toto wolff faces his own undoing when the daughter he has long buried reappears at the paddock.
ᯓ★ toto wolff x kpop idol!daughter!reader, platonic!seventeen x fem!14th member!reader
ᯓ★ familial estrangement, personal passion v. father’s wishes, miscommunication through assumptions, reunion, deep emotional wounds, crying, 13(!!) protective brothers, lying by omission, emotional breakdown, technically abandonment, found family v. (biological) family, etc. — angst, slight crack (sponsored by seventeen)
ᯓ★ paragraph format — 9.7K words
masterlist
[pic’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]
ᯓ★ all the (austrian) german & korean in this are from google, as usual. there are no physical descriptions for yn, nor is she directly referenced to be biologically related to toto. since she’s a kpop idol, she’s implied to be at least half-east/southeast asian. title’s from the band camino’s damage!
ᯓ★ i just wanted an antithesis of the ghost of you!kimi räikkönen, and i somehow made it here? certainly didn’t expected it to be a monster, though, oml. important: you don’t need to know both (f1 & kpop) worlds to understand! :]
Before the program Seventeen TV welcomed its sole female trainee during its third season, Toto Wolff first had to lose his eldest.
The day before Flight OZ731 took off to Seoul, a non-expiring VIP access pass was added into the Mercedes F1 Team’s system. It’s the same pass Toto handed his eldest years ago with a rasped "if you ever decided to visit." It sat like an unfulfilled promise for twelve long years.
Within those twelve years, Toto’s eldest became a whispered myth within Mercedes. Unlike her paternal siblings, her face doesn't grace any of the frames in his Brackley office or the temporary ones he keeps at the paddock. As far as anyone knows, she has never set foot in the Mercedes area—and he has never spoken her name.
Yet, she haunts Mercedes with vengeance. Her presence is felt above the deafening roar and below the absolute silence. She lives in the unsettled tempers and the cold rain.
She exists in the phantom number on his family tree, the only one whose name never reaches the public. She exists in the vague recollections of Lewis Hamilton, Peter Bonnington, and James Vowles, who remember working for him in the early days.
She exists in the date forever circled in red on his calendar. She exists in the signed music albums he never allows dust to touch.
She exists around him, but never with him since she boarded Flight OZ731 and chased a dream he didn’t approve of.
Now, twelve years later, Mercedes is abuzz with whispers they don’t yet understand: the custom VIP pass they had only heard of just scanned into the paddock.
"I feel like I should fix myself up a bit," one of the mechanics fidgets with his standard-issue uniform. "How’s my hair?"
"Hey, can I hang out here for a bit?" Another finds himself at a different motorhome, seeking refuge. "Mercedes is a jittery hub right now. Something about a ghost visitor."
The air crackles with a nervous energy, a tense anticipation that hangs thick and heavy. They stand on the precipice of a moment they can’t possibly prepare for, holding their breath.
Then, in a single, heart-stopping instant, the wait is finally over.
The fabled VIP access pass swings from the neck of a visitor, catching the light as she moves. A ghost of the man she came from haunts her features, from the determined set of her jaw to the stoicism in her gaze. She's surrounded by thirteen men who move as an impenetrable, well-oiled unit. She’s not their leader, nor their youngest, but their protective wall around her is unmissable.
The whispered "hana, dul, set" halts the paddock's murmurs just in time for the authoritative start of a group introduction. "Say the name—"
"SEVENTEEN!" Fourteen voices echo in the paddock hospitality, synchronized in every beat—down to the humble bow. "Hello, we are— SEVENTEEN!"
As she offers a blinding smile to the murmuring crowd, it's a silent declaration: she belongs to both worlds, yet it's the men standing beside her who truly bring her home.
Toto Wolff can only watch. The world around him blurs, the seemingly ceaseless chatter of the crowd fades into a distant hum. His vision tunnels, narrowing until all he can see is her.
Her—the phantom of a child he once held, a ghost of a daughter who exists only in his memories, superimposed over the woman standing on the makeshift stage. He doesn’t know her.
For a fleeting, agonizing moment, he feels the stoic mask he prides himself on almost shatters. He doesn’t like the thought that just crossed his mind, but her twelve-year absence is a physical weight he can’t ignore. He doesn’t know her.
An F1 staffer purposely hands her a microphone, their hidden agenda as secret as Mercedes’ loud whispers. She accepts it with an inaudible "thank you" before skillfully passing it down the line until the microphone eventually lands on someone who owns it. The familiar, practiced gesture of teamwork makes his chest tighten.
"How does it feel to be here at the F1 paddock?" The interviewer asks.
"Honestly surreal," a clear American accent booms from the foamed microphone. "We’ve been fans of Formula One since our YN—" the possessiveness preceding her name stings, especially with the soft, adoring chuckles the rest directs her way— "introduced us to the sport back in our trainee days. We all came from different backgrounds and had some language barriers then, but watching the races together really brought us closer."
Toto takes every cut each word makes. "Our YN" twists in his gut, a stark reminder that she belongs with them now.
"It’s a dream come true to be here," another member continues succinctly, with a short nod. There’s a slight tremble in his voice, but it fades away when she taps him encouragingly. "It feels like everything’s come full circle."
The ease of their existence around each other pierces through him. He doesn’t know these men whose hearts beat the same way as hers, just like he doesn’t know her.
"Yeah, we just want to say a big thank you to Formula One for having us here," a third member adds on. His American accent sounds more casual than the first, "especially during the year of our tenth anniversary. It really means a lot."
"Congratulations on your tenth anniversary! That’s a huge milestone." The assembled crowd watches as the members pass around the two microphones—almost playing hot potato with them. "Are there any special plans to celebrate the occasion?"
"Thank you," the fourth member unlucky enough to hold a microphone responds. The rest nod along in supportive agreement. "As this is our tenth year as a group, we planned to celebrate the whole year." He chuckles lightly, some chuckling along with him. "But so far we’ve released our fifth full-length album and held a birthday concert with our CARATs."
"We’re actually filming something special while we’re here," her sudden interjection catches a number of people in the crowd off-guard, including him, "but we’ll try our best to stay out of everyone’s way."
Unlike her members, her response is curt and dry. She doesn’t have the playful and friendly undertone the rest had—just professionalism through and through. Even if she tried to smile it off in an attempt to add humor, it’s obvious she says the last part for someone in particular.
Her gaze finds and holds his for a split second, and in that fleeting, devastating connection, he understands. She isn’t there for him.
It makes the most logical sense, yet it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
Toto’s ears ring. The air around him thins. His entire world narrows to a single point: her—the phantom of his little girl who loved music more than she loved him.
The interviewer tries his best to bring the energy back. "Since you’ve mentioned you guys have been watching races since your trainee days, which teams or drivers are you guys rooting for this season?"
The one with a clear American accent immediately obliges to his mission. "Oh, we’re all rooting for the same team."
The rest corroborate with a solemn nod—before a cacophony of answers erupts.
"Ferrari."
"Williams!"
"McLaren!"
"Haas."
"Red Bull!"
"Sauber."
"Aston Martin."
"Mercedes!"
"Racing Bulls."
"Alpine!"
The thirteen men name all ten teams at once, effectively making the crowd laugh. It’s a comedic timing perfectly executed. They are cogs of one machine—and he feels the sting of knowing his eldest completes them.
The interviewer chuckles. "It sounds like you guys are a little divided! So which team is the true favorite here?" he asks, looking directly at her. It’s the perfect set-up he must’ve been waiting for.
The entire assembled crowd holds their breath. He finds himself swept up in the silence, his own breath held tight in his chest.
She takes the bait with a nonchalant shrug. Her gaze, cold and steady, finds his, looking away just before her answer changes their lives. "My heart has always belonged to Mercedes."
The backrooms of the Mercedes garage is relatively the quieter part of the entire building, with its padded walls meant to keep the chaos of the paddock out. Toto, as the Team Principal, gets the luxury of occupying the quietest corner, the furthest room from all the action.
In there, he’s just Toto—no decorations attached. Still a boss, a father, and a husband with responsibilities, but with a lifted pressure to perform and be seen. The sterile, white walls of the room serve as a canvas—not an extension of his public persona, but a private space where he can simply exist. It's a sanctuary where he can momentarily step away from the relentless demands of his role and just be.
A knock resonates from the door, breaking his concentration just enough to respond. "Come in!"
He already knows who entered before he looks up. After all, he exists in the fast-paced world of Formula One—his usual visitors start talking as soon as they enter.
His eldest’s silence is purposeful, a deliberate pause between musical notes meant to build anticipation. Her presence, too, vibrates in a frequency distinct from the high-energy rhythm of Formula One—resembling a softer, more complex melody he doesn’t understand.
He doesn’t meet her eyes right away. Instead, he looks up and watches as she scans the room with mild interest, taking in the minimal personal touches he's added. There are photos of his wife, Susie; Lewis and Bono celebrating one of their championships; George and Kimi; Benedict and Rosa at Benedict's university graduation; and Jack with his kart.
"I just wanted to drop this off," she eventually says, her voice clear and professional as she places a white-and-green album on his desk. "For your collection."
"Thank you," his response sounds as disconnected as she did despite his sincerity. "I’ll put it with the others."
He sees her gaze linger on a specific empty spot on his desk, where a frame of them during one of her science fairs once stood.
He catches the second a flicker dies in her eyes—and how quick it was for her shoulders to drop ever so slightly and for the determined set of her jaw to harden.
The blow hits him like a Formula One car coming at top speed. He almost tells her about the custom-made, dust-proof cabinet at his office in Brackley where he keeps his favorite childhood photos of her and all the music albums she has sent. He almost tells her how he doesn’t allow anyone else to see them because he doesn’t have the strength to talk about her without being reduced to tears. He almost— but he doesn’t.
And almost is never enough.
"I won’t keep you, Vater." There’s no warmth, no flicker of emotion in her professional tone. "Thank you for having us."
Without waiting for a response, she turns and walks out, leaving him alone with an echo of "Vater"—a title so foreign it contaminates his memories of a little girl who used to call him "Papa."
His eldest earned the nickname "nightingale" early. She was always singing— performing whenever she had the chance. Her favorite toddler toys were a xylophone and a singing contraption, which were later replaced by a toy microphone and a guitar. Eventually, there were formal lessons. Throughout it all, their home never knew true quiet—and he didn’t prefer it any other way.
Toto was proud of her musical talent, but he saw it as just one of her many skills. She was equally gifted in science and never shied away from working with him on projects. He encouraged the music, believing it was important for her to be a well-rounded person, but he never mistook it for her true path.
He never would’ve thought his well-intentioned encouragement would eventually backfire on him.
YN barreled into his office, vibrating on her feet. A Mercedes hat sat proudly on her head, a VIP access pass comfortably resting around her neck. "Papa!"
"Yes, YN?" He looked up, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he met her sparkling eyes.
She could barely contain herself. She squealed, "Ich habe eine Zusage von Pledis bekommen!" ["I got an acceptance from Pledis!"]
He gestured for her to sit down, secretly afraid she’d start bouncing off the walls if he left her standing. "Pledis?"
She obliged, humming in affirmation. "Remember I told you about that one judge in my last competition? The one that said she liked my performance so much, she sent a video of it to her boss in Seoul?"
He took a moment to think. He stopped attending her music-related activities when she turned ten, so he was left to rely on her relays and debriefs since. Admittedly, it was more difficult to riffle through memories of her retelling than of her actual performances. "The one that said you might be a good fit to train to be a performer in South Korea?"
"To be an idol, Papa," she corrected, her voice filled with undeniable reverence, "but yes, that. Apparently, the company she works for is Pledis."
He considered it with a slow, thoughtful nod. "Herzlichen Glückwunsch, schatzi." ["Congratulations, darling."]
"Danke, Papa," ["Thank you, Papa,"] she beamed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ich überlege, ihr Angebot anzunehmen." ["I’m thinking of accepting their offer."]
Toto froze at that. He wasn’t versed in what training to be an idol entailed, but the mere fact that she would have to be in South Korea—where he wouldn’t be—was already an unpleasant thought. "Willst du ein idol werden?" ["You want to be an idol?"]
He couldn’t believe his ears. Not when he had a photo of them during one of her science fairs framed on his desk. Not when two more hung on his office walls: one of her mid-laugh after an experiment exploded on her face; another of her grinning, covered in soot and grime, with a wrench in her hand.
She wasn’t supposed to be a performer. She was supposed to be a problem-solver. An engineer.
"I hob glaubt, du willst Ingenieur werden?" ["I thought you wanted to be an engineer?"] He blurted out, the words tasting like ash laced with desperate hope.
"I hob des nie gsogt." ["I never said that."] YN quickly rebuffed, words sharp. "I hob nur gsogt, 'Ingenieurwesen mocht Spaß.'" ["I only ever said, ‘Engineering is fun.’"]
"Ingenieurwesen mocht Spaß" burn him like a soldering iron. Fun. Not a calling. Not a passion. Not the life he had so meticulously—and silently—planned for her. Just fun.
The foundations of his world began to crumble beneath him, but he persevered like a driver pushing old tires to the checkered flag. He had to make her understand. He needed her to know she’d be making a mistake if she pursued that fleeting path. "Becoming an idol . . . Des is ned praktisch, YN. Des is ka sichere Karriere." ["Becoming an idol . . . That’s not practical, YN. It’s not a stable career."]
He almost took it all back when he saw the light in her eyes dim, with her shoulders tensing and her jaw tightening. A short, desperate plea for her to smile again was already on the tip of his tongue, but his fear for her future was far stronger than his immediate regret.
"Owa du host gsogt, i kann do whatever makes me happy." ["But you said I can do whatever makes me happy."] Her voice was quiet, but heavy with accusation.
"Jo, und i man's ernst," ["Yes, and I mean it,"] he confirmed, his voice a touch softer. "But I didn’t mean this."
"Then what did you mean?"
It wasn’t the first time he and YN didn’t see eye-to-eye. It had been an occasional occurrence since she reached thirteen. Still, it was the first time he felt their relationship was truly on the line.
It didn’t help that this was something he wasn’t prepared to discuss with her, either. Frankly, he didn’t even think he would have to. He thought—
Toto sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose, "Let’s talk about this later, after dinner."
YN didn’t move right away, her body a statue of disappointment, but eventually stood. "Okay."
He hated how the conversation went. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. A part of him was convinced he’d have to thread carefully, else he’d risk completely fracturing his relationship with his eldest. He didn’t want that.
"I hob di liab," ["I love you,"] he called after her, subtly seeking a signal that they were still okay.
YN paused by the door, a small smile returning to her features, "I di a, Papa." ["(I love) You, too, Papa."]
Toto blinks, returning to the reality far removed from what it once was. He’s still behind his desk—in same the office, under the same pin on the map—but nothing else stayed the same. Not the scattered decorations serving as peeks into his personal life. Not the title that still rings in the silence he’s left alone with. Not the distance—chasm—that separates him and his eldest.
It’s difficult to believe he was once, as she put it at seven years old, her "most favorite person in the entire universe."
Now, she can’t even look at him for more than three seconds.
The white-and-green album she left mocks him. The bold, emerald green title blazes like a neon sign—screaming at him with an irrefutable taunt that it knows more about the woman his eldest grew up to be than he ever will.
It jeers him—daring him to look at the woman he created a stranger of.
Toto reaches for the album, fingers tentative as if he’s touching thin glass.
He sees a handwritten letter first. He doesn’t recognize the handwriting, but he identifies the capitalized block letters of a budding engineer before the familiar script of "Papa" does.
She always wrote "Papa" on the music albums that found their way to him.
Papa,
As we cross ten years since our debut, I want to extend my utmost gratitude to you.
I know this isn’t the life you wanted for me. You raised me to be someone else—someone with a stable career, someone who builds things and solves problems, someone who follows the path you laid out.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be the person you wanted me to be.
I’m sorry I used the blueprint you drew to follow a path that took me away from you.
I used every lesson you ever taught me—to trust myself, to work hard, to stand back up every time I fall—because I was too afraid to hold onto you. I couldn’t bear the thought of being a burden or of you regretting letting me go. They were all I had.
It wasn’t easy reaching ten years. As the only girl in a group with thirteen boys, there were moments I wanted to quit, to find someone who could contact you and just take me home. But every time I almost did, I remembered what you told me once: failure is a necessary part of the journey. You said a true champion’s mark isn’t in their wins, but in their ability to keep going. I never forgot that.
It’s probably not what you want to hear, but a part of you is the reason I made it this far.
So, thank you, Papa. Really.
With love,
Your YN
P.S. I hope it’s not too much to ask for a hug when we meet.
Toto’s eyes blurs as the stoic façade he has fought hard to maintain fractures with a hot, single tear. He doesn’t bother to wipe it away.
He stares at the last lines like they’re his lifeline.
His breath shudders, hands suddenly unable to hold the feather-light paper.
For twelve years, he had foolishly believed his little girl merely haunted him because he refused to let her go. His secret, dust-proof cabinet was a shrine to a time he couldn't get back and to a person he had lost. He had convinced himself that the albums bearing her name and face were just artifacts, not messages.
Worse, he had assumed she was gone because he didn't recognize her in the woman before him. She didn't smile or laugh the same. She didn't look at him the same. She no longer addressed him the same.
But that wasn't the case.
His little girl hadn't left; she had simply learned to protect herself and be self-reliant because she thought she couldn't count on him. She was still here, hidden under all the calluses and the wounds she had endured alone in twelve years.
It was all his fault.
Toto lifts his gaze in a futile attempt to discourage another tear from escaping, but it merely lands on the empty spot on his desk, where a frame of them during one of her science fairs once stood.
His eldest— YN came to his office with a hope for reconciliation, eyes searching for a sliver of love, and found herself completely erased from his life.
She walked out the door thinking he didn’t love her—and he let her.
It’s strange to be back at the paddock where she received the email that changed her life forever. She was only fifteen years old then; now, a lifetime later in her late twenties ("Practically thirty," as she and her members would joke whenever their muscles strained a little too much), she’s a stranger to her own life.
Being back in this domain of her childhood with her members is a surreal full-circle moment. She had first introduced them to this world when a language barrier stood between them. Now, she’s finally sharing its magic with a group that understands her beyond words.
Frankly, she was excited when their staff told them Formula One had allowed them to film here. She would have assumed a working race week would be off-limits for a film crew, but a part of her suspected her birth surname had something to do with the special permission.
Alas, as she just realized, it couldn’t be a string her father pulled.
YN tries not to think about it, but she sees the empty spot on his desk every time she blinks.
"Excuse me," a voice breaks her out of her thoughts just before she reaches the front of the Mercedes garage. She halts. It’s George Russell.
She guards her expression to mask her confusion. Why is an F1 driver approaching her? "Yes?"
"Do you mind if I tag along to the tour for you and your mates?"
She fights hard to not squint at him suspiciously. "Mr. Russell—" she sees no need to pretend she doesn’t know who he is— "with all due respect, don’t you have more important things to do than follow along to a tour of your workplace?"
"Just George, please," he offers an easy smile with his polite request. "And technically, yes, I do. I’m between debriefs and simulator sessions, so I’m free to roam."
She doesn’t buy the flimsy excuse. The paddock is a hive of activity, and an F1 driver doesn’t just "roam." Her eyes flickers to the closed office door she just left, a clear accusation forming on her tongue. He sent you, didn’t he? As his spy, his proxy?
She bites the thought back, in the name of her SEVENTEEN, and reminds herself can’t afford to burn a bridge when she’s a ghost so thoroughly erased. Right now, she’s not just an unwanted reminder of the past her father had apparently buried, she’s also a shield for her thirteen brothers, and she won’t let this man—or the man who sent him—breach her defensive wall. "It’ll be in Korean."
George doesn’t let it deter him. He merely shrugs, his natural charm oozing through, "It’ll be fun."
YN is really contemplating asking if he knows her, because why else is he insisting on tagging along with a bunch of foreign strangers? He doesn’t look like he knows Kpop, much less SEVENTEEN. Alas, she isn’t mentality available to hear any of his possible answers to that, so she just sighs. "I’ll ask."
After all, as her brothers often remind her, she isn’t alone—and SEVENTEEN makes decisions together.
Before either of them can say anything else, she feels her members’ presence before they appear in her line of sight. It's a low hum of energy, a familiar, chaotic rhythm that her body instinctively relaxes into. It's the same feeling she gets just before a show starts or a song drops.
Kimi Antonelli is in front of them, looking every bit like a guide assisting a lost group, his politeness is a stark contrast to the boisterous energy that radiates from the thirteen men behind him. "Here we are," he says with a wide, polite gesture, "the Mercedes garage."
"Thank you, Ki—"
"YN!" Mingyu’s polite gratitude is effectively interrupted by Soonyoung’s unrestrained glee. The sound of her name, shouted in pure excitement, releases endorphins in her brain—dissolving the armor further hardened by her cold encounter with her father.
A smile immediately decorates her features, starting from the corners of her lips and reaching her eyes. Relief visibly spreads through her entire body, relaxing her posture from a tightness she didn’t even realize.
She excuses herself to George with a slight bow, her feet already closing the gap between her and her members. "멤버들!" ["Members!"]
"우리 Max Verstappen 만났어!" ["We met Max Verstappen!"] Her older brother excitedly reports, his voice still filled with awe, as soon as she approaches.
The pure, unadulterated joy on his face is contagious. "Max 만났어?" ["You met Max?"] She asks, her own voice full of genuine, wide-eyed wonder. "와아. 대박! 너희 사진 찍었어?" ["Woah. That’s awesome! Did you guys get a picture?"]
Jihoon hums, his usual dry humor making her smile even wider. "우리도 순영이만 같이 사진 찍게 했어." ["We also got him to pose for a photo with just Soonyoung."]
"순영이형 Max한테 호랑해 시켰어," ["Soonyoung made Max do Horanghae,"] Minghao reports, a hint of playful accusation in his voice. He grins at her, knowing she’ll get the joke.
YN laughs at that, the sound warm and genuine. The heavy weight of her father's disapproval and her own painful memories falls away, replaced by the simple thrill of her members' happiness. She’s the one who told them that Soonyoung and Max should take a picture together, because he's SEVENTEEN’s tiger and he’s F1’s lion.
For a moment, surrounded by the familiar comfort of her brothers, she feels a profound sense of peace—and utterly forgets where she is. "나 그거 좀 봐야 돼." ["I need to see that."]
Unfortunately, it’s not meant to last long, for Chan unknowingly brings her back to the reality. "저 남자가 자꾸 쳐다봐, 누나." ["That man keeps staring at you, YN."]
Her brothers’ expressions change in an instant, sharpening with a promised threat. Twelve older wolves follow the youngest’s line of sight, eyes already narrowed, before she can even comprehend.
"그 남자가 우리 YN 좋아해?" ["Does he like our YN?"] Jeonghan questions for the rest, voice dangerously low and almost conspiratorial.
YN’s sensitive ears picks up Kimi’s amusement from somewhere behind her. "They’ll eat you alive."
The air around her cackles as thirteen pairs of eyes cage George Russell.
YN can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from deep within her, melting the tense cage of eyes into endeared looks.
George Russell joins the tour, in the end. Not because YN vouched for him, but because Kimi did. She is yet to hear how her members unanimously approved of the younger Mercedes driver and his judgement, but she has no complaints. It’s just a shame that his word landed opposite of what she was hoping for.
She could’ve vetoed it, but her curiosity about George’s endgame is a stronger force than her apprehension, so she simply lets it happen.
George doesn’t fight to be their tour guide, but he doesn’t question why she wants to be, either, instead of getting a Mercedes team member to do it. Unfortunately for him, that doesn’t help loosen up her apprehension—if anything, it just strengthens her suspicion that he does know who she is; that he’s sent to her way with a mission.
YN decides to give him a show. After all, she is a performer, and she knows how to play a part.
"Alright, 여러분." ["Alright, everybody."] She claps once, perfectly mimicking the opening of her group’s iconic set opener "Clap." It doesn’t resonate as loudly as Seungcheol’s, but it does its job. "들어가기 전에: 프라이버시 문제로 촬영은 불가하다는 점 다시 한번 말씀드립니다. Capisce?" ["Just a heads-up before we go in: filming is not allowed due to privacy concerns. Capisce?"]
