elegant, composed Seonghwa—had somehow become even more refined, his movements economical and precise as he pulled up security protocols on one of the screens.
"The most concerning aspect," Seonghwa began, his voice cutting through your wandering attention, "is how they anticipated our exact approach. Our tactics aren't public knowledge."
As he continued speaking, your eyes landed on Mingi, who sat directly opposite you. He had tilted his head back slightly, closing his eyes as if in concentration or perhaps pain from his injury. The movement exposed the column of his neck—strong, tanned, with the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.
Your mind, traitorous and unbidden, conjured an image of yourself crossing the room, leaning over him, pressing your lips to the pulse point at the base of his throat and working your way upward. Would he moan under your touch? Shiver as your lips found that sensitive spot behind his ear? Say your name in that deep voice that had affected you so strongly as a teenager, when your feelings for all of them had begun transforming from childhood friendship into something more complex?
The thought sent heat coursing through you, unexpected and unwelcome. This was Mingi—who had once called you clingy and desperate, who had been part of your heartbreak, who had disappeared from your life without a proper goodbye.
Yet here you were, imagining the taste of his skin.
When your gaze finally lifted to his face, you found Mingi's eyes open and fixed directly on you, dark and intense with unmistakable heat. He had caught you staring, had perhaps even read the direction of your thoughts in your expression.
Instead of looking away in embarrassment, you held his gaze, a silent challenge in your eyes. Something flickered in his—recognition, maybe, or memory. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something, though he remained silent.
The moment stretched between you, charged and dangerous, until you felt the weight of another gaze on you. Shifting your eyes slightly, you found Yunho watching the exchange, the same heated intensity in his expression but tempered with a knowing smirk that told you he understood exactly what was happening.
Heat rushed to your cheeks then, the dual attention suddenly too much. You quickly redirected your focus to Hongjoong, who was thankfully still discussing tactical failures rather than your apparent inability to maintain professional composure.
"—which brings us to the most critical question," Hongjoong was saying. "How did they know we were coming?" His eyes swept the room, landing briefly on you before continuing. "Until we understand the source of the intelligence leak, we have to assume our security has been compromised."
"Could it be coincidence?" Jongho suggested, though he didn't sound convinced. "Maybe they were already on high alert because of recent territorial disputes."
"That level of preparation wasn't coincidence," Seonghwa countered. "They had reinforcements stationed precisely where we planned to enter. They knew our extraction route."
"What about Don Ricci?" San asked, glancing at you. "Could someone from his organization have passed information?"
You stiffened at the implied accusation. "My father would never—"
"Not your father," San clarified quickly. "But someone working for him. You said yourself his resources are stretched thin lately. That creates vulnerability."
You frowned, considering the possibility. It was true that your father's operation had been dealing with internal issues lately—something Marco had hinted at in your recent conversations.
"It's possible," you admitted reluctantly. "There have been... changes in personnel recently. New people brought in to replace trusted lieutenants."
Hongjoong nodded, his expression thoughtful. "We'll look into it. In the meantime, we tighten security here and suspend external operations until we identify the leak."
"What about the Russo compound?" Yeosang asked. "They'll know we're onto them now. They'll move their operation."
"Let them," Hongjoong replied. "We've confirmed they're expanding their territory. That's what we needed to know."
The meeting continued, shifting to security protocols and surveillance upgrades, but you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Your awareness of the men around you had sharpened to an almost painful degree—every movement, every glance, every shift in posture seemed magnified.
When Mingi leaned forward to contribute to the discussion about perimeter defenses, your eyes tracked the fluid movement of his shoulders. When Yunho reached for a tablet, you noticed the play of muscles in his forearm beneath the bandage you had applied. When Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair in a rare gesture of frustration, you found yourself wondering how those fingers would feel against your skin.
It was maddening. Infuriating. You had spent seven years hating these men for abandoning you, for the cruel words they had spoken, for disappearing when you needed them most. You had built walls around your heart specifically to keep them out. And now here you were, imagining how they would taste, how they would touch, how they would sound whispering your name.
What was wrong with you?
"Y/n," Hongjoong's voice cut through your spiraling thoughts. "You've been quiet. Any insights from an outside perspective?"
All eyes turned to you, expectant. You straightened in your chair, scrambling to gather your scattered thoughts into something coherent.
"The approach was wrong," you said finally, latching onto something that had been bothering you since watching the mission unfold. "Too direct. Too... expected."
Hongjoong's eyebrows rose slightly. "Go on."
"You're ATEEZ," you continued, finding your footing. "Everyone knows your reputation for precision, for calculated risk. The Russo family would have expected a careful, strategic approach." You gestured to the map. "Which is exactly what you gave them. It was too by-the-book."
"What would you suggest instead?" Seonghwa asked, his tone genuinely curious rather than challenging.
You leaned forward, pointing to a different section of the map. "Chaos. Unpredictability. Create a distraction here, where they'd never expect it because it makes no tactical sense. While they're scrambling to understand what you're doing, slip in through their most heavily guarded entrance."
"That's extremely high risk," Jongho pointed out.
"Exactly," you nodded. "They'd never expect you to take it. The best way to surprise someone who knows your playbook is to throw the playbook away."
A thoughtful silence followed your suggestion. Then, surprisingly, Hongjoong smiled—a small, genuine expression that transformed his usually serious face.
"She's not wrong," he said, looking around the table. "We've become predictable."
"Calculated," Seonghwa corrected diplomatically.
"Predictably calculated," Yunho offered with a slight grin.
"Boring," San contributed, earning a sharp look from Seonghwa.
"Effective," Seonghwa insisted.
"Until last night," Hongjoong pointed out. He looked back at you, something like approval in his eyes. "Your father always said unpredictability was his greatest asset."
"He still says it," you confirmed. "Right before he does something completely insane that somehow works out perfectly."
Wooyoung leaned forward eagerly. "So next time we go in loud and crazy? I vote for explosions. Lots of explosions."
"No one is letting you handle explosives again," Jongho said firmly. "Not after the Montenegro incident."
Wooyoung pouted.
"You blew up our safe house," San reminded him.
"The mission was successful!"
"We had nowhere to sleep!"
"Details," Wooyoung dismissed with a wave of his hand.
The tension in the room had lightened considerably, the familiar banter a welcome break from the serious discussion. Even Hongjoong seemed more relaxed, watching the exchange with something close to fondness before bringing everyone back to focus.
"We'll adjust our approach," he decided. "Incorporate more unpredictability. But first, we need to identify the leak." He looked around the table. "Yeosang, San—I want a complete review of our security protocols. Seonghwa, Jongho—reach out to your contacts, see if anyone's heard whispers about the Russos having inside information. Yunho, work with Mingi on reviewing the surveillance footage from the past week—look for any unusual patterns or visitors."
Each of them nodded in acknowledgment of their assignments.
"What about me?" Wooyoung asked, gesturing dramatically to his bandaged leg. "I'm wounded, but my mind is still sharp as ever."
The skeptical looks he received from around the table made you bite back a smile.
"You'll assist Y/n," Hongjoong said unexpectedly, causing everyone, including you, to look at him in surprise. "She knows her father's organization better than any of us. The two of you will compile a list of possible leak sources from that end."
You blinked, surprised at being given an actual role rather than just being included as an observer. "I haven't been actively involved in my father's business for years," you pointed out.
"But you know the players," Hongjoong countered. "The relationships, the loyalties, the grudges. Sometimes an outside perspective sees patterns that those in the middle miss."
It was a logical assignment, using your knowledge effectively. Still, it felt strange to be suddenly included in their operations, to be treated as a potential ally rather than a reluctant houseguest or unwilling fiancée.
"Fine," you agreed. "But I'll need to speak with Marco. He'll have more current information."
Hongjoong nodded. "Arrange it. But keep the details vague—secure lines only, no specifics about what happened last night."
The meeting concluded shortly after, everyone dispersing to their assigned tasks. As you rose from your chair, you found Mingi waiting by the door, his dark eyes still holding that heat that had caught you off guard earlier.
"A word?" he asked quietly as you approached.
You hesitated, torn between curiosity and self-preservation. After that charged moment across the table, being alone with Mingi seemed dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with physical safety.
"About the mission," he added, reading your hesitation correctly.
"Alright," you agreed, following him into the hallway.
Once outside the command center, he led you a short distance before stopping, turning to face you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken despite your best efforts.
"Your suggestion in there," he said, his deep voice pitched low. "About unpredictability. It was good. Really good."
"Thanks," you replied cautiously, unsure where this was going.
Mingi studied you for a moment, something like admiration in his gaze. "You've changed," he said finally. "Grown. In ways I didn't expect."
"Seven years will do that," you said, a hint of the old bitterness creeping into your voice.
He nodded, accepting the implied rebuke. "I know. I just..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I want you to know that I see it. The woman you've become. It's... impressive."
The compliment caught you off guard, warming you despite your determination to remain unmoved. "I didn't have much choice," you pointed out. "Adapt or break."
A shadow crossed his face at that. "I never wanted—" he began, then stopped himself. "None of us wanted that for you."
"Yet here we are," you said softly.
Mingi took a step closer, close enough that you had to tilt your head back slightly to maintain eye contact. This close, you could see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes, could smell the subtle cologne that was so distinctly him—earthy and warm with notes of sandalwood.
"Here we are," he agreed, his voice even deeper than usual. "And for what it's worth, I like who you've become. Even when you're glaring at me across the table with murder in your eyes."
A reluctant smile tugged at your lips. "I wasn't glaring."
"No," he agreed, a knowing look entering his eyes. "You weren't. Not in that moment, at least."
Heat rushed to your cheeks as you realized he had definitely caught you staring at his neck, had read your thoughts as clearly as if you'd spoken them aloud.
"I should go," you said quickly. "Wooyoung will be waiting to start on that list."
Mingi didn't move immediately, his tall frame still blocking your path. "One more thing," he said, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes.
Your breath caught, embarrassment and anticipation warring within you.
"Yes?" you managed, your voice steadier than you felt.
A small, devastatingly attractive smile curved his lips. “Next time you make a competition, I’m winning,” he whisper into your ear. “Waited too long to not know what you taste like. And I’m not dying before I do.”
With that, he stepped aside, leaving you frozen in place, your face burning and your heart racing as he walked away with a satisfied smile.
How the hell was this your life now? And more importantly, how were you supposed to maintain your righteous anger when your body was so insistently reminding you of all the feelings you'd once had for these men—feelings that apparently hadn't died so much as gone dormant, waiting for the right moment to flare back to life?
You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself before heading off to find Wooyoung. This was getting complicated in ways you hadn't anticipated when you'd arrived at the compound.
The walls around your heart weren't just cracking now—they were developing gaping holes through which eight very specific men were finding their way back in.
And the most terrifying part was that you weren't sure you wanted to stop them.
I myself love your stories. You're a great writer and seem like a nice person. There will always be haters. You're just letting them win by reacting the way you did and choosing not to write anymore . I hope you change your mind as I know a lot of us really love your work and I want you to know that you actually stopped me from killing myself when you uploaded a chapter the last time. I got so excited to read and so into the chapter that I forgot how much I wanted to die and was able to snap out of it. In the end it's your decision. But I just want you to know that those of us who enjoy your stories outweigh that one person who didn't. The thought you may have uploaded a new chapter gets me through a workday every time. This last week that you weren't around was literally the worst. Please forgive us. 😢
You're absolutely right. I was being a baby about some asshole's criticism when there are people like you who actually need these stories. That's on me, and I'm sorry I bailed when you needed the escape most.
But, are you doing okay now? Like, really okay? If you need to talk to someone or get support, please reach out, whether that's a hotline, a friend or even just dropping me another message. That darkness you mentioned scares me more than any bad review ever could.
And to everyone else who left those incredible supportive comments while I was having my little meltdown, thank you. Seriously. You all reminded me why I love this community and why these stories matter. Each comment meant everything.
Screw the negativity. I'm back to writing and posting, starting now. Even if there's only one person who wants it because you all reminded me what this is really about, giving people a break from the world's bullshit, even if it's just for a few minutes.
Thanks for not giving up on me when I gave up on myself.
writing a whole ass fanfiction by using ai and not even trying to proof read it is crazy work ngl you know that writing a shitty fanfic is better than whatever this is, right? the way whichever program you're using is repeating itself every two sentences, can't count when it comes to years nor the number of members of the pirate crew, forgetting the MAIN points of the backstory of the characters and just writing whatever it wants is insane... how can you NOT even try to proof read it? and then you go on and pretend that you've written it on your own lol
at first i couldn't believe that it was the case, but the more chapters i've read, the worse the ai slop got. nobody is making you write it, so if you actually wanted to share your creations, you should have at the very least make them yourself lol it's kinda sad, because i was really excited about the premise of the ff
I’m sorry my slop offends you and I’m not a professional writer that I use AI to help me with editing continuity. How upsetting it is you feel the need to degrade someone and attempt to make them feel horrible about themselves. Does it make you feel better as a person? Especially anonymously. I will not be continuing any work anymore. I said I would do this until it isn’t enjoyable anymore and it is not. I do not want to be harassed and made to feel bad about myself I wanted a place to feel good any share things with other people.
Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, poly ateez, violence and weapons, mafia ateez, organized crime, parental death and grieving process, bullying, possessive and controlling behavior,
Summary: When Y/n Ricci is forced to marry Kim Hongjoong—leader of the notorious ATEEZ organization and one of eight men who cruelly abandoned her seven years ago—she finds herself trapped in their heavily guarded compound with the ghosts of her past. As she navigates the dangerous world of mafia politics and her own wounded heart, Y/n discovers that all eight powerful, irresistible men still harbor deep feelings for her, suggesting an unconventional solution to their shared dilemma. But before she can consider forgiving them, let alone loving them again, she must uncover the dark secret that tore them apart—a truth that could either heal their fractured bonds or destroy them all completely.
Authors note: I know everyone wanted Y/n to go full on badass mode, I had wrote her joining in like 3 different ways and it didn’t feel right just yet. She’ll get her badass moment I promise!
18+ only- No Minors
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Masterlist
Chapter 7: Fight or Flight
The gunfire intensified, each shot a thunderclap in the night. Through the van's tinted windows, you could see muzzle flashes illuminating the compound like violent lightning. The drone feed on the monitor showed chaos—figures darting between buildings, taking cover, returning fire.
Your heart hammered against your ribcage. You recognized the tactical movements of the ATEEZ members even through the grainy night vision feed—Hongjoong's decisive leadership as he directed the others, Seonghwa's precise marksmanship, San's acrobatic maneuvers, Jongho's raw power as he engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a much larger opponent.
But they were outnumbered. Badly.
You could hear their labored breathing through the comms, the terse exchanges becoming more urgent with each passing minute.
"East exit compromised—" Yeosang's usually calm voice edged with tension.
"Two more hostiles on the roof—" San, followed by the sound of more gunfire.
"Mingi's hit!" Jongho's panicked report sent ice through your veins. "Not critical, but we need extraction."
"Working on it—" Hongjoong, his voice strained. "Seonghwa, cover the south approach. Yunho—"
"Almost there," Yunho responded, his voice coming through the comm.
The situation was deteriorating rapidly. You could see it in the frantic movements on the monitor, hear it in their increasingly desperate communications. This wasn't just a mission gone wrong—it was a trap. They had walked into an ambush, and now they were fighting their way out.
