K-pop sickfics/hurtfics

Hongjoong ateez - threatened

Honestly this chapter is crap, it feels super rush and all.
@ChinchillaNin here's your request, hope you like it.
900 words.

The night air in Seoul was quiet, unusually so. The city, always buzzing, had fallen into a brief lull, as if holding its breath. Hongjoong sat alone in the dimly lit studio, fingers frozen above the keyboard. The cursor blinked back at him on the screen—persistent, patient, waiting for a verse that wouldn't come.

His phone buzzed again.

Another blocked number.

Again.

He stared at it, a cold drop of sweat trailing down his spine.

"Don't pick up," he whispered to himself, but his hand moved anyway. The phone trembled slightly in his grip.

He answered.

Static.

And then a voice, low and metallic, like it had been dragged through wires.

"You look so peaceful when you work. Does Seonghwa know you stay this late? Or San, the way he walks home alone sometimes? Dangerous city, isn't it?"

Click.

The call ended.

Hongjoong sat frozen. Every instinct screamed to run, to call someone, to yell. But he did none of those things.

Instead, he deleted the call history, turned the phone off, and stared at the blank screen until his reflection blurred.

The days that followed were slow and twisted. Hongjoong laughed a little louder than usual, worked a little longer, and tried too hard to act like he wasn't cracking.

He told himself it was fine. That he could handle this.

The voice had stopped calling after the fourth day—but not before leaving one final voicemail.

"Tell anyone, and I'll come for them first. You, second. Choose wisely, leader."

~~~

Seonghwa watched.

He wasn't trying to pry, but he'd always noticed things others missed.

Hongjoong's eyes looked different lately. Sharper. Quieter.

There were the sleepless nights he thought no one saw, the fake smiles that were just a second too late. The way Hongjoong had started flinching when the group's phones buzzed at the same time. The tense grip on his cup during rehearsals. The way he'd started checking the door three, four, five times before locking it.

So Seonghwa watched. And he waited.

Until one night, the facade cracked.

They were back at the dorm, everyone scattered after a long day. San was in the kitchen with Wooyoung, arguing over snacks. Yeosang had vanished into his room. Jongho was humming in the shower.

Seonghwa knocked on Hongjoong's door softly.

No response.

He tried again. Nothing.

He turned the knob.

Inside, the room was dark, and Hongjoong sat on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, his phone in one hand, trembling, face buried in the other.

"Joong...?"

Hongjoong flinched violently.

Seonghwa knelt slowly. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Hongjoong snapped too quickly, too sharply.

Seonghwa sat beside him. "That's not true."

A beat of silence.

Then Hongjoong whispered, "I didn't want to drag anyone else in. I thought if I stayed quiet, they'd go away."

Seonghwa's breath caught. "They?"

Hongjoong turned his phone toward him. Voicemails. Messages. All anonymous. Some described their schedules. Others made threats. Specific. Detailed. Personal.

Seonghwa scrolled through them slowly, a hand coming to rest gently on Hongjoong's shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"They said they'd hurt you. All of you. And I thought... I thought if I could just stay quiet and protect you myself.."

"You don't have to do that alone," Seonghwa interrupted gently, voice thick. "We're stronger together, hyung."

That night, Seonghwa called a meeting.

The members gathered in the living room, confusion etched into their faces.

Then Seonghwa spoke. And Hongjoong didn't stop him.

By the end of the explanation, silence had fallen like a heavy blanket.

San's fists were clenched, face pale with fury. Mingi looked like he might cry. Jongho's jaw was tight, his body coiled. Yeosang was already pulling up old phone logs, muttering under his breath.

"We'll go to the police," Seonghwa said. "Together."

"No," Hongjoong said, voice hollow. "They're watching. They know where we go. They know everything."

"But we're not helpless," Yunho said firmly, voice trembling with a rare seriousness. "Hyung, we can protect each other. We already are."

The next few days turned into a blur of hushed whispers, sleepless nights, and quiet solidarity.

They began moving differently—pairing up, never letting anyone walk alone. They double-checked security, changed all their schedules, kept the staff in the loop under vague pretenses.

They didn't let Hongjoong out of their sight. Not once.

But it didn't stop.

A package arrived at the studio. No return address. Inside: a USB.

They played it together.

Footage. Blurry. Long-distance.

Their dorm window.

Them laughing inside.

Zoom in. San at the sink. Mingi on the couch. Hongjoong at the piano.

"Such a lovely family," the voice cooed.

Yunho stood and punched the wall so hard his knuckles bled.

Seonghwa quietly grabbed a chair and sat beside Hongjoong, their shoulders touching.

"We fight back," Jongho said.

They hired security. Real ones. Quietly, but thoroughly. The agency had been skeptical until the evidence spoke louder than words.

Hongjoong was forced to give up control—and that hurt most. Watching others protect what he thought he had to guard alone.

But every time he faltered, Seonghwa was there. A quiet presence, an anchor.

One night, as they sat on the dorm roof, the sky a faded blur above, Seonghwa finally asked, "Why didn't you trust us, even a little?"

Hongjoong's voice cracked. "Because I'm the leader. I thought protecting you meant shielding you."

Seonghwa shook his head. "Protecting us means being with us. Even when it's hard. Especially then."

Tears slipped down Hongjoong's cheek. He didn't wipe them.

He didn't have to.

Thanks for reading. If you have a story in mind don't hesitate. I take requests.