"Capisco!" Her members and George reply in unison. She grins, satisfied. She’s the one who taught her members that, back when Italian was still strong on her tongue.
On any other day, she wouldn't have even blinked at the sound of her own surname. Her members call her "Wolff" so often, on- and off-camera, that it's become their special nickname for her. Her representative emoji is a gray wolf, too, so even their fans—CARATs—sometimes call her "wolf," even though they don't know her birth name. She’s simply too used to the name.
Unfortunately, today is different. Today, she's at the paddock, surrounded by the past she traded away for a future in a field she loves. Today, she's carrying the heavy weight of being erased by someone she'd held onto for twelve long years.
She doesn't even notice her own flinch at the sound of her surname, but she prays it was quick enough that her members missed it.
YN decidedly nods before guiding them towards Mercedes’ F1 cars for this season, signaling the official start of her special tour. "In front of you is the W16—"
She goes to describe the car in great, easily digestible detail, in a mix of Korean and English. She continues to do the same even as she continues on with tour and guides them deeper into the Mercedes garage, often also relating things to what her members understand best. She doesn’t shy away from their—nor George’s—technical questions, either, and actually relishes them.
"Over here are the offices for the team engineers," she gestures to the closed doors around them. "We have race engineers—걔네들은 완전 지훈이랑 범주 같아! 그리고 순영오빠! They make sure all the parts are working properly, and the 최종 제품 is 무대에 오를 준비가 되었는지 확인해." ["We have race engineers—they’re like Jihoon and Bumzu! And Soonyoung! They make sure all the parts are working together properly, and the final product is ready for the stage."]
"The performance engineers are," she pauses to think of a new analogy, but comes up short, "also like 지훈오빠 and 범주오빠. They’re like songwriters—all the data를 보고 driver한테 차를 최대한 잘 쓸 수 있게 얘기해주는 거지." ["The performance engineers are also like Jihoon and Bumzu. They’re like songwriters—they look at all the data and tell the driver how to get the most out of the car."]
YN’s pride bubbles up from her stomach. The utter fascination in her members’ faces is the exact reason why she denied the tour guide Mercedes offered them. Their guide had to be her—not because she spoke Korean, but because she’s one of them.
Besides, she has been waiting to introduce them to the world she grew up in beyond the limitations of a television screen and a yearly subscription. They have immersed her into the contrivances that led them to her throughout their ten years together, and today’s simply her turn. Never mind that she discovered herself nonexistent in what she had considered her home.
"You should say your name, too, YN," Jihoon—the member who has constantly seen her post-11 AM self under neon lights for the past twelve years—pipes up, voice clear despite being in a language he’s not confident in. "You’re our engineer, too."
Heat rises up from the back of her neck to the tip of her ears. She may be used to receiving compliments in her idol life, but one from her members always weighs more than others. Especially one from Jihoon, whose affections rarely escape outside the form of a song.
"Yeah, Producer NIGHTINGALE," Joshua chimes in with a grin.
YN lets out a soundless, slightly embarrassed laugh. Her members have absolutely no idea how much their words mean to her right now, while she’s surrounded by a world that didn’t love her back.
"You flatter me," she playfully waves away their indirect compliments before flashing them a bright smile. "고마워요, but let’s go back to the tour." ["Thank you, but let’s go back to the tour."]
However, before she can continue with her descriptions of the different engineers in the team, one of the doors behind her opens. Her idol manners immediately kicks in, and she turns to greet whoever it is. "Hello!"
It’s Peter Bonnington, the very man she looked over telemetry and data with more than a decade ago. "Oh, hello! I’ve never seen you around here before."
She smiles through the pang that she felt in her chest. "Oh, no, no. I’m not from here." She quickly gestures to the group behind her, unwilling to have the mistaken belonging on her shoulders for longer than necessary. "I’m with them."
"Hello!" She hears her members greet in not-so-perfect unison. She doesn’t need to turn around to know most of them smiled politely.
Bono greets them back, returning the polite gesture. He turns his attention back to her, eyebrows slightly scrunched. "But you’re leading a tour?"
The lie spills out too easily, her voice laced with the conversational professionalism she mastered in the ten years. "My father used to work here, so I remember my way around." But, then again, is it really a lie if the father she met today isn’t the same one that drove her to the airport twelve years ago? "I just wanted to give my members a more personalized tour."
She doesn’t miss how he tried to catch a glimpse of her pass, presumably to get her name. Unfortunately for him, she intentionally wore it the wrong way around. "You must’ve been in here a lot."
She opts to give a non-answer, starting with a half-hearted chuckle. "We’ll try to keep it down, Mr. Bonnington."
YN knows she can just introduce herself. Yet, she has concluded it inappropriate. Not because she’ll be using her birth surname to validate her return, but more so because she has obviously been removed in this world for a reason. She may not know why, but she wants to try and respect that—regardless of it hurting like she has been ran over by an F1 car on a straight.
"Right, well," he takes one hesitant step away without taking his eyes off of her. She tenses under his analytical stare. "I’ll leave you kids to it, then."
She only relaxes once Bono disappears in a corner, full attention returning to the crowd curiously looking at her. For a second there, she was frightened by the thought of being recognized. "You probably recognize his 목소리. That was—" ["You probably recognize his voice. That was—"]
The Mercedes tour continues without any more surprise interruptions. Eventually, she finally leads them to a hidden corner of the garage. Its door is unassuming, perfectly blended with the surrounding walls. There’s also a trick to opening it—something that only a few people back then knew how to do.
And, by the looks of it, that still holds true to this day.
The room looks almost exactly like how she last saw it, with a singular tire at the bottom of the tire rack and a cushioned nook seat. There’s no sprinkle of dust.
"여기서 낮잠 잤었어요," ["I used to take a nap here,"] she says, her voice thick with emotion, looking at the cushioned nook. A familiar, sharp ache blooms in her chest. "Pledis 합격 통보 받았을 때, 여기 있었어." ["I was here when I received the acceptance from Pledis."]
She catches Seungcheol share a look with Junhui, and she takes it as a sign to disperse them and let them explore the room. There’s admittedly not a lot going on in the room, with it being the most uninteresting part of the garage, but—it means something to her, and she knows her brothers can appreciate that.
George slides next to her the second they disperse. For a moment, neither of them says anything. The quiet of the room weighs between them, a stark contrast to the distant rumble of the garage.
"How did you know about this place?" He asks, his voice a low, awed murmur that barely breaks the silence.
YN keeps her eyes trailed on her members, a small, sad smile playing on her lips. She doesn't look at him, but she can feel the weight of his stare. "I used to be here a lot," she replies, her voice softer now, echoing Bono's words like a ghost.
At her peripherals, she sees him turn fully to look at her. The expression on his face is a raw, unguarded look of awed confusion. It’s a look she doesn’t understand, as if her simple answer has shaken his entire perception of this place.
"I didn’t even know about this place," He says, the disbelief in his tone palpable. "And I’ve been here for years."
She finally turns to him, a hint of her old self-assurance returning in a wry smile. She shrugs, pushing back a comment about him being a terrible spy. "Now you know."
You’re a good actor, but not quite as good as me.
She walks away to join her members, the wall between them back in place.
YN almost makes it through. She just has to guide her members and George back to the front of the Mercedes garage, and give her closing remarks. She just has to fall back to her place next to her members before they address the crew for a general thank you—for their hard work, for letting them momentarily invade. She just has to do those three things.
But she doesn’t make it.
Because she made the critical error of freezing as soon as she spots the model car for the W04, Mercedes’ F1 car for the 2013 season. It's the very same model car she last saw in person, the very same one she had asked her father if she could put in the display.
It might’ve been a split-second freeze, but a split-second is enough for them who understand each other beyond words.
The corners of YN’s eyes start to burn.
"Ow!" She hears Seungkwan somewhere behind her, effectively snapping out of her trace. She’s next to him within a blink, as are the rest of their group. "I— I think . . . Too much coffee . . ."
Her personal sorrow is immediately forgotten, having been replaced with worry for a younger brother. "어디가 아파?" ["Where does it hurt?"]
She mentally goes through the paddock blueprint in her head. She needs to calculate the quickest way to the medical center. Perhaps if they—
"아이구!" ["Ugh!"] Seungkwan almost doubles over, but is saved by Wonwoo who steadies him.
"잠깐만, 승관아," ["Hold on, Seungkwan,"] Seungcheol’s leader tone is tainted with concern. "YN—"
She doesn’t wait for him to finish. "어디로 가야 할지 알아." ["I know where to go."]
"알았어—" ["Alright—"] Wonwoo takes that as his cue to lead Seungkwan out the door, with Seokmin hovering on the other side in case he needs extra support. YN follows, with Mingyu’s hand on the small of her back.
"It was wonderful meeting you, George!" Vernon calls over his shoulder. She’s glad her brother did that courtesy for her, because she certainly doesn’t feel like extending it to her father’s proxy herself.
She doesn’t look back as she guides Mingyu’s hand to hold hers instead.
SEVENTEEN doesn’t relax their protective wall around Seungkwan until they’re halfway to the Mercedes motorhome. Despite their extreme proximity barely giving them enough room to walk, their formation—unconsciously formed as it may be—never breaks.
That is, until YN tries to take a turn to the medical center . . . just for Mingyu to tug her back.
"이쪽으로 돌자," ["Let’s turn this way,"] she instructs, lightly gesturing with her head.
Her eyebrows immediately touch when her same-age brother merely lets go of her hand to put an arm around her shoulders. "아니." ["No."]
"근데 승관이—" ["But Seungkwan—"]
"—는 연기를 너무 못 해!" ["—Is terrible at acting!"] Junhui completes her sentence from the back. He sounds incredibly offended, somehow.
YN suddenly stops in her tracks, causing those behind her to stumble on their feet. No one falls, thankfully. "뭐라고?" ["What?"] Her disbelieving eyes search their faces.
Seungcheol intercepts before she can say everything else that’s on the tip of her tongue. "먼저 들어가자." ["Let’s go in first."]
She knows better than to argue with her leader.
Once Joshua finally closes the door to their assigned guest room inside the Mercedes’ motorhome, YN wastes no time. She finds Seungkwan, her gaze still edged with concern amidst her confusion. "승관아, 괜찮아?" ["Seungkwan, are you okay?"]
Seungkwan gives her a thumbs up, his smile a little sheepish. "나 괜찮아, 누나." ["I’m okay, YN."]
"그랬으면 왜—" ["Then why did you—"] She halts, thoughts racing. She thinks back to the garage, to the exact moment she heard her younger brother shout in agony— "Oh."
"‘Oh,’ indeed," Vernon echoes with a short nod.
It’s not the first time one of them feigned an illness to get out of a situation. They’re not exactly proud of it, nor the number of times they’ve resorted to it, but some situations are just too difficult to escape using different methods. Truthfully, they continue to be amazed that they’re still finding new kinds of situations they desperately need to get out of.
Had she been in the right state mind, she would’ve effortlessly seen through the act. She would’ve remembered that such dramatics are reserved for what they codenamed as ‘last resort.’ But, alas.
Her relief manifests in an audible breath. "우리 차 빌려야 할 줄 알았어." ["I thought we’d have to borrow a car."] Unfortunately, that relief also comes with weakened knees and opened tear ducts. "괜찮아서 정말 다행이에요." ["I’m really glad you’re okay."]
There’s already a crowd around her before a tear even escapes. YN’s cries intensified the more seconds passed—starting with a mere silent waterfall on her cheeks, to a loud, sobbing mess. She clings to the closest member—Joshua, judging by his perfume and built—and buries her face.
"미안해." ["I’m sorry."] She apologizes hoarsely, voice breaking with every syllable, overwhelmed with emotion. "I ruined—" her words slips in English, suddenly too emotional to translate them into Korean— "I can’t—"
As always, her brothers understand before she even expresses herself correctly. "괜찮아, YN아, 영어로 말해도 돼. 우리가 이해하려고 노력할게." ["It’s okay, YN-ah, you can talk in English. We’ll try to understand."]
And, right now, that’s all YN needs.
When the program Seventeen TV welcomed its sole female trainee during its third season, her brothers gained a sister who would one day teach them the quiet tragedy of a man’s loss.
She joined them with no Korean they could understand, but they understood her heart all the same. They saw the fire they all had, burning bright and glowing hot. They understood that her passion wasn’t just a dream; it was a lifeline. It was a purpose that gave her strength, a drive that gave her a future, and a dedication that gave her a new life.
Her words might’ve been foreign and broken, but her actions bared her heart—and that was enough.
She was their sister, their YN, from there on out.
YN introduced them to the fast and furious world of Formula One. With table napkins and nearly ink-less pens, she drew them into the horrifying wonders of high-speed corners and the bewildering ballet of strategy. Soon, she hooked them with the blurred colors of dangerous speed, and before they knew it, they were eleven teams and a thousand questions deep. Practices didn’t just end with replays of their final take; they ended with replays of races they were too busy to watch on time. Their performances weren't just powered by sheer energy and passion, but by the lingering thrill of high-speed chases and team rivalries as well. Formula One gave them a drive on nights when all else failed.
While YN introduced them to the vast and open ocean of Formula One, her personal life remained a quiet island they could not reach. The only map they had was an ‘all about me’ worksheet meant for grade schoolers, a single page full of conversation starters that never did.
They learned every detail of her talents, from the formal lessons that taught her piano, guitar, and violin to the raw, self-taught passion behind her every dance. They knew her favorite pieces to play and which choreography was her favorite to perform. They had heard her offer elaborate explanations for her chosen lyrics and composers, yet they had never once heard her utter her father’s name. They knew the names of her favorite fictional characters, the titles of songs that made her cry, and which movie she had seen a thousand times, but they did not know the name of her favorite person in the world: her Papa.
Over time, the surface of her quiet island became charted territory, but the secrets beneath it remained a mystery. Her heart, once a closed off cove, began to open its shores only after their debut. The secrets she carried were not hidden behind grand, fortified walls, but would slowly surface with the rising tide of their trust.
For a long while, the word "Papa" only existed on the ‘all about me’ worksheet she had to fill out during their trainee days—right next to My favorite person is.
Then, there was the "My Papa would’ve liked this" after she had the taste of the Korean dish they made her try during their strictly timed breaks. Back then, it held no real weight, but they agreed it must’ve been a compliment, based on how she went for seconds.
Next was her nonchalant "I used to do this a lot with my Papa" as she expertly loosened lug nuts, her movements quick and precise, the afternoon one of their group vans suddenly needed a tire change on their way back from a television program. Their driver/manager then didn’t know how to do it himself, and she was already on it before he could call for assistance. She didn’t elaborate, even when she said the same thing on a separate morning when their van broke down on their way to a schedule, and she correctly identified the issue after taking a short good look under the hood.
Their curiosity almost overflowed that day, with their own knowledge of cars limited. Thanks to Wonwoo’s cheers ("우리 YN이 가는 것 좀 봐!" ["Look at our YN go!"]), they were able to start building sandcastles on her island’s shore. For her equally nonchalant "별거 아니에요" ["It’s not a big deal"] told them everything they needed then.
The sandcastles of their assumptions were built from those nonchalant, unelaborated statements. The best they could do, given the very limited information, was assume that YN was very close with her father and that he had probably passed before she moved to Seoul. It made sense, consistent with her unwillingness to share anything else. They didn’t want to push through her tides, with the uncertainty of death, so they just let the waves take them adrift.
However, that sandcastle was ransacked by a powerful wave almost a year into their debut. They had just gotten their first music show win for "Pretty U" in Show Champion. Their emotions were high—they had cried on stage, on camera. They were on calls with their parents almost as soon as they were able. Even Joshua’s mother in Los Angeles and Minghao’s parents in Anshan celebrated with them through a video call. Thirteen calls, fourteen members—and YN just shrugged off their expectant looks with, "My Papa hasn’t attended any of my music-related activities since I was ten years old," before asking them if they were up for watching the replay of the F1 race last weekend to celebrate.
Mercedes got a 1-2 in that race, with Nico Rosberg ahead of Lewis Hamilton. They only remember that factoid because YN’s reaction to the win mirrored her reaction to their own. (That, and because Jihoon broke off of the Red Bull Alliance™ with Seungcheol to pledge his loyalty to Mercedes.)
It was difficult to warp their heads around the new information they heard about her Papa. How could he and YN be so close, but he stopped attending something important to her a whole five years before she became a trainee? Is he really dead like they’ve been assuming?
The half-formed new sandcastle crumbled when Chan innocently asked, awestruck, "Mercedes가 네 Papa 팀이야?" ["Is Mercedes your Papa’s team?"]
". . . 네." [". . . Yes."]
It didn’t disprove the strengthened ‘death’ theory, but it did give them a new angle to ponder. Suddenly, her western surname felt heavier than a mere coincidence. Suddenly, her choice to keep it hidden felt heavier than a mere plea for privacy. Suddenly, her body language whenever Mercedes’ Team Principal appeared on screen felt heavier than they ever noticed before.
Suddenly, the new sandcastle was a walled fortress caging a thought: What if YN Wolff is actually Toto Wolff’s daughter?
They collectively hated that thought. Because it’d mean something they couldn’t help her with; something that they couldn’t even begin to understand.
Time helped them to be fluent in silence with each other. Along with that silence came a quiet recognition of the pain and sadness that subtly manifested in YN’s every move, and a growing comfort in knowing their presence hopefully offered enough.
When their managing staff gathered them for a meeting about an offer from Formula One, they were equally ecstatic and skeptical. While it was an honor to be recognized by the very sport that played such a big part in their lives, they were also collectively concerned about how YN would take the offer.
"네 생각은 어때, YN아?" ["What do you think, YN?"] Joshua had innocently asked then, after he sharing a subtle look with the others within his line of sight without moving his head.
It was only appropriate. After all, she was the one who introduced them to the sport. It would be uncontestedly more important to her than it’d ever be for them. "내 생각에 . . . 우리 그 제안을 받아들이는 게 좋을 것 같아." ["I think . . . We should accept the offer."]
"정말 좋은 기회라고 생각해," ["It is a good opportunity,"] Minghao supported slowly, his voice almost dipping, Is that what you really want?
"우리 기념일에 좋을 것 같아." ["It’ll be great for our anniversary."] Yes.
They didn’t contest. They couldn’t. Their concern might’ve been a lingering whisper in their minds, but the sheer, unfamiliar light on her eyes was a resounding promise they had to keep. They supported the choice because it was hers to make.
The members' months were a blur of Caratland, a comeback, and a dozen other packed schedules. YN's anticipation, however, was a steady, quiet beacon they learned to read. They didn’t need her to mention the upcoming schedule; they were fluent in her subtle cues. They saw her joy in the ghost of a smile that seemed to etch itself at the corner of her mouth, in the extra spring in her steps, and in the way she needed less of her usual creative fuel to keep her focused during long nights in the studio.
Up until they saw her with George Russell by the entrance of the Mercedes garage, they had been convinced they made the right choice.
Then they saw her flinch at her own surname, caught her lying to her favorite driver's old race engineer, heard her voice break while talking about her Pledis audition, and witnessed her freeze in front of the car models. (Not to mention her forgetting about their years old ‘last resort’ and believing Seungkwan’s poor execution.)
They didn’t have time to confer, but their shared conclusion was immediate. The team YN loves with her whole heart—Mercedes—is the heart of her pain.
And now, YN’s crying in Joshua’s arms like she hasn’t cried for twelve years.
It’s supposed to be an inside joke between them and CARATs that she has thirteen useless brothers, but in this moment, those words have never felt truer.
The feeling of helplessness is brief, however, because the group’s response is a swift and practiced choreography. Only Minghao and Seungkwan remain, a quiet barrier against the rest of the world as YN leans into Joshua. The others splitup, each with an unspoken purpose: Junhui, Seokmin, and Mingyu go to find something for her to eat; Jihoon and Vernon, in a bittersweet effort to bring her comfort, go to get the Red Bull she drinks like water; and Soonyoung and Chan go to fetch her actual water.
This leaves Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Wonwoo to do what they do best. This is a crisis, and it is time to strategize.
"우리 여기 오지 말았어야 했어." ["We shouldn’t have come here."] Wonwoo’s observation perfectly encapsulates the unspoken consensus. His voice is a soft whisper, yet firmly absolute.
Jeonghan, who hasn’t found the strength to look away from YN’s shaking form, rebuts with a fact they’ve forgotten as soon as her tears started flowing. "근데 걔 너무 기대했었어." ["But she was so excited to go."] His voice, too, is heavy with the same sadness as the younger one. "걔가 하고 싶었던 거야." ["It’s what she wanted."]
Seungcheol’s shoulders are heavy with self-inflicted blame. As their general leader, and her unit leader, he feels the full weight of their decision. "그리고 우리 더 잘 알았어야 했어. 우리 그랬어야 했는데 . . ." ["And we should’ve known better. We should’ve . . ."]
"아니." ["No."] Wonwoo doesn’t let the eldest continue. He acts as a voice of reason, leaving little room for argument. "그럴 수 없었어. 그때는 그냥 추측뿐이었잖아." ["We couldn’t have. All we had then were assumptions."]
Seungcheol shakes his head, his face an indescribable mix of frustration and sorrow. "봐, 결국 이렇게 됐잖아. 우리 YN만 더 힘들어졌어. 지금 너무 슬퍼하고 있어. ["Yeah, and look where they landed us. Our YN’s worse off. She’s mourning."]
The word mourning hangs in the air, a vacuum of silence. Across the room, Seungkwan and Minghao halt their efforts to soothe YN, their hands freezing in mid-air. They both look at Seungcheol, but say nothing; they, as Jeonghan and Wonwoo, know he’s right.
This isn’t the first time they’ve witnessed YN cry, but it is the first time they have heard her wail—a raw, gut-wrenching sound that tore from her very soul. It was a grief so complete, so all-consuming, that mourning was the only word that could describe it.
No one can blame the other seven who thought of ways to leave the room in a fragile hope of alleviating her sorrow.
"그녀가 여기까지 온 데에는 이유가 있었어요." ["There was a reason she came here."] Jeonghan is the first to break the latest wave of silence. His eyes, still fixed on YN, are glossy—not with tears, but with memories the rest can’t see. He swallows, a quiet effort, before adding, "어 . . . 뭔지는 모르겠는데, 걔는 여기에 와야 했어." ["I . . . I don’t know what it is, but she needed to be here."]
YN’s eyes are swollen and bloodshot by the time half of SEVENTEEN comes back with the physical offerings of their fragile hope.
On the floor of their borrowed room, a modest feast is laid out just for her. There are apparently no foldable tables in the Mercedes motorhome, and she refuses to move from her post-cry state.
She sniffles into her newly cooked ramyeon, the steam a poor comfort against the remnants of her heartbreak. With the blanket pulled tight around her shoulders, she looks feverishly sick, a poster-child for a pain that has nothing to do with a fever.
On any other day, this scene would have been material for a photo, a joke, a birthday post. But her current state was too far from amusing, her stillness too heavy with what she carried.
This isn’t stress, and it isn’t something a few days off can fix.
She has lost a love, and she needs to mourn it.
They cannot fix a loss so fundamentally irreversible, but they can be her home while she navigates it—no matter how long it takes.
YN chews the ramyeon with a faraway look in her eyes, her movements mimicking a machine running on autopilot low on oil. Her voice, light and hoarse, ripples through the weighted silence. "He erased me."
The acceptance in her voice is jarring, as if she has finally surrendered to a fight she had been fighting alone for years. Her resignation needs no translation.
There is no question in their minds who she’s talking about. After all, after the thirteen of them, there is only one "he" they associated with her. Her Papa.
Her Papa who has enough power and influence to never lose touch—and chose to erase her instead.
All twelve members look at Seungcheol, a wordless understanding passing through their gazes. His blink serves as a discreet nod. "갈래?" ["Do you want to leave?"]