Fighting for their lives.
Something snapped inside you. Seven years of anger, of hurt, of carefully maintained distance—all of it fell away in the face of the primal fear that now gripped you. These weren't the men who had abandoned you. In this moment, they were simply the eight boys you had loved your entire life, and they were in danger.
Before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed the comm activation button.
"I swear to god," your voice rang out, steady despite your racing heart, "if any of you die before I can make your lives miserable, I will never forgive you."
A beat of stunned silence followed, then—
"Y/n?" Hongjoong's surprised voice.
"Yes, I'm breaking the 'minimal chatter' rule," you continued, a hint of your usual defiance returning. "Deal with it. Now get your asses back here in one piece."
Through the comm, you could hear what sounded like a soft chuckle from Seonghwa, a grunt of agreement from Jongho. On the monitor, you saw renewed purpose in their movements, a second wind as they pressed forward with more coordination.
"On our way, princess," San replied, his voice tight with exertion but with a hint of his usual playfulness. "Just taking care of a few party crashers first."
"Taking too long," you countered, watching anxiously as Mingi limped behind cover, clutching his side. "Move faster."
"Bossy as ever," Yeosang remarked, but you could hear the ghost of a smile in his voice.
"God, it's so hot when you threaten us," Wooyoung's voice came through with an exaggerated moan that was so ridiculous, so perfectly Wooyoung, that a genuine laugh escaped you despite the gravity of the situation.
Even in the midst of gunfire and danger, he could still make you laugh. Some things never changed.
On the monitor, you could see them making progress, fighting their way toward the extraction point where the vehicles waited. But they were moving too slowly, and more hostile figures were appearing on the perimeter of the compound.
Panic coursed through your veins. Seven years ago, you had lost them to circumstances you didn't understand. Now you might lose them permanently, right before your eyes.
The thought was unbearable.
"First person that makes it back to me gets a kiss," you blurted out, desperation making you reckless.
The effect was immediate and electric. You heard several sharp intakes of breath, followed by what sounded like a renewed burst of energy in their movements.
"Oh, you're ON," San declared, his figure on the monitor suddenly moving with doubled speed.
"That's not fair!" Wooyoung protested. "Some of us are farther away! I'll shoot anyone who gets to the car before me, I swear to god!"
"Shut up and move," Hongjoong ordered, but even his voice had a new edge of determination.
Through the drone feed, you watched in amazement as their retreat transformed from desperate to almost supernaturally efficient. Seonghwa provided perfect cover fire as Hongjoong helped Mingi toward the exit. Jongho single-handedly cleared a path through three armed men. San and Yeosang worked in perfect tandem, one creating distractions while the other neutralized threats.
And Wooyoung—Wooyoung was moving like a man possessed, vaulting over obstacles and dodging bullets with an almost comical determination.
"I have visual on the vehicles," Hongjoong reported. "Yunho, status?"
"Area secure," Yunho responded from somewhere outside your van. "Ready for extraction."
"Incoming in three, two—"
The world outside erupted in a final, furious exchange of gunfire. You held your breath, tears welling in your eyes as you watched the monitor, counting figures, praying that all seven dots would make it to the extraction point.
One by one, they appeared on the edge of the compound—Hongjoong supporting Mingi, Seonghwa providing rear cover, Jongho and Yeosang flanking them protectively. San emerged next, dragging a limping Wooyoung who seemed to be simultaneously cursing his injury and demanding to be let go so he could win the race.
Your hands trembled as you watched them sprint the final distance toward the vehicles. They were going to make it. They had to make it.
A final burst of gunfire, a shout of warning—
The door of your van burst open so suddenly you jumped, reaching instinctively for the knife concealed at your ankle.
Yunho's face appeared, his expression intense as he slid into the driver's seat. "Everyone's accounted for. We're moving. Now."
The engine roared to life as the others piled into the second and third vans. Within seconds, all three vehicles were peeling away from the compound, tires screeching on asphalt as they accelerated into the night.
Through the rear window, you could see muzzle flashes as the Russo men continued firing after you, but the bullets fell short as the distance increased.
"Status report," Hongjoong's voice came through the comm, authoritative despite his heavy breathing.
"Vehicle One clear," Yunho responded beside you. "Y/n’s safe."
"Vehicle Two operational," Seonghwa reported. "Mingi needs medical but it's not critical. Flesh wound to the lower abdomen."
"Vehicle Three functioning," San added. "Wooyoung took a graze to the leg. He's being dramatic about it."
"I am NOT being dramatic!" Wooyoung protested in the background. "I was THIS CLOSE to winning that kiss before I got shot! This is TRAGIC!"
Despite the lingering danger, a wave of relief washed over you so powerful it made you dizzy. They were alive. All eight of them had made it out.
"Everyone maintain evasive driving patterns until we're clear of the hot zone," Hongjoong instructed. "No direct route back to the compound until we're sure we're not followed."
"Copy that," Yunho acknowledged, making a sharp turn down a side street.
For several minutes, the three vans wove through the city in a carefully coordinated dance—separating, rejoining, taking unpredictable routes to shake any potential pursuit. Your eyes remained fixed on the side mirror, watching for signs of followers, but the streets behind you remained clear.
"I think we're good," Yunho said finally, both to you and through the comm.
"Agreed," Hongjoong responded. "Converge on route Alpha and proceed to base."
As the immediate danger passed, an awkward silence filled your vehicle. You were acutely aware of what you'd said in the heat of the moment—the offer of a kiss, the naked concern in your voice. Seven years of carefully maintained anger and distance, undone in an instant by fear.
"Thank you," Yunho said quietly, his eyes on the road ahead. "What you did back there... it made a difference."
You stared out the window, unwilling to meet his gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about."
A small smile touched his lips. "Of course not."
The comm crackled to life again. "So," Wooyoung's voice, deliberately casual. "About that kiss..."
"You didn't win," San interjected immediately. "I definitely reached the extraction point before you."
"You did not! I was ahead until I got SHOT, which is CHEATING—"
"No one's getting a kiss," Hongjoong cut in firmly. "It was said in the heat of the moment. Drop it."
"Actually," came Yeosang's measured voice, "I believe I was technically the first to reach the extraction point. By approximately 2.3 seconds."
"That's a lie!" Wooyoung exclaimed. "Yunho, you were monitoring! Who got there first?"
Yunho glanced at you, amusement dancing in his eyes despite the gravity of the situation you'd just escaped. "No comment."
"This is OUTRAGEOUS!" Wooyoung continued, his theatrical indignation drawing reluctant smiles from everyone. "I demand a rematch! Once my leg heals. Which might be never, by the way. I'm probably dying."
"It's a graze," Seonghwa said dryly. "You'll live."
"You don't know that! I could be bleeding internally! I could be—"
"Going to shut up for the rest of the ride?" Jongho suggested.
"Unlikely," Mingi chimed in, his voice strained but amused. "He's going to milk this for all it's worth."
"You know," San observed, "for someone who almost got killed, Wooyoung seems remarkably energetic."
"It's the promise of a kiss," Yunho said, giving you a quick, teasing glance. "Powerful motivation."
You felt your cheeks warm, but kept your expression neutral. "No one's getting a kiss," you stated firmly, echoing Hongjoong's earlier declaration. "I was just trying to get you all to move faster."
"And it worked," Yeosang pointed out. "Quite effectively."
"Whatever," you muttered, sinking lower in your seat.
The banter continued as the three vehicles made their way back to the compound, the familiar pattern of teasing and comebacks so reminiscent of earlier days that it made your chest ache with a complicated mixture of nostalgia and grief.
For those few minutes during the crisis, you had forgotten to be angry. You had forgotten the abandonment, the cruel words, the seven years of silence. All that had mattered was making sure they survived.
Now, as the adrenaline ebbed, the walls began to rebuild themselves—but slower, less certain than before.
Because the truth was undeniable: when you thought you might lose them, nothing else had mattered. Not your pride, not your hurt, not your carefully cultivated hatred.
"We're home," Yunho announced softly as the compound came into view, the gates opening automatically to admit the three vehicles.
Home. The word echoed in your mind, uncomfortable in its resonance.
This wasn't home. It couldn't be. Home was safe, and nothing about your feelings for these eight men was safe.
But as you stepped out of the van into the compound's courtyard, watching as they emerged from the other vehicles—battered, exhausted, but alive—you couldn't deny the relief that flooded through you.
You couldn't deny that, at least for tonight, you were glad to be here with them.
And that was dangerous territory indeed.
* * *
The compound buzzed with tense energy as everyone dispersed to assess injuries and debrief. Seonghwa had immediately whisked Mingi away to the medical room to tend to his wound, with Jongho following to assist. San was half-carrying, half-dragging a still-complaining Wooyoung, who seemed determined to make his minor injury sound like he was at death's door. Hongjoong and Yeosang had disappeared into the command center to analyze what had gone wrong.
That left you standing in the foyer with Yunho, the adrenaline of the night still coursing through your veins.
"You should get some rest," he said, studying your face with concern. "That was a lot to take in for your first mission."
"I'm fine," you insisted, though the slight tremor in your hands betrayed you. The reality of how close you'd come to losing them—all of them—was still sinking in. "What about the others? Mingi and Wooyoung..."
"They'll be okay," Yunho assured you. "Mingi's wound looks worse than it is—the bullet grazed his side. And Wooyoung..." A small smile touched his lips. "Well, you heard him. He's milking it for all it's worth, but it's barely a scratch."
You nodded, relief washing over you. Then you noticed the dark stain on Yunho's sleeve, partially hidden by the black fabric of his tactical gear.
"You're hurt," you said, reaching for his arm.
He tried to pull away. "It's nothing. Just caught some glass when one of the windows shattered."
But you had already taken hold of his arm, pushing up the sleeve to reveal a nasty gash along his forearm. "This isn't nothing. It needs to be cleaned and bandaged."
"I can take care of it later," he said dismissively. "After we debrief."
Your eyes narrowed. "The debrief can wait ten minutes. Where are the medical supplies?"
Yunho seemed about to argue, then sighed in resignation. "Second floor, third door on the right. There's a fully stocked medical cabinet."
Without waiting for further discussion, you headed for the stairs, knowing he would follow. He did, his footsteps quiet behind you as you made your way to the designated room.
The medical room was smaller than you expected but immaculately organized—more like a professional clinic than a home first aid station. Several cabinets lined the walls, filled with medications, bandages, and various medical instruments. A padded examination table stood in the center, with bright surgical lights overhead.
"Sit," you commanded, pointing to the table.
A ghost of a smile played across Yunho's face at your authoritative tone, but he complied, perching on the edge of the table while you searched the cabinets for what you needed.
"Top cabinet on the left," he guided. "Antiseptic, gauze, suture kits if needed."
You gathered the supplies and returned to his side, setting everything on a small rolling tray. With careful hands, you helped him remove his tactical jacket, revealing a fitted black t-shirt beneath. The wound looked even worse now—a jagged cut that ran from his elbow nearly to his wrist.
"This might need stitches," you said, frowning as you examined it.
"Probably not," he replied. "Pressure and butterfly bandages should do it."
You gave him a skeptical look but began cleaning the wound with gentle, methodical movements. The silence between you was charged but not uncomfortable—a familiar intimacy from years ago when you'd patched up skinned knees and minor injuries for each other.
"You were good out there," Yunho said softly. "On the comms. You probably saved us."
You kept your eyes focused on your task. "I doubt that."
"I don't," he insisted. "We were scattered, losing cohesion. Your voice..." He paused, searching for the right words. "It centered us. Reminded us what we were fighting to get back to."
Your hands stilled momentarily, his words stirring emotions you weren't ready to examine. "I just didn't want to be stuck in a gunfight alone," you deflected.
Yunho chuckled. "Right. And that kiss offer was just strategic motivation?"
Heat crept into your cheeks. "It worked, didn't it?"
"Spectacularly," he agreed, his tone lighter now. "I've never seen Wooyoung move so fast in my life. I think he broke some kind of land speed record before he got hit."
A small laugh escaped you despite your efforts to maintain your composure. "He's ridiculous."
"He's Wooyoung," Yunho said simply, as if that explained everything. And in a way, it did.
You finished cleaning the wound and began applying butterfly bandages, closing the edges of the cut with careful precision. Yunho watched you work, his eyes never leaving your face.
"You learned a lot in seven years," he observed quietly.
"I had to," you replied, a hint of the old bitterness creeping into your voice.
"Y/n..." he began, but you shook your head.
"Don't," you said firmly. "Not now."
He respected your wishes, falling silent as you finished bandaging his arm. When you were done, you stepped back to examine your work.
"It should hold," you said. "But keep it clean and change the dressing tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am," he said with a hint of teasing. "Thank you."
You began packing up the medical supplies, aware of his eyes still on you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between you. The night's events had shifted something—weakened the walls you'd built so carefully. The fear you'd felt when they were in danger, the relief when they returned safely—it had all been too raw, too real to dismiss.
"Yunho," you said suddenly, turning to face him. "About what I said on the comms..."
He slid off the table, standing to his full height. "It's okay. Hongjoong was right. It was said in the heat of the moment. No one expects you to—"
You didn't let him finish. Acting on impulse, on the lingering adrenaline and the memory of how close you'd come to losing him—to losing all of them—you stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him down to your level.
Your lips met his in a kiss that was nothing like the innocent one you'd shared at fifteen. This was fierce, urgent, a release of tension and fear and something deeper that you weren't ready to name. Your hands moved to his face, holding him to you as the kiss deepened, became more desperate.
Yunho froze for only a heartbeat before responding with equal fervor, his uninjured arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. Time seemed to stop, the world narrowing to just this—his lips on yours, his heartbeat against your palm, the solidity of him, alive and whole.
When you finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, you kept your hands on his face, forcing him to meet your gaze.
"You got to me first," you said, your voice husky. "You got the kiss."
His eyes, dark and intense, searched yours. "Y/n—"
The sound of approaching footsteps in the hallway made you step back quickly, putting distance between you just as the door opened.
Hongjoong stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable as his gaze flicked between you and Yunho. If he noticed the heightened color in your cheeks or Yunho's slightly disheveled appearance, he gave no indication.
"Yunho, we need you in the command center," he said, his tone professionally neutral. "The drone footage picked up something interesting."
"I'll be right there," Yunho replied, his voice remarkably steady.
Hongjoong nodded once, then looked at you. "You should get some rest, little one. It's been a long night."
Without waiting for your response, he turned and left, his footsteps fading down the hallway.
An awkward silence fell between you and Yunho, the moment broken, reality rushing back in. What had you been thinking? One kiss wouldn't erase seven years of hurt. One moment of weakness wouldn't change anything.
"I should go," Yunho said quietly. "They're waiting."
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.
He moved to the door but paused before leaving, turning back to look at you. "For what it's worth," he said, his voice low and sincere, "I've thought about that kiss by the bonfire every day for the past seven years."
Before you could respond, he was gone, leaving you alone with the medical supplies and the lingering warmth of his lips on yours.
You sank onto the examination table, your fingers touching your mouth in a daze. What had you done? More importantly, why had it felt so right, so natural, to kiss him? As if no time had passed at all. As if they hadn't broken your heart and left you to pick up the pieces alone.
One kiss wouldn't change anything, you told yourself firmly. It was just adrenaline, just relief that they had all made it back alive.