YN’s mechanical movements abruptly shudder to a stop. She doesn't flinch, but her gaze, which had been lost in some distant, private world, snaps back to focus on Seungcheol. The gears in her mind slowly begin to turn, and her response, when it comes, is not quick. "못 가—" ["We can’t—"]
Seungcheol breaks out of the loose circle they’ve unconsciously formed around her to squat directly in front of her. "회사 걱정 마. 내가 알아서 할게." ["Don’t worry about the company. I’ll handle them."] He gently takes the ramyeon from her hands, his eyes holding hers with a fierce, unwavering resolve. "네가 이렇게까지 힘들어하는 곳에 더 이상 두지 않을게." ["We aren’t going to let you stay in a place that causes you this much pain."]
Warning — SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE I REPEAT SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE!!
A/N — breaking my two years of not posting in honor of this amazing movie and character. the Thunderbolts* has reawakened my fire to write and I couldn’t ignore it. so here you go! this will be a bit of a short series. i kind of envision around three parts or so? anyways, i really hope you enjoy this and know this is your last warning before you continue on!! so if you haven’t seen the Thunderbolts* please save this for later <3
also, did you all notice the easter eggs i included ?? 👀
Part One Part Two
SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!
Bob Reynolds wasn't quite sure how any of this had happened. One minute he was pretty sure he had been dying and the next he was trapped in a series of never ending nightmares. Except it wasn't just his nightmares, there were other people's too.
He knew he had been having these moments where he didn't remember things, knew that there was something going on at a deeper level than he wanted to admit. He thought with Valentina explaining this power he had been given that it would explain everything he had been feeling, that the darkness wasn't truly his but something brought on by this experiment.
But he knew the truth and walking through these endless nightmares only proved that. The darkness was his. It was a culmination of everything he was feeling, everything that had been consuming him, and it had only taken more of a physical form thanks to the Sentry project.
Bob had no way of fighting this thing, no way of taking back control of his body. And at this point he wasn't even sure if he wanted control. After all, he was just Bob. He was useless. He was nothing. Everyone would be better off without him.
So now he was trapped with no where else to go but to walk through the thousands of rooms of everyone's deepest regrets and shames.
It had been an accident at first, but sometime after his own meth chicken nightmare was when he first started stumbling into the other rooms. He saw so many things, felt the guilt and weight that everyone else felt. One in particular had stuck with him when he had ended up watching the loop of a blind lawyer watching his friend die over and over. Bob couldn't watch that for very long before he was hurriedly trying to get to any other room but that one, the blind man's cries still rattling his bones.
Bob didn't know how long he walked for or how many rooms he went through until he got to one that made him pause as he came face to face with Tony Stark. It had been a while since the hero's death, but still seeing the face of the man that had helped bring everyone back from the Blip made Bob falter slightly.
Someone's biggest trauma was Tony Stark?
Bob took a couple steps back, his eyes scanning over the room as he tried to ground himself in what was going on. He seemed to be in someone's apartment. The place would've been nice if it weren't for the fact that whoever was living here clearly hadn't been picking up after themselves in quite some time. And by the look Tony Stark was making as he glanced at the dirty dishes in the sink, it seemed he was thinking the same.
Bob knew the signs before he even saw her. It wasn't just the state of the apartment, but it was the feeling in the air. That feeling of despair, sadness, and nothingness. That feeling of knowing you were alone and there was nothing you could do about it. It clung to everything in the apartment and Bob's heart ached slightly at the sight. After all, he knew what this was like. He knew it too well.
"I can feel you judging me," a voice said, instantly pulling Bob's attention to the couch where a girl was sitting with a blanket wrapped around her and a bottle of vodka in hand. She wouldn't meet Tony Stark's eyes as she stared at the bottle, her fingers numbly fiddling with the label. "I didn't ask for you to come over and judge how I'm living. Hell, I didn't even ask you to come over, so you might as well go."
Tony let out a soft sigh, "Kid, you were ignoring my calls. Of course I was going to come check on you."
"Ever think I ignored them for a reason?"
Tony huffed and grabbed a chair from the kitchen table before dragging it over in front of the couch. He sat down in front of the girl, tilting his head slightly as he watched her before saying, "You can't keep living like this."
"You think I don't know that?" she asked, her voice bitter. “Why are you here, Tony?”
Tony just watched her in silence before saying, "Listen, Steve and Natasha came to see me yesterday and—"
The girl slammed the bottle down on the table so hard Bob thought it would break. Her eyes were red rimmed as she glared at the man and muttered, "No. We're not doing this. You're not going to sit there and try to rope me into some crazy plot to try and bring everyone back. It's been five years and I'm done, okay? I have nothing left in me anymore and I don't give a shit, so just leave."
"Kid—"
"I said leave!" she exclaimed, her eyes beginning to glow white with a power that Bob could almost feel beneath his own skin. "I'm not some sob story for you to try to fix, okay? I messed up and didn't kill Thanos in time and half of the universe had to pay for it. I'm done trying to help. All I ever do is hurt people."
She looked away, her voice rough when she whispered, "You're all better off without me anyways."
Bob sucked in a breath at that, understanding washing over him as he watched the broken girl do everything she could not to cry.
"Y/N," Tony began but the girl simply shook her head.
"No, Tony. I'm done. Just leave and go ahead and do yourself a favor and never come back. It's not worth your time or energy and I sure as hell don't want you here," she said, her head still turned.
Tony stilled slightly at her words. "You don't mean that," he told her, but before he could even blink, Y/N had used her telekinesis to pick up the bottle of vodka and send it hurtling in his direction. The man barely had time to duck out of the way before it flew right past where his head had been and shattered against the wall. Tony turned to her in surprise but the girl was already getting up and walking to the door of what had to be her bedroom.
"I miss him too you know," Tony called after her causing the girl to still.
"Stop," Y/N warned him, but Tony ignored her and instead stood up, his eyes not leaving her as he clearly made no move to leave.
"Y/N, he wouldn't want this for you. That kid loved you so much. He would be devastated by—"
"I said stop!" Y/N yelled and before anyone knew what was happening, a force was suddenly throwing Tony across the room. The man thought fast and his nano suit had wrapped around him before he could even hit the wall and Bob watched as the color drained from Y/N's face at what she had done.
She was shaking as she stared at Tony, but by the time he was looking back up at her, the Iron Man mask sliding away from his face, she was cold once again. "Get the hell out of my apartment," was all she said before turning and walking into her room, slamming the door behind her. Bob watched her go, frowning slightly as the scene began to play again.
"That was before they won against Thanos," a voice said causing Bob to flinch in surprise. He quickly turned around to find Y/N a little ways behind him, sitting down at a chair in the corner of the room. Her eyes continued to watch the scene playing out in front of her and Bob was almost beginning to question if she had spoke in the first place when she muttered, "That was the last time I saw him before he died."
Her eyes met his then and Bob stilled under her gaze. She was a couple of years older than the version of her from the memory, a little more put together but in the kind of way that screamed help more than her younger self's look had. She had learned to mask it more, that much was clear. Or maybe it was just that Bob knew where to look, that he saw himself when he looked at her and knew in more ways than one just how tired she was.
"Who was he talking about?" Bob asked, silently cursing himself for that being the first thing he said but knowing he now had to just go with it. "The guy?"
Y/N hesitated, her eyes glazing over as she got lost in thought. There was a tiny moment of utter sadness that flashed across her face but it was gone so quickly as she muttered, "I don't know." She let out a sad laugh. "Isn't that sad? It's like there's blanks in my memory. All I know is that there is this immense feeling of loss not just once, but twice. Every time I try to think of him it's like the image of him only gets fuzzier."
Bob was silent for a moment. "I have trouble remembering things too," he admitted. "There are these moments where it's like I'll wake up from a dream I don't remember having and that time is just gone."
Y/N's eyes flickered his way, her gaze shifting over him in a way that made him stand up a little straighter. "I walked through a lot of rooms before ending up here," she told him, her eyes still studying him as though she were trying to piece him together. "This was the only one I couldn't leave."
"Why?" Bob questioned.
"Why did you stop in this one?" she retorted and Bob blinked in surprise. Her head tilted slightly as she stared blankly at the boy. It was a moment before she looked away and back at Tony who was watching her past self slam the door shut behind her as the memory started back up again. "I just wanted to see him again, I guess," she whispered. "I always hated this moment, hated that I pushed him away like that and left him to fight Thanos without me. Sometimes I wonder..."
She trailed off before shrugging slightly and looking back at Bob. "Guess I was as shocked by seeing Tony's face as you were when you walked in," Y/N said. Bob barely even thought his question before she placed a finger against her temple and let out a small sigh of exhaustion. "Telekinesis," she stated. "Just a fraction of the power I was born with, but it comes in handy from time to time. I knew who you were the second you walked into this memory. Your mind is very loud, but not in the way you'd expect it to be."
Bob wanted to ask her more, but it was clear she didn't want to expand on that comment. Instead she merely tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair she sat in and said, "So you're the one doing this."
It wasn't a question. She said it as though it were fact. Not that she was wrong, but something about the way she said it still made Bob's throat constrict.
"It's not. . .it's not me. It's—" Bob broke off and he could see the way she stared at him, knew that she was reading his mind. She blinked and quickly looked away. "Sorry," she whispered. "I can't help it sometimes. You lock yourself away long enough and you'll find it harder to control what once was so easy. But I get a sense that you know that."
Bob let out a small sigh, his eyes flickering over the past Y/N who sat on the couch with a haunted look in her eyes and a tight grip on the bottle in her hand.
"We've all done some bad things," Y/N told him, answering the questions flying through his mind. "I had the unfortunate experience of being the reason half the universe died. I was there that day that Thanos went to Wakanda to take the Mind Stone from Vision. I was the last one there before he snapped. I could've stopped it, but I let his words get to me and . . . well, you know the rest."
“The Blip,” Bob muttered and Y/N nodded solemnly. He could see her trying to keep it all together, but the tension was practically radiating off of her as she avoided his gaze.
“Go ahead and say it,” Y/N told him, her gaze locked on her past self who was busy hurling the bottle at Tony’s head. “You probably lost someone in the Blip, right? Had to suffer five years without them? Who was it? Family? Friends?”
Y/N didn’t even give him time to respond as she let out a sigh as if everything were pointless, “It doesn’t matter. Everyone still thinks the same thing, but I don’t blame them.”
“It’s my fault,” she admitted. “I caused everyone so much pain and suffering and then, when I had the chance to make things right, I pushed everyone away and locked myself in my room. Then Natasha died. Then Tony. And eventually Steve followed. And where was I? Drowning my sorrows in a bottle like the asshole that I am.” Y/N scoffed slightly at herself, the fury in her eyes something most people would probably flinch at but all Bob could do was soften at the sight. “So go ahead and say what you want. Call me names. Shout at me. Tell me how much of a monster I am. I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”
Bob didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he could say. Not because it was all too much to process, but because he understood it. He understood what she was feeling. The pain and the anger. The guilt and regret. The shame. He understood it in ways he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
But the silence was loud and Y/N wouldn’t meet his eyes. She just stared at the scene in front of her as her past self’s voice filled the silence between them, her voice rough as she whispered, "You're all better off without me anyways."
Y/N flinched at those words, her face crumbling slightly as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Bob felt his heart ache at the sight and for a moment, he saw himself sitting there in that chair. But more importantly, he saw her. He saw Y/N for who she truly was. He didn’t know what to say to her to make her better, so instead he just thought it.
I see you.
Y/N's eyes snapped up to him and Bob knew he hadn't had to say that out loud. She had heard him loud and clear.
She stood without another word, her eyes never leaving his as she walked towards him. She was quiet as she stopped in front of him, her gaze turning questioning as she studied him.
You do see me, don't you?
Bob let out a small gasp as her voice echoed in his head. He stared at her with wide eyes, but didn't flinch away not even when she took a step closer so that they were only a breath apart.
I can feel it, you know? That darkness. It calls to me.
"You know where he is?" Bob asked and Y/N quickly shook her head.
"I'm not talking about the Void," she whispered. She gently lifted her hand and placed it on his chest, right above his heart. "Here."
Bob's breath stuttered and he tried to keep his heart from racing as he whispered, "W-what does it say?"
"That it understands," Y/N replied. "That it sees what’s inside my own heart.” She hesitated before giving him a sad smile. “Like calls to like after all."
Bob stared at her, his eyes flickering over her face. He had thought she was pretty before, but up close she was even more beautiful than he could’ve imagined. Her eyebrow quirked slightly as if she had heard that thought and maybe she had, but Y/N was already moving on which he was silently thankful about.
“You feel it too,” she said and Bob didn’t need to say it out loud to confirm her thoughts. After all, he knew what she was talking about and she was right. Ever since he had emerged into this room, he had felt a sort of tug. It was the reason he had stayed. He thought it was because of seeing Tony Stark, but it was because he had felt her from the moment he had stepped foot into that room.
It was because he had seen her before ever laying eyes on her and it seemed she had done the same.
“I don’t know what to do,” Bob admitted, his words strained. “Every time I think I’m getting better, that I’ve finally pulled myself out of that darkness, I just. . .”
“Get pulled back under again?”
Bob was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor as that same feeling of shame that always crept up when he thought about his problems beginning to rise in the form of a blush on his neck, “Yeah.”
There was a gentle touch against his chin before Y/N lifted his head so that his gaze met hers once more. Her touched lingered for just a moment, but then her hand was dropping back down to her side. Not once did she move the one that was still resting on his chest and above his heart, the only source of comfort either of them seemed to need.
She gave him a sad smile, her eyes getting a sort of far off look as she whispered, “Sometimes the hardest battle you’ll ever face is with yourself.”
Bob felt tears prick his eyes at those words and for a moment, he even felt a sense of comfort. Someone knew what he was going through. Someone understood.
He had never had that before.
“How do we beat it?” Bob’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Y/N seemed to come back to herself at those words, her eyes locking with his once more and her hand tightened on his shirt. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’d like to figure that out. Together.”
Bob swore he stopped breathing at those words.
“Together,” he repeated, tears filling his eyes slightly out of disbelief.
Y/N merely nodded and she gently reached up, her thumb quickly swiping under his eye to brush away a stray tear that had fallen. Her own eyes were lined with tears as she whispered through a soft laugh, “Yeah, together. As long as you’re okay with being friends with the girl who does nothing but screw everything up.”
Bob couldn’t stop the small grin that began to peak out, the corners of his lips twitching up slightly as he opened his mouth to respond.
It was then that the doors to the room flew open, darkness flooding in and covering the walls and floors with black tendrils as it raced towards the two. The two stumbled back and away from each other as they tried to avoid the darkness creeping in and Y/N let out a small shout when her past self and Tony dissolved into nothing but shadows.
“Bob,” Y/N called out, but the boy was already reaching for her. He had ahold of her arm within a second and he pulled her to the one corner of the room not covered in darkness just yet.
His eyes were wide as he scanned what was left of the room, his grip tightening on Y/N’s arm in slight panic and confusion as he tried to process what was happening.
The darkness had never come after Bob before.
Not like this.
Something had signaled the Void. Something had scared him.
Bob’s eyes flickered to Y/N who was leaning into his touch, the tips of her fingers already beginning to glow white as she clearly analyzed the situation. His fingers felt warm against her forearm and for a moment he let himself remember the feel of her hand on his chest, the way her breath had fanned his face, and the way her words had wrapped around his heart like a hug he hadn't know he had needed.
And he knew.
The Void fed off of his sadness and loneliness and whatever Y/N had been making him feel was the opposite. The Void would do whatever he needed to crush this feeling, to stay in control. Even if it meant there were casualties along the way.
Bob’s heart ached at that thought and he quickly turned to Y/N who was backing closer to him as they were pushed further into the corner of the room and her memory. She moved her arm out of his grasp in order to hold her hands up, a white light emitting out against the darkness as she tried to hold it at bay.
"Bob, what's going on?" she asked. "What do we do?"
"I—" Bob was panicking now, the thought of Y/N getting hurt making him feel so many emotions that he hadn't felt in a long time. It scared him how much he felt towards the girl within just one conversation. He already knew he would do whatever needed to be done to save her and that thought alone scared him in more ways than one. Even more than the plan that was beginning to develop in his head, the plan that would save Y/N but would mean leaving her at the same time.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Y/N's head whipped in his direction. "Bob, no. You can't run. You have to fight this thing. If you don't, the darkness will only continue to consume you," she said.
"Cause you know what that's like?" Bob retorted, his panic and fear making him sound bitter. "We just watched the same memory over and over of you letting the darkness take over. If you can't fight it, what makes you think I can?"
Y/N's eyes softened slightly. "Bob," she started, but the darkness pushed closer towards them and she let out a strangled sound as she strained to keep her powers in check.
Bob watched her for a second, his eyes flickering over her one last time before he leaned forward. His lips brushed gently against her ear and he felt her shiver slightly under his touch. His breath came out shaky as he whispered, "I would've liked to be your friend."
Then, before she could do or say anything else, Bob had pulled back and thrown himself against the wall of the memory. His body broke through the barrier and into the next room, the darkness leaving Y/N behind in favor of chasing the boy.
"Bob!" Y/N cried out as she attempted to lunge after him, but the darkness threw her back and by the time she was up on her feet again, the memory had sealed itself around her, forcing her to relive the same moment with Tony while Bob got away.
- - -
Bob didn’t know how long he ran for. All he knew was that it took forever for him to get back to his own rooms. He almost cried when the meth chicken scene appeared before him, but he didn’t stop there. He continued his trek even after the darkness eventually faded away, now satisfied that Bob was back where he belonged.
Everything was just too loud, the memories too much for Bob to withstand while that feeling of utter loneliness crept up on him once more. It was foolish of him to think he could ever have someone understand him, that he could ever have someone in his life without hurting them in the end. He had done this to himself.
He deserved to be alone.
At some point Bob eventually managed to find the attic of one of his memories, the only quiet place in this miserable void, and he was quick to tuck himself away in there, away from all the noise and the darkness that he could feel feeding off of everyone's chaos.
It was only then that he sat down and curled in on himself, his breathing shaky as he tried to push every last thought of Y/N out of his head.
"She's better off without me," Bob whispered to himself like a mantra, his head tucked close to his knees as he let the stillness envelope him in a hug much different than the one Y/N’s words had given him. “She’s better off without me.”
synopsis: After weeks of mutual teasing and denial, Jeonghan and Luna’s secret plan to surprise each other with bold hairstyle changes ignites a night of explosive passion, proving they know exactly how to drive each other insane.
warnings: 18+ mdni, mature content, sexual content, smut, cursing, sexual tension, flirting, pet names, some domestic moment before the craziness, piv sex, unprotected sex (girly pop is on birth control), teasing, dirty talk, degradation, bratty!Luna, soft dom!Jeonghan, Jeonghan is mean af, implications of a threesome, edging, oral sex, cunnilingus, fingering, blowjob, hair pulling, dry humping, riding, choking, spit play, they are both freaky af, pure filth!
i know it’s been awhile since i wrote smut so please excuse me. i also apologize for taking so long to write another smut 😩 this was requested by majority of you guys when i opened these polls (poll 1) & (poll 2). i also want to remind everyone to please read the warnings and the disclaimers— i don’t need anyone commenting or messaging me acting like saints as if they were blind to the handful of disclaimers and warnings i have before explicit contents. other than that, enjoy!
Disclaimer: The following chapter contains explicit sexual content and mature themes. It is intended for adult readers only. If you are under the legal age or find these subjects uncomfortable, it is advised for you to refrain from reading further. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
But if anyone were to ask how this entire thing spiraled, she’d probably say, “He started it,” only to follow it up with an eye roll and a mumbled, “Okay, fine. I started it.”
She never meant to provoke Jeonghan… but she did.
Oh, she absolutely did.
She knew she did.
She knew it the second the thought crossed her mind— knew it from the very moment she said the words out loud— and yet, she still did it.
She wasn’t slick. Not even a little. She wanted a reaction from her fiancé.
And that’s exactly what she got.
It all started with a normal schedule.
A typical day in the life of Luna.
She had been offered a new photoshoot, one of many in the past few months— but this time, it was for Cosmopolitan magazine. She accepted the offer like she always did, gracefully, with gratitude, thanking the magazine’s editorial team and promptly sitting down with her own styling and management teams to discuss the shoot.
They bounced around concepts, discussed moods and color palettes, and swapped reference photos for poses and lighting.
Nothing was out of the ordinary. It was just a shoot. Another one she’d file into her endless archive.
But then… the creative team dropped the concept: sexy and couture. High fashion, daring, sultry. They wanted something new. Something bold. Something from her they hadn’t seen before.
That’s when her hairstylist lit up, practically jumping with excitement.
“Let’s do a hair color change!” her head stylist said immediately, clapping her hands together like she’d been waiting for this very moment. “Something fiery… something fierce… What do you think, Jiyeon-ah?”
Luna hesitated.
Unlike most idols— or even her own members— Luna rarely bleached or dyed her hair.
Since debut, she had only gone for bold colors a handful of times. While the others jumped from platinum blond to pastel pink, from icy blue to silvery grey, Luna remained grounded in her earthy tones: dark brown, jet black, soft chocolate— sometimes she’d go blonde. Occasionally she would play with wigs— high-quality ones custom-made for her head size— but that was usually the extent of her transformation.
Wigs were easier. Faster. Less painful.
Her natural hair? That was sacred ground. Which was one of the main reasons why her hair wasn’t dead yet— it was healthy as ever and she’d like to keep it that way.
Because of this, Luna dyeing her hair had become a phenomenon.
An inside joke, even.
Colored Hair Luna was like a rare Pokémon— rarely seen, deeply desired.
Fans had begged and pleaded for her to go pink, white, blue, anything for years. Every time a comeback would drop, hashtags like #LunaHairChange trended in multiple countries, only for her to appear on screen with the same silky black strands.
It was hilarious, really.
So when her stylist began talking about colors and looked ready to pull out the wig catalog, Luna simply leaned back in her seat, lips curled in an unreadable smirk.
“I want to go red,” she blurted, calm and decisive.
Everyone paused.
Her stylist blinked. “You mean… like a wig? Yeah! You haven’t d–”
“No,” Luna said smoothly, voice confident and clear. “I want to dye my hair this time.”
Her team collectively straightened in their seats.
“I want it to be dark red— wine red,” Luna continued, eyes glittering with a plan. “Just like my hair during ‘Rock With You’. Exactly like that.”
Her head stylist looked stunned for a second before she nodded, already thinking logistics. “We can prep the swatches and check the damage level of your strands. If it gets too intense, we’ll stick with the wig route—”
“No need,” Luna interrupted, shaking her head firmly. “I want to dye it. Properly. No wig.”
Her stylist sat back, brows raising, and Luna just smirked to herself as her manager scribbled things into the schedule.
And that’s when it started.
Because Luna knew exactly what she was doing.
The red hair wasn’t for the concept.
The red hair wasn’t for Cosmopolitan.
It was for Jeonghan.
Because her fiancé had been testing her patience for weeks.
Ever since his enlistment began and he was assigned to social work duties, Jeonghan had fallen into a strict 9 to 5 schedule. By the time he got home, he was drained— physically and mentally— and Luna understood that.
Of course she did.
She never blamed him for being tired. She let him sleep in, made his meals on the weekdays when her schedule allows her and on weekends, didn’t pressure him when his body craved rest instead of affection.
But.
She was a woman. A woman in love. A woman with needs.
And lately, Jeonghan had been ignoring those needs.
With a damn smile, no less.
Whenever she tried to initiate anything even remotely steamy, he’d gently push her away, kiss her on the forehead, and whisper that stupid line—
“I’m tired, my moon.”
And then, always, always, the smirk.
He thought she didn’t notice it.
That tiny quirk of his mouth. That mischievous gleam in his eyes. The way he’d saunter off as if he didn’t just leave her hot and bothered and burning.
The worst part? He enjoyed it.
He was testing her. Teasing her. Playing his long, slow, evil game.
One time, she had leaned against him, fingers slipping under his shirt, nails brushing against his abdomen— and just when his breath hitched, he caught her hands, shook his head like a teacher scolding a child, and said, “Nope. Not tonight, baby.” Before smirking.
Another time, she kissed down his jawline, whispered all sorts of filthy little promises in his ear, and just when she thought she got to him, he cupped her cheeks gently between his palms, kissed the tip of her nose, and said, “Tired, Nana-ya.”
Smirking.
Every single time.
Well.
That was about to change.