But as you made your way back to your room, you couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted. The walls you'd built were cracking, and you weren't sure you had the strength—or even the desire—to repair them.
Sleep, when it finally came, was filled with dreams of bonfires and lake days, of eight boys who became men while you weren't looking, and of a kiss that tasted like both the past and the future.
Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, poly ateez, violence and weapons, mafia ateez, organized crime, parental death and grieving process, bullying, possessive and controlling behavior,
Summary: When Y/n Ricci is forced to marry Kim Hongjoong—leader of the notorious ATEEZ organization and one of eight men who cruelly abandoned her seven years ago—she finds herself trapped in their heavily guarded compound with the ghosts of her past. As she navigates the dangerous world of mafia politics and her own wounded heart, Y/n discovers that all eight powerful, irresistible men still harbor deep feelings for her, suggesting an unconventional solution to their shared dilemma. But before she can consider forgiving them, let alone loving them again, she must uncover the dark secret that tore them apart—a truth that could either heal their fractured bonds or destroy them all completely.
Authors note: I know everyone wanted Y/n to go full on badass mode, I had wrote her joining in like 3 different ways and it didn’t feel right just yet. She’ll get her badass moment I promise!
18+ only- No Minors
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Masterlist
Chapter 7: Fight or Flight
The gunfire intensified, each shot a thunderclap in the night. Through the van's tinted windows, you could see muzzle flashes illuminating the compound like violent lightning. The drone feed on the monitor showed chaos—figures darting between buildings, taking cover, returning fire.
Your heart hammered against your ribcage. You recognized the tactical movements of the ATEEZ members even through the grainy night vision feed—Hongjoong's decisive leadership as he directed the others, Seonghwa's precise marksmanship, San's acrobatic maneuvers, Jongho's raw power as he engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a much larger opponent.
But they were outnumbered. Badly.
You could hear their labored breathing through the comms, the terse exchanges becoming more urgent with each passing minute.
"East exit compromised—" Yeosang's usually calm voice edged with tension.
"Two more hostiles on the roof—" San, followed by the sound of more gunfire.
"Mingi's hit!" Jongho's panicked report sent ice through your veins. "Not critical, but we need extraction."
"Working on it—" Hongjoong, his voice strained. "Seonghwa, cover the south approach. Yunho—"
"Almost there," Yunho responded, his voice coming through the comm.
The situation was deteriorating rapidly. You could see it in the frantic movements on the monitor, hear it in their increasingly desperate communications. This wasn't just a mission gone wrong—it was a trap. They had walked into an ambush, and now they were fighting their way out.
Fighting for their lives.
Something snapped inside you. Seven years of anger, of hurt, of carefully maintained distance—all of it fell away in the face of the primal fear that now gripped you. These weren't the men who had abandoned you. In this moment, they were simply the eight boys you had loved your entire life, and they were in danger.
Before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed the comm activation button.
"I swear to god," your voice rang out, steady despite your racing heart, "if any of you die before I can make your lives miserable, I will never forgive you."
A beat of stunned silence followed, then—
"Y/n?" Hongjoong's surprised voice.
"Yes, I'm breaking the 'minimal chatter' rule," you continued, a hint of your usual defiance returning. "Deal with it. Now get your asses back here in one piece."
Through the comm, you could hear what sounded like a soft chuckle from Seonghwa, a grunt of agreement from Jongho. On the monitor, you saw renewed purpose in their movements, a second wind as they pressed forward with more coordination.
"On our way, princess," San replied, his voice tight with exertion but with a hint of his usual playfulness. "Just taking care of a few party crashers first."
"Taking too long," you countered, watching anxiously as Mingi limped behind cover, clutching his side. "Move faster."
"Bossy as ever," Yeosang remarked, but you could hear the ghost of a smile in his voice.
"God, it's so hot when you threaten us," Wooyoung's voice came through with an exaggerated moan that was so ridiculous, so perfectly Wooyoung, that a genuine laugh escaped you despite the gravity of the situation.
Even in the midst of gunfire and danger, he could still make you laugh. Some things never changed.
On the monitor, you could see them making progress, fighting their way toward the extraction point where the vehicles waited. But they were moving too slowly, and more hostile figures were appearing on the perimeter of the compound.
Panic coursed through your veins. Seven years ago, you had lost them to circumstances you didn't understand. Now you might lose them permanently, right before your eyes.
The thought was unbearable.
"First person that makes it back to me gets a kiss," you blurted out, desperation making you reckless.
The effect was immediate and electric. You heard several sharp intakes of breath, followed by what sounded like a renewed burst of energy in their movements.
"Oh, you're ON," San declared, his figure on the monitor suddenly moving with doubled speed.
"That's not fair!" Wooyoung protested. "Some of us are farther away! I'll shoot anyone who gets to the car before me, I swear to god!"
"Shut up and move," Hongjoong ordered, but even his voice had a new edge of determination.
Through the drone feed, you watched in amazement as their retreat transformed from desperate to almost supernaturally efficient. Seonghwa provided perfect cover fire as Hongjoong helped Mingi toward the exit. Jongho single-handedly cleared a path through three armed men. San and Yeosang worked in perfect tandem, one creating distractions while the other neutralized threats.
And Wooyoung—Wooyoung was moving like a man possessed, vaulting over obstacles and dodging bullets with an almost comical determination.
"I have visual on the vehicles," Hongjoong reported. "Yunho, status?"
"Area secure," Yunho responded from somewhere outside your van. "Ready for extraction."
"Incoming in three, two—"
The world outside erupted in a final, furious exchange of gunfire. You held your breath, tears welling in your eyes as you watched the monitor, counting figures, praying that all seven dots would make it to the extraction point.
One by one, they appeared on the edge of the compound—Hongjoong supporting Mingi, Seonghwa providing rear cover, Jongho and Yeosang flanking them protectively. San emerged next, dragging a limping Wooyoung who seemed to be simultaneously cursing his injury and demanding to be let go so he could win the race.
Your hands trembled as you watched them sprint the final distance toward the vehicles. They were going to make it. They had to make it.
A final burst of gunfire, a shout of warning—
The door of your van burst open so suddenly you jumped, reaching instinctively for the knife concealed at your ankle.
Yunho's face appeared, his expression intense as he slid into the driver's seat. "Everyone's accounted for. We're moving. Now."
The engine roared to life as the others piled into the second and third vans. Within seconds, all three vehicles were peeling away from the compound, tires screeching on asphalt as they accelerated into the night.
Through the rear window, you could see muzzle flashes as the Russo men continued firing after you, but the bullets fell short as the distance increased.
"Status report," Hongjoong's voice came through the comm, authoritative despite his heavy breathing.
"Vehicle One clear," Yunho responded beside you. "Y/n’s safe."
"Vehicle Two operational," Seonghwa reported. "Mingi needs medical but it's not critical. Flesh wound to the lower abdomen."
"Vehicle Three functioning," San added. "Wooyoung took a graze to the leg. He's being dramatic about it."
"I am NOT being dramatic!" Wooyoung protested in the background. "I was THIS CLOSE to winning that kiss before I got shot! This is TRAGIC!"
Despite the lingering danger, a wave of relief washed over you so powerful it made you dizzy. They were alive. All eight of them had made it out.
"Everyone maintain evasive driving patterns until we're clear of the hot zone," Hongjoong instructed. "No direct route back to the compound until we're sure we're not followed."
"Copy that," Yunho acknowledged, making a sharp turn down a side street.
For several minutes, the three vans wove through the city in a carefully coordinated dance—separating, rejoining, taking unpredictable routes to shake any potential pursuit. Your eyes remained fixed on the side mirror, watching for signs of followers, but the streets behind you remained clear.
"I think we're good," Yunho said finally, both to you and through the comm.
"Agreed," Hongjoong responded. "Converge on route Alpha and proceed to base."
As the immediate danger passed, an awkward silence filled your vehicle. You were acutely aware of what you'd said in the heat of the moment—the offer of a kiss, the naked concern in your voice. Seven years of carefully maintained anger and distance, undone in an instant by fear.
"Thank you," Yunho said quietly, his eyes on the road ahead. "What you did back there... it made a difference."
You stared out the window, unwilling to meet his gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about."
A small smile touched his lips. "Of course not."
The comm crackled to life again. "So," Wooyoung's voice, deliberately casual. "About that kiss..."
"You didn't win," San interjected immediately. "I definitely reached the extraction point before you."
"You did not! I was ahead until I got SHOT, which is CHEATING—"
"No one's getting a kiss," Hongjoong cut in firmly. "It was said in the heat of the moment. Drop it."
"Actually," came Yeosang's measured voice, "I believe I was technically the first to reach the extraction point. By approximately 2.3 seconds."
"That's a lie!" Wooyoung exclaimed. "Yunho, you were monitoring! Who got there first?"
Yunho glanced at you, amusement dancing in his eyes despite the gravity of the situation you'd just escaped. "No comment."
"This is OUTRAGEOUS!" Wooyoung continued, his theatrical indignation drawing reluctant smiles from everyone. "I demand a rematch! Once my leg heals. Which might be never, by the way. I'm probably dying."
"It's a graze," Seonghwa said dryly. "You'll live."
"You don't know that! I could be bleeding internally! I could be—"
"Going to shut up for the rest of the ride?" Jongho suggested.
"Unlikely," Mingi chimed in, his voice strained but amused. "He's going to milk this for all it's worth."
"You know," San observed, "for someone who almost got killed, Wooyoung seems remarkably energetic."
"It's the promise of a kiss," Yunho said, giving you a quick, teasing glance. "Powerful motivation."
You felt your cheeks warm, but kept your expression neutral. "No one's getting a kiss," you stated firmly, echoing Hongjoong's earlier declaration. "I was just trying to get you all to move faster."
"And it worked," Yeosang pointed out. "Quite effectively."
"Whatever," you muttered, sinking lower in your seat.
The banter continued as the three vehicles made their way back to the compound, the familiar pattern of teasing and comebacks so reminiscent of earlier days that it made your chest ache with a complicated mixture of nostalgia and grief.
For those few minutes during the crisis, you had forgotten to be angry. You had forgotten the abandonment, the cruel words, the seven years of silence. All that had mattered was making sure they survived.
Now, as the adrenaline ebbed, the walls began to rebuild themselves—but slower, less certain than before.
Because the truth was undeniable: when you thought you might lose them, nothing else had mattered. Not your pride, not your hurt, not your carefully cultivated hatred.
"We're home," Yunho announced softly as the compound came into view, the gates opening automatically to admit the three vehicles.
Home. The word echoed in your mind, uncomfortable in its resonance.
This wasn't home. It couldn't be. Home was safe, and nothing about your feelings for these eight men was safe.
But as you stepped out of the van into the compound's courtyard, watching as they emerged from the other vehicles—battered, exhausted, but alive—you couldn't deny the relief that flooded through you.
You couldn't deny that, at least for tonight, you were glad to be here with them.
And that was dangerous territory indeed.
* * *
The compound buzzed with tense energy as everyone dispersed to assess injuries and debrief. Seonghwa had immediately whisked Mingi away to the medical room to tend to his wound, with Jongho following to assist. San was half-carrying, half-dragging a still-complaining Wooyoung, who seemed determined to make his minor injury sound like he was at death's door. Hongjoong and Yeosang had disappeared into the command center to analyze what had gone wrong.
That left you standing in the foyer with Yunho, the adrenaline of the night still coursing through your veins.
"You should get some rest," he said, studying your face with concern. "That was a lot to take in for your first mission."
"I'm fine," you insisted, though the slight tremor in your hands betrayed you. The reality of how close you'd come to losing them—all of them—was still sinking in. "What about the others? Mingi and Wooyoung..."
"They'll be okay," Yunho assured you. "Mingi's wound looks worse than it is—the bullet grazed his side. And Wooyoung..." A small smile touched his lips. "Well, you heard him. He's milking it for all it's worth, but it's barely a scratch."
You nodded, relief washing over you. Then you noticed the dark stain on Yunho's sleeve, partially hidden by the black fabric of his tactical gear.
"You're hurt," you said, reaching for his arm.
He tried to pull away. "It's nothing. Just caught some glass when one of the windows shattered."
But you had already taken hold of his arm, pushing up the sleeve to reveal a nasty gash along his forearm. "This isn't nothing. It needs to be cleaned and bandaged."
"I can take care of it later," he said dismissively. "After we debrief."
Your eyes narrowed. "The debrief can wait ten minutes. Where are the medical supplies?"
Yunho seemed about to argue, then sighed in resignation. "Second floor, third door on the right. There's a fully stocked medical cabinet."
Without waiting for further discussion, you headed for the stairs, knowing he would follow. He did, his footsteps quiet behind you as you made your way to the designated room.
The medical room was smaller than you expected but immaculately organized—more like a professional clinic than a home first aid station. Several cabinets lined the walls, filled with medications, bandages, and various medical instruments. A padded examination table stood in the center, with bright surgical lights overhead.
"Sit," you commanded, pointing to the table.
A ghost of a smile played across Yunho's face at your authoritative tone, but he complied, perching on the edge of the table while you searched the cabinets for what you needed.
"Top cabinet on the left," he guided. "Antiseptic, gauze, suture kits if needed."
You gathered the supplies and returned to his side, setting everything on a small rolling tray. With careful hands, you helped him remove his tactical jacket, revealing a fitted black t-shirt beneath. The wound looked even worse now—a jagged cut that ran from his elbow nearly to his wrist.
"This might need stitches," you said, frowning as you examined it.
"Probably not," he replied. "Pressure and butterfly bandages should do it."
You gave him a skeptical look but began cleaning the wound with gentle, methodical movements. The silence between you was charged but not uncomfortable—a familiar intimacy from years ago when you'd patched up skinned knees and minor injuries for each other.
"You were good out there," Yunho said softly. "On the comms. You probably saved us."
You kept your eyes focused on your task. "I doubt that."
"I don't," he insisted. "We were scattered, losing cohesion. Your voice..." He paused, searching for the right words. "It centered us. Reminded us what we were fighting to get back to."
Your hands stilled momentarily, his words stirring emotions you weren't ready to examine. "I just didn't want to be stuck in a gunfight alone," you deflected.
Yunho chuckled. "Right. And that kiss offer was just strategic motivation?"
Heat crept into your cheeks. "It worked, didn't it?"
"Spectacularly," he agreed, his tone lighter now. "I've never seen Wooyoung move so fast in my life. I think he broke some kind of land speed record before he got hit."
A small laugh escaped you despite your efforts to maintain your composure. "He's ridiculous."
"He's Wooyoung," Yunho said simply, as if that explained everything. And in a way, it did.
You finished cleaning the wound and began applying butterfly bandages, closing the edges of the cut with careful precision. Yunho watched you work, his eyes never leaving your face.
"You learned a lot in seven years," he observed quietly.
"I had to," you replied, a hint of the old bitterness creeping into your voice.
"Y/n..." he began, but you shook your head.
"Don't," you said firmly. "Not now."
He respected your wishes, falling silent as you finished bandaging his arm. When you were done, you stepped back to examine your work.
"It should hold," you said. "But keep it clean and change the dressing tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am," he said with a hint of teasing. "Thank you."