Because if Jeonghan wanted to play with fire, Luna was going to set the whole house ablaze.
And finally after days of waiting— it was officially shoot day.
The first light of Saturday morning filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room where Jeonghan and Luna lay entwined in slumber.
Their bodies were a tangle of limbs beneath the cozy duvet. Jeonghan’s head rested in the crook of Luna’s neck, his warm breath fanning over her skin with each rhythmic exhale. His arm draped possessively over her waist, anchoring her to him even in sleep.
Since Jeonghan’s enlistment, a subtle shift had occurred in their daily routine. Luna had taken it upon herself to rise earlier than him, ensuring he had a hearty breakfast before his demanding days. Even on weekends, when his schedule was mercifully clear, she found solace in maintaining this ritual— a small act that tethered her to a sense of normalcy amidst the changes.
As the morning light grew brighter, Luna’s eyes fluttered open. She remained still for a moment, savoring the warmth of Jeonghan’s body pressed against hers, the steady cadence of his heartbeat a comforting melody against her back. A soft smile graced her lips as she gently traced her fingers over the arm encircling her waist, committing the sensation to memory.
Carefully, she began to disentangle herself from his embrace. The movement was slow, deliberate, each shift calculated to avoid disturbing his slumber.
Yet, Jeonghan was a notoriously light sleeper. As soon as she attempted to slip away, his hold tightened instinctively, a low, groggy murmur escaping his lips.
“Baby…” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, the sound vibrating softly against her skin.
Turning to face him, Luna cupped his face tenderly, her thumbs brushing over his jawline. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
“Shh,” she whispered soothingly. “Go back to sleep, Han. You need the rest.”
Jeonghan’s eyes remained closed, but a contented sigh escaped him as he nuzzled deeper into her touch.
Luna continued to stroke his hair, her fingers threading through the silky strands, occasionally pressing feather-light kisses to his forehead and cheeks.
Gradually, his breathing evened out, signaling his descent back into restful sleep.
Satisfied, Luna carefully extricated herself from his embrace, ensuring the duvet remained snug around him. She stood, pausing for a moment to watch the serene expression on his face before tiptoeing out of the bedroom.
In the bathroom, she went through her morning routine with practiced efficiency— washing her face, brushing her teeth, and tying her hair up into a loose bun. The cool water invigorated her senses, preparing her for the day ahead.
With one last glance at her reflection, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen.
The house was enveloped in a tranquil silence, broken only by the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards beneath her feet.
Luna moved with quiet purpose, gathering ingredients to prepare a traditional Korean breakfast. She decided on miyeok guk— seaweed soup.
She soaked the dried seaweed in water, watching as it expanded and softened. In a pot, she sautéed thin slices of beef with minced garlic until the meat browned and released its savory aroma. Adding the rehydrated seaweed, she poured in water, allowing the mixture to simmer and meld into a flavorful broth. A dash of soy sauce and a pinch of salt completed the seasoning.
As the soup simmered, Luna prepared a pot of steamed rice, the grains cooking to fluffy perfection. She arranged an assortment of side dishes— including kimchi, seasoned spinach, and pickled radish, adding color and variety to the meal.
The kitchen filled with the comforting scents of home-cooked food, wrapping around her like a warm embrace.
About thirty minutes later, as she ladled the soup into bowls, Luna’s keen ears picked up the almost imperceptible sound of footsteps approaching from behind. Jeonghan was attempting to be stealthy, but she knew his movements all too well.
The faint padding of his feet ceased just as she felt his presence lingering near the doorway.
Without turning around, a playful smirk tugged at her lips. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me?” she inquired, her tone light and teasing.
A soft chuckle resonated from the doorway. “With hearing like yours, it’s no wonder I can’t surprise you,” Jeonghan quipped, his voice a melodic blend of amusement and affection.
Finally turning to face him, Luna found him leaning casually against the doorframe, hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants. His hair was tousled from sleep, and a lazy smile played on his lips.
“Dolphin,” he teased, referencing her acute hearing— a nickname he’d bestowed upon her, much to her chagrin.
Rolling her eyes with a chuckle, Luna shook her head. “You were just loud,” she retorted, returning her attention to the meal.
Jeonghan pushed off the doorframe, his bare feet making no sound as he crossed the kitchen to stand behind her. His arms encircled her waist, pulling her gently against his chest. The warmth of his body seeped through the thin fabric of her shirt, eliciting a contented sigh from her.
“You always take such good care of me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
Jeonghan’s hands were warm against the curve of her waist, fingers splayed over the thin cotton of her sleep shirt as he lazily traced idle patterns with his thumbs.
Luna continued to stir the soup, refusing to let his presence distract her too easily— even if the feel of him behind her, loose and clingy, already made her heart flutter.
“You’re so good to me,” he murmured again, this time lower, closer to her ear. “It’s almost unfair how well you know me.”
“You say that like I don’t have more than ten years of experience,” she mused, trying to keep her voice light, though his lips grazing her ear sent a shiver right down her spine.
“Mmm… more than ten years and counting.” He dipped his head lower, his nose brushing the side of her neck. “Still doesn’t explain how you can hear my footsteps from the hallway like some kind of sonar assassin.”
“Maybe I’m just that good,” she replied casually, using a ladle to stir the soup once more. “You forget I actually have superpowers while you… a failed ninja.”
Jeonghan chuckled, his breath teasing the fine hairs on her neck. “You mean a sexy ninja.”
Luna huffed out a laugh, shaking her head with a smile as she replied, “A clumsy one, at best.”
His arms tightened around her waist in mock offense, but his teasing never ceased. “You wound me,” he muttered dramatically before placing a slow, deliberate kiss just beneath her jawline.
She hummed under her breath, a warning and a dare in one. “Hannie…”
But Jeonghan pretended not to hear it— or, more accurately, he chose not to care.
His lips trailed along her skin with unhurried affection, brushing over her neck, down the slope of her shoulder. He eased her shirt collar aside just slightly with the tip of his nose, exposing more skin to his wandering mouth.
Soft, innocent kisses turned into gentle nips. A tender bite at the edge of her collarbone made her flinch slightly. His tongue followed, smoothing over the sting, and she exhaled slowly through her nose, gripping the wooden spoon in her hand a little tighter.
“Yoon Jeonghan…” she warned again, this time quieter, shakier, a low breath caught between amusement and restraint.
He just hummed in acknowledgment, still not listening. His mouth continued its lazy exploration, alternating between lips, teeth, and tongue. His movements were slow, teasing, nonchalant— like he had all the time in the world to taste her skin and none of the intention to stop.
“You’re distracting me,” Luna said, her voice a little strained now as she tried to focus on the soup and not the warm mouth driving her mad.
“That’s the point,” Jeonghan murmured against her clavicle. “You’re too good at multitasking anyway. I’m just evening the playing field.”
She rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see it, biting down a smirk as she said, “You’re such a menace.”
“I try.”
“You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“I know,” he said smugly, nipping once more at the sensitive skin just above the curve of her shoulder, eliciting a soft gasp from her.
Luna doesn’t know if Jeonghan was just testing her patience once more so that he can pull away and piss her off or he finally gave up the chase… nonetheless… she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
She pressed her lips together, determined not to let him get to her, not yet— not when her plan was already in motion.
Jeonghan didn’t know it, but today, he wouldn’t get to win the game he started.
Not until she came back home. Not until tonight. Not until after the shoot, when she’d walk through the front door with a brand new hair color that she knew would absolutely wreck him.
Not until she was the one to leave him speechless.
So she bit back her laugh, steadied her breath, and finally turned off the heat, the soup now perfectly done.
Without warning, she stepped out of his arms, smoothly gliding out of his grip and walking over to the table with quiet purpose.
She didn’t look back, but she knew he was watching her. Could feel the weight of his gaze crawling down her back.
“You gonna keep staring or are you going to help me set the table?” she asked casually, placing the dishes down, a hidden smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Jeonghan blinked, once, twice, his mouth slightly ajar as he processed the sudden shift. “…Right. Breakfast,” he muttered, finally moving, still watching her like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
She didn’t rush him. Just hummed to herself, soft and nonchalant as she arranged everything with practiced ease.
Jeonghan returned a few seconds later with the chopsticks and spoons, setting them down in neat pairs. He slid into the chair across from her, still eyeing her with mild suspicion as she poured them both a cup of water.
“Something’s different about you today,” he said finally, narrowing his eyes at her.
Luna shrugged, picking up her spoon. “It’s the photoshoot. I’m excited.”
“You’ve had shoots before.”
“Not a Cosmopolitan cover shoot.”
“Fair,” he conceded, picking up his spoon. “So, what’s the schedule like?”
She smiled and stirred her soup gently. “Pretty straightforward. I have to be there by 10. Makeup, hair, wardrobe— the whole prep process will probably take two hours. The actual shoot is set for the afternoon, maybe three to four hours depending on how quickly we get the shots. I should be back by early evening if everything goes smoothly.”
“Maybe a little before,” she said, sipping on her soup. “But yeah, dinner’s safe.”
“Good. I’ll wait.”
She arched a brow at him. “You make it sound like I’m going off to war.”
“You kind of are,” he said, lips quirking. “Fashion war. Lights, cameras, fake smiles and all.”
“Oh, I’ll be smiling alright,” she said, voice breezy as she dipped her spoon again. “Just not fake.”
He gave her a suspicious look. “You’re hiding something.”
“Me?” she blinked innocently. “Never.”
“Jiyeon-ah…”
She giggled into her spoon. “What about you? What are your grand plans today?”
Jeonghan shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he picked at his rice. “Nothing crazy. I’m yours for the day. No schedules, no plans. Just gonna chill. Might read, nap, annoy you with texts until you come home.”
“You sound like a golden retriever.”
“Better than a dolphin,” he shot back with a wink.
She snorted. “Okay, that one’s fair.”
There was a lull in the conversation as they both ate for a moment, the quiet comfortable. But Jeonghan’s eyes kept drifting back to her, narrowing slightly, like he was trying to read between the lines of her calm exterior.
Like he could sense something was coming— but not quite place it.
And Luna? She just kept eating her soup, smiling to herself with every spoonful.
Because tonight, she knew exactly what she was coming home with.
And Jeonghan?
He had no idea.
The clinking of silverware and quiet chatter faded into the background as breakfast came to a close. Jeonghan had washed the dishes without being asked— though with dramatic flair and playful complaints— while Luna disappeared into the bedroom to get ready.
The minutes ticked on, and Jeonghan stayed nearby, pacing around the living room with his phone in hand, every few seconds glancing toward the hallway where she was.
When Luna finally stepped out, dressed comfortably in wide-leg jeans and a white button-down tucked at the waist, her hair pulled into a low bun for the salon prep, Jeonghan immediately zeroed in on her. His lips formed an exaggerated pout as he crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps.
“Do you really have to go?” he drawled, wrapping both arms around her the second she was within reach.
“Yes,” Luna said with a sigh, draping her arms around his shoulders. “You’ve asked me that three times already.”
“I thought maybe the answer would change,” he murmured, burying his face in the side of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. “Just stay. Call in sick. We’ll lie in bed all day and watch bad dramas.”
“You hate bad dramas.”
“I’d suffer through them for you.”
She chuckled softly, trying not to melt into him. “It’s Cosmopolitan, Jeonghan. I’m not missing this shoot.”
He groaned dramatically and pulled her even closer, his hands splayed across her lower back. “You’re so cruel to me. Leaving me all alone in this cold, heartless house.”
“It’s literally twenty-two degrees inside.”
“My heart’s colder without you, Nana-ya,” he mumbled into her shoulder.
“Yoon Jeonghan,” she said with a firm laugh, “if I don’t leave in the next five minutes, I will be late, and I’ll blame it entirely on you.”
He leaned back just enough to look at her, brows drawn like a child being scolded. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would.” Her voice softened, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. “You can wait a few hours, right?”
Jeonghan tilted his head into her touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”
“I know,” she whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.
He kissed her back slowly, savoring it, like it might need to last him all day. His hands refused to let her go, tightening around her waist until she gently tapped his shoulder in warning.
“Han…” she muttered against his lips, a mix of amused and stern. “I’m serious.”
“Just one more,” he murmured, stealing another kiss, then another— until she laughed into it and pushed at his chest.
“Okay, okay, I’m going!”
“Cruel woman,” he muttered again with a reluctant sigh, finally letting her go as she backed away toward the door.
Luna paused at the entrance, slipping on her shoes and turning to blow him a quick kiss. “Text you when I get there!”
“You better,” he called after her. “And don’t forget— I want updates! Pictures! Selfies! Live commentary!”
“I love you!” she replied with a laugh, ignoring the last part completely.
“I love you too… but– Jiyeonie!”
But she was already out the door.
Thankfully Luna arrived on set right on time, just as the stylists were setting up and the production crew began final lighting checks. The studio smelled like hot lights and hairspray— familiar, sterile, and oddly comforting. Stylists welcomed her with warm greetings and she was ushered to the styling station in the back corner where the magic would begin.
But today wasn’t like other shoots. Today, she wasn’t just getting her makeup done or hair curled.
Today, she was changing everything.
“Ready?” the hairstylist asked as Luna sat down in the black leather chair.
She caught her own reflection in the mirror— bare-faced, calm, but undeniably excited. “Let’s do it.”
The stylist pulled on gloves and began mixing the bleach, the sharp chemical scent hitting Luna’s nose almost instantly. She blinked, the smell both foreign and achingly nostalgic.
It had been years since she’d bleached her hair. Back then, it was just business. This time, it was personal.
As the bleach was applied, it burned. Not unbearably— but enough to make her scalp tingle and her eyes water just slightly.
She didn’t flinch.
She didn’t complain.
Luna’s pettiness was stronger than the sting.
Jeonghan deserved this surprise.
She imagined his face when he saw her later. How his breath would hitch. How he’d probably go quiet. Or maybe say something infuriatingly flirty just to hide how hard he was staring.
That image alone kept her rooted in the chair, even as the bleach sat and processed, lightening her strands to a pale gold.
After rinsing and drying, the red dye was mixed— rich, deep, and dark like a full glass of wine under candlelight.
As they applied the color, she couldn’t stop the giddy flutter in her chest. This wasn’t just for the shoot. This was her own kind of rebellion. Her statement. Her secret gift to the man waiting at home.
By the time it was rinsed and styled, she was a completely different Luna in the mirror.
Blood-red hair tumbled past her shoulders in soft, styled waves, the color catching the studio lights like fire in motion.
She grinned. Perfect.
She was moved to makeup next, where the team worked quickly to match her new hair with bold choices— warm-toned eyeshadow, thick lashes, and a glossy red-brown lip.
Every minute brought her closer to showtime, but as she sat idle in the chair, she took out her phone and messaged the one person who mattered most.
luna: Almost done with hair and makeup.
Jeonghan’s reply was immediate.
angel boy: Show me.
She grinned.
luna: It’s a surprise, my love
angel boy: Just one photo. Please?
luna: Nope. You’ll see tonight.
angel boy: You’re killing me, Jiyeonie
luna: You’ll live.
angel boy: I’m literally dying. My soul is leaving my body.
Luna giggled, biting her lip as the stylist applied highlighter to her cheekbones.
luna: Be patient, pretty boy.
angel boy: You’re evil. Gorgeous and evil.
luna: You love me.
angel boy: …
angel boy: Damn right I do.
She locked her phone with a smug little smile just as the stylist finished her last touch-up.
Then, it was time.
The set was vast and dynamic, decked out in sleek props and dramatic lighting. There were racks of designer clothes on one side— Miu Miu, Saint Laurent, and Valentino— all selected specifically for this cover shoot.
Luna slipped into each look one by one, letting the stylists fasten, zip, and adjust every detail.
A black silk gown with a low neckline. A red structured suit with exaggerated shoulders. A white dress draped in crystals.
Her new hair framed her face like art, cascading down her back or thrown over one shoulder with every outfit change. The photographer guided her into poses, but Luna didn’t need much instruction— her body moved on instinct, like she’d been born for this. Every turn of her head, every glance over her shoulder, every soft parting of her lips was deliberate.
The camera loved her.
And she knew her fiancé would too.
As the flashbulbs burst and the stylists cooed in approval, Luna only thought of one thing— Wait till he sees this.
By the time the final photo was taken and the camera shutter gave its last snap, Luna was buzzing.
The Cosmopolitan team applauded her with genuine admiration, and more than one stylist gushed about how the red hair had transformed the shoot.
“You really brought it to life,” the photographer had said, shaking her hand with a wide grin. “This is going to be one hell of a cover.”
To top it all off, the fashion director— impressed by her professionalism and poise— offered her a surprise token of appreciation: “You get to pick one look from today’s shoot to keep. Anything you want.”
Without a second thought, she chose the little black dress. Elegant yet minimalistic, with a backless curve that dipped just low enough to tease without screaming for attention.
Luna thought of Jeonghan immediately when she saw herself in it.
Everything was going her way.
Her hair still curled in soft waves down her back, makeup perfectly intact even after hours under the lights. With her little black dress on, her heels clicking on the studio floor, Luna exited the building with the kind of satisfaction that came from knowing the day was hers.
The drive home was quiet— just her and the soft hum of the car, fingers occasionally brushing through the blood-red strands that now framed her face. Her lips curled every time she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the rearview mirror.
She imagined Jeonghan’s face the second he laid eyes on her.
God, he’s going to lose it.
When she finally pulled up to their house, the sun had dipped low behind the horizon. The sky was painted in strokes of lavender and dusk-blue, casting the house in a golden glow. She eased the car into the garage, careful with the dress bag slung over the passenger seat, and shut the engine off.
Her heels clicked against the garage floor, muffled when she stepped into the house. The front door closed behind her with a soft thud, and immediately, she noticed how still everything was. No sound of the TV, no clattering in the kitchen.
“Hannie?” she called out. “I’m home!”
Silence for a beat.
Then—
“In here!” his voice called out faintly, muffled by distance. “Bedroom!”
Luna giggled to herself, already picturing him sprawled out like a cat, refusing to move even though he’d probably been waiting all day for her. She dropped her handbag on the couch and kicked off her heels near the entryway with a sigh of relief. Fingers ruffling through her curls to fluff them up, she dashed up the stairs, skipping two steps at a time like a schoolgirl with a secret.
At the top, she slowed her pace, heart beating faster— not from the stairs, but anticipation. She reached their bedroom and leaned against the doorway, one shoulder pressed into the frame.
There he was.
Jeonghan was sprawled out on their bed in a loose white shirt and grey sweatpants, ankles crossed and phone held lazily in both hands above his chest. His head rested on a pillow, his hair slightly tousled as if he’d just woken up from a nap.
“Seriously,” he was saying mid-sentence, without looking up. “I’m hurt you didn’t send me pictures, Nana-ya. You’ve been suspiciously secretive all day, and I’m starting to think—”
He stopped.
His eyes flicked toward the movement in his peripheral.
And when he saw the color red.
Jeonghan’s head snapped to the side so fast, Luna swore it nearly detached from his neck.
Their eyes met.
Luna smirked. One eyebrow raised, lips curled into a smile far too smug to be innocent.
Jeonghan sat up instantly, phone dropping to the mattress as his eyes trailed over her slowly, deliberately, from head to toe.
He blinked once.
Twice.
Then—
“Holy fucking shit, Bae Jiyeon.”
Luna giggled.
“What the— fuck, Jiyeon-ah— holy mother of fuck,” Jeonghan whispered like he was talking to himself, his mouth hanging open as he took her in. “You— what— fuck, you’re gonna kill me. What is wrong with you?”
She stood there wearing the little black dress. It hugged her like it was sewn onto her body, dipping low in the back and hugging the curves of her hips like second skin. Her red hair spilled over her shoulders like wine, glowing under the bedroom light. She had one hand resting on her hip, the other pushing her hair off to one side with a soft flip that made his jaw clench.
“Is this why you wouldn’t send me a photo?” he said, still stunned, running a hand down his face. “God, you’re unreal.”
“Mm,” she hummed, pushing off the doorframe and stepping further into the room with slow, deliberate steps. “You were being impatient.”
“You teased me all day, and then you show up looking like that?” Jeonghan pointed at her like she’d personally offended him. “That’s illegal. That should be illegal… God– you should be illegal.”
Luna laughed, moving closer to the edge of the bed. “You like it?”
“Like it?” he scoffed. “You look like a Bond girl who just killed the villain, stole the diamonds, and is walking out of the fire without a scratch.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Damn.” He sat up straighter, elbows resting on his knees now as he leaned forward to get a better look. “I mean— I can’t even look at you directly right now. That shade of red? That dress? That smug little look on your face? I’m actually losing my mind.”
She swayed her hips a little, standing just out of reach. “Good.”
Jeonghan groaned like he was in pain. “You’re actually evil.”
Luna tilted her head. “And yet you love me.”
“Painfully.”
They locked eyes for a long moment.
Then—
“That better not be a wig, baby,” Jeonghan said suddenly, voice low and serious. “I swear, if you ripped that off your head right now, I’d actually cry.”
Luna burst out laughing, one hand on her stomach. “It’s not a wig!”
“Swear it.”
“I swear.”
“Let me pull on it.”
Yoon Jeonghan was dead serious.
“You can, if you want,” she said, inching even closer until she stood right between his knees. “Go ahead. Confirm it yourself.”
He looked up at her, still in disbelief. “You did this for me?”
“I did this for me,” she said, voice softening. “But also… yeah. I knew you’d lose it— that was the plan.”
“Oh, I’ve lost it,” Jeonghan muttered, reaching up to toy with the ends of her hair, eyes never leaving hers. “I’m never going to be normal again.”
Their chemistry sparked like a lit fuse, electric and heavy in the air. She stood there with a proud little smirk while he looked up at her like she’d personally rewritten his definition of beauty.
“You look insane, Nana-ya.”
She raised a brow, smug. “Drive-you-insane insane?”
She laughed, leaning down a little, their faces inches apart. “You sure you can handle this?”
Jeonghan grinned slowly, hands slipping up the sides of her thighs. “I’m the only one that can handle you, angel face.”
Their breaths mingled in the space between them, the tension simmering, unspoken, but felt in the air— thick and magnetic.
Neither moved. Neither needed to. Not yet.
Because this wasn’t just a reveal.
It was the beginning of something far more dangerous.
The kind of danger that made your heart race and your breath hitch.
The kind that made you feel alive.
Jeonghan's hands slid up her thighs, fingers tracing the edge of her dress, inching closer to the apex. Luna felt her body respond, a shiver running down her spine as her nipples hardened under the thin fabric. She knew he could see the effect he had on her, the way her breath hitched and her eyes fluttered shut.
"Fuck, baby," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "You're so goddamn beautiful."
She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze.
"You're not going to touch me?" she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jeonghan's eyes darkened, a wicked glint in them. "Oh, I'm going to touch you, my love. I'm just enjoying the view first."
His hands moved higher, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She gasped, her body arching slightly as a wave of pleasure washed over her. He smiled, a slow, predatory smile that sent a shiver down her spine.
Jeonghan’s fingers glided up the sleek curve of Luna’s spine with maddening slowness, like he had all the time in the world to savor this— because he did.
Luna was finally home, finally in front of him, in that dress with that hair, and Jeonghan didn’t care if the world outside came to a halt; he wasn’t letting this moment rush past him.
The pads of his fingers ghosted over the nape of her neck before slipping into her freshly dyed, wine-red hair— so rich, so vibrant it glinted like blood in the low bedroom light.
His touch was reverent at first, delicate even, but then his fingers tightened into a gentle fist, gripping the strands and tugging with just enough force to test it.
Her scalp tingled, and a teasing smirk painted her lips when her hair held firm.
“Told you,” she murmured smugly, eyes glinting with mischief.
Jeonghan groaned, deep from his throat, and his head fell back dramatically. “Fuck,” he cursed like he was being punished, like her existence in that moment was a sin he gladly wanted to be ruined by.
And before Luna could shoot back a reply, Jeonghan’s hand slid to her jaw, guiding her face to his with a kind of desperation that stole the breath from her lungs.
Their mouths crashed together, lips molding perfectly like two puzzle pieces that had always belonged. It wasn’t a soft kiss. It was urgent, consuming, a week’s worth of tension and teasing combusting all at once.