You began packing up the medical supplies, aware of his eyes still on you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between you. The night's events had shifted something—weakened the walls you'd built so carefully. The fear you'd felt when they were in danger, the relief when they returned safely—it had all been too raw, too real to dismiss.
"Yunho," you said suddenly, turning to face him. "About what I said on the comms..."
He slid off the table, standing to his full height. "It's okay. Hongjoong was right. It was said in the heat of the moment. No one expects you to—"
You didn't let him finish. Acting on impulse, on the lingering adrenaline and the memory of how close you'd come to losing him—to losing all of them—you stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him down to your level.
Your lips met his in a kiss that was nothing like the innocent one you'd shared at fifteen. This was fierce, urgent, a release of tension and fear and something deeper that you weren't ready to name. Your hands moved to his face, holding him to you as the kiss deepened, became more desperate.
Yunho froze for only a heartbeat before responding with equal fervor, his uninjured arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. Time seemed to stop, the world narrowing to just this—his lips on yours, his heartbeat against your palm, the solidity of him, alive and whole.
When you finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, you kept your hands on his face, forcing him to meet your gaze.
"You got to me first," you said, your voice husky. "You got the kiss."
His eyes, dark and intense, searched yours. "Y/n—"
The sound of approaching footsteps in the hallway made you step back quickly, putting distance between you just as the door opened.
Hongjoong stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable as his gaze flicked between you and Yunho. If he noticed the heightened color in your cheeks or Yunho's slightly disheveled appearance, he gave no indication.
"Yunho, we need you in the command center," he said, his tone professionally neutral. "The drone footage picked up something interesting."
"I'll be right there," Yunho replied, his voice remarkably steady.
Hongjoong nodded once, then looked at you. "You should get some rest, little one. It's been a long night."
Without waiting for your response, he turned and left, his footsteps fading down the hallway.
An awkward silence fell between you and Yunho, the moment broken, reality rushing back in. What had you been thinking? One kiss wouldn't erase seven years of hurt. One moment of weakness wouldn't change anything.
"I should go," Yunho said quietly. "They're waiting."
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.
He moved to the door but paused before leaving, turning back to look at you. "For what it's worth," he said, his voice low and sincere, "I've thought about that kiss by the bonfire every day for the past seven years."
Before you could respond, he was gone, leaving you alone with the medical supplies and the lingering warmth of his lips on yours.
You sank onto the examination table, your fingers touching your mouth in a daze. What had you done? More importantly, why had it felt so right, so natural, to kiss him? As if no time had passed at all. As if they hadn't broken your heart and left you to pick up the pieces alone.
One kiss wouldn't change anything, you told yourself firmly. It was just adrenaline, just relief that they had all made it back alive.
But as you made your way back to your room, you couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted. The walls you'd built were cracking, and you weren't sure you had the strength—or even the desire—to repair them.
Sleep, when it finally came, was filled with dreams of bonfires and lake days, of eight boys who became men while you weren't looking, and of a kiss that tasted like both the past and the future.
Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, poly ateez, violence and weapons, mafia ateez, organized crime, parental death and grieving process, bullying, possessive and controlling behavior,
Summary: When Y/n Ricci is forced to marry Kim Hongjoong—leader of the notorious ATEEZ organization and one of eight men who cruelly abandoned her seven years ago—she finds herself trapped in their heavily guarded compound with the ghosts of her past. As she navigates the dangerous world of mafia politics and her own wounded heart, Y/n discovers that all eight powerful, irresistible men still harbor deep feelings for her, suggesting an unconventional solution to their shared dilemma. But before she can consider forgiving them, let alone loving them again, she must uncover the dark secret that tore them apart—a truth that could either heal their fractured bonds or destroy them all completely.
18+ only- No Minors
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Masterlist
Chapter 6: Walls
A few days later, Hongjoong cornered you in the library to inform you there would be a security meeting that evening. Your response was swift and succinct: eat glass.
An hour later, there was a soft knock at your door. When you opened it, you found Mingi standing in the hallway, all six feet of him radiating an almost puppylike hopefulness that was completely at odds with his intimidating stature. His dark eyes held that same gentle pleading expression that had gotten him out of trouble countless times as a child.
"Y/n," he said quietly, his deep voice somehow managing to sound both respectful and utterly vulnerable. "Would you please consider joining us for the meeting tonight? We... I would really value your perspective."
The bastards. They knew exactly what they were doing, sending Mingi—sweet, earnest Mingi who had never been able to lie convincingly, whose genuine expressions could melt stone. It was emotional manipulation of the highest order.
And damn them, it was working.
"That's a dirty trick," you told him, crossing your arms and fixing him with your most withering glare.
Mingi had the grace to look slightly ashamed, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Maybe," he admitted. "But we really do need you there."
You stared at him for a long moment, watching the way he fidgeted under your scrutiny, the way his hands hung loosely at his sides like he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. Seven years later, and he still had that same nervous energy when he was asking for something he wasn't sure he'd get.
"Fine," you said finally, your tone suggesting this was a tremendous burden you were shouldering purely out of the goodness of your heart. "But I'm only coming because you asked nicely."
The smile that broke across Mingi's face was so bright, so genuinely relieved and grateful, that you had to look away to hide your own reluctant softening.
"Thank you," he said, and the sincerity in his voice made something in your chest tighten uncomfortably.
"Don't thank me yet," you warned. "I haven't decided whether I'm going to participate or just sit there and judge all of you silently."
"I'll take silent judgment over absence," Mingi replied with a small, self-deprecating smile.
The security meeting was held in a state-of-the-art command center hidden behind what had appeared to be an ordinary wall in Hongjoong's office.
As the panel slid open to reveal the room beyond—filled with monitors, weapons, and advanced technology—you worked to keep your expression neutral despite your genuine surprise.
"Impressed?" Hongjoong asked, catching your reaction despite your efforts.
"I've seen better," you lied smoothly, following him into the room.
The others filed in behind you, each taking what was clearly their usual position around a large central table. There was an empty chair between Hongjoong and Seonghwa that was obviously meant for you. You considered refusing it on principle, but decided that would seem childish. Instead, you took the seat with all the casual confidence of someone who belonged there.
"The Russo family has been unusually active near the western district," Seonghwa began without preamble, pulling up a digital map on the main screen. "Three of our informants have reported movement suggesting they're establishing a new base of operations here." He pointed to an industrial area marked in red.
"Why there?" Jongho asked, leaning forward to study the map. "It's not strategically valuable."
"Unless they're trying to get closer to something—or someone—in this direction," Yeosang observed quietly, his finger tracing a line from the marked area toward the ATEEZ compound.
"They wouldn't be that bold," San argued, but he didn't sound entirely convinced.
Throughout the briefing, questions flew, theories were proposed and dismissed, and strategies were debated. You remained largely silent, observing the dynamics at play. Despite their occasionally heated disagreements, there was a seamless efficiency to how they worked together—Hongjoong making the final decisions but clearly valuing each person's unique perspective. Seonghwa provided logical analysis, Yeosang noticed patterns others missed, Jongho focused on defense, San thought like their enemies, Yunho considered innocent bystanders, Mingi evaluated resource needs, and Wooyoung, surprisingly, had an uncanny ability to predict unpredictable variables.
They were good at this. Very good.
Occasionally, someone would glance your way, as if expecting or hoping for your input, but you offered little beyond a nod or shrug. Let them handle their business. You weren't really part of this, no matter what the marriage certificate would eventually say.
"Y/n," Hongjoong said finally, drawing your attention. "You've been quiet. Thoughts?"
You met his gaze levelly. "I think it's interesting that you're all so concerned about the Russo family when my father has been handling them for years without issue."
A tense silence followed your observation. Hongjoong and Seonghwa exchanged a glance that contained an entire unspoken conversation.
"Your father's resources have been... stretched thin recently," Seonghwa said carefully.
"And the nature of the threat has changed," Hongjoong added.
You raised an eyebrow. "Changed how?"
Another loaded silence.
"That's classified," Hongjoong said finally.
You laughed, the sound sharp and without humor. "Classified? From your fiancée? The one you're supposedly protecting from this very threat?"
"We're gathering more information tonight," he said, avoiding your question. "Once we have a clearer picture, you'll be briefed accordingly."
Your eyes narrowed, but before you could press further, Wooyoung jumped in.
"Hey, it's almost dinner time! And I've been cooking all afternoon—something special," he said, his enthusiasm barely containing his obvious attempt to change the subject.
"We'll continue this tomorrow," Hongjoong decided, rising from his seat. "Gear check at nine. We move at ten."
As everyone began to file out, you lingered, studying the map on the screen. Something about the pattern of movement didn't make sense if the Russos were truly targeting the ATEEZ compound. They were circling too far west, approaching from the least strategic direction.
"Coming?" Yeosang asked quietly, waiting by the door.
You nodded, filing away your observations for later consideration. "What's Wooyoung so excited about? He's not usually the chef, is he?"
A small, knowing smile touched Yeosang's lips. "No. But he's been planning this dinner for days."
* * *
The dining room was filled with an aroma that stopped you in your tracks the moment you entered. It couldn't be. There was no way.
The table was set more casually than usual, with platters of food arranged family-style in the center. Your eyes were immediately drawn to a large ceramic dish containing what appeared to be—
"Pasta alla Norma," Wooyoung announced proudly, watching your reaction closely. "With caponata and arancini di riso on the side."
Your mother's signature dishes. The meals she had prepared for special occasions, teaching you the recipes that had been passed down through generations of her Sicilian family. Dishes you hadn't tasted since before she died, because you couldn't bear to make them yourself.
You looked up at Wooyoung, unable to completely mask your shock. "How did you..."
"I remember," he said simply. "She taught me too, remember? That summer when you were sick with pneumonia and she needed extra hands in the kitchen for your father's birthday dinner."
You did remember. Wooyoung had been the only one with both the patience and enthusiasm to learn your mother's exacting techniques, spending hours with her in the kitchen while you recovered upstairs. The memory hit you with unexpected force—Wooyoung appearing in your bedroom doorway afterward, his clothes splattered with tomato sauce but his face triumphant as he brought you a plate of perfectly prepared pasta.
"It won't be the same," he added quickly, mistaking your silence for disappointment. "I did my best, but Elena was an artist with these dishes. I—"
"Thank you," you interrupted softly, the words escaping before you could stop them.
His entire face lit up, surprise and joy transforming his features. "You're welcome."
Dinner began with an unusual quietness, everyone watching surreptitiously as you took your first bite of the pasta. The familiar flavors exploded across your tongue—the slight char of the eggplant, the sweet acidity of the tomatoes, the sharp bite of ricotta salata—and suddenly you were twelve years old again, sitting in your mother's sun-drenched kitchen, her laughter filling the air as she taught you how to properly salt the eggplant.
You hadn't realized you'd closed your eyes until you opened them to find everyone staring at you. Emotion threatened to overwhelm you—grief and gratitude and anger and longing all tangled together in your chest. It was too much, too confusing, too raw.
But when you glanced at Wooyoung, the hope and nervousness in his expression so painfully evident, you couldn't help the ghost of a smile that briefly crossed your face before you returned your attention to your plate.
It was enough. Wooyoung beamed like you'd handed him the moon, then launched into animated conversation with the others, allowing you to eat in peace, processing your emotions without an audience.
As dinner continued, you found yourself observing them through new eyes—not as the enemies who had abandoned you, but as the boys you had once known, now grown into men. They spoke of everyday things—a movie Yunho wanted to see, a book Jongho was reading, a new training technique San was developing. Their interactions were comfortable, punctuated by inside jokes and good-natured teasing. Family, in all but blood.
Hongjoong caught you watching and held your gaze for a moment, something unreadable in his dark eyes before you looked away.
They were still beautiful, all of them, in their different ways. Hongjoong's commanding presence, Seonghwa's elegant features, Yunho's warm smile, Yeosang's soulful eyes, San's dangerous charisma, Mingi's gentle strength, Wooyoung's vibrant energy, Jongho's steady reliability. But they had hardened too—their bodies more muscled, marked here and there with tattoos and scars that told stories you didn't know. Stories from the seven years you'd missed.
You had loved each of them fiercely, in different ways but with your whole heart. When they left and your mother died soon after, the double blow had nearly destroyed you. There had been days—weeks—when you hadn't been sure you wanted to live. Only Marco's unwavering presence had pulled you through that darkness.
And now here you were, sharing a meal with the very men who had broken you, feeling the treacherous tendrils of those old feelings stirring beneath your anger.
You finished your meal in silence, the food both a comfort and a heartache. When you excused yourself to return to your room, no one tried to stop you, though you felt their eyes following you out.
* * *
Hours later, from the top of the grand staircase, you watched a flurry of activity in the foyer below. The eight men moved with practiced efficiency, checking weapons, adjusting tactical gear, and communicating in shorthand that spoke of years working as a unit.
Hongjoong was at the center, his usual fashionable attire replaced by all black tactical clothing that emphasized his lean, powerful build. He moved with the assurance of a natural leader, his commands brief but clear as he directed final preparations.
Your curiosity finally overcame your determination to remain distant. You descended the stairs, your footsteps announcing your presence before you spoke.
"What's going on?" you asked, surveying the scene.
Hongjoong glanced up, his expression briefly surprised before settling back into professional neutrality. "Mission. Nothing you need to concern yourself with."
"A mission," you repeated. "To the Russo site you were discussing earlier?"
He nodded once, returning his attention to checking his weapon. "We'll be back before dawn. Yunho and Wooyoung are staying behind to maintain security here."
"I want to come," you said, the words surprising even you.
Hongjoong actually laughed, the sound both genuine and dismissive. "No. You're too fragile for this."
The words hit like a slap. Your eyes widened, brow raising in a gesture they were all too familiar with from your childhood—the look that had always preceded you proving someone catastrophically wrong.
"I can pick a lock in 4 seconds, hot wire vehicles, use a blade with precision, and take down a man three times my size without a weapon, I might add," you stated coldly. "I can handle more than you think."
Eight pairs of eyes turned to you, expressions ranging from shock to disbelief to... was that pride on San's face?
"Why do you know all that?" San asked, voicing what they were all clearly wondering.
Your smile was sharp enough to cut. "Because I had eight protectors, then suddenly had none. I had to learn to protect myself." The insult landed exactly as intended, several of them flinching visibly.
"We still protected you, you just couldn't see—" Mingi began, but Hongjoong cut him off with a sharp "Mingi."
You frowned, not understanding what Mingi had been about to reveal. Protected you how? When?
Hongjoong shook his head, his decision unchanged. "The answer is still no."
You crossed your arms, a calculating smile spreading across your face. "You're right. Since all of you will be gone, it'll be easier to snoop, possibly escape, and maybe go to a bar and live up my bachelorette life before the big day."
The effect was immediate and gratifying. Jealousy flashed across eight faces in various degrees of intensity—from Seonghwa's subtle jaw clench to Hongjoong's darkening eyes to Wooyoung's comically outraged expression.
Hongjoong sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You are the most maddening woman I have ever met," he growled. "Fine. But you stay in the car with Yunho. No arguments."
Your victorious smile was answer enough.
As the others finished their preparations, Seonghwa approached, handing you a small earpiece. "This is for emergency communication only," he instructed. "Channel is secure, but minimize chatter. If you absolutely need to speak, press once to activate, release when you're done. Clear?"
You examined the sleek device, turning it over in your palm. "Minimal chatter? Then why do you let Wooyoung have one?" you asked, your tone lightly teasing.