Luna’s hands flew up to clutch his shoulders, nails digging lightly into the muscle there as he pulled her with him, sliding her up the bed without ever breaking the kiss. She gasped into his mouth when her knees straddled his lap, and Jeonghan took full advantage, slipping his tongue between her lips to taste the lingering sweetness of her lip gloss and something distinctly her— a flavor he was sure he’d never get tired of.
“Fuck—” he whispered against her mouth, one hand gripping her waist tightly while the other remained tangled in her hair. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”
Luna let out a shaky breath, her forehead pressed against his as she smiled through half-lidded eyes. “Pretty sure I do,” she whispered, nipping at his bottom lip playfully.
He growled at that, deep and low, his hips shifting beneath her slightly. “This what you wanted, huh?” he muttered, lips brushing the corner of her mouth. “Dye your hair red, put on that dress, come home smelling like a damn fantasy—”
“All for you,” she murmured, trailing her fingers up the nape of his neck, curling them into his hair. “Only for you, Jeongie.”
Jeonghan kissed her again— hotter, deeper, like he was trying to memorize every angle of her mouth.
Their lips moved in perfect rhythm, soft gasps and slick sounds echoing off the walls of their shared bedroom. His teeth grazed her lip, his tongue swept against hers, and she moaned softly into his mouth, gripping his shoulders tighter.
“You’re unreal,” he muttered in between kisses, letting his lips fall to her jaw, then to the column of her throat where he left open-mouthed kisses, each one trailing hotter than the last.
“And you’re still overdressed,” Luna teased breathlessly, arching into his touch as his hands slid along the curve of her hips.
Jeonghan chuckled darkly, teeth grazing her skin. “Don’t tempt me,” he warned, voice rough, gravelly, intoxicating. “You already came home looking like a dream and now you’re sitting on my lap talking like that—”
“Talking like what?” she said innocently, tilting his face back up to hers with a finger under his chin.
“Like you don’t know I’ve been going crazy waiting for you all damn day,” he whispered against her lips. “Like you don’t know I’ve been thinking about this since the second you left.”
Luna smiled softly, her expression warming with affection even as her tone stayed playful. “Then I guess you better make up for lost time.”
Jeonghan stared at her for a beat— completely, utterly in awe.
And then he kissed her again.
The kind of kiss that promised trouble. The kind that tasted like devotion, mischief, lust, and love wrapped in one.
Their laughter and whispers tangled in the air as their kiss deepened, as hands explored familiar territory with the kind of reverence that only came from years of knowing each other inside out.
Luna wanted this.
No— she planned for this.
Every second of it, every angle, every strand of her newly dyed hair, every carefully calculated move that led up to her straddling her fiancé in the dim lighting of their shared bedroom— it was deliberate.
She knew exactly what she was doing the second she texted him teasingly from the makeup chair, dodging every single one of his pouty pleas for a photo. She knew it when she slid into that sleek little black dress before leaving the shoot, already hearing his reaction in her head.
And she definitely knew what she was doing the moment she pulled her hair tie off in the garage, letting her freshly curled red hair tumble dramatically over her shoulders like she was the star of her own movie.
This wasn’t just a surprise.
It was payback.
Because Jeonghan had been teasing her mercilessly for weeks.
Touching, flirting, trailing his fingers along her waist when she walked past, whispering filth into her ear at the most inappropriate times, leaning close during dinner just to watch her blush— and yet never letting anything happen.
He’d deny her every time with a smirk and a kiss on the cheek like he wasn’t the one pressing her buttons until she was one second away from combusting.
Yoon Jeonghan knew exactly how to work her up and just as easily how to pull away, like it was all some kind of game.
So she pulled out the big guns.
The last time she dyed her hair wine red, nearly three years ago, it had been for a comeback.
The internet lost its mind— headlines raved about the transformation, fans made edits by the millions, and stylists praised her for the boldness.
But none of them lost their mind the way Jeonghan did.
She remembered it vividly. He saw her walk into the rehearsal room with that freshly dyed hair and went absolutely feral.
He couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop touching. He’d corner her backstage, trail his fingers through her waves, bury his nose in the scent of her shampoo, press lingering kisses to her neck that made it nearly impossible to focus on choreography.
And when they were alone?
Jeonghan was insatiable.
He loved the way her red hair looked wrapped around his fist, the way her moans echoed in the room, and the way her body responded to his every touch. He was insatiable, driven by a primal need to claim her, to mark her, to make her his. He wanted everyone to know that she was his, that she belonged to him.
That hair didn’t even last three weeks.
Luna had to dye it back to black because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He was like a man possessed, and she’d decided, at the time, that her sanity— and their schedules— couldn’t survive that level of chaos again.
But now?
She wanted that chaos.
She wanted him drunk on her.
Desperate.
She wanted him ruined.
So as their mouths tangled again and she shifted in his lap, slowly rolling her hips just enough to feel the sharp inhale he took, Luna smirked against his lips. He groaned into her mouth, and she kissed him harder— deeper, wetter— her fingers curling tighter around the back of his neck.
He was already slipping.
Already losing composure. Good.
That was exactly the point.
She pressed closer, her body melting against his like it was molded for him alone, and when he gasped— his fingers tightening possessively around her hips— Luna let out a breathless little laugh that sent a shiver down his spine.
Her plan was working.
And from the way Jeonghan’s breathing hitched, from the way his fingers twitched like he didn’t know whether to worship her or wreck her, from the way his mouth chased hers like he was starved— she knew he was about to break.
Just like last time.
Just like she wanted.
However, the moment Luna had expected— hoped for, planned for— was completely unraveling, just not in the way she imagined.
Just as she was grinding herself against his lap, feeling the desperate twitch of his muscles beneath her touch, thinking she had the upper hand— Jeonghan chuckled against her lips.
At first it was soft. A breathless chuckle.
Then it grew.
Deep, smooth laughter spilled from his throat like honey, and he threw his head back, eyes crinkled, chest shaking beneath her palms as he laughed in genuine amusement.
Luna blinked. Confused. Still straddling him, lips swollen and breaths fast, she tilted her head. “Why are you laughing, Hannie?” she asked, chuckling, suspicion growing as she furrowing her brows.
“Oh, Nana-ya,” Jeonghan cooed between residual chuckles, voice dipping into that slow, sultry tone that never failed to send heat crawling up her spine. “You’re so desperate for me, my baby. It’s cute.”
Her eyes narrowed instantly. “Excuse me?”
Jeonghan’s smirk turned sinful.
He reached up, brushing his fingers across her cheek, tucking a strand of her crimson hair behind her ear. “I know you more than anyone, Jiyeonie. I know you from the inside out.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
He raised an eyebrow, lips brushing hers in a teasing peck before pulling back just enough to say, “Have you forgotten who taught you all those sneaky tricks, my moon?”
She stared at him, genuinely baffled now. “What sneaky tricks?”
Jeonghan grinned like he had just won a game he’d never agreed to play. He slid his hands behind his head and leaned back against the headboard, letting her sit speechless on his lap like she hadn’t just tried to seduce the soul out of him.
“I knew what you were doing the second you started being all suspicious this morning,” he said with a shrug, feigning nonchalance but very much enjoying himself. “The little smirks. The syrupy voice. Your lingering gaze on me. The sneaky little looks you were giving your phone. You being so excited for your shoot today. Baby, you despise leaving for work early, especially on weekends.”
Luna’s jaw dropped slightly, but Jeonghan wasn’t done.
“And when you refused to send me pictures on set?” He scoffed lightly. “Dead giveaway. You practically flood me pictures of you when you’re out— even without me asking. I could practically hear your thoughts. ‘Let’s drive him crazy today.’ And it almost worked— almost.”
He tilted his head, eyes dancing with wicked delight. “I could tell you were getting desperate. Frustrated. You were practically vibrating with need, pretty girl.”
Still unable to speak, Luna could only gape as Jeonghan leaned back fully, relaxing like he was at a spa instead of holding a flushed, bristling woman on his lap.
Then he smirked. “But…” He dragged out the word slowly, lips curling with pure mischief. “I’m tired, baby.”
That damn line.
Luna’s jaw clenched.
She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or strangle her bitchass fiancé.
Her cheeks turned the same shade as her newly dyed wine-red hair, and she stared at him with such a murderous expression that Jeonghan knew he’d be sleeping with one eye open tonight.
She didn’t even respond. She just scoffed and shoved at his chest hard enough to make him fall back on the bed with a laugh.
She climbed off of him with an angry huff, adjusting the hem of her dress as she stomped toward the door.
“Where you going?” Jeonghan asked through another lazy chuckle.
“I don’t know— maybe go to one of the guys. Maybe one of them can help me,” she snapped.
She was bluffing.
Jeonghan’s grin widened.
“Mingyu, maybe. Or Cheollie. You seem to forget those two liked me at one point.” Luna said angrily.
“Oh, I suggest Cheol, I know we both won’t mind, pretty girl.” Jeonghan drawled, folding his arms behind his head as he watched her storm toward the doorway. “Not Mingyu. He is lowkey in love with you still.”
Luna froze and turned slowly, glare sharp enough to kill.
Jeonghan laughed harder.
She pointed at him like a death sentence. “Don’t regret it when you wake up and my hair is back to black.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing, baby,” Jeonghan teased, tilting his head playfully.
Luna exhaled sharply and closed her eyes, steadying her breath before hissing, “Earlier you were hot as fuck… now I just want to punch you square in the face.”
He beamed at her. “You know, if I had a won for every time you said that, we could afford our wedding ten times over.”
“If headache was a person—” she muttered, storming toward the bathroom. “—it would be you.”
She was halfway in when his voice rang out from behind.
“Do you want me to order chicken for dinner, baby? I’ve been debating before you got here.”
“Fuck off!” Luna yelled back.
“Chicken it is!” Jeonghan called cheerfully, and she swore she heard him clap once.
The bathroom door slammed behind her.
And Jeonghan, grinning ear to ear, leaned back against the headboard and whispered to himself, “Can’t outplay a player.”
Jeonghan had a reason for all of this.
Every smirk he bit back when Luna got handsy, every time he pulled away just as things got heated, every teasing kiss he denied her— there was intention in every move.
It wasn’t because he didn’t want her.
God, no.
That would’ve been a laughable lie.
If anything, the want burned under his skin like a fever he refused to treat.
But Jeonghan’s mind worked in mysterious, meticulous ways, and once the thought took root, he couldn’t shake it: what if he pushed it? What if he held back just long enough to make her unravel? What if he let tension build like a string pulled taut, until it snapped?
He had imagined it— what it would feel like when they finally let go.
Hot. Breathless. Carnal.
With weeks of frustration and teasing exploding all at once. The sound of her voice cracking from too many denied moans. Her nails sinking into his skin. That dazed look in her eyes when he finally gave in.
It was an experiment, sure.
But mostly, it was strategy.
Because Jeonghan knew her. Knew her inside and out. Knew how she ticked and how she cracked. He knew she’d react. He wanted her to. And sure enough, she bit the bait— hard.
But what made it all the more delicious was that Luna had the exact same idea.
Their brains truly shared a wavelength only they could decode, because while she plotted to dye her hair back to that sinful wine red to make him lose his damn mind, Jeonghan was thinking of doing something just as reckless.
He was going to change his hair.
It wasn’t a thought that came lightly, especially considering the timing. But Jeonghan knew what he was doing.
He knew Luna had a type— and he just so happened to be the blueprint.
Long black hair.
Not just on anyone.
On him.
It wasn’t even about vanity. It was about effect.
The way her eyes would roam when he walked into a room with his hair brushing the nape of his neck. How she would casually run her fingers through it mid-conversation, as if she didn’t even realize she was doing it. The way she braided it while he lay with his head on her lap, eyes closed, letting her hum and weave, threading tenderness into each loop. How she tugged it when they kissed, gently first, then rougher, until his breath hitched and his knees buckled.
Luna loved Jeonghan’s hair.
She loved the way it felt in her hands, the way it slid through her fingers like silk. She loved the way it looked when it was messy, when it was tied back, when it was loose and falling over his shoulders. She loved the way it looked when she pulled it, when she tugged it, when she used it to guide him, to pull him closer, to keep him where she wanted him.
She loved the way it felt against her skin when he kissed her, when he ate her out, when he fucked her.
She would run her fingers through it, pulling gently at first, then harder, guiding him, urging him on. She loved the way it felt when it was soft and smooth against her fingers, when it was rough and coarse against her palm. She loved the way it looked when it was wet, when it was dry, when it was shiny, when it was dull. She loved the way it looked when it was in her hands, when it was stuck on his skin. She loved the way it felt when it was hot and heavy against her neck, when it was cool and light against her back.
There was something about it.
Something primal.
It made her weak, and he knew it.
To Luna, long black-haired Jeonghan was her favorite contradiction.
A prince and a villain wrapped into one.
He looked ethereal, like he belonged in an oil painting hanging in a museum— but he could ruin her with a look. He was beautiful, soft even, but dangerous. Seductive. Like touching him came with a warning label.
Luna never said those things out loud, but Jeonghan wasn’t stupid. He saw it in her eyes. And even if he hadn’t, she was once tipsy enough to mutter it to him as she ran her fingers through his hair, her voice low and reverent like a prayer: “God, Han, you look like a villain when it’s long like this… but like, a really, really hot one that I would totally let ruin my life. It’s unfair.”
But right now, his hair was short— military short. And it is physically imposing for him to grow his hair long in a few days, not that he’s allowed to.
And still, Jeonghan smiled to himself, because she once told him something else. Something she probably didn’t even remember.
It had been a quiet evening almost a year ago.
Luna had been scrolling through a feed of male idols sporting shorter cuts for their roles or service, and he caught her staring. She didn’t realize he was watching until she turned her phone to him and mused aloud, “You know… you’d actually look really hot with short hair. Like— not a buzzcut buzzcut, but shorter. You’ve done short hair before… but never extremely short. Messy, a little bad boy, a little clean-cut. No curtain bangs or mullets… just short.”
Jeonghan had raised a brow then, leaned back with a lazy smile. “You into that?”
“I’m into you, my love,” Luna had shrugged, casually. “I’m just saying. You’d pull it off.”
He never forgot.
So now, with her wine red hair and devilish smirk, thinking she had outplayed him— Jeonghan was simply biding his time.
Because he was going to flip the game on her.
He was going to change up his look.
He was going to go shorter. Sharper. Edgier.
And just like she planned to break him, he was going to do the same.
Except he wasn’t going to break.
He was going to win.
Because while Luna was the fire— Jeonghan was already fireproof.
Finally it had been a week.
It had been exactly a week since Jeonghan first planted the seed of this plan in his mind.
He didn’t mean for it to take this long— God, he wanted to act on it sooner— but duty called, literally and figuratively.
His alternative military service wasn’t exactly known for granting spontaneous leave, and between weekday duties, and etcetera, weekends were the only time Jeonghan had to breathe.
And strategize.
So here he was.
Another Saturday, deceptively ordinary on the surface, unfolding with the same cozy, domestic rhythm that he and Luna had naturally fallen into.
They spent the morning lazily cocooned in their shared bed, limbs tangled, the soft lull of a show playing in the background while neither of them paid attention.
Jeonghan had pressed a kiss into Luna’s bare shoulder as she dozed, mumbled nonsense against her skin that made her smile in her sleep. Later, they shared a late brunch in their pajamas, half-laughing, half-squabbling over the last hashbrown.
It was just like every other weekend they treasured— quiet, domestic, theirs.
But by late afternoon, they’d parted ways for their separate plans.
Luna had dinner with her parents, something she’d been looking forward to all week, and Jeonghan… well, Jeonghan had a “date,” as Luna teasingly put it, with Seungcheol.
A much less romantic outing (Luna begs to differ), consisting of them visiting Hoshi and Woozi’s pre-recording for their unit comeback and grabbing dinner after.
At least, that’s what she thought.
In truth, this was it. The day. The day he’d been holding out for.
Jeonghan had waited patiently— painfully so— while Luna simmered in her own frustration over his two-week-long denial game. She had no idea she wasn’t the only one playing. Jeonghan had been meticulously planning his counterattack, and today was his move.
So once they left the house, Jeonghan dragged Seungcheol into the salon with him. Seungcheol had only needed five seconds after hearing Jeonghan’s scheme to break into unfiltered laughter.
“You two are literally insane,” he wheezed, following Jeonghan into the waiting room, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, still shaking his head. “This isn’t even flirting anymore. It’s psychological warfare.”
Jeonghan just grinned. “You say that like I didn’t invent the art of war.”
And war it was.
After an hour under the clippers and the steady hands of his trusted stylist, Jeonghan emerged with a fresh cut— short, neat, and shockingly hot. He inspected himself in the mirror, tugging slightly at his hairline, twisting his lips.
Yeah, he thought smugly. She’s gonna combust.
They didn’t linger long at the music show. They watched Hoshi and Woozi’s performance from the sidelines, cheered obnoxiously, and exchanged daps and hugs backstage, all while Jeonghan’s hood stayed firmly up.
But even with the hood, the universe clearly wanted to mess with his plan.
Because as he waved goodbye to fans through the half-open car window, someone caught a glimpse. A tiny angle of his now very exposed forehead, the faint silhouette of short hair under the hoodie.
Not even two hours passed before Jeonghan was trending.
The tags were everywhere.
#JeonghanBald
#JeonghanHaircut
#HE’SBALD
His phone buzzed nonstop in his pocket as Seungcheol read tweets out loud in a fit of laughter.
Jeonghan groaned. “Shut up, Coups. She’s gonna see it.”
“Should’ve worn a damn beanie,” Seungcheol teased, barely holding it together. “You’re the one who stuck your head out like Simba being presented to the kingdom.”
And now Jeonghan was racing home, speeding through traffic, heart thumping not because of fear— but because God, he needed this to work.
This wasn’t just some playful gotcha— this was weeks of pent-up tension and strategy culminating in one perfect moment. If Luna saw the tweets, if she opened Instagram or checked X, his surprise would be blown. Her reaction, the look on her face when she saw him— it would all be ruined.
Jeonghan burst through the front door like a man on a mission, immediately toeing off his shoes and checking the living room.
No Luna. No movement.
Where is she?
He tiptoed deeper into the house, poking his head past the hallway and listening.
Then he heard it.
The sound of water running.
The shower.
Jeonghan exhaled a breath of gratitude so deep it shook his lungs.
The gods were merciful. Either that, or Luna’s inability to take short showers was finally working in his favor.
He pressed a hand to his chest and whispered, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Luna hadn’t seen a thing.
Not the tweets. Not the glimpses. Not the tags or theories or trends.
She was still blissfully unaware, humming under the stream of hot water like it was any other Saturday.
She was going to step out of that bathroom, still smelling like her favorite citrus body wash, her skin warm and dewy, completely unsuspecting. And then— he was going to knock the air out of her lungs.
Jeonghan smirked to himself as he padded to the bedroom to set the stage.
Let the real game begin.
Soon— the sound of water finally ceased, the faint hiss of the showerhead coming to a stop behind the bathroom door as steam gently curled from beneath the frame.
A few beats passed before the door creaked open with a soft click, and Luna stepped out barefoot onto the hardwood, still damp and warm from her shower.
A small gasp left her lips at the contrast between the cool air and her flushed skin. Her body was wrapped in nothing but a plush white towel that hugged her curves securely from just above her chest, her hand tightly gripping the top fold to keep it in place. Stray droplets trickled down her legs while her dark, blood-red hair clung to her damp shoulders and back in thick, wet tendrils, cascading like crimson ink against her pale skin.
But what startled her wasn’t the cold.
It was him.
“Fuck, Han!” Luna shrieked, practically leaping backward when she caught sight of him.
Her fiancé— hood up, oversized black hoodie hanging off his frame, long legs stretched out in front of him, and glasses perched lazily on his nose— was seated comfortably at the edge of their bed. He was facing her directly, chin rested on his palm, the other hand playing with a loose thread on the bedspread, a knowing smirk curling on his lips like he’d been waiting hours for that exact moment.
“You asshole!” she huffed, marching over to smack his arm. “You scared the ever-loving shit out of me!”
Jeonghan only chuckled, the sound low and smug, his smirk deepening at her flustered reaction. “Hello to you too, my love.”
Luna narrowed her eyes at him, breathing still erratic from the shock. “Why are you just… sitting there like that? Looking like— like a mob boss in a drama or something. All in black. Waiting to collect a debt or murder someone’s dad.”
He raised a brow, thoroughly entertained. “Mob boss, huh? I was going for mysterious, dangerous fiancé. But I’ll take it.”
“More like creepy fiancé,” she muttered under her breath as she rolled her eyes and turned to walk into her dressing room. She sat down in front of the vanity and grabbed her detangling brush, gently running it through the damp strands of her hair.
“I’m surprised you didn’t hear me come in,” Jeonghan called out from the bed, voice laced with amusement. “Where’s that super sonic hearing of yours?”
Luna scoffed, eyes meeting his reflection in the mirror as she brushed through a particularly stubborn knot. “I heard the garage door open, actually. I just didn’t expect you to be sitting in here… staring at me like a creep instead of, I don’t know, walking around like a normal person.”
He let out another laugh, shrugging innocently. “Sorry, Nana-ya, couldn’t resist. You’re kind of adorable when you’re startled. Like a kitten that saw its reflection for the first time.”
“I’ll show you a kitten,” she grumbled, brushing faster.
He didn’t respond immediately.
She continued with her after-shower routine, standing up and reaching for the bottle of lotion beside her. As she began to apply it across her shoulders and arms, Jeonghan fell silent.
Too silent.
Her gaze slowly shifted toward him in the mirror again, and she noticed it instantly— the way his smirk had mellowed into a thoughtful expression, one too soft, too quiet. He was watching her again, but this time with less mischief and more meaning.
“What did you do?” Luna asked flatly, turning toward him, hand still gliding lotion over her thigh.
Jeonghan blinked, lips twitching. “What makes you say I did anything?”
She didn’t even pause. “It’s because you have that look on your face— so you either did something stupid or you want something stupid.” She eyed him warily. “So? Which one is it?”
Jeonghan smiled slowly, almost proud of her deduction. He shifted on the bed, sitting up a little straighter. “Well, I’ve been thinking lately…”
“Oh, no,” she muttered.
“…and I figured today would be a perfect opportunity,” he continued, ignoring her.
“Opportunity for what?” Luna asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously as she capped the lotion bottle and wiped her hands on a towel.
“To… change things up a little,” he said cryptically, adjusting his hood a bit as he spoke. “You know how I get. Needed a little excitement.”
She stared at him, unblinking.
“And Cheol came with me, actually,” he added casually. “Accompanied me to the salon.”
Luna’s hands froze mid-motion.
Her head tilted just slightly.
“Salon?” she repeated slowly.
Jeonghan froze, realizing a second too late how much weight that one word carried.
Luna’s eyes weren’t on his face anymore— they were darting from his lips, up to the hood covering his hair.
And that’s when it hit her.
“You son of a—” she started before cutting herself off, her hand flying to her hip as she leaned against the dresser.
“Yoon Jeonghan, I just about have had it with your bullshit these past few weeks.”
He tilted his head, lips pressed into an innocent line, eyebrows arching just the tiniest bit. “What are you trying to say, baby?”
“What I’m trying to say is—” she pointed her chin toward his hood, her eyes sharp, “you better not be bald under there.”
His smirk returned full force, devilish and delighted. “What are you going to do if I am?”
“I’m going to murder Cheol. Then you,” she replied with full confidence.
“But baby,” Jeonghan pouted dramatically, bottom lip sticking out as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, “you don’t think I’d look good with a shaved head? You won’t love me anymore?”
Luna groaned, her shoulders sagging as she looked away. “That’s not what I meant,” she muttered. “I know you’d still look good as hell and I’d still love you no matter what but…”
Her voice trailed off into a small pout, her brows pinching together as she looked down at her hands.
Jeonghan’s teasing expression softened instantly.
“What, baby?” he asked gently, his tone warm and coaxing.
“You know how much I love your hair, Jeongie…” she said softly, barely louder than a whisper.
A smile broke across his face, real and tender.
“Come here,” he said, extending his hand out toward her.
Without hesitation, Luna walked over and placed her hand in his, letting him tug her gently between his legs where he still sat on the edge of the bed. Her towel remained wrapped snugly around her, but the heat of her skin was unmistakable as she now stood above him, flushed from her shower and from his teasing. His hands cradled hers delicately as he looked up at her, and she looked down, eyes curious and waiting.
He rubbed slow circles against her knuckles with his thumb.
“Why do you like my hair so much, hm?” he cooed softly, his tone dipping into that low, fond register he reserved only for her. “Even though I already know the answer.”
Luna blinked at him, cheeks warming. “Because…” she murmured, “it’s so pretty and soft— like silk. And I love the way it falls in your eyes. I love running my hands through it. I love braiding it when it’s longer. I love tugging on it when we kiss. It just… it makes you look like you could ruin my whole life, and I’d still thank you after.”
Jeonghan laughed softly under his breath, his fingers tightening around hers as he bit his lip. “God, you’re something else,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.
Luna smiled shyly.
And still— he hadn’t taken off the hood.
Jeonghan smiled up at her in that maddening, beautiful way of his— his eyes soft but gleaming with mischief, the corners of his lips curled with the quiet satisfaction of a man who’d just laid the perfect trap and was watching his prey fall into it willingly.
He said nothing at first, just cradled her hands between his own, thumbs brushing over her knuckles with slow, delicate reverence like she was made of something sacred. His touch was warm, grounding, but his eyes held a silent storm— anticipation, amusement, a hint of cocky affection simmering just beneath the surface.
And then, wordlessly, he raised her hands.
He brought them gently to the sides of his head, letting her fingertips graze the fabric of his hood, letting her feel the slope of his head beneath it— the shift in texture that gave away what was coming before she even knew it consciously. He held her gaze all the while, eyes locked on hers like a spell.
“Open your present, my pretty moon,” he murmured, voice velvet soft— low, intimate, filled with both promise and provocation.
Luna stared at him, blinking, unmoving.
His voice echoed in her skull like a ripple in still water, and for a second, all she could do was look— really look— at the man sitting in front of her. That playful glint in his eyes, that almost angelic calm on his face, the smugness he was trying to mask with affection. Her fingers twitched faintly where they rested on his hood, her breath shallow as she studied him.
She squinted, eyes narrowing like she was trying to solve a puzzle she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to.
And then, finally, slowly, she moved. Her fingers hooked into the hem of his hood— soft cotton under her palms— and with an almost reverent slowness, she pulled it back.
The hood slid off his head with a gentle whisper of fabric.
And time stilled.
Her breath hitched.
She hadn’t been prepared.
Her hands froze in mid-air, still hovering just inches above his now bare head. Her fingers trembled slightly, suspended like she was afraid to touch him now that the illusion had been lifted.
Jeonghan’s hair— his infamous, beloved, short, bad-boy hair— was gone.
Well, not gone, not entirely, but it was short.
The shortest he had ever gone.
Cropped neatly, the kind of cut that bared the sharp lines of his jaw, that made his cheekbones even more dangerous, that exposed the delicate curve of his forehead and left her staring at a man who looked older, sharper, sexier than any human being had the right to look.
Her fiancé was still smirking.
Of course he was.
Jeonghan was watching her like a cat watches a mouse— eyes dancing, lips quirked, basking in the glorious silence of her short-circuiting brain.
Luna opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Nothing came out.
No sound. No words. Not even a breath.
She looked like someone had just pulled the fire alarm in her brain and left her scrambling for the exits. Her heart was slamming against her ribs, her pulse so loud in her ears she was certain he could hear it. Her throat went dry. Her hands were still frozen mid-air, like her body hadn’t received the command to move.
Her mind was not doing better.
She could barely think straight. Thoughts were colliding, overlapping, spiraling out of order. He looked so… so good. So lethal. So unfairly hot. How dare he look like that? With that smirk and that jawline and that goddamn twinkle in his eye that said he knew exactly what kind of chaos he had just unleashed in her body.
She was going to die. Right here. Right now.
“Say something,” Jeonghan finally chuckled, tilting his head a little. “You look like you’re buffering.”
She could only shake her head slowly, blinking in disbelief.
He bit back a grin. “Do you like it?” he asked, voice low and teasing. “Hm? Do I look good, pretty girl?”
All she could do was nod— once, then twice. Mechanical. Slow.
“You sure?” he purred, his smirk widening just a fraction. “You’re awfully quiet. That’s not like you, Jiyeonie.”
Another nod.
Another breath she forgot to take.
Jeonghan laughed again, soft and pleased, before his hands found hers once more. He took them gently, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before pulling them toward his head again— this time, guiding her fingers directly into his hair.
It was short, yes, but it was still Jeonghan— still soft, still thick, still so very him.
“You said you loved running your hands through it,” he murmured, voice going softer, more intimate as he coaxed her fingers to rake gently through the strands. “You said you loved tugging on it when we kissed…”
His tone dropped, dangerously close to a whisper. “Said you loved the way it fell in my eyes. Loved how soft it was. How pretty it made me look.”
Luna’s breathing faltered again.
He leaned in closer, brushing his nose against her stomach through the towel.
“Well,” he said, smiling against her skin, “you can still do all those things, baby. Nothing’s changed.”
She swallowed hard, her hands finally moving on their own, fingers threading through the cropped strands. She ran them through slowly— feeling the weight of the change, feeling the warmth of his scalp, the texture, the newness of it all. She could already picture it under her palms when they kissed, when he bent over her, when he—
He slid his hands up the back of her thighs, warm and teasing, thumbs brushing the crease where the towel barely covered her.
“And you can still pull on it…” Jeonghan whispered, lips ghosting over her stomach.
And then, without warning, he reached up, removed his glasses with one hand and set them carefully on the bedside table with a soft clink.
His eyes, now unobstructed, met hers— dark, gleaming, wicked.
“It’s my turn to open my present,” he said softly.
And before she could even gasp, his hands gripped her waist, and in one smooth, fluid movement, he tugged the towel off her body and flipped them both onto the bed.
Luna landed with a breathless sound, sprawled bare beneath him on the cool sheets as Jeonghan hovered above her, knees bracketing her thighs, eyes devouring every inch of her like a man starved.
Her skin was flushed, trembling, her lips parted as she stared up at him in a stunned, heated daze.
And Jeonghan, ever the provocateur, only smiled.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured, tilting his head, lashes low and heavy. “That for me, pretty moon?”
Luna glared, breathless. “You think you’re so—”
He kissed the inside of her thigh, slow, firm, and maddeningly soft. Her sentence disintegrated into a sharp inhale. Her legs tried to close instinctively, but his arms looped around them, holding her open, possessive and deliberate.
“Shh,” he murmured against her skin, lips brushing closer, and closer, “I haven’t had dessert yet.”
Luna gripped the sheets beside her, heart pounding like it wanted to claw its way out of her chest. “Han—”
“Yes, baby?” he cooed sweetly, lips ghosting over her, not yet giving in. “You’ve been begging for weeks… but tonight, you get it how I want to give it. Slow. Desperate. I made you wait, remember?”
“Please,” she whispered, voice cracking with want, her fingers reaching for his hair, desperate to anchor herself to something real.
He chuckled darkly and nuzzled lower. “There she is.”
His hands slid down to her bare thighs, warm and teasing, as he slowly moved down between her legs. Luna watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, her fingers tightening in his hair as he leaned in, his breath hot against her skin. She moaned, her hips arching up to meet him as he brushed his lips over her inner thigh, his breath tickling her sensitive skin.
"Han," she gasped, her voice trembling with need. She wanted him— needed him— to touch her, to taste her. And from the way his eyes darkened, she knew he wanted the same thing.
With a low growl, he leaned in, his tongue darting out to taste her wet folds. Luna moaned, her fingers tightening in his hair as he teased her, licking and sucking, before moving up to her clit.
He sucked it hard, his mouth closing over it as he flicked his tongue against it. She moaned louder, her hips arching up into his mouth as he continued to suck, his fingers moving to her pussy, sliding inside her.
She was so fucking wet— she could feel it coating his fingers as they slid in and out of her, her juices dripping down her thighs. She writhed beneath him, her breathing coming in soft, panting gasps.
“Fuck– baby,” she moaned, her hands gripping the sheets as she rode his fingers, his mouth, losing herself in the pleasure that he was giving her.
He bit her inner thigh, the sharp pain a stark contrast to the pleasure that was coursing through her body. She gasped, her hips jerking as he sucked the tender flesh into his mouth, his teeth grazing her skin.
"Hannie, please," she begged, her fingers tugging at his hair, her body writhing beneath him.
He chuckled against her clit, the vibration sending shockwaves through her. he asked, his voice low and teasing. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with lust, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He gave her clit one last suck before moving lower, his tongue darting out to tease her entrance.
Luna cried out, her hips bucking as he played with her, his tongue dipping in and out of her. "Baby," she begged, her body aching with need. "I want you. Right now, Han," she pleaded, her voice ragged with desire.
Jeonghan looked up at her, a wicked grin playing on his lips. He could see the desperation in her eyes, the way her body was writhing beneath him, and he loved it. He loved seeing her like this— vulnerable, needy, completely at his mercy.
“Baby,” she whimpered, already close to falling apart from the excruciating build-up, her fingers lacing into his now-short hair. “Fuck, please— don’t stop—”
But of course he did. He pulled back, just enough to drive her insane.
“Hmm?” he hummed with a smug smirk against her skin, the vibration making her buck. “Didn’t catch that, baby. You’re gonna have to say it properly.”
Luna could barely form words. Her thighs trembled, breaths ragged, as he drew a single finger up her center with maddening precision before sliding it in. Her mouth opened on a gasp, her body arching up to meet his touch.
“Tell me what you want,” he coaxed, slow and low. “Use your words.”
“I want you,” she managed, voice broken and high. “I want your mouth— please— stop teasing, Hannie, I swear to god—”
“Oh?” he replied, amused, as if she hadn’t just begged him like her life depended on it. He added a second finger, curling just right. “But I haven’t even gotten started.”
Her back arched violently, hands gripping his hair, grounding herself.
“God— Jeongie— if you stop now—!”
He pulled back again.
And she screamed.
“Yoon Jeonghan!”
“What?” he grinned like the devil. “You’re not gonna kill me before I give you what you want, right?”
She glared at him, flushed and furious and on the verge of tears. “You’re evil. You’re genuinely evil. You know that?!”
“Maybe.” He tilted his head, giving her a full, innocent smile that only made her want to slap and kiss him all at once. “But I’m your evil.”
Before she could retort, he dove back in— this time, without mercy. His mouth closed over her, tongue relentless, fingers working in tandem, drawing out moans she didn’t know she could make. Her hands tightened in his hair, tugging hard, making him groan against her— primal, low, hungry.
The sounds she made— desperate, breathless, unfiltered— only spurred him on. His fingers curled, his tongue flicked, and her whole body started to shake. She was close— so close—
And he stopped again.
Luna let out a broken sob, writhing under him. “Jeongie, baby, please, please— don’t do this— baby, I’m begging. Hurts, please—”
That made Jeonghan pause.
His eyes flicked up to her face, seeing her flushed, panting, eyes glassy with tears. And it broke him. His expression melted from cocky to reverent in a single heartbeat.
“Fuck, look at you,” he whispered, voice hoarse, almost in awe. “So beautiful when you’re like this for me.”
He kissed her thigh, then the crease of her hip, then lower.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his breath warm and shivery. “Let go for me, okay, pretty girl?”
And this time— he didn’t stop.
Those full lips, still slick from her juices, curved into a grin as he darted his head back down between her thighs, not giving her any time to process what was happening. His tongue was a hot, wet trail as it lapped at her sensitive clit, teasing her, taunting her.
She squirmed beneath him, her hands fisting the sheets, but he was relentless. He pinned her down with his hands on her hips, holding her in place as he feasted on her, his hair scraping against her inner thighs in the most erotic way.
He was just as merciless as he'd promised. With each flick of his tongue, each suck of his mouth, she was pushed closer and closer to the edge.
“Feels so g-good,” her body trembled, her breasts heaved, and her nails dug into the sheets beneath her.
She was so close, so damn close, and she couldn’t hold back any longer. “Jeongie,” she gasped out, her voice hoarse with need. “Please, I can’t—”
And then she was lost. Her orgasm hit her like a freight train, ripping through her body, leaving her breathless and shaking. She cried out, her back arching, her hips bucking against his mouth. “Jeonghan! Oh God, baby!” She moaned his name like a prayer, like a plea, like a promise. She rode his mouth, her fingers in his hair, guiding him, urging him to take her higher, to take her further.
“Yes, baby,” he growled against her, his mouth still working her clit, his fingers still moving inside her.
“That’s it, come for me. Give me everything, pretty girl.”
He chuckled, the vibration sending more shockwaves through her. “Fuck, you taste so good, Jiyeon. So fucking sweet. I could eat you all day.” He cooed, his voice low and soothing as he continued to lick and suck, drawing out her pleasure.
Luna panted, her body shaking as the aftershocks of her orgasm coursed through her. She could barely breathe, barely think. All she could do was feel— feel his mouth on her, his fingers inside her, his voice, his words.
“Hannie,” she gasped, her fingers still tangled in his hair.
He smirked against her, his tongue teasing her clit one last time before he finally pulled back.
His eyes, dark and satisfied, met hers as he chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Fuck, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with lust and praise. "You taste so damn good. So sweet. So fucking perfect." He cooed, his fingers slowly withdrawing from her, his touch gentle, almost reverent.
Luna panted, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. She watched him, her eyes heavy-lidded, her heart still racing. He leaned back, his hands on her thighs, his gaze raking over her body like he couldn't get enough. She felt a blush creep up her cheeks at the heat in his eyes, at the sheer appreciation in his smile.
Her body was still humming with pleasure, her limbs heavy and languid from the aftermath of her release. Jeonghan's hands slid slowly up her thighs, his touch gentle yet possessive, as if he was staking his claim on her body.
He began to move up, crawling slowly over her, his eyes never leaving hers. She could feel every inch of him— the beat of his heart in his chest, the heat of his body as he covered hers. She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest, her breath catching in her throat as he hovered over her, his face mere inches from hers.
Their lips met in a slow, passionate kiss, a kiss that was all-consuming and desperate.
Jeonghan's hands cupped her face, his fingers tangled in her long, wine-red hair as he claimed her mouth, his tongue slipping inside, exploring, tasting. Luna moaned, her body arching into his, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. She could taste herself on him, and it sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through her.
He deepened the kiss, his teeth nipping at her lower lip before his tongue swept in to soothe the sting. Luna gasped, her hips bucking against him, her body aching for more. She could feel his hardness pressed against her, and she rocked against it, seeking friction, seeking another release.
Jeonghan growled, a low, primal sound that vibrated through her, sending shivers down her spine.
His hands tangled in her hair, with a firm grip, he pulled her head back, exposing her neck, and leaned down to nip at the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing gently before he soothed the sting with his tongue.
Luna gasped, her body arching into his, her hands grasping at his arms, her nails digging into his skin. She could feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his muscles, and she wanted more.
So much more.
But Jeonghan had other plans. He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and hungry as they met hers. He pushed her gently, a slight nudge with his body, and Luna understood. She slowly pushed him back, her hands on his chest, her eyes locked with his.
"Your turn, Hannie," she whispered, a wicked smile playing on her lips.
He laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Is that so, pretty girl?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Well, then, come on down here and show me what you've got."
Luna didn't need to be told twice. She slid down his body, her hands trailing over his body, before tugging on his hoodie and pulling it up with the help of her fiancé who understood her hat she wanted. Her lips leaving a path of kisses down his abdomen. But she didn't linger. She had a mission, and she was determined to see it through.
Luna looked up at him as she reached the waistband of his pants, her eyes filled with mischief as she caught sight of his cock.
She bit her lower lip, her tongue darting out to lick it softly, giving him a doe-eyed look that made him grin down at her. "I'm going to make you feel good, Jeongie," she whispered, her voice sultry and full of promise.
Jeonghan chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. "I have no doubt, pretty girl," he murmured, his eyes darkening with anticipation.
Luna slowly began to suck, her lips wrapping around the head of his cock. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent as she sucked him deeper into her mouth.
Jeonghan groaned, his fingers tangling in her hair, guiding her head as she sucked him. "Fuck, Jiyeon-ah," he hissed, his hips bucking slightly as she took him deeper. "You look so fucking hot like this. So eager, so desperate." Jeonghan groaned, his hips jerking slightly as Luna swirled her tongue around his tip, teasing him.
He could feel her breath on him, hot and wet, her lips tight around him as she suckled him gently. "Fuck, pretty girl, that feels so good." He groaned, his hands tightening their grip in her hair, guiding her head as she sucked him deeper.
Luna hummed softly against him, the vibration sending shivers down his spine. She knew he loved it when she did that, and she loved the reaction she got from him. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him from under her lashes, her eyes filled with mischief. She knew she had him right where she wanted him, and she was going to take her time to drive him crazy.
She began to suck him hard, her mouth moving up and down his length, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock. She could taste him, salty and musky, and she loved it. She loved the way he groaned above her, the way his hips bucked, the way his fingers tightened in her hair. She wanted more. She wanted all of him.
Luna took a deep breath, her eyes watering as she swallowed him down. She pushed past the initial gag reflex, her throat relaxing as she took him deeper, inch by inch.
“Right there,” Jeonghan let out a long, low moan, his hips jerking slightly as she took him all the way to the base. Luna looked up at him from where she was buried, her eyes watering, her nose pressing against his skin.
Jeonghan's fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her head with firm, steady motions. "That's right, baby," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Take my cock deep. Show me how good you are for me."
Luna moaned around him, the vibration sending shockwaves through his entire body. He could feel her throat working, her tongue swirling around his length as she took him deeper. He watched her, his eyes dark with lust, his jaw clenched as he fought to maintain control.
"Fuck, bunny," he hissed, his hips beginning to move in time with her mouth. "You're so damn good at this. So fucking eager."
Luna hummed in response, her body trembling as she sucked him harder, faster. She could feel the tension in his body, could sense the control he was exerting.
She wanted to break that control, wanted to push him over the edge. She took him deeper, her nose pressing against his skin, her gag reflex kicking in slightly. But she didn't stop. She pushed past it, her throat relaxing as she took him deeper still.
Jeonghan let out a low, guttural moan, his fingers tightening in her hair, his hips jerking involuntarily. "Fuck, Luna," he gasped, his voice hoarse with desire. "You're killing me here, pretty girl. You're fucking killing me," Jeonghan groaned, his fingers tightening in Luna's hair, guiding her head in a steady rhythm as she bobbed up and down on his cock. He could feel her throat working, her tongue swirling around his length, her lips tight and wet around him. He wanted to last, wanted to savor this, but Luna was relentless, her mouth hot and eager, her moans vibrating through him, driving him insane.
Jeonghan glanced down, watching as she took him deeper, her nose pressing against his skin, her eyes watering slightly. He could see the strings of saliva dripping from her lips, marking her determination, her desperation to please him. "Fuck, feels so good," he hissed, his hips beginning to move in time with her mouth, his body tensing as he fought to maintain control.
He couldn't take it anymore. He needed to be inside her. He needed to feel her hot, wet pussy surrounding his cock. He pulled her up abruptly, his hands gripping her shoulders, his eyes dark and desperate. "I can't take this anymore, pretty girl," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I need to be inside you. Ride me, Jiyeonie. Now."
Luna looked up at him, her eyes hazy with lust and surprise. But she didn't hesitate. She knew Jeonghan was close to the edge, could feel his body trembling with the effort to hold back. She wanted this as much as he did. She scrambled onto his lap, her hands bracing on his shoulders as she straddled him, her eyes locked with his as she positioned the head of his cock at her entrance.
Jeonghan's grip tightened on her hips, his eyes dark and intense, his body trembling with anticipation as he watched her lower herself onto him.
“Shit– Han—” Luna moaned softly, her body shivering as she took him in, inch by inch, her eyes never leaving his. She could feel every ridge, every vein, as he filled her completely.
Jeonghan let out a low, guttural groan, his fingers digging into her flesh as she began to move, her hips riding him hard and fast.
She leaned back slightly, her hands braced on his knees, her head thrown back in ecstasy as she took him deeper, harder. Jeonghan watched her, his body tensing as she moved, his eyes never leaving hers. "Fuck, that’s it," he growled, his voice low and hoarse. "You feel so good, baby. So fucking tight," Jeonghan groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as she rode him, her body bouncing up and down on his cock.
Luna moaned, her head thrown back, her eyes closed as she lost herself in the sensation of him filling her completely. She could feel every inch of him, could feel the way he stretched her, the way he hit that spot deep inside her that made her see stars.
She moved faster, her hips bouncing harder, her breasts bouncing with each movement. She reached up, her hands cupping her own breasts, her fingers pinching her nipples as she rode him. "Hannie," she moaned, her voice ragged with need. “Feels so good, baby— you make me feel so g-good.”
“Yeah?” Jeonghan's hands moved from her hips to her breasts, his fingers wrapping around her soft flesh as he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.
“Fuck, yes!” Luna moaned, leaning her hands back on his knees, her body arching into his touch. The wet sounds of their lovemaking filled the room, the slapping of skin against skin, the squelching of her pussy as she rode him hard and fast.
Jeonghan lifted his head, his eyes darkening as he watched Luna's body move above him. He reached up, his hand wrapping around her throat, pulling her down to him as he kissed her.
Their lips met in a messy, wet tangle, their tongues darting out to taste each other, their saliva mixing as they devoured each other. Luna moaned into his mouth, her body trembling as she felt his fingers at her mouth, gently opening her lips before he spit into her mouth.
They pulled away, staring at each other, their breaths ragged, their bodies slick with sweat. Jeonghan's fingers, still wet from her mouth, trailed down her body, finding her clit and rubbing it in slow, steady circles. Luna gasped, her hips jerking as he touched her, her body already so sensitive from her earlier orgasm.
She rode him harder, her body slamming down onto his, her breasts bouncing with each movement. Jeonghan's fingers tightened on her hips, his grip bruising as he held her in place, his hips bucking up to meet her thrusts. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained. "You feel so good. So tight. I should edge you more often.”
“Harder– w-want it harder, Jeongie,” Luna moaned, her head thrown back, her eyes closed as she rode him, her body on fire. She could feel every inch of him, could feel the way he filled her completely, the way he hit that spot deep inside her that made her see stars. She moved faster, her hips bouncing harder, her body desperate for release.
Jeonghan, sensing her urgency, gripped her hips tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh. "Yeah? Fuck—," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "You want it harder, bunny? Is that what my bunny needs?" Jeonghan growled, his voice low and commanding.
Luna, her eyes wild with desire, mewled her reply, a sound that was half-moan, half-whimper. "Yes, Jeongie, baby. Please, fuck me harder." She begged, her voice ragged with need.
With a wicked grin, Jeonghan gripped her hips tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh as he began to pound into her, his hips slamming up to meet hers with each thrust.
“Fuck!” Luna cried out, her body jolting with each impact, her breasts bouncing wildly. She could feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein, as he filled her completely, stretching her to her limit.
It was exactly what she needed, what she craved.
Jeonghan's dirty words, his filthy whispers, sent shivers down her spine, igniting a fire within her that threatened to consume her. "Like this? You want it like this, don’t you?" he groaned, his voice thick with lust, his eyes locked onto hers. "You're so fucking tight, my baby. Your pussy is so fucking wet and hot. I can feel you clenching around me, milking my cock." He growled, his hips slamming up into her with a force that made her gasp.
"You want to come, don't you? You want to feel my cock pulsing inside you as you come all over it?" His fingers tightened on her hips, holding her in place as he continued to pound into her, his body glistening with sweat.
Luna couldn't respond, couldn't form a coherent thought.
All she could do was moan and babble nonsense. All she could do was feel, feel the way he filled her, the way he moved inside her, the way he made her feel alive. She was lost in the sensation, her body on fire, her mind blank. She could only moan, her voice a low, guttural sound that seemed to come from deep within her.