Wooyoung's indignant "Hey!" was drowned out by unexpected laughter from the others. He beamed at you despite his protest, your teasing tone clearly registering as the most significant breakthrough since your arrival. To him, it might as well have been a declaration of love.
"She's got you there, Woo," San chuckled.
"I'll have you know," Wooyoung retorted dramatically, pressing his hand to his chest, "that my 'chatter' has saved our lives on multiple occasions. Remember the Nakamoto operation? Who spotted the secondary security team because he was 'chattering' about the guard's ugly shoes?"
"He's not wrong," Yunho admitted, grinning. "Wooyoung notices the strangest details, but they often turn out to be important."
You found yourself fighting back a genuine smile, the familiar banter momentarily breaking through your defenses. It felt... normal. Almost like before.
The realization was jarring.
Hongjoong seemed to notice the shift in your demeanor, his perceptive eyes studying your face before he called everyone to attention. "Time to move out. Y/n, you're with Yunho and Jongho in the second vehicle. Remember—"
"Stay in the car," you finished for him. "I heard you the first time."
"And yet, I remain unconvinced you'll actually do it," he replied dryly. “Stay low, stay quiet, and for the love of God, don't do anything reckless."
"Me? Reckless?" you asked with exaggerated shock. "I'm the picture of restraint and good judgment."
"You threw a knife at my head," he pointed out.
"And missed," you replied sweetly. "See? Restraint."
Despite himself, Hongjoong's lips twitched toward a smile. "Just... try not to get shot, okay?"
"I'll do my best," you promised, though the gleam in your eyes suggested that your definition of "best" might differ significantly from his.
"That's what worries me," he muttered, but there was something almost fond in his exasperation.
As you followed them out to the garage, your heart beat with unexpected excitement. You had pushed your way into their world partly out of boredom, partly out of spite, but now that you were here, a part of you—the part that had always craved adventure and action—was genuinely curious to see ATEEZ in operation.
Whatever else they were, whatever pain they had caused you, you couldn't deny they were impressive. Dangerous. Powerful.
And tonight, you would finally see exactly what they were capable of.
* * *
The sleek black van sat hidden in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse, positioned perfectly to maintain visual coverage of the Russo compound while remaining undetectable. Through the tinted windows, you could see the occasional movement of security guards patrolling the perimeter—men with the distinctive bulge of concealed weapons beneath their jackets.
Inside the vehicle, a different kind of tension filled the air.
You were in the back with Yunho, surrounded by an impressive array of technology that had transformed the van into a mobile command center. Multiple screens displayed different camera feeds, thermal imaging, and a detailed map of the area with eight blinking dots representing the team members currently infiltrating the compound.
You watched as he worked, his large hands moving with surprising dexterity across keyboards and control panels. He had rolled up the sleeves of his black tactical shirt, revealing muscled forearms decorated with a few tasteful tattoos—geometric patterns that somehow suited him perfectly.
"Got eyes on the south entrance," he murmured into his comm, his deep voice softer than you remembered. "Hongjoong, you're clear to proceed. Seonghwa, hold position until the guard changes."
As he reached to adjust one of the monitors, the focused concentration on his face transported you back in time. Despite the tactical gear, despite the hardened muscles and new tattoos, in this moment of quiet competence, he looked just like the boy you had grown up with.
The boy who had been the first to change in your eyes.
* * *
Seven Years Earlier – Age 15
It was a lazy Saturday afternoon at the Kim estate, the kind of sweltering summer day that made even the simplest movements feel like swimming through honey. The eight boys had been playing basketball on the outdoor court, and you had been perched on a nearby bench, ostensibly reading but mostly watching them through your sunglasses.
They had been playing for nearly an hour when they finally called a break, sweaty and laughing as they collapsed on the grass near your bench. Yunho, who had scored the winning point, pulled off his shirt to wipe his face before tossing it aside.
And that was when it happened.
You'd seen the boys shirtless countless times before—at pools, at beaches, during countless summers of growing up together. But something was different now. Yunho had... changed. When had his shoulders become so broad? When had his chest developed those defined muscles? When had his arms...
You felt your face grow hot, and it had nothing to do with the summer heat. For the first time, you were seeing Yunho not as your childhood friend, but as a *boy*—a very attractive boy who made your stomach do strange flips when he smiled in your direction.
"Water?" he asked, approaching your bench, still shirtless and glistening with sweat.
You fumbled with the bottle, nearly dropping it as you handed it over. "Here."
"Thanks," he said, taking a long drink that made you inexplicably fascinated with the movement of his throat.
"You okay?" he asked, catching your stare. "You look kind of flushed."
"Fine," you squeaked, mortified by the unfamiliar pitch of your voice. "Just hot."
Yunho grinned, completely oblivious to your internal crisis. "We're heading to the pool after this. You should come."
The pool. Where they would all be shirtless. Where you would be in a swimsuit. Where this new, confusing awareness would have nowhere to hide.
"Maybe," you managed, hiding behind your book again.
But as the boys resumed their game, you found yourself unable to focus on the words. Instead, your eyes kept drifting to Yunho—and then, with growing horror and fascination, to the others as well.
When had Hongjoong's intense focus become so captivating? When had Seonghwa's elegant movements started to seem so graceful? When had Mingi gotten so tall, Wooyoung so energetic, San so charismatic, Yeosang so mysteriously appealing, Jongho so strong?
When had your eight best friends become eight boys who made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with friendship?
* * *
Two Weeks Later – The Lake
"Are you sure about this?" Elena asked, eyeing the bikini you had laid out on your bed. It was modest by most standards—a deep blue two-piece with more coverage than most—but compared to the one-piece swimsuits you'd worn your entire life, it might as well have been lingerie.
"I'm fifteen, Momma," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "Everyone wears bikinis now."
Your mother's knowing smile made you blush. "And this sudden fashion evolution has nothing to do with eight certain young men who will be at the lake today?"
"Momma!" you protested, mortified at being so transparent.
Elena laughed softly, coming to sit beside you on the bed. "Oh, my darling girl. I've been waiting for this day."
"What day?"
"The day you finally realize what I've known since you were twelve—that those boys would eventually become more than just your friends." She brushed a strand of hair from your face. "At least in your heart."
"It's not like that," you mumbled, though it was exactly like that. "I just... I want them to see me differently. Not just as the little girl they need to protect."
Your mother's expression softened. "They will, in time. But bambina, be careful with your heart. Loving one boy is complicated enough. Loving eight..." She shook her head, a hint of worry creasing her brow.
"I don't love them," you insisted, the very word making your stomach flip. "I just..."
"Want them to notice you," she finished for you. "I understand. Just remember that you are precious, Y/n. Your heart is precious. Guard it carefully."
Two hours later, wrapped in a cover-up that concealed your new swimsuit, you arrived at the lake with your mother's warning still echoing in your mind. The boys were already there, having claimed the best spot on the shore. You could see them from the parking area—horsing around in the water, lounging on beach towels, looking like they'd stepped out of a summer advertisement with their sun-kissed skin and carefree smiles.
Your courage nearly failed you then. What were you thinking? These were your best friends. What if your awkward attempt at being "noticed" ruined everything? What if they laughed at you? Worse, what if they were uncomfortable?
But then Wooyoung spotted you, waving wildly. "Y/n! Finally! We've been waiting for you!"
There was no turning back now.
You made your way down to their spot, your heart pounding so hard you were sure they could hear it. Casual greetings were exchanged, jokes were made, and then came the moment of truth.
"Aren't you hot in that?" San asked, gesturing to your cover-up. "It's like a thousand degrees out here."
With a deep breath, you removed the light fabric, revealing the blue bikini beneath.
The effect was immediate and dramatic. All conversation ceased. Eight pairs of eyes turned to you, expressions ranging from shock (Wooyoung's jaw actually dropped) to something darker and more difficult to interpret (Hongjoong's intense gaze made your skin tingle).
"You... um... you look different," Yunho managed, his ears turning red.
"Good different?" you asked, your voice smaller than you intended.
"Yeah," he replied, his eyes meeting yours briefly before darting away. "Really good."
An awkward silence fell, broken only when Jongho, the youngest but often the most practical, cleared his throat. "Who wants to go swimming?"
The moment passed, but something fundamental had shifted. Throughout the day, you caught them looking at you when they thought you wouldn't notice. Their usual casual touches—an arm around your shoulder, a playful push, a hand helping you up—became more hesitant, more charged.
And when Mingi offered to apply sunscreen to your back, his large hands gentle but trembling slightly, you knew with absolute certainty that they were finally seeing you as more than just their childhood friend.
You were being seen as a young woman. And it was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.
* * *
"Earth to Y/n," Yunho's voice pulled you from your memories. "You okay? You zoned out for a minute there."
You blinked, reality rushing back. You were in an van on a surveillance mission, not at a lake seven years ago.
"Fine," you said, the echo of your fifteen-year-old self's same response making you smile despite yourself. "Just thinking."
Yunho studied you, his eyes somehow both familiar and different. "About what?"
"The past," you admitted. "When things were simpler."
A small, sad smile touched his lips. "Were they? I remember those days being pretty complicated."
The knowing look in his eyes made you wonder if he was remembering the same moments you were—that summer when everything changed, when friendship began its inevitable, complicated evolution into something more.
"The lake day," you said quietly, testing the waters. "Do you remember?"
His smile widened, a hint of his old playfulness returning. "When you showed up in that blue bikini and nearly gave all eight of us simultaneous heart attacks? Yeah, I remember."
Heat crept into your cheeks. "I wasn't that obvious."
"You were," he assured you, his attention divided between you and the monitors. "But we weren't much better. Hongjoong actually pulled us aside afterward and gave us a whole lecture about respecting you and not staring and..." He trailed off, chuckling at the memory.
"Really?" The thought of a teenage Hongjoong lecturing the others about proper behavior toward you was both surprising and strangely endearing.
"Really," Yunho confirmed. "He was always protective of you. We all were, but Hongjoong..." He glanced at you. "Well, you know."
You didn't know, not really, but you didn't press. The comfortable moment between you felt too fragile to risk with difficult questions.
Instead, you watched as he set up a small drone, his fingers deftly making final adjustments to the sleek black device.
"Launching surveillance drone," he reported into his comm. "We'll have aerial coverage in thirty seconds."
You leaned closer to see the screen where the drone's camera feed would display, your shoulder brushing against his. The casual contact sent an unexpected jolt through you, your body suddenly hyperaware of his proximity in the confined space of the vehicle.
Yunho felt it too—you could tell by the slight catch in his breathing, the momentary stillness of his hands over the controls.
"Sorry," you murmured, though you didn't move away.
"Don't be," he replied, his voice dropping to a lower register that sent a shiver down your spine.
You risked a glance at him and found him already watching you, his eyes dark and intent in the dim light of the vehicle. Something electric passed between you, seven years of distance suddenly collapsing into nothing. He was still Yunho—your Yunho—the first boy who had made your heart race, whose kiss by the bonfire had been your first.
His gaze dropped to your lips, and you knew with absolute certainty what was about to happen. You should stop it. You should pull away, maintain the walls you'd built, remember all the reasons you couldn't trust him.
Instead, you found yourself leaning closer, drawn by a gravity neither of you seemed able to resist.
"Y/n," he whispered, your name a question and a plea.
You were close enough to feel his breath against your lips, close enough that the slightest movement would bring them together. Your eyes began to flutter closed, years of anger and hurt momentarily overpowered by memory and longing.
The sharp crack of gunfire shattered the moment.
You both jerked back, training and instinct taking over as more shots followed in rapid succession.
"Status report!" Yunho barked into his comm, all traces of the vulnerable moment gone as he transformed into the professional operative. "Hongjoong! Seonghwa! Anyone!"
The comm crackled with bursts of communication—fragments of shouted orders, the unmistakable sounds of combat.
"Ambush—" Hongjoong's voice, tight with tension. "North side—"
"—need backup—" Mingi, followed by what sounded like an explosion.
Yunho was already moving, grabbing a tactical vest and weapon from a compartment behind his seat. "Stay here," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, there's an emergency protocol programmed into the navigation system. Press the red button under the dash and the vehicle will take you back to the compound automatically."
"Yunho—" you began, but he cut you off.
"Please," he said, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that silenced your protest. "I can't help them if I'm worried about you."
Before you could respond, he was out of the vehicle, moving swiftly toward the compound where flashes of gunfire illuminated the night.
You watched him go, your heart pounding with fear—not for yourself, but for him. For all of them.
The almost-kiss forgotten, you found yourself facing a stark realization: despite everything they had done, despite the years of pain and abandonment, the thought of losing any of them again was unbearable.
And that terrified you more than any gunfire ever could.
Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, poly ateez, violence and weapons, mafia ateez, organized crime, parental death and grieving process, bullying, possessive and controlling behavior,
Summary: When Y/n Ricci is forced to marry Kim Hongjoong—leader of the notorious ATEEZ organization and one of eight men who cruelly abandoned her seven years ago—she finds herself trapped in their heavily guarded compound with the ghosts of her past. As she navigates the dangerous world of mafia politics and her own wounded heart, Y/n discovers that all eight powerful, irresistible men still harbor deep feelings for her, suggesting an unconventional solution to their shared dilemma. But before she can consider forgiving them, let alone loving them again, she must uncover the dark secret that tore them apart—a truth that could either heal their fractured bonds or destroy them all completely.
18+ only- No Minors
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Masterlist
Chapter 6: Walls
A few days later, Hongjoong cornered you in the library to inform you there would be a security meeting that evening. Your response was swift and succinct: eat glass.
An hour later, there was a soft knock at your door. When you opened it, you found Mingi standing in the hallway, all six feet of him radiating an almost puppylike hopefulness that was completely at odds with his intimidating stature. His dark eyes held that same gentle pleading expression that had gotten him out of trouble countless times as a child.
"Y/n," he said quietly, his deep voice somehow managing to sound both respectful and utterly vulnerable. "Would you please consider joining us for the meeting tonight? We... I would really value your perspective."
The bastards. They knew exactly what they were doing, sending Mingi—sweet, earnest Mingi who had never been able to lie convincingly, whose genuine expressions could melt stone. It was emotional manipulation of the highest order.
And damn them, it was working.
"That's a dirty trick," you told him, crossing your arms and fixing him with your most withering glare.
Mingi had the grace to look slightly ashamed, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Maybe," he admitted. "But we really do need you there."
You stared at him for a long moment, watching the way he fidgeted under your scrutiny, the way his hands hung loosely at his sides like he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. Seven years later, and he still had that same nervous energy when he was asking for something he wasn't sure he'd get.
"Fine," you said finally, your tone suggesting this was a tremendous burden you were shouldering purely out of the goodness of your heart. "But I'm only coming because you asked nicely."
The smile that broke across Mingi's face was so bright, so genuinely relieved and grateful, that you had to look away to hide your own reluctant softening.
"Thank you," he said, and the sincerity in his voice made something in your chest tighten uncomfortably.
"Don't thank me yet," you warned. "I haven't decided whether I'm going to participate or just sit there and judge all of you silently."
"I'll take silent judgment over absence," Mingi replied with a small, self-deprecating smile.
The security meeting was held in a state-of-the-art command center hidden behind what had appeared to be an ordinary wall in Hongjoong's office.
As the panel slid open to reveal the room beyond—filled with monitors, weapons, and advanced technology—you worked to keep your expression neutral despite your genuine surprise.
"Impressed?" Hongjoong asked, catching your reaction despite your efforts.
"I've seen better," you lied smoothly, following him into the room.
The others filed in behind you, each taking what was clearly their usual position around a large central table. There was an empty chair between Hongjoong and Seonghwa that was obviously meant for you. You considered refusing it on principle, but decided that would seem childish. Instead, you took the seat with all the casual confidence of someone who belonged there.
"The Russo family has been unusually active near the western district," Seonghwa began without preamble, pulling up a digital map on the main screen. "Three of our informants have reported movement suggesting they're establishing a new base of operations here." He pointed to an industrial area marked in red.
"Why there?" Jongho asked, leaning forward to study the map. "It's not strategically valuable."
"Unless they're trying to get closer to something—or someone—in this direction," Yeosang observed quietly, his finger tracing a line from the marked area toward the ATEEZ compound.
"They wouldn't be that bold," San argued, but he didn't sound entirely convinced.
Throughout the briefing, questions flew, theories were proposed and dismissed, and strategies were debated. You remained largely silent, observing the dynamics at play. Despite their occasionally heated disagreements, there was a seamless efficiency to how they worked together—Hongjoong making the final decisions but clearly valuing each person's unique perspective. Seonghwa provided logical analysis, Yeosang noticed patterns others missed, Jongho focused on defense, San thought like their enemies, Yunho considered innocent bystanders, Mingi evaluated resource needs, and Wooyoung, surprisingly, had an uncanny ability to predict unpredictable variables.
They were good at this. Very good.
Occasionally, someone would glance your way, as if expecting or hoping for your input, but you offered little beyond a nod or shrug. Let them handle their business. You weren't really part of this, no matter what the marriage certificate would eventually say.
"Y/n," Hongjoong said finally, drawing your attention. "You've been quiet. Thoughts?"
You met his gaze levelly. "I think it's interesting that you're all so concerned about the Russo family when my father has been handling them for years without issue."
A tense silence followed your observation. Hongjoong and Seonghwa exchanged a glance that contained an entire unspoken conversation.
"Your father's resources have been... stretched thin recently," Seonghwa said carefully.
"And the nature of the threat has changed," Hongjoong added.
You raised an eyebrow. "Changed how?"
Another loaded silence.
"That's classified," Hongjoong said finally.
You laughed, the sound sharp and without humor. "Classified? From your fiancée? The one you're supposedly protecting from this very threat?"
"We're gathering more information tonight," he said, avoiding your question. "Once we have a clearer picture, you'll be briefed accordingly."
Your eyes narrowed, but before you could press further, Wooyoung jumped in.
"Hey, it's almost dinner time! And I've been cooking all afternoon—something special," he said, his enthusiasm barely containing his obvious attempt to change the subject.
"We'll continue this tomorrow," Hongjoong decided, rising from his seat. "Gear check at nine. We move at ten."
As everyone began to file out, you lingered, studying the map on the screen. Something about the pattern of movement didn't make sense if the Russos were truly targeting the ATEEZ compound. They were circling too far west, approaching from the least strategic direction.
"Coming?" Yeosang asked quietly, waiting by the door.
You nodded, filing away your observations for later consideration. "What's Wooyoung so excited about? He's not usually the chef, is he?"
A small, knowing smile touched Yeosang's lips. "No. But he's been planning this dinner for days."
* * *
The dining room was filled with an aroma that stopped you in your tracks the moment you entered. It couldn't be. There was no way.
The table was set more casually than usual, with platters of food arranged family-style in the center. Your eyes were immediately drawn to a large ceramic dish containing what appeared to be—
"Pasta alla Norma," Wooyoung announced proudly, watching your reaction closely. "With caponata and arancini di riso on the side."
Your mother's signature dishes. The meals she had prepared for special occasions, teaching you the recipes that had been passed down through generations of her Sicilian family. Dishes you hadn't tasted since before she died, because you couldn't bear to make them yourself.
You looked up at Wooyoung, unable to completely mask your shock. "How did you..."
"I remember," he said simply. "She taught me too, remember? That summer when you were sick with pneumonia and she needed extra hands in the kitchen for your father's birthday dinner."
You did remember. Wooyoung had been the only one with both the patience and enthusiasm to learn your mother's exacting techniques, spending hours with her in the kitchen while you recovered upstairs. The memory hit you with unexpected force—Wooyoung appearing in your bedroom doorway afterward, his clothes splattered with tomato sauce but his face triumphant as he brought you a plate of perfectly prepared pasta.
"It won't be the same," he added quickly, mistaking your silence for disappointment. "I did my best, but Elena was an artist with these dishes. I—"
"Thank you," you interrupted softly, the words escaping before you could stop them.
His entire face lit up, surprise and joy transforming his features. "You're welcome."
Dinner began with an unusual quietness, everyone watching surreptitiously as you took your first bite of the pasta. The familiar flavors exploded across your tongue—the slight char of the eggplant, the sweet acidity of the tomatoes, the sharp bite of ricotta salata—and suddenly you were twelve years old again, sitting in your mother's sun-drenched kitchen, her laughter filling the air as she taught you how to properly salt the eggplant.
You hadn't realized you'd closed your eyes until you opened them to find everyone staring at you. Emotion threatened to overwhelm you—grief and gratitude and anger and longing all tangled together in your chest. It was too much, too confusing, too raw.
But when you glanced at Wooyoung, the hope and nervousness in his expression so painfully evident, you couldn't help the ghost of a smile that briefly crossed your face before you returned your attention to your plate.
It was enough. Wooyoung beamed like you'd handed him the moon, then launched into animated conversation with the others, allowing you to eat in peace, processing your emotions without an audience.
As dinner continued, you found yourself observing them through new eyes—not as the enemies who had abandoned you, but as the boys you had once known, now grown into men. They spoke of everyday things—a movie Yunho wanted to see, a book Jongho was reading, a new training technique San was developing. Their interactions were comfortable, punctuated by inside jokes and good-natured teasing. Family, in all but blood.
Hongjoong caught you watching and held your gaze for a moment, something unreadable in his dark eyes before you looked away.
They were still beautiful, all of them, in their different ways. Hongjoong's commanding presence, Seonghwa's elegant features, Yunho's warm smile, Yeosang's soulful eyes, San's dangerous charisma, Mingi's gentle strength, Wooyoung's vibrant energy, Jongho's steady reliability. But they had hardened too—their bodies more muscled, marked here and there with tattoos and scars that told stories you didn't know. Stories from the seven years you'd missed.
You had loved each of them fiercely, in different ways but with your whole heart. When they left and your mother died soon after, the double blow had nearly destroyed you. There had been days—weeks—when you hadn't been sure you wanted to live. Only Marco's unwavering presence had pulled you through that darkness.
And now here you were, sharing a meal with the very men who had broken you, feeling the treacherous tendrils of those old feelings stirring beneath your anger.
You finished your meal in silence, the food both a comfort and a heartache. When you excused yourself to return to your room, no one tried to stop you, though you felt their eyes following you out.
* * *
Hours later, from the top of the grand staircase, you watched a flurry of activity in the foyer below. The eight men moved with practiced efficiency, checking weapons, adjusting tactical gear, and communicating in shorthand that spoke of years working as a unit.
Hongjoong was at the center, his usual fashionable attire replaced by all black tactical clothing that emphasized his lean, powerful build. He moved with the assurance of a natural leader, his commands brief but clear as he directed final preparations.
Your curiosity finally overcame your determination to remain distant. You descended the stairs, your footsteps announcing your presence before you spoke.
"What's going on?" you asked, surveying the scene.
Hongjoong glanced up, his expression briefly surprised before settling back into professional neutrality. "Mission. Nothing you need to concern yourself with."
"A mission," you repeated. "To the Russo site you were discussing earlier?"
He nodded once, returning his attention to checking his weapon. "We'll be back before dawn. Yunho and Wooyoung are staying behind to maintain security here."
"I want to come," you said, the words surprising even you.
Hongjoong actually laughed, the sound both genuine and dismissive. "No. You're too fragile for this."
The words hit like a slap. Your eyes widened, brow raising in a gesture they were all too familiar with from your childhood—the look that had always preceded you proving someone catastrophically wrong.
"I can pick a lock in 4 seconds, hot wire vehicles, use a blade with precision, and take down a man three times my size without a weapon, I might add," you stated coldly. "I can handle more than you think."
Eight pairs of eyes turned to you, expressions ranging from shock to disbelief to... was that pride on San's face?
"Why do you know all that?" San asked, voicing what they were all clearly wondering.
Your smile was sharp enough to cut. "Because I had eight protectors, then suddenly had none. I had to learn to protect myself." The insult landed exactly as intended, several of them flinching visibly.
"We still protected you, you just couldn't see—" Mingi began, but Hongjoong cut him off with a sharp "Mingi."
You frowned, not understanding what Mingi had been about to reveal. Protected you how? When?
Hongjoong shook his head, his decision unchanged. "The answer is still no."
You crossed your arms, a calculating smile spreading across your face. "You're right. Since all of you will be gone, it'll be easier to snoop, possibly escape, and maybe go to a bar and live up my bachelorette life before the big day."
The effect was immediate and gratifying. Jealousy flashed across eight faces in various degrees of intensity—from Seonghwa's subtle jaw clench to Hongjoong's darkening eyes to Wooyoung's comically outraged expression.
Hongjoong sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You are the most maddening woman I have ever met," he growled. "Fine. But you stay in the car with Yunho. No arguments."
Your victorious smile was answer enough.
As the others finished their preparations, Seonghwa approached, handing you a small earpiece. "This is for emergency communication only," he instructed. "Channel is secure, but minimize chatter. If you absolutely need to speak, press once to activate, release when you're done. Clear?"
You examined the sleek device, turning it over in your palm. "Minimal chatter? Then why do you let Wooyoung have one?" you asked, your tone lightly teasing.
Wooyoung's indignant "Hey!" was drowned out by unexpected laughter from the others. He beamed at you despite his protest, your teasing tone clearly registering as the most significant breakthrough since your arrival. To him, it might as well have been a declaration of love.
"She's got you there, Woo," San chuckled.
"I'll have you know," Wooyoung retorted dramatically, pressing his hand to his chest, "that my 'chatter' has saved our lives on multiple occasions. Remember the Nakamoto operation? Who spotted the secondary security team because he was 'chattering' about the guard's ugly shoes?"
"He's not wrong," Yunho admitted, grinning. "Wooyoung notices the strangest details, but they often turn out to be important."
You found yourself fighting back a genuine smile, the familiar banter momentarily breaking through your defenses. It felt... normal. Almost like before.
The realization was jarring.
Hongjoong seemed to notice the shift in your demeanor, his perceptive eyes studying your face before he called everyone to attention. "Time to move out. Y/n, you're with Yunho and Jongho in the second vehicle. Remember—"
"Stay in the car," you finished for him. "I heard you the first time."
"And yet, I remain unconvinced you'll actually do it," he replied dryly. “Stay low, stay quiet, and for the love of God, don't do anything reckless."
"Me? Reckless?" you asked with exaggerated shock. "I'm the picture of restraint and good judgment."
"You threw a knife at my head," he pointed out.
"And missed," you replied sweetly. "See? Restraint."
Despite himself, Hongjoong's lips twitched toward a smile. "Just... try not to get shot, okay?"
"I'll do my best," you promised, though the gleam in your eyes suggested that your definition of "best" might differ significantly from his.
"That's what worries me," he muttered, but there was something almost fond in his exasperation.
As you followed them out to the garage, your heart beat with unexpected excitement. You had pushed your way into their world partly out of boredom, partly out of spite, but now that you were here, a part of you—the part that had always craved adventure and action—was genuinely curious to see ATEEZ in operation.
Whatever else they were, whatever pain they had caused you, you couldn't deny they were impressive. Dangerous. Powerful.
And tonight, you would finally see exactly what they were capable of.
* * *
The sleek black van sat hidden in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse, positioned perfectly to maintain visual coverage of the Russo compound while remaining undetectable. Through the tinted windows, you could see the occasional movement of security guards patrolling the perimeter—men with the distinctive bulge of concealed weapons beneath their jackets.
Inside the vehicle, a different kind of tension filled the air.
You were in the back with Yunho, surrounded by an impressive array of technology that had transformed the van into a mobile command center. Multiple screens displayed different camera feeds, thermal imaging, and a detailed map of the area with eight blinking dots representing the team members currently infiltrating the compound.
You watched as he worked, his large hands moving with surprising dexterity across keyboards and control panels. He had rolled up the sleeves of his black tactical shirt, revealing muscled forearms decorated with a few tasteful tattoos—geometric patterns that somehow suited him perfectly.
"Got eyes on the south entrance," he murmured into his comm, his deep voice softer than you remembered. "Hongjoong, you're clear to proceed. Seonghwa, hold position until the guard changes."
As he reached to adjust one of the monitors, the focused concentration on his face transported you back in time. Despite the tactical gear, despite the hardened muscles and new tattoos, in this moment of quiet competence, he looked just like the boy you had grown up with.
The boy who had been the first to change in your eyes.
* * *
Seven Years Earlier – Age 15
It was a lazy Saturday afternoon at the Kim estate, the kind of sweltering summer day that made even the simplest movements feel like swimming through honey. The eight boys had been playing basketball on the outdoor court, and you had been perched on a nearby bench, ostensibly reading but mostly watching them through your sunglasses.
They had been playing for nearly an hour when they finally called a break, sweaty and laughing as they collapsed on the grass near your bench. Yunho, who had scored the winning point, pulled off his shirt to wipe his face before tossing it aside.
And that was when it happened.
You'd seen the boys shirtless countless times before—at pools, at beaches, during countless summers of growing up together. But something was different now. Yunho had... changed. When had his shoulders become so broad? When had his chest developed those defined muscles? When had his arms...
You felt your face grow hot, and it had nothing to do with the summer heat. For the first time, you were seeing Yunho not as your childhood friend, but as a *boy*—a very attractive boy who made your stomach do strange flips when he smiled in your direction.
"Water?" he asked, approaching your bench, still shirtless and glistening with sweat.
You fumbled with the bottle, nearly dropping it as you handed it over. "Here."
"Thanks," he said, taking a long drink that made you inexplicably fascinated with the movement of his throat.
"You okay?" he asked, catching your stare. "You look kind of flushed."
"Fine," you squeaked, mortified by the unfamiliar pitch of your voice. "Just hot."
Yunho grinned, completely oblivious to your internal crisis. "We're heading to the pool after this. You should come."
The pool. Where they would all be shirtless. Where you would be in a swimsuit. Where this new, confusing awareness would have nowhere to hide.
"Maybe," you managed, hiding behind your book again.
But as the boys resumed their game, you found yourself unable to focus on the words. Instead, your eyes kept drifting to Yunho—and then, with growing horror and fascination, to the others as well.
When had Hongjoong's intense focus become so captivating? When had Seonghwa's elegant movements started to seem so graceful? When had Mingi gotten so tall, Wooyoung so energetic, San so charismatic, Yeosang so mysteriously appealing, Jongho so strong?
When had your eight best friends become eight boys who made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with friendship?