Jeonghan chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. "You're so fucking beautiful when you're like this, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "So desperate, so needy. It's fucking hot." He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Come for me, bunny. Come all over my cock." His fingers tightened on her hips, his grip bruising as he held her in place, his hips slamming up to meet hers with each thrust.
"I want to feel you come, Luna. Let go, baby," Jeonghan growled, his fingers digging into her hips as he thrust into her, his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside her.
Luna's moans filled the room, her body tensing as she felt the familiar build-up of pleasure. "Han, I'm... I'm so close," she panted, her nails digging into his shoulders.
"Come on, Jiyeonie. Give it to me," he urged, his voice thick with desire. "Let me feel you come all over my cock." His words sent her over the edge.
Luna threw her head back, a loud cry escaping her lips as her orgasm crashed through her. "Hannie!" she screamed, her body convulsing as she came, her pussy clenching around him.
Jeonghan groaned, his body tensing as he felt her come apart around him. "Fuck, Jiyeonie. That's it, baby. Come for me," Jeonghan groaned, his voice thick with lust. “You’ve been waiting for so long. Let go, pretty girl," he urged, his voice thick with desire.
“Ah! Han– Hannie!” Luna cried as she fell down on top of Jeonghan’s chest, her hips sloppily grinding on his lap as her fiancé helped her.
“That’s it– fuck—” Jeonghan growled, his voice thick with desire as he felt her pussy clench around him, her body convulsing as her orgasm ripped through her. He groaned, his own release following close behind, his body tensing as he spilled into her, his cock pulsing with each thrust.
They both cried out, their bodies shuddering as they rode out their orgasms together.
As the last waves of pleasure subsided, they collapsed onto the bed, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.
Jeonghan pulled Luna into his arms, his fingers tangling in her now messy, red hair as he held her close, his heart still pounding in his chest. "Fuck, baby," he murmured, his voice soft and content. "That was... that was incredible."
Luna lay sprawled across Jeonghan’s bare chest, her eyes still closed, her body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of her orgasm. Their skin still warm from everything they had given and taken from each other. Her cheek was pressed just beneath his collarbone, his heartbeat still loud and steady under her ear.
Jeonghan arm wrapped around her back lazily, fingertips tracing soft, featherlight patterns along the curve of her spine, as if sketching invisible love letters on her skin. Her leg tangled between his, her red hair a vivid splash of color against his flushed chest.
The room was dim, quiet except for the soft hum of the AC and the subtle rise and fall of their breathing.
Then came his voice— low, husky, and smugly satisfied, like velvet laced with mischief.
“I should tease you more often,” Jeonghan said, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk as he tilted his chin to kiss the top of her head.
Luna let out a breathless laugh against his skin. “Says the man who’s already been torturing me for two weeks.”
Jeonghan hummed, his fingers slipping into her hair to gently cradle the back of her head. “Yeah, but seeing you fall apart like that… baby, that was next-level. I think I found a new hobby.”
Her nails grazed along the lines of his ribs, lazy and playful. “If your new hobby involves denying me my sanity and orgasms, I will riot.”
He chuckled. “You begged so sweetly though.”
“Hannie,” she whined, lifting her head to glare at him—though her swollen lips and hazy eyes softened the threat.
“What?” he laughed, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “It’s true, Nana-ya. You were clinging to me like I was oxygen. Sounded like a prayer.”
“That was your fault.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining.”
“I didn’t have the breath to complain,” she fired back, flicking his forehead gently before resting her chin on his chest again.
He smiled lazily. “That’s not an insult, you know. It’s a compliment. You looked like a goddess unraveling.”
“And you looked like a smug bastard who knew exactly what he was doing.”
“I did,” Jeonghan agreed without shame, brushing his knuckles along her jaw. “And you looked like someone who’s never going to dye her hair red again unless she wants to start a war.”
Luna smirked against his chest, biting her lip. “Oh, but wasn’t it worth it?”
His hand slipped lower, brushing down her bare back. “Undeniably. You looked so hot I almost cancelled my entire plan the moment I saw you a week ago.”
“Almost?”
“I had to make it more dramatic, didn’t I?” he grinned. “Build the tension.”
“You built something alright,” she muttered, which earned a low laugh from him.
“You love it.”
“I do,” she sighed, tracing shapes on his chest now. “God, I really do. I don’t know how you do it— how you always know exactly how to break me apart without actually… breaking me.”
Jeonghan tilted his head, his voice turning softer. “That’s ‘cause I know what pieces to hold onto.”
She looked up at him, blinking slowly. “That was unfairly poetic for a post-sex cuddle.”
“I’m a man of many talents,” he said, tapping her nose. “Including mind-reading. Admit it— you were thinking the exact same thing.”
Her lips twitched. “That we’re both chaos in human form?”
He grinned. “That too. But mostly… that we’re both completely insane for each other. You dyed your hair wine red thinking I’d lose my mind. And I chopped mine off knowing you’d melt.”
“And we both did,” she murmured, eyes flickering to his slightly damp forehead and newly exposed nape. “God, we’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously perfect.”
“Ugh, shut up,” she groaned playfully, hiding her face in his chest again.
But she couldn’t stop smiling.
They were right.
They were the same person.
The same brand of mischief and obsession, operating on shared brain cells and inside jokes. Both thinking of the same plan, both holding out on each other for weeks, both hit in the gut by the exact reactions they knew would come.
They had driven each other insane on purpose— and loved every second of it.
Luna loved how Jeonghan touched her like a secret he never planned to share— slow, reverent, all-knowing. How his voice alone could unravel her spine and make her knees forget their purpose. He never raised his voice, never forced his power— but somehow, she always found herself breathless, pliant, and begging, like he’d unlocked some ancient code only he knew. He was the only one who could make her fall to her knees without asking, the only one who made surrender feel like worship.
And Jeonghan?
Jeonghan loved how Luna held the leash thinking it made her the master, not realizing he handed it to her just to watch how pretty she looks pretending she’s in control. He loved how she played the part of the temptress so well, she forgot he wrote the script— and every line she moaned was part of his plan.
He loved how, deep down, Luna knew all of it.
Knew exactly what he was doing. Knew he was orchestrating her unraveling with every glance, every pause, every carefully timed breath— and let him do it anyway. Jeonghan loved how she surrendered not out of weakness, but because she trusted that in his hands, surrender became power. Loved how she’d look up at him, glassy-eyed and flushed, daring him to take more even when she was already undone. He loved how she let him ruin her— again and again— and never once begged for mercy, only more.
Because she knew he would worship every inch he broke.
They loved driving each other insane.
And they wouldn’t have it any other way.
mdni banner: @cafekitsune
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I reblogged her late last year and my 2024 has been very satisfying work-wise and (secure enough to not stress out) money-wise so far. Money Snake is wise and good.
synopsis: When their five-year secret relationship is exposed, Luna and Jeonghan navigate the chaos of public scrutiny, media frenzy, and agency interference— only to prove that no one really knows them except the people who truly matter.
warnings: angst, angst, angst, cursing, crying, anxiety, detailed description of panic attack, arguments, Dispatch’s bitchass, established relationship, hate comments, haters with no lives whatsoever, slut shaming, detailed description of hate comments, media, mentions of enlistment, Bae Jiyeon and Yoon Jeonghan are about to end lives, ends with fluff, they are so in love it hurts
bringing back the angst with a sprinkle of fluff for you, my lovelies 🤭 this will focus on JeongNa’s last date before Han’s enlistment and then being exposed + their reactions. btw, i pissed myself off writing this 😀 anyway! enjoy, my loves 💕
i have posted the articles confirming their relationship a few months ago, so go check them out if you haven’t already— 240924: AllKpop Article & 240925: Soompi Article + fan reaction tweets— AllKpop & Soompi Article Reaction + Luna’s ig post response— 240925: Blue
also, this— “what if I roll the stone away? they're gonna crucify me anyway. what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy? if long suffering propriety is what they want from me, they don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly. i choose you and me… religiously.” (try to find the reference in the story 🤭)
That’s what Luna and Jeonghan thought when they first started their relationship.
It was long overdue— the tension, the lingering glances that lasted a beat too long, the unspoken words hanging in the air, waiting to be acknowledged. The drama of it all, the drunken confessions, the rejection, the stolen moments that meant more than they let on— it had been building for so long that when it finally happened, it felt inevitable.
Natural.
Like breathing.
So, when they finally crossed that line, when Jeonghan kissed her for the first time and Luna didn’t pull away, when their hands found each other’s in the dark and refused to let go— it was everything they had imagined and more.
And naturally, they fell into the honeymoon phase.
A world of their own, untouched by anyone else.
It wasn’t that they didn’t trust their members or their families— it was just that, for once, they wanted something that was only theirs.
Something that didn’t have to be shared, explained, or justified.
It was thrilling, this secret, knowing that when the cameras turned off and the doors closed, they were no longer just Jeonghan and Luna, best friends, members of the same team— they were them.
Something more, something sacred.
For months, they relished in the privacy of their love. Whispered conversations at odd hours, secret smiles across crowded rooms, hands brushing under tables where no one could see.
And they were so careful.
At least, until their parents found out.
It had only been a few months, but it turned out keeping a secret from their parents was a whole different game. Their families had always been close— closer than the other members’ families— and as it turned out, parents knew their children.
Maybe it was the way Jeonghan’s mother caught him checking his phone with a smile too soft to be casual, or how Luna’s father noticed her humming love songs under her breath, looking far too dreamy. Maybe it was the way they unconsciously gravitated toward each other during family gatherings, how they were never too far apart, how their conversations had an ease that went beyond simple friendship.
They didn’t say anything outright at first. But the knowing looks, the teasing comments, the gentle nudges— it was all calculated.
Until one day, both Jeonghan and Luna were cornered separately and gently interrogated.
They could have lied.
They could have denied it.
But parents knew.
So with a sigh, they admitted it.
And with that, their secret was no longer theirs alone.
That’s how their parents found out about their relationship.
They don’t know about us.
That’s what Jeonghan and Luna thought as they sat back, watching their members, keeping their secret from them for just a little while longer.
It wasn’t that they didn’t trust them. It wasn’t that they were afraid of what they would think.
It was just that they weren’t ready.
The longer they kept it to themselves, the longer they could preserve the magic of it being just theirs.
One whole year.
That was how long they managed to keep it hidden from their members.
An entire year of stolen moments and careful maneuvering, of sneaking off after practice and pretending they were just best friends in front of the others.
An entire year of their own little world, untouched.
And it worked.
Until it didn’t.
They were so careful.
But one night, they got too comfortable.
It was late, they were alone— at least, that’s what they thought. The practice room was empty, the lights dimmed, and they were tired, bodies pressed close, lips moving together like they had all the time in the world.
And then the door opened.
And twelve pairs of eyes stared.
And that was that.
That’s how the rest of the members found out about their relationship.
They don’t know about us.
That’s what Luna and Jeonghan thought as they continued their relationship for five more years, keeping it a secret from everyone else— everyone except their families and their members.
Calculated. Careful. Strategic.
They made sure of it.
But secrecy didn’t mean distance.
They never shied away from expressing their feelings in public or on camera.
The glances, the praises, the little touches that meant everything— they were obvious.
Too obvious.
But that was the trick, wasn’t it? To make it so obvious that no one actually believed it.
Best friends.
Soulmates.
That’s what the fans and the public called them.
Because it was unrealistic, right? That they would actually be together?
And that was the goal.
Until one night, both Jeonghan and Luna let their guard down too early.
And suddenly, they weren’t just best friends anymore.
They were a headline.
It started two days ago.
Two days.
That was all the time they had left before Jeonghan was set to enlist.
Luna and Jeonghan had always known this moment was inevitable. The topic of his enlistment had lingered between them for years, a shadow they had learned to live with, a reality they had come to accept. It wasn’t something they could ignore, not when time kept moving forward, not when Jeonghan’s departure was written in stone long before they had even fallen in love.
They had talked about it thoroughly, the weight of it heavy but never unbearable. There had been tears— mostly on Luna’s part, silent and bittersweet— but in the end, they made peace with it.
Jeonghan wasn’t leaving forever.
He wasn’t even leaving for long.
Because of his previous elbow and ankle injuries, he wasn’t serving in active duty. Instead, he would be doing alternative military service, social work that allowed him to return home every night.
The only time he would truly be away from her was during his initial two weeks of basic training.
And then, he’d be back.
Back to her, back to them, back to everything they had built together.
To them, that was more than enough.
But even with that knowledge, even with the comfort of knowing he would come home to her every night, time felt more precious than ever.
In the months leading up to his enlistment, Jeonghan and Luna had become inseparable— even more so than usual, and that was saying something.
The members noticed it immediately, but none of them said anything. They let them be, let them cling to each other as if time would slow down if they just held on tight enough.
And after Berlin— after the night he slipped a ring onto her finger, after she whispered yes into his kiss— Jeonghan’s attachment to Luna only intensified.
They had always been touchy, always drawn to each other like gravity itself pulled them together.
But after getting engaged, it was different.
Jeonghan barely let her out of his sight. If he wasn’t holding her hand, he had an arm around her waist. If she wasn’t sitting beside him, he’d pull her onto his lap. If they weren’t in the same room, he’d be texting or calling her, asking when she’d be back.
And Luna was no better.
She soaked up every second with him like she was trying to memorize the way he fit into her life, the way he felt pressed against her side, the way he murmured her name like it was the only word that mattered.
Whenever they could, they went on dates— lazy mornings spent wrapped up in each other, quiet evenings cooking together, late-night drives through the city, shopping trips where Jeonghan insisted on buying her everything she even glanced at.
Every moment mattered.
Which was how they found themselves here— two days before Jeonghan was set to enlist— wandering through a quiet park hand in hand, long past midnight, with only the streetlights and the faint rustling of leaves as their company.
The closer the day got, the more desperate they became.
For more time. For more memories. For each other.
So when Jeonghan had asked her, “Wanna go for a walk with me?” there had been no hesitation. No questions.
She had just nodded, slipping her hand into his.
And their desperation for more time made them reckless.
They hadn’t bothered with hats or face masks, hadn’t hidden behind sunglasses or scarves. There was no disguise, no attempt to shield themselves from the world.
They walked through the park as they were— hand in hand, smiles soft, laughter echoing in the quiet night.
Their fans had seen them like this before, after all.
“Friendly dates,” the internet called them.
Best friends, soulmates, nothing more, nothing less.
Holding hands, hugging, clinging to each other like their lives depended on it— none of it was new.
This wouldn’t be any different from the rest.
Right?
Wrong.
They very were wrong.
They had thought this night would be like all the others. Another quiet moment stolen from the rest of the world, tucked away in the familiarity of each other. Another walk under the moonlight, just the two of them, wrapped up in the comfort of knowing that no matter what happened, no matter where life took them, they would always find their way back to each other.
But they were wrong.
The park was empty, the air crisp with the lingering chill of fall. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves in the breeze, the distant hum of the city beyond the trees, and the soft rhythm of their footsteps against the pavement.
Luna and Jeonghan walked hand in hand, their fingers intertwined, swaying their arms gently up and down like children playing as they strolled without a destination.
It was peaceful. It was quiet. It was them.
“Remember the first time we did this?” Luna mused, her voice just above a whisper, as if she was afraid speaking too loudly would break the moment.
Jeonghan hummed, tilting his head slightly in thought. “Which one? We do this a lot.”
Luna rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully. “The very first time. Back when we weren’t even dating yet.”
A lazy grin tugged at his lips as the memory resurfaced. “Ah… that one. You mean the time we got caught in the rain, and you whined about your shoes getting soaked the whole way back?”
“I was wearing suede boots, Han,” she huffed, but there was no real annoyance behind her words.
He chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. And I was the one who gave you my hoodie so you wouldn’t complain the whole night.”
“You offered it to me,” she corrected.
“Because you wouldn’t stop pouting.”
She let out a small scoff but didn’t argue further, instead squeezing his hand in silent amusement.
They walked in silence for a while, the rhythm of their footsteps in sync, their hands warm against the night air. It was moments like these— simple, unhurried, effortless— that made it hard to believe time was slipping through their fingers.
Luna exhaled softly, glancing up at the sky. “It’s funny,” she murmured.
Jeonghan glanced at her. “What is?”
“How… nothing really changes, but at the same time, everything does.”
He hummed again, as if considering her words. “That’s life, isn’t it?”
She nodded slowly. “It just… doesn’t feel real sometimes. That we’ve been together this long. That we’ve managed to keep it ours for this long.”
Jeonghan smiled, bringing their joined hands up to press a lingering kiss to the back of hers. “It’s real.”
Luna turned to him, her gaze soft, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of his face. “I know,” she whispered.
There was another stretch of silence, comfortable and full, before Jeonghan sighed, nudging her toward a bench nestled under the soft glow of a streetlamp. “Come here,” he murmured, tugging her down beside him.
Luna went willingly, shifting so she could wrap her arms around his torso, pressing herself against his side. Jeonghan draped his arm over her shoulders with practiced ease, his fingers slipping into her hair as he gently guided her head onto his shoulder.
She let out a quiet sigh as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.
For a while, they just sat there, wrapped up in each other, listening to the distant sounds of the city beyond their little world.
“I’m gonna miss this,” Luna admitted after a moment.
Jeonghan’s hold on her tightened slightly. “I’ll still be here, my moon.”
She closed her eyes. “I know. But it’ll be different.”
“It won’t be forever.”
Luna let out a breath of laughter. “I hate that you’re always right.”
Jeonghan chuckled, pressing another kiss into her hair. “You love that I’m always right.”
She tilted her head up to glance at him, lips curling in a small smirk. “Debatable.”
He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he rested his chin atop her head, his fingers lazily playing with the ends of her hair.
After a beat, he spoke again, voice softer this time. “I’m gonna miss this, too.”
Luna swallowed. “Yeah?”
He hummed. “You. Us. Coming home and seeing you there. Falling asleep next to you.” He paused. “Waking up next to you.”
Luna bit her lip, tightening her hold on him.
Jeonghan sighed. “I don’t want you to feel sad while I’m gone.”
“I won’t.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Promise me?”
She turned her head just enough to press a small kiss against his collarbone. “I promise.”
Jeonghan exhaled slowly, his grip on her never loosening, as if he was afraid that if he did, she would slip away.
Luna closed her eyes, willing the sting behind her eyelids to fade before the tears could fall.
She promised herself she wouldn’t cry. She promised him she wouldn’t be sad. She didn’t want Jeonghan to see her cry, not when he had enough on his plate already, not when this was inevitable— something they both knew was coming for years now.
It’s only two weeks.
It’s only two weeks.
It’s only two weeks.
She repeated it in her head like a mantra, as if saying it enough times would make it feel true, would make the ache in her chest subside.
Two weeks of basic training, then he would be back, working an office job, coming home to her every night. It was nothing compared to what others had to endure, nothing compared to what it could have been.
And yet…
Two weeks.
They had never been apart for that long.
Not once.
Not ever.
Since the moment they met as teenagers, since the day Jeonghan waltzed into her life with that lazy smile and sharp wit, since the first time she rolled her eyes at him only for him to make her laugh a second later, they had never spent more than a few days apart.
Even when schedules were hectic, even when they were on different sides of the world, they always found a way back to each other— calls, texts, midnight flights, anything to close the distance.
But this time, there was no way around it.
This time, it was real.
Jeonghan, ever attuned to her, read her silence as easily as he read his own thoughts. Without a word, he lifted their joined hands, brushing his lips against the back of hers, pressing a lingering kiss there before turning his attention to her fingers, kissing each one, soft and slow, as if he was trying to soothe away the thoughts swirling in her head.
Luna sniffled, blinking up at him, and Jeonghan smiled, his usual playful lilt slipping back into his voice as he spoke.
“You know,” he mused, pressing one last kiss to her knuckle, “this is starting to feel like one of those tragic romance dramas you love watching.”
Luna scoffed, but the sound was weak, breathless. “Oh, shut up.”
“I’m serious.” He grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. “You, the heartbroken heroine, left behind as her lover bravely marches off to his destiny.” He placed a hand on his chest, feigning sorrow. “You’ll wait for me, won’t you, my baby?”
She rolled her eyes, shoving him lightly. “You’re so dramatic.”
Jeonghan gasped, placing a hand over his heart. “Me? Dramatic?”
“Yes, you.”
“Jiyeonie, sweetheart, my moon, my pretty angel, my baby,” he drawled, shaking his head. “I wish I could say I’m offended, but honestly, I’m just proud of you for finally learning how to lie.”
She let out a small, breathy laugh, the tightness in her chest easing just a little.
Jeonghan beamed, clearly pleased with himself. “There it is. That’s the smile I love.”
Luna exhaled, shaking her head as she leaned into him, her voice softer this time. “You really can’t let me have my moment for a second, can you?”
“Nope.” Jeonghan tilted his head, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “Not when I know you’ll overthink yourself into a spiral the second I let you.”
Luna pursed her lips, knowing he was right but refusing to admit it. “I just…” She sighed, her fingers curling slightly against his chest. “I don’t want to miss you.”
Jeonghan’s gaze softened. “I know, baby.”
“It’s stupid,” she muttered. “Two weeks isn’t even that long.”
“It’s not stupid,” he said gently. “You’re allowed to miss me.”
She huffed. “You want me to miss you.”
Jeonghan smirked. “Well, yeah. A little ego boost never hurt anyone.”
Luna rolled her eyes again, but this time, she smiled. “Unbelievable.”
He squeezed her waist, bringing her closer. “Come on, it’s not that bad. Think about it this way: two weeks without me means two weeks of extra sleep. No one to steal the blankets, no one to wake you up in the middle of the night just because I’m bored—”
“You say that like it’s a good thing,” she interrupted.
Jeonghan grinned, his thumb tracing slow circles against her hip. “Admit it. You love when I wake you up.”
Luna scoffed. “I love my sleep more.”
He gasped, placing a hand over his chest again. “Wow. So heartless.”
She bit her lip, trying to hold back her smile. “I’m just being honest.”
Jeonghan narrowed his eyes playfully. “Fine. Then I take back all those times I made you breakfast in bed.”
Luna arched a brow. “Breakfast? You mean the half-burnt toast and instant coffee?”
“Handcrafted with love, love of my life,” he corrected.
She laughed, shaking her head. “If that’s what you call ‘handcrafted,’ I think I’ll survive two weeks without it.”
Jeonghan let out an exaggerated sigh. “My own fiancée… betraying me like this.”
Luna grinned, shifting so she could press a soft kiss against his jaw. “You’ll live.”
He hummed, his hold on her tightening ever so slightly. “Yeah, but I’d rather live with you.”
Luna’s breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her fingers brushing against his cheek.
“Then come home soon,” she whispered.
Jeonghan smiled, leaning in to kiss her— soft, slow, lingering. “I will, for you.”
Luna lifted her head, her gaze locking onto Jeonghan’s as the corners of her lips twitched in amusement.
“Yeah?” she murmured, her voice teasing yet quiet, barely more than a breath between them.
Jeonghan’s lips curled into a smirk, his own voice dropping into a whisper. “Yeah.”
Her eyes flickered between his, studying the depth of his stare, the way he was looking at her— like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“Really?” she teased, her nose barely brushing against his as she tilted her head slightly.
“Really,” Jeonghan confirmed, his smirk widening as he rubbed the tip of his nose against hers, the gentle eskimo kiss making Luna giggle softly, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment at the affection.
Jeonghan stilled, watching her— memorizing her.
The way her nose scrunched just slightly as she giggled, the way her lips curved, the way her laughter melted into a small, content sigh.
He wanted to keep this moment, trap it in time so he could play it back again and again.
Then, with a quiet exhale, he leaned in.
The first kiss was barely a brush of lips, a fleeting peck— a soft introduction, like the whisper of a promise.
Then another.
And another.
Each peck slow and deliberate, as if they had all the time in the world.
But they didn’t.
That realization hit Jeonghan all at once, settling deep in his chest like a weight. They didn’t have all the time in the world. They barely had two days.
And just like that, his patience slipped away.
Jeonghan deepened the kiss, his lips pressing more firmly against hers, his hand coming up to cup her jaw, thumb stroking against her cheek as he tilted her head back slightly. Luna let him, exhaling softly through her nose as she melted against him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.