* * *
Two Weeks Later – The Lake
"Are you sure about this?" Elena asked, eyeing the bikini you had laid out on your bed. It was modest by most standards—a deep blue two-piece with more coverage than most—but compared to the one-piece swimsuits you'd worn your entire life, it might as well have been lingerie.
"I'm fifteen, Momma," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "Everyone wears bikinis now."
Your mother's knowing smile made you blush. "And this sudden fashion evolution has nothing to do with eight certain young men who will be at the lake today?"
"Momma!" you protested, mortified at being so transparent.
Elena laughed softly, coming to sit beside you on the bed. "Oh, my darling girl. I've been waiting for this day."
"What day?"
"The day you finally realize what I've known since you were twelve—that those boys would eventually become more than just your friends." She brushed a strand of hair from your face. "At least in your heart."
"It's not like that," you mumbled, though it was exactly like that. "I just... I want them to see me differently. Not just as the little girl they need to protect."
Your mother's expression softened. "They will, in time. But bambina, be careful with your heart. Loving one boy is complicated enough. Loving eight..." She shook her head, a hint of worry creasing her brow.
"I don't love them," you insisted, the very word making your stomach flip. "I just..."
"Want them to notice you," she finished for you. "I understand. Just remember that you are precious, Y/n. Your heart is precious. Guard it carefully."
Two hours later, wrapped in a cover-up that concealed your new swimsuit, you arrived at the lake with your mother's warning still echoing in your mind. The boys were already there, having claimed the best spot on the shore. You could see them from the parking area—horsing around in the water, lounging on beach towels, looking like they'd stepped out of a summer advertisement with their sun-kissed skin and carefree smiles.
Your courage nearly failed you then. What were you thinking? These were your best friends. What if your awkward attempt at being "noticed" ruined everything? What if they laughed at you? Worse, what if they were uncomfortable?
But then Wooyoung spotted you, waving wildly. "Y/n! Finally! We've been waiting for you!"
There was no turning back now.
You made your way down to their spot, your heart pounding so hard you were sure they could hear it. Casual greetings were exchanged, jokes were made, and then came the moment of truth.
"Aren't you hot in that?" San asked, gesturing to your cover-up. "It's like a thousand degrees out here."
With a deep breath, you removed the light fabric, revealing the blue bikini beneath.
The effect was immediate and dramatic. All conversation ceased. Eight pairs of eyes turned to you, expressions ranging from shock (Wooyoung's jaw actually dropped) to something darker and more difficult to interpret (Hongjoong's intense gaze made your skin tingle).
"You... um... you look different," Yunho managed, his ears turning red.
"Good different?" you asked, your voice smaller than you intended.
"Yeah," he replied, his eyes meeting yours briefly before darting away. "Really good."
An awkward silence fell, broken only when Jongho, the youngest but often the most practical, cleared his throat. "Who wants to go swimming?"
The moment passed, but something fundamental had shifted. Throughout the day, you caught them looking at you when they thought you wouldn't notice. Their usual casual touches—an arm around your shoulder, a playful push, a hand helping you up—became more hesitant, more charged.
And when Mingi offered to apply sunscreen to your back, his large hands gentle but trembling slightly, you knew with absolute certainty that they were finally seeing you as more than just their childhood friend.
You were being seen as a young woman. And it was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.
* * *
"Earth to Y/n," Yunho's voice pulled you from your memories. "You okay? You zoned out for a minute there."
You blinked, reality rushing back. You were in an van on a surveillance mission, not at a lake seven years ago.
"Fine," you said, the echo of your fifteen-year-old self's same response making you smile despite yourself. "Just thinking."
Yunho studied you, his eyes somehow both familiar and different. "About what?"
"The past," you admitted. "When things were simpler."
A small, sad smile touched his lips. "Were they? I remember those days being pretty complicated."
The knowing look in his eyes made you wonder if he was remembering the same moments you were—that summer when everything changed, when friendship began its inevitable, complicated evolution into something more.
"The lake day," you said quietly, testing the waters. "Do you remember?"
His smile widened, a hint of his old playfulness returning. "When you showed up in that blue bikini and nearly gave all eight of us simultaneous heart attacks? Yeah, I remember."
Heat crept into your cheeks. "I wasn't that obvious."
"You were," he assured you, his attention divided between you and the monitors. "But we weren't much better. Hongjoong actually pulled us aside afterward and gave us a whole lecture about respecting you and not staring and..." He trailed off, chuckling at the memory.
"Really?" The thought of a teenage Hongjoong lecturing the others about proper behavior toward you was both surprising and strangely endearing.
"Really," Yunho confirmed. "He was always protective of you. We all were, but Hongjoong..." He glanced at you. "Well, you know."
You didn't know, not really, but you didn't press. The comfortable moment between you felt too fragile to risk with difficult questions.
Instead, you watched as he set up a small drone, his fingers deftly making final adjustments to the sleek black device.
"Launching surveillance drone," he reported into his comm. "We'll have aerial coverage in thirty seconds."
You leaned closer to see the screen where the drone's camera feed would display, your shoulder brushing against his. The casual contact sent an unexpected jolt through you, your body suddenly hyperaware of his proximity in the confined space of the vehicle.
Yunho felt it too—you could tell by the slight catch in his breathing, the momentary stillness of his hands over the controls.
"Sorry," you murmured, though you didn't move away.
"Don't be," he replied, his voice dropping to a lower register that sent a shiver down your spine.
You risked a glance at him and found him already watching you, his eyes dark and intent in the dim light of the vehicle. Something electric passed between you, seven years of distance suddenly collapsing into nothing. He was still Yunho—your Yunho—the first boy who had made your heart race, whose kiss by the bonfire had been your first.
His gaze dropped to your lips, and you knew with absolute certainty what was about to happen. You should stop it. You should pull away, maintain the walls you'd built, remember all the reasons you couldn't trust him.
Instead, you found yourself leaning closer, drawn by a gravity neither of you seemed able to resist.
"Y/n," he whispered, your name a question and a plea.
You were close enough to feel his breath against your lips, close enough that the slightest movement would bring them together. Your eyes began to flutter closed, years of anger and hurt momentarily overpowered by memory and longing.
The sharp crack of gunfire shattered the moment.
You both jerked back, training and instinct taking over as more shots followed in rapid succession.
"Status report!" Yunho barked into his comm, all traces of the vulnerable moment gone as he transformed into the professional operative. "Hongjoong! Seonghwa! Anyone!"
The comm crackled with bursts of communication—fragments of shouted orders, the unmistakable sounds of combat.
"Ambush—" Hongjoong's voice, tight with tension. "North side—"
"—need backup—" Mingi, followed by what sounded like an explosion.
Yunho was already moving, grabbing a tactical vest and weapon from a compartment behind his seat. "Stay here," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, there's an emergency protocol programmed into the navigation system. Press the red button under the dash and the vehicle will take you back to the compound automatically."
"Yunho—" you began, but he cut you off.
"Please," he said, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that silenced your protest. "I can't help them if I'm worried about you."
Before you could respond, he was out of the vehicle, moving swiftly toward the compound where flashes of gunfire illuminated the night.
You watched him go, your heart pounding with fear—not for yourself, but for him. For all of them.
The almost-kiss forgotten, you found yourself facing a stark realization: despite everything they had done, despite the years of pain and abandonment, the thought of losing any of them again was unbearable.
And that terrified you more than any gunfire ever could.
Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, poly ateez, violence and weapons, mafia ateez, organized crime, parental death and grieving process, bullying, possessive and controlling behavior, suicidal thoughts
Summary: When Y/n Ricci is forced to marry Kim Hongjoong—leader of the notorious ATEEZ organization and one of eight men who cruelly abandoned her seven years ago—she finds herself trapped in their heavily guarded compound with the ghosts of her past. As she navigates the dangerous world of mafia politics and her own wounded heart, Y/n discovers that all eight powerful, irresistible men still harbor deep feelings for her, suggesting an unconventional solution to their shared dilemma. But before she can consider forgiving them, let alone loving them again, she must uncover the dark secret that tore them apart—a truth that could either heal their fractured bonds or destroy them all completely.
18+ only- No Minors
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Masterlist
Chapter 5: Target Practice and Proximity
Off limits. Like you're property. Like you're a possession to be controlled and monitored.
They hadn't just trapped you in this house, they'd cut you off from the outside world entirely. From your friends, your support system, your entire life beyond these walls.
The audacity. The absolute fucking audacity.
They want to play games with your life? They want to isolate you completely?
“KIM HONGJOONG!”
Your voice echoes through the house like a war cry as you storm toward the gym, bare feet slapping against marble with each furious step. The rage coursing through your veins has reached a boiling point that makes your earlier knife-throwing incident look like a mild disagreement.
You slam the glass door open with such force that spider web cracks spread across its surface, the sound of fracturing glass punctuating your entrance like an exclamation point. Seven heads turn toward you in various states of surprise and alarm.
"Well, good morning to you as well, my lovely fiancé," Hongjoong says with faux sincerity, not even pausing in his workout routine. Sweat glistens across his torso as he continues his reps, treating your explosive entrance like a minor inconvenience.
You respond to his saccharine greeting with a perfectly articulated middle finger.
"I'm off limits?" you spit, the words dripping with venom.
“Because you’re mine now.” Hongjoong doesn’t even look at you, his focus remaining on his weights as if you’re nothing more than background noise. “And what’s mine doesn’t associate with other men.”
“Yours?” You let out a harsh laugh that echoes off the gym walls. “I’m not your fucking property, Kim Hongjoong.”
He finally stops his workout, setting down the weights with deliberate care before turning to face you. There’s something predatory in his gaze as he steps closer, invading your personal space.
“Aren’t you?” he asks softly, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. “Your father signed the contract. Your name will be Kim in three months. That makes you mine in every way that matters.”
“A piece of paper doesn’t make me yours,” you spit back, refusing to back down even as he towers over you. “And neither does some archaic notion of ownership.”
His lips curve into that infuriating smirk. “We’ll see about that, little one.” The casual dismissal, the way he speaks about your future as if it's already set in stone, as if your opinion matters less than appearances, sends your anger to stratospheric levels.
"So I truly am a prisoner?" Your voice rises with each word. "So that means what—I won't be allowed to see any of my friends? Will I have to move so I won't be around any of the guys here?" The implications hit you, looking around. "Are you planning to isolate me from everyone I care about?"
Hongjoong stands to his full height, his expression infuriatingly calm. "Maybe so."
Your nostrils flare at his words, the casual cruelty of them stealing the breath from your lungs. The gym falls deadly silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing.
"Hongjoong, you know she has an attitude problem," Wooyoung stage-whispers from across the room, clearly trying to ease the tension with his trademark humor. "Why would you anger it?"
Your eyes slice toward him like laser beams, and Wooyoung suddenly becomes very interested in his water bottle, examining it as if it holds the secrets of the universe.
"Oh, would you look at that," he says dramatically, holding up the obviously full bottle. "Completely empty. I should really go refill this. The kitchen water is so much better than... here."
He takes a step toward the door, but your voice stops him cold.
"Don't you dare move, Jung Wooyoung."
Hongjoong sighs, finally seeming to realize that his dismissive attitude has pushed you past your breaking point. "You can't be seen with other men, or texting Chris Bang. It wouldn't make our marriage believable."
"What I do with my personal business is—" You stop mid-sentence, a horrifying realization dawning. Your eyes narrow as you look between all of them. "How did you know I was texting Chris?"
Hongjoong just stares at you, his expression giving away nothing. The silence stretches uncomfortably until Wooyoung starts fidgeting, looking increasingly nervous.
"Well, the water in the kitchen really is much better," he babbles, taking another step toward the exit. "Much more... hydrating. I should really—"
You move faster than anyone expects, grabbing him by the shirt collar and yanking him back. Your faces are inches apart as you look directly into his wide eyes.
"Are you running surveillance on my phone?" you ask, your voice deadly quiet.
Wooyoung swallows hard, his usual confidence evaporating under your intense stare. "Well... I mean... I'm personally not..."
The admission hits you like a physical blow. They've been watching you. Reading your private conversations. Monitoring your every interaction with the outside world. Yunho. You look at the resident hacker and tech nerd, who has the decency to look sheepish.
A growl of pure fury escapes your throat. "I would say I'm going to shoot Yunho, but we all know it was your leader's idea."
You release Wooyoung's collar with enough force to send him stumbling backward. Your gaze sweeps the room, taking in their various expressions—guilt, defiance, nervousness, and in San's case, what looks almost like admiration.
But it's Wooyoung's reaction that catches you off guard. Instead of looking ashamed or apologetic, he's staring at you with a dreamy expression, his eyes slightly glazed.
"God, you're so hot when you're angry," he breathes, apparently forgetting that he's supposed to be nervous. "Like, seriously. The way your eyes get all fierce and your voice gets that growly thing... it's doing things to me."
The entire gym falls silent. Even Hongjoong stops his posturing to stare at Wooyoung in disbelief.
"Did you just..." Yunho starts.
"He did," Yeosang confirms quietly.
"While she's threatening to shoot people," Jongho adds, sounding almost impressed.
San starts laughing—not his usual charming chuckle, but full-bodied laughter that echoes off the gym walls. "Only Wooyoung would get turned on by a death threat."
"It's not just the death threat," Wooyoung protests, his cheeks flushing but his eyes still fixed on you with unmistakable desire. "It's everything. The fire in her eyes, the way she's not backing down, how fierce she looks. She's magnificent."
Your anger falters for just a moment, derailed by the sheer absurdity of the situation. Here you are, discovering that they've been violating your privacy, threatening violence, and Wooyoung is having what appears to be a very public moment of arousal.
"Are you insane?" you ask, genuinely bewildered.
"Probably," he admits cheerfully. "But you're still gorgeous when you're ready to commit murder."
The comment draws a snort of unwilling amusement from Mingi, who's been silent throughout the entire confrontation. Even Seonghwa's lips twitch slightly, though he tries to maintain his diplomatic composure.
But your momentary confusion quickly gives way to renewed fury as you remember why you're here.
"Do not," you say, pointing a finger at Wooyoung, "think that your inappropriate attraction is going to distract me from the fact that you've all been spying on me."
"It's not spying," Hongjoong interjects, apparently deciding to rejoin the conversation. "It's security."
"Security?" You whirl on him. "Reading my private messages is security?"
"When those messages involve contact with potential threats, yes."
"Chris isn't a threat! He's my friend!"
"He's an unmarried male heir with his own agenda," Hongjoong counters. "And you're going to be my wife. That makes you off-limits to men like him."
The possessiveness in his tone, the casual way he claims ownership over your social life, sends you spiraling back into rage.
"I am not your property," you snarl. "I am not a possession to be controlled and monitored. I am a person with my own thoughts, feelings, and relationships."
"You're a Ricci who's about to become a Kim," he replies coldly. "Your relationships affect our family's reputation. Everything you do reflects on us now."
"Then maybe you should have thought of that before agreeing to this farce of a marriage," you snap back.
The words hang in the air like a challenge. Around the room, the other members watch the standoff with varying degrees of tension and fascination. This is clearly a battle of wills that's been building since your arrival, and now it's finally come to a head.
Hongjoong steps closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "This marriage is happening whether you like it or not. You can make it easy on yourself by accepting the rules, or you can make it difficult and face the consequences."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a promise."
The words crackle between you like electricity. In this moment, with fury radiating from both of you, it's impossible to tell if you want to kill each other or...
"Oh my God," Wooyoung whispers reverently. "The sexual tension in here is incredible. You two are like fire and gasoline."
"Wooyoung," Seonghwa warns.
"What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking. Look at them—they're practically breathing fire at each other. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen."
Your face burns with a mixture of anger and something else you refuse to acknowledge. "You're all insane," you declare, backing toward the door. "Completely, utterly insane."
As you reach the cracked glass door, you turn back to face them one last time.
"And Hongjoong? The next time you want to know who I'm talking to, try asking instead of spying. You might be surprised by how cooperative I can be when treated like a human being instead of a prisoner."
With that, you storm out, leaving eight men in various states of arousal, amusement, and stunned silence.
Behind you, you hear Wooyoung's dreamy voice: "I think I'm in love."
"You've been in love with her for years," comes San's dry response.
"Yeah, but now I'm in love and turned on. It's a dangerous combination."
You slam the door to your room hard enough to rattle the windows, but even through your fury, you can't quite shake the image of Wooyoung's glazed expression or the way Hongjoong's eyes had darkened when you'd challenged him.
Dangerous indeed.
* * *
You storm back to your room, slamming the door with enough force to rattle the windows. The confrontation in the gym replays in your mind—Hongjoong's possessive declarations, the casual way he discussed monitoring your communications, the infuriating smirk when you'd challenged him.
Your phone lays on the floor where you'd dropped it after Chris's devastating revelation. With shaking fingers, you scroll through your contacts until you find Marco's number. He picks up on the second ring.
"Sorellina? You're calling early today. Everything alright?"
The concern in his voice nearly breaks your composure. Marco has always been your anchor, the one person in your family who sees you as more than just a political asset.
"No," you say, your voice cracking slightly. "Nothing is alright."
"What happened?"
You take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts. "Hongjoong declared me off limits to all unmarried men in the alliance. Chris can't even talk to me anymore. None of my male friends can."
Silence stretches across the line. When Marco finally speaks, his voice is carefully controlled. "Y/n..."
"They've been monitoring my phone, Marco. Reading my private messages. And now they've essentially announced to everyone that I'm property of the Kim family." The words tumble out in a rush, years of frustration and fresh rage mixing into a volatile combination.
"Shit," Marco mutters, and you can hear him moving around, probably pacing his office like he does when he's thinking. "When did this happen?"
"Yesterday, apparently. Chris just told me. He said word came down from the Kim family directly."
Another pause. "Y/n, I need you to listen to me, okay? And I need you to stay calm."
Something in his tone makes your stomach clench. "What do you mean, stay calm? They're treating me like a possession, Marco. Like I'm some medieval bride being traded between kingdoms."
"Because in our world, that's essentially what you are," he says gently. "Sorellina, this wasn't Hongjoong specifically. This is standard protocol for the Kim family—for most of our families, actually."
You sink onto the edge of your bed, feeling like the floor has shifted beneath your feet. "What?"
"It's like an engagement announcement, but more... comprehensive. When a family announces that their heir is marrying someone, especially someone from another powerful family, they declare that person off limits. It's about respect, territorial boundaries, preventing conflicts."
"But Chris said—"
"Chris is Bang family. They've been allies with the Kims for decades. Of course they'd receive the notification." Marco's voice is patient, explanatory, like he's teaching you something fundamental about your world that you should have already known. "Y/n, every family in the alliance probably received the same message within hours of your engagement being finalized."
The implications crash over you like a cold wave. This isn't Hongjoong being possessive or controlling—though he certainly is both of those things. This is protocol. Tradition. The way business is conducted in your world.
"I didn't know," you whisper.
"Why would you? Papa never explained these things to you because you were never supposed to be the one getting married. That was supposed to be my responsibility." There's a note of guilt in Marco's voice. "But with the Russo situation escalating and the need for immediate alliance..."
"He chose me instead," you finish hollowly.
"The Kim family specifically requested you, actually. Hongjoong's choice, from what I understand."
That stops you cold. "What?"
"Papa didn't tell you? The marriage proposal came from Hongjoong directly. He could have chosen any unmarried daughter from the allied families, but he asked for you specifically."
Your mind reels, trying to process this information. Hongjoong had asked for you. After seven years of silence, he'd specifically requested you as his bride.
"Why?" you ask, though you're not sure you want to know the answer.
"My guess? Papa has been thinking of marrying you to one of the mafia families for protection for a while now. Papa and Mr. Kim are close, so I assume Hongjoong got wind of it."
"Possessive," you say flatly.
"Protective," Marco corrects gently.
You snort. "If I have so many protectors, why am I always the one getting hurt?"
Marco is silent for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. "Because none of us are very good at protecting against emotions, sorellina. Just against violence."
The truth of that statement sits heavily in your chest. Marco was eight years your senior, your father's son from his first marriage. Elena, your mother, hadn't been his biological mother, but he had loved her just the same—and he had been there for you when everyone else had disappeared.
After your mother died and the boys abandoned you, it was Marco who had picked up the pieces. Marco who had held you through nights of endless tears. Marco who had made sure you ate when food seemed pointless. Marco who had literally stood between you and the balcony railing one particularly dark night when living had seemed too painful to continue.
He was the reason you were still breathing. The reason you had found your strength again.
‘No, you're the only one who actually protects me,’ you think to yourself.
Marco chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. "At the end of the day, Y/n Ricci doesn’t need protecting. Still throwing knives at him?"
"Just the once. Though I'm considering making it a daily occurrence."
"My money's on you if it comes to actual violence," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "But Y/n, try to understand—this off-limits declaration, it's not necessarily about controlling you. It's about protecting the alliance, preventing misunderstandings, making it clear that you're under Kim protection now."
"Protection," you repeat flatly. "It feels like imprisonment."
"In our world, they're often the same thing," Marco says quietly. "You know that."
You do know that. You've always known that. But somehow, experiencing it firsthand feels different than understanding it in theory.
"I hate this," you admit, the words barely audible.
"I know, sorellina. I know." Marco's voice is soft, sympathetic. "But you're a Ricci. We adapt, we survive, and we find ways to win even when the game is rigged against us."
"And if I can't adapt to this?"
"Then you'll do what you've always done—you'll burn everything down and rebuild it your way." There's pride in his voice now, the kind of fierce affection that's sustained you through the worst moments of your life. "The Kims think they're getting a compliant mafia princess. They have no idea what they've actually signed up for."
Despite everything, you find yourself smiling slightly. "You really think I can handle this?"
"Y/n, you've been preparing for this world your entire life, even if you didn't know it. You're sharper than most of the men in these families, you're ruthless when you need to be, and you have a moral compass that will keep you from becoming a monster." Marco pauses. "Plus, you're scary as hell when you're angry. That's going to serve you well."
"The scary part seems to be working," you admit, thinking of Wooyoung's reaction in the gym. "Though not in the way I expected."
Marco laughs. "What do you mean?"
You find yourself telling him about the confrontation, about Wooyoung's completely inappropriate response to your threats, about the way the others had reacted. By the time you finish, Marco is laughing so hard he can barely speak.
"Oh my God," he gasps. "Y/n, you have eight of the most dangerous men in the city wrapped around your finger and you don't even realize it."
"That's not—they hate me, Marco. They abandoned me seven years ago, remember?"
"Sorellina," Marco says, his voice turning serious again, "men don't monitor someone they hate. They don't specifically request someone they hate for marriage. And they definitely don't get turned on by death threats from someone they hate."
The words settle in your chest, creating an uncomfortable flutter that you don't want to examine too closely.
"Maybe," you say finally. "But that doesn't change what they did to me."
"No, it doesn't," Marco agrees. "And you have every right to make them pay for that. Just... try not to actually kill anyone. I don't want to have to explain to Papa why his daughter is wanted for murder."
"No promises," you say, but you're smiling now.
"Fair enough. Listen, Y/n, I have a meeting I can't postpone, but call me tonight, okay? And remember—you're not as powerless in this situation as you think you are."
After he hangs up, you sit in the quiet of your room, processing everything he's told you. The off-limits declaration wasn't personal—it was protocol. Hongjoong had specifically requested you as his bride. The Kim family, like most families in your world, operates by rules and traditions that value protection and territorial boundaries above individual freedom.
None of that makes you feel less trapped, but it does help you understand the game you're playing.
And if you're going to be stuck in this situation, you might as well learn to play it to win.
You look out the window at the oak tree, remembering Yeosang's words about Mingi and Wooyoung, remembering the careful way Hongjoong had watched you during your confrontation, the way Yunho's eyes had held desperate hope.
Maybe Marco is right. Maybe you have more power here than you realize.
The question is: what are you going to do with it?
* * *
The meeting room was thick with tension as all eight members of ATEEZ sat around the polished conference table. Hongjoong's jaw was still tight from the confrontation in the gym, while the others wore various expressions of concern, guilt, and in Wooyoung's case, lingering arousal.
"We need to discuss what just happened," Seonghwa began diplomatically, his fingers steepled as he surveyed the group.
"What's to discuss?" Hongjoong replied curtly. "She needs to understand her position."
"Her position?" Mingi's deep voice carried an edge of disapproval. "You mean as a prisoner?"
"As my future wife," Hongjoong corrected sharply.
"Same thing, apparently," San muttered, earning a glare from their leader.
Yunho shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "The phone monitoring... maybe we should have told her upfront."
"We went too far," Mingi said firmly, his usually gentle demeanor hardening. "Reading her private messages, isolating her from friends—we're treating her like the enemy instead of someone we're supposed to protect."
"Protect?" Jongho scoffed. "We're the ones she needs protection from at this point."
"She threw a knife at my head," Hongjoong reminded them.
"And you smirked about it," Yeosang observed quietly. "Almost like you enjoyed it."
"Because I did," Hongjoong admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Seeing that fire in her eyes, that defiance... it reminded me of why I—" He stopped himself abruptly.
"Why you fell in love with her in the first place?" Wooyoung finished with a dreamy sigh. "God, did you see her today? The way she grabbed my shirt, looked me right in the eye? I thought I was going to spontaneously combust."
"You have a problem," San told him flatly.
"The problem is that we're all still in love with her," Mingi said heavily. "And she hates us. We broke something precious seven years ago, and now we're making it worse."
"We didn't have a choice then," Seonghwa said, though his voice lacked conviction.
"And we do now?" Yunho asked. "Because we're still making choices that hurt her."
The room fell silent as the weight of their situation settled over them. They'd saved her life seven years ago by breaking her heart, and now they were slowly destroying what remained of her spirit.
"Maybe we should—" Hongjoong started.
*BANG!*
The sharp crack of gunfire cut through his words, sending all eight men to their feet in an instant. Training kicked in as they moved as one toward the sound, hands reaching for weapons
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
The shots were coming from the garden, rapid and precise. They burst through the patio doors to find you standing in the far corner of the grounds, your mother's pearl-handled pistol extended in a perfect two-handed grip.
You were still in your outfit from the gym confrontation—the crisp white blouse now rolled up at the sleeves, your hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. But it was the deadly grace of your stance that made them all stop in their tracks.
*BANG!*
Another shot rang out, the bullet finding its mark in the center of an improvised target you'd set up against the garden wall—what looked like a photo taped to a piece of cardboard.
"Jesus Christ," San breathed.
You lowered the weapon, examining your handiwork with critical eyes before reloading with practiced efficiency. Only then did you notice your audience.
"Don't mind me," you called out with false sweetness. "Just working on my stress relief."
Wooyoung's face split into the widest grin any of them had seen from him since your return. "That was incredible! Did you see that grouping? She's a natural!"
"Her form is off," Mingi observed, his trained eye catching the slight imperfections in your stance.
You turned to face him, one eyebrow arched in challenge. "Your form is off," you replied with cutting sarcasm, though you made no move to correct your position.
Instead of being deterred by your attitude, Mingi stepped forward with characteristic determination. "May I?"
Something flickered in your eyes—surprise, perhaps, at his calm persistence. After a moment, you gave a short nod.
He approached slowly, respectfully, until he was standing just behind you. "Your stance is good, but your grip could be tighter," he said softly, his deep voice rumbling near your ear. "And you're tensing your shoulders."
His large hands came up to hover near yours, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "May I adjust your grip?"
The question was asked with such gentle formality that you found yourself nodding again, though your breath caught as his fingers finally made contact with yours.
Mingi's touch was surprisingly gentle for such large hands, his fingers carefully repositioning yours on the weapon's grip. "Like this," he murmured, his chest nearly brushing your back as he leaned in to check the sight line. "Feel the difference?"
You did feel a difference, though it had less to do with the gun and more to do with the way his proximity was affecting your ability to breathe properly. He smelled like sandalwood and something uniquely him, warm and comforting in a way that made your treacherous heart skip.
"Now, relax your shoulders," he continued, his hands ghosting over your shoulder blades without quite touching. "The tension travels down your arms and affects your accuracy."
Despite yourself, you found your body responding to his calm instruction, muscles you hadn't realized were tight beginning to loosen.
"Better," he said, satisfaction evident in his voice. "Now try."
You raised the weapon again, hyperaware of his presence behind you, the way he seemed to radiate calm strength. The shot that followed was noticeably more precise than your previous attempts.
"Perfect," Mingi said, and the pride in his voice sent an unwelcome warmth through your chest.
From their position by the patio, the other seven watched this interaction with varying degrees of fascination and envy. Wooyoung looked like he might vibrate out of his skin with excitement, while Hongjoong's expression had darkened considerably.
"Should we interrupt?" Yunho whispered.
"Absolutely not," Yeosang replied quietly. "This is the first time she's let any of us close since she arrived."
"Look at her," San murmured, noting the way your rigid posture had softened under Mingi's gentle guidance. "She's actually relaxed."
"Mingi always was good with her," Seonghwa observed. "Even as children, he could calm her down when the rest of us couldn't."
In the garden, you lowered the weapon again, turning slightly to look at Mingi. He was still standing close—closer than you'd allowed anyone since arriving—and for a moment, something passed between you that had nothing to do with firearms training.
You glanced at Yeosang who gave you a nod. You remember your conversation. "Mingi and Wooyoung—they don't show it the way the others do, but they were affected the worst by leaving you."
"Thank you," you said quietly, the words carrying more weight than a simple acknowledgment of instruction.
"Anytime," he replied, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.
The moment stretched between you, fragile and tentative, until Wooyoung's excited voice shattered it.
"Can I try next? Please? I promise I'll be good!"
You stepped away from Mingi abruptly, the spell broken, your defenses slamming back into place. "I think that's enough for today," you said curtly, engaging the safety and tucking the pistol into your waistband.
As you walked past them toward the house, you paused beside Wooyoung. “Maybe next time.”
With that, you disappeared into the house, leaving eight men standing in the garden, each lost in their own thoughts about the woman who continued to surprise them at every turn.
"Did anyone else notice," Wooyoung said dreamily, "that she said 'next time'?"
"I noticed," Mingi said quietly, his eyes still fixed on the door where you'd disappeared. "I also noticed she didn't flinch when I touched her."
"Progress," Yeosang murmured.
"Dangerous progress," Hongjoong added, though his tone held more thoughtfulness than anger.
In the distance, they could hear a door slam—your door, most likely—but for the first time since your arrival, it didn't sound quite so final.