The movement of their lips was slow but intentional, like they were savoring the feeling— like they were trying to etch the sensation into memory.
Jeonghan took his time, kissing her deeply, his lips warm and soft against hers, a quiet hum vibrating in his throat as he felt Luna respond, matching his movements with ease, with familiarity, with the same silent understanding that had always existed between them.
And then, like a dam breaking, the kiss shifted.
Luna felt the moment Jeonghan’s restraint wavered, felt the way his fingers gripped her just a bit tighter, the way his lips moved with more urgency, the way his breath hitched between kisses. The change was subtle at first, a slow descent into something deeper, something desperate— until suddenly, there was no space between them, no hesitation.
His other hand found her waist, pulling her closer, and Luna let out a quiet, breathy sound as she tilted her head further, allowing him to take full control. Jeonghan took advantage of it immediately, his lips parting against hers as his fingers traced down the side of her neck, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.
She tasted like peppermint and something unmistakably sweet— something unmistakably Luna, a taste he could never quite describe but knew he would never forget. He sighed into her mouth, taking his time to memorize it, to let it brand itself into his senses.
Luna kissed him back just as fervently, her hands slipping up to tangle in his hair, nails grazing against his scalp as she pulled him impossibly closer. The sensation sent a shiver down Jeonghan’s spine, his fingers twitching against her waist before gripping just a little tighter.
Time didn’t exist.
Nothing else existed.
It was just them.
Kissing like the world was going to take it all away.
And maybe, in a way, it was.
The desperation grew, their lips moving in perfect sync, breath mingling between soft sighs and quiet hums, until suddenly—
Jeonghan pulled away.
Luna barely processed it before she was chasing after him, lips parting as she tried to close the distance again, refusing to let the moment slip away so soon.
A deep chuckle rumbled in Jeonghan’s throat, the sound low and knowing as he indulged her immediately, meeting her halfway as he captured her lips again, softer this time— less desperate, more lingering.
A few more kisses followed, slow and sweet, until finally, they both pulled away for real, their foreheads resting together as their breaths intermingled.
Neither spoke for a moment, simply basking in the warmth of each other, the quiet hum of the night around them.
Then, finally, Jeonghan smiled, breathless and dazed.
“Damn,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, “I was going to say something, but now I’ve completely forgotten what it was.”
Luna exhaled a soft laugh, her fingers still playing with the strands of his hair as she whispered, “Was it important?”
Jeonghan hummed, pretending to think for a moment before smirking. “Not as important as this.”
Luna grinned, rolling her eyes. “Cheesy.”
“Admit it, Nana-ya,” he murmured, pressing another kiss— just a light peck this time— against her lips. “You love it.”
She sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”
Jeonghan chuckled, wrapping his arms around her as he nuzzled his nose against hers once more. “Good. Because I’m not planning on stopping anytime soon.”
Jeonghan breathed out, his gaze locked onto hers, filled with nothing but warmth and devotion. “I love you, my pretty moon,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the weight of every moment they had shared.
Luna’s lips curled into a soft smile as she reached up to cradle his face, her thumb tracing gentle circles against his skin. “I love you too,” she whispered back, her words laced with the same tenderness that had always existed between them.
The night stretched on, the moon casting a soft, silver glow over the park, illuminating the quiet sanctuary where Jeonghan and Luna sat curled up together on the weathered wooden bench.
The world around them had long faded into the background, leaving just the two of them in their own little bubble, a space where time seemed to slow and everything outside of them ceased to exist.
Jeonghan’s arms remained lazily draped around her, fingers tracing mindless patterns along her shoulder, while Luna tucked herself into his side, her head resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was a sound she knew by heart, one that had always comforted her— always reminded her that he was there.
Neither of them spoke for a while, but words weren’t necessary. They had spent years learning each other’s silences, understanding the weight of every quiet moment, every sigh, every unspoken thought. And tonight, their silence spoke volumes.
Jeonghan shifted slightly, tilting his head to press another kiss against the crown of her head before resting his chin there. His fingers slipped down to intertwine with hers again, gently squeezing as if to remind her— I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.
Luna squeezed back.
This moment belonged to them.
Just them.
No cameras. No flashing lights. No prying eyes. No one to tell them who they should be, how they should act, how they should dress, how they should live.
For years, they had mastered the art of existing under the radar, moving like shadows through a world that wasn’t meant to see them. They had found ways to love each other without letting the world know— soft touches hidden in plain sight, whispered words in stolen moments, glances that spoke louder than words ever could.
And tonight, in the quiet embrace of the night, under the glow of the moon and the distant hum of the city, they allowed themselves to be just Jeonghan and Luna.
No masks. No pretense. Just them.
But they had been wrong.
So wrong.
Because hidden in the shadows, from a distance neither of them had noticed, they were not alone.
A group of men— silent, calculated, and patient— had trailed after them, staying just far enough behind to remain undetected.
They had seen everything.
They had seen Jeonghan and Luna enter the park, had watched as they walked hand in hand without a second thought, without disguises, without the usual caution that kept them safe.
And then, when the two lovers had sunk into their moment of unguarded intimacy, the men had done their job.
Professional cameras, long-range lenses, and the precision of years of experience had ensured that everything— every single detail— was captured.
Every touch.
Every smile.
Every lingering gaze.
Every kiss.
Every single breath.
Every single moment that had once belonged to Jeonghan and Luna alone— stolen.
Framed within lenses meant for the world to see.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The shutters had been relentless, capturing their love in high definition, freezing each second of their private moment into something that would soon be dissected, analyzed, and spread across every screen, every headline, every social media feed.
And just like that…
Their little bubble— the one that had protected them for five long years— popped.
The world would come flooding in.
And it did… they came flooding in.
The morning light barely seeped through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the bedroom. The world outside was already stirring, but inside, Jeonghan and Luna remained blissfully unaware, wrapped up in the warmth of each other.
Luna was curled against him, her body pressed to his side, head resting on his chest, where the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulled her deeper into sleep. Jeonghan had one arm around her, his fingers absentmindedly splayed across her back, while the other rested atop the blanket that loosely covered them.
Everything was still.
Everything was quiet.
Until it wasn’t.
The noise started subtly— just a single vibration at first.
Then another.
And another.
And another.
Until it became a relentless series of buzzes, chimes, and notification dings that broke the peaceful silence.
Jeonghan stirred, his brows furrowing in annoyance, but Luna, the heavy sleeper that she was, barely moved.
Then came the ringing.
One call after another, overlapping, insistent— unrelenting.
Jeonghan was a light sleeper, and there was no way he could ignore it. His lashes fluttered, and with a groggy sigh, he opened his eyes, blinking against the dim light as his mind tried to catch up with reality.
His body reacted before his mind did. One hand instinctively lifted, covering Luna’s ear to shield her from the noise, while the other moved to gently press her closer, ensuring she stayed undisturbed. She shifted slightly, her fingers curling against his chest, but she remained fast asleep, completely oblivious to the chaos happening just beyond their broken little bubble.
Jeonghan exhaled through his nose, his annoyance growing as the buzzing persisted.
It was incessant.
His phone.
Luna’s phone.
Neither had stopped since he woke up.
That alone was enough to make his stomach twist uncomfortably.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
And whatever it was— it involved them.
His gaze flickered to the bedside table, where both of their phones vibrated aggressively against the wood, lighting up with call after call, message after message. He could see the names flashing across the screen— the members, their managers, their parents. Even social media notifications were piling up at an alarming rate.
The air in the room suddenly felt heavier.
Jeonghan’s fingers clenched around the sheets for a moment before he carefully untangled himself from Luna. She barely stirred, only making a small noise of protest before settling back into sleep.
His gut told him he wasn’t going to like whatever he was about to find out.
Reaching for his phone, he barely had time to register the dozens of texts and missed calls before another one came through.
His manager.
With a steadying breath, he accepted the call.
“Hyung.”
A sharp breath of relief was heard on the other end. “Jeonghan— finally.” His manager’s voice sounded tense, urgent. “I’ve been trying to reach you both for the past hour. We’re still trying to get ahold of Jiyeon.”
Jeonghan’s gaze flickered down to the woman sleeping peacefully beside him. His chest tightened. “She’s here,” he murmured, his voice quieter, more careful, as if saying it too loud would shatter the last few moments of peace they had left. His eyes traced her features— so serene, so unaware of the storm that was waiting for them outside this room.
His manager let out another breath, but the tension in his voice didn’t waver. “Good. That’s… good.”
Jeonghan frowned. “Hyung, what’s going on?”
There was a pause.
A moment too long, too hesitant.
“Jeonghan-ah,” his manager said, voice lowering as if bracing for impact. “You need to be ready for this… the two of you. It’s bad.”
Jeonghan’s patience finally snapped.
“What’s bad?” he demanded, voice sharpening as a cold unease settled in his stomach.
Another beat of silence.
Then—
“Dispatch uploaded pictures of you and Jiyeon at the park last night.”
Jeonghan stilled.
His body didn’t move, but his arms instinctively tightened around Luna, holding her just a little closer, a little more protectively.
The words rang in his ears, but his mind had already begun working, piecing things together faster than his emotions could catch up.
They had been followed.
They had been watched.
Grown men had lurked in the shadows, cameras in tow, capturing everything.
Every smile. Every touch. Every kiss.
A scalding heat simmered beneath his skin— not of panic, but of anger.
He knew this was bound to happen eventually.
They had been careful for years, but all it took was one mistake, one moment of carelessness, one night of wanting to just be them— and now their relationship was no longer their own.
For years, they had carved out a love story in the quiet, only for it to be stolen in the loudest way possible.
But more than anything, more than the invasion, more than the knowledge that the entire world was probably tearing through their privacy at this very moment—
It was Luna he cared about most.
This wasn’t just about him.
Jeonghan knows he could handle the attention. He could handle the questions, the scrutiny, the headlines. He had prepared for this moment for years.
But Luna…
She had spent five years keeping their love safe. She had built walls around it, protected it with every ounce of her being.
They weren’t hiding— they were protecting.
They had been selfish with this one thing, this one love, because it was the only thing that was truly theirs. But now, even that was gone.
And now, without warning, those walls had been torn down.
At the end of the day, the final decision wouldn’t be his to make.
It would be hers.
And whatever she chose— however she wanted to handle this— Jeonghan would stand beside her, just like he always had.
Jeonghan barely heard a word his manager was saying. His phone was pressed to his ear, but his attention was elsewhere— fixed on the woman sleeping beside him, the only thing in this moment that mattered.
“Jeonghan-ah, are you listening?” His manager’s voice was tense, barely masking the urgency underneath. “The higher-ups need to talk to the both of you. We’re setting up a meeting as soon as possible. They’re already drafting statements, they’re asking for a confirmation— but they won’t release anything until they speak with you and Jiyeon first.”
Jeonghan swallowed, his jaw tensing.
Statements.
Confirmations.
Damage control.
It was always about control with them.
But right now, all he cared about was her.
His fingers brushed lightly over Luna’s shoulder as she slept, his touch featherlight, as if he could somehow keep her safe in this moment— keep her in the warmth of sleep where reality couldn’t reach her yet.
Stay asleep just a little longer, please.
Jeonghan hoped she was dreaming of something beautiful, something so breathtaking that reality would pale in comparison. Maybe she was dreaming of the ocean, the soft lull of waves against the shore. Maybe she was dreaming of the stars, endless and vast, untouched by the world below.
Because when she woke up, that dream would be gone.
Jeonghan exhaled shakily. He knew how much this would hurt her. He knew how hard she had worked to build her walls— to make herself untouchable, unshaken. It had taken years for her to perfect that mask, to craft a shield strong enough to survive in this industry.
And now, just like that, those walls were about to crumble.
He shifted slightly, lowering his head to press a kiss against her forehead.
I don’t want you to hurt.
His arms tightened around her just a fraction, his heart aching at the thought of what she was about to wake up to.
For the first time in a long time, Jeonghan almost started praying.
Then Luna stirred.
It started small— just a soft sigh, her body shifting slightly against his. But then her brows knitted together, her fingers twitching against his chest as the incessant buzzing and chiming of her own phone finally started to break through her sleep.
She rubbed her eyes sluggishly, grogginess still thick in her voice.
“What?”
Jeonghan barely had time to compose himself before she blinked up at him, confusion evident in her tired gaze.
She could hear it now.
The constant ringing, the dings, the vibrations.
Her brows furrowed deeper as she slowly turned toward her phone. Jeonghan knew the moment she became fully awake— her gaze sharpening just slightly as she reached out, fingers brushing against her phone’s screen.
“What’s happening?” she murmured, blinking away the last remnants of sleep.
Jeonghan said nothing. He simply watched her, his face carefully neutral, but there was something unreadable in his expression.
Luna frowned, her fingers curling around her phone. “What is—”
She didn’t get to finish.
Before she could unlock the screen, Jeonghan moved.
Faster than he even realized, his hand shot out, gently but firmly stopping her from opening it.
Luna froze, staring at him in shock.
The only sound between them now was the relentless dinging of notifications.
Her heart stuttered.
Something was wrong.
Dread curled inside her chest like a slow-burning poison.
Her grip on her phone tightened as her breathing grew shallower. She could see it in Jeonghan’s eyes now— that quiet grief, that heavy sadness, the way he wasn’t trying to stop her because he wanted to hide something from her, but because he wanted to protect her.
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
“No.” Luna shook her head, shoving down the sickening fear clawing up her throat.
With trembling fingers, she unlocked her phone.
“No. No. No.”
She scrolled through the messages— dozens of them. Her parents. Her members. Even some industry friends. Their messages all carried the same weight of concern, asking if she was okay, asking if she had seen it yet.
That was the easy part.
What came next made her stomach turn.
Her manager’s worried text was at the top of her notifications, followed by a single link.
Luna hesitated, her breath catching in her throat.
She clicked it.
Jeonghan could only watch her, his chest tight, his fingers clenching into the sheets. He had already seen it. He had already felt the weight of it. But Luna…
Luna was seeing it for the first time.
Her eyes widened as she took in the headlines.
BREAKING: SEVENTEEN's Luna and Jeonghan reportedly spotted on a not-so-friendly date
EXCLUSIVE: SEVENTEEN’s Jeonghan and Luna spotted on a late-night date— Secret Relationship EXPOSED!
Caught red-handed: SEVENTEEN’s Jeonghan and Luna’s romantic rendezvous under the moonlight!
Dispatch’s new couple revealed— SEVENTEEN’s Jeonghan and Luna caught on camera!
Then the pictures.
From the moment Jeonghan’s car pulled into the park.
To the way he had reached for her hand.
To the way he had kissed her temple under the streetlights.
To the way they sat together, lost in their own little world.
To the way they shared a passionate kiss, wrapped in each others’ arms.
Frame after frame.
Everything was there.
Luna felt like she was going to be sick.
Luna remembers how there was a time when she had wanted the whole world to know.
When she was younger, when their love was still something new and untouched, she had dreamed of showing Jeonghan off— of holding his hand in public without fear, of gushing about him openly.
But reality had hit them fast.
She had watched idols get scrutinized, torn apart for daring to love. She had seen careers ruined, reputations destroyed, relationships ended, and lives violated.
She had learned quickly that the only way to protect what they had— was to keep it a secret.
Her vision blurred.
Her hands started to shake, her fingers clammy as they gripped her phone too tightly. Her chin wobbled, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps.
Her heart pounded erratically in her chest, constricting, tightening—
She was dizzy.
Nauseous.
Her fingers scrolled too fast, eyes scanning the comments that were already piling up.
> She’s so selfish. She ruined Jeonghan’s image.
> She doesn’t deserve him.
> Typical. The only girl in SEVENTEEN and she’s screwing a member.
> PR stunt.
> Didn’t we predict this almost ten years ago? She’s fucking a member. Maybe even more of them tbh.
> Jeonghan could do so much better.
> Well, what’s new? She’s a slut, we’ve established that.
> They should kick her out of the group.
> That’s all she’s good for anyway, a PR stunt.
She barely even registered the words.
She had stopped caring about hate years ago.
She had built up a thick skin, had learned to survive in an industry that never wanted her in the first place.
But this—
People picking apart their love, something she had spent years protecting—
This brought her back to when she was seventeen, sobbing into her pillow over the first wave of hate she had ever received.
Her lungs burned.
She couldn’t breathe.
Her phone slipped from her hands, falling onto the bed.
As if the universe was playing a sick joke on her, the video autoplayed.
“We’ve caught them.”
A man’s voice, snickering behind the camera.
Luna whimpered.
Her hands flew to her ears, shaking violently as a sob tore from her lips.
Immediately, Jeonghan grabbed her phone, locking it, before gathering her into his arms.
“Jiyeon-ah,” he murmured, his voice low, soothing, as he rocked her gently. “It’s okay. It’s okay, baby. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”
She gasped, trying to breathe, but her chest was too tight, her panic spiraling too fast.
“Breathe,” Jeonghan whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Slow, deep breaths. Just follow me, okay? In—” he inhaled deeply, holding her closer, “—and out.”
She trembled violently against him, her face buried in his neck.
“Why would they do that?” she choked out, her voice small, broken.
Jeonghan closed his eyes, his heart breaking.
“I don’t know, baby,” he whispered. “I don’t know.”
But he would do anything to make it stop.
Luna’s breaths came in short, sharp gasps, her entire body trembling in Jeonghan’s arms. She clung to him, her fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt as if she could anchor herself to him, as if she could disappear into the warmth of his embrace and escape the reality that was crashing down around her.
“C-can’t breathe, Han.” Her voice was a broken whisper, barely pushing past her sobs. She burrowed deeper into his neck, her tears hot against his skin.
Jeonghan tightened his arms around her, his hand moving up to cradle the back of her head. “Yes, you can,” he murmured softly. “You can, Nana-ya. Just follow my breathing, okay? You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
But she was spiraling too fast, her body shaking harder against his.
“Everything’s ruined,” she choked out, gasping against his collarbone. “It’s out there. We’re out there. There’s nothing we can do—”
“Hey,” Jeonghan said firmly, yet still gentle, pulling back slightly. He cupped her face, his thumbs immediately brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “Look at me, Jiyeon-ah.”
She resisted, trying to bury herself back into him, but he didn’t let her. He held her face in his hands, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.
“Breathe with me,” he said again, softer this time. “Slow and deep, just like this.” He exaggerated his inhale, his chest rising steadily, before exhaling slowly. “Just like that, my moon. You can do it.”
She tried. She really did. But her breaths kept hitching, her body kept trembling, and her mind wouldn’t stop racing.
“It’s us,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “It’s so clearly us. The pictures— there’s no denying it, no pretending, no trying to spin it another way. It’s just… there.”
Jeonghan’s jaw clenched, but he kept his touch gentle, kept his voice steady. “I know.”
“And the people—” her breath shuddered, her fingers curling into his wrists as he held her face. “They’re already crucifying me, Han. It’s not even about the rumors or the speculation anymore. They know it’s real. They know we’re real. And they’re tearing me apart for it.”
A fresh sob broke through her, her hands shaking as they clutched at his wrists.
“I don’t care what they say about me,” she whispered, her voice laced with exhaustion, with anger, with hurt. “I haven’t cared in so fucking long. I learned how to ignore them. I had to. I had to. But this— this is different.”
Jeonghan brushed his thumb under her eye, wiping away a tear before it could fall. “How is it different, love?” he asked softly, his patience unwavering.
“Because they don’t know us.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. “They don’t know us, but they think they do. They think they know our story, our love, our choices. They think they have the right to tear us apart when they don’t even understand who we are.”
Jeonghan exhaled slowly, his heart aching at her words. He let her spill everything, let her pour out all her frustrations, all her pain, as he held her close.
Her sobs quieted just slightly, but her hands still trembled in his grasp. He tilted her face up again, pressing his forehead to hers.
“You’re right. They don’t know about us, Jiyeonie,” he murmured, his voice full of quiet conviction. “They think they do, but they don’t. They don’t know what we’ve been through. They don’t know the nights we spent whispering in the dark, promising each other that we would make this work no matter what. They don’t know the sacrifices we’ve made just to keep this love safe. They don’t know the way I look at you when no one’s watching. They don’t know the way you hold my hand under the table when the world feels too loud.”
Luna’s breath hitched, a fresh wave of tears filling her eyes.
“They don’t know us,” Jeonghan repeated, his voice steady, unwavering. “And they never will. Not in the way we do. Not in the way that matters.”
She swallowed hard, her lips quivering as he continued to wipe away her tears.
“I don’t want them to ruin this,” she admitted in a broken whisper. “I don’t want them to take this away from us.”
Jeonghan shook his head slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “They can’t. They don’t have that power. The only people who get to decide what happens to us— is us. You hear me?”
Luna’s breath shuddered, but she nodded, her fingers finally loosening their desperate grip. Jeonghan kissed her cheek, then her temple, then the tip of her nose, grounding her with every touch.
“You’re safe,” he whispered against her skin. “We’re safe.”
Luna let out a shaky breath, her hands still trembling as she gripped Jeonghan’s wrists. Her mind was spinning, overwhelmed with thoughts that she couldn’t contain. Even though her breathing had steadied slightly under Jeonghan’s soothing touch, the weight of everything was still crushing her chest.
“It’s not fair,” she whispered, voice raw from crying. “Why do we have to go through this? Why does it always have to be this way? Why can’t we just… exist without people tearing us apart? Is that too much to ask?
Jeonghan’s thumbs continued their slow, comforting strokes against her skin, his eyes never leaving hers. He didn’t rush her, didn’t tell her to stop. He let her speak, let her pour out the frustration that had been building inside her for years.
“I knew this would happen,” she admitted, voice thick with emotion. “I knew that if they ever found out, they’d twist everything, rip us apart like we’re just some story for them to consume.” She let out a bitter laugh, one that held no humor. “And the worst part? They don’t even see us as real people… we’re entertainment. We’re just characters to them— characters in a drama they get to judge, gossip about, and decide the ending for.”
Jeonghan’s grip on her tightened slightly, grounding her, reminding her that he was here, that they were real.
“They don’t know how hard we fought for this,” Luna continued, her voice rising with frustration. “They don’t know how many nights we stayed up, whispering about the future, trying to convince ourselves that love was worth the risk. They don’t know how many times we almost gave up because we were scared— because we knew the world wouldn’t be kind to us if they ever found out.”
Jeonghan swallowed hard, his chest aching at the pain in her words.
“They don’t know about the nights I cried because I hated hiding,” Luna whispered, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “How I wanted to tell the world, to scream it from the rooftops that I love you. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t because I knew what would happen. And now that it’s happening, it’s so much worse than I imagined.”
Jeonghan exhaled slowly, his fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know,” he murmured, his voice filled with understanding. “I know, baby.”
Luna shook her head, her chest rising and falling unevenly. “And the comments— God, the comments.” Her fingers clenched into fists against his chest. “They think they know us. They think they have the right to judge us. To call me names, to call you names, to pick apart every little detail about us as if we owe them an explanation. As if our love is something they get to approve of.”
Jeonghan’s expression darkened for a moment, but he quickly masked it, choosing to focus on her instead. He gently tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “They don’t matter, Nana-ya.”
She let out a broken laugh, shaking her head. “That’s easy to say when you’re not the one being called a fucking slu—”
“They. Don’t. Matter.” Jeonghan repeated, firmer this time. His voice wasn’t harsh, but it was resolute, unshakable. He held her gaze, his thumbs brushing away the tears staining her cheeks. “Not the strangers. Not the trolls. Not the ones who think they know us just because they see a few pictures online. They don’t know anything, Jiyeon. And they never will.”
Her breath caught in her throat, her lips parting slightly.
Jeonghan’s expression softened, his fingers caressing the curve of her jaw. “You know what does matter?” he asked quietly.
She swallowed, blinking up at him.
“You.” He leaned in, pressing the gentlest kiss to her forehead before whispering against her skin. “Me. Us.”
Luna’s chin wobbled as another wave of emotion hit her.
“Our members,” Jeonghan continued, his voice steady, reassuring. “Our friends. Our families. The people who have stood by us, who know us— not as idols, not as gossip, but as real people. The ones who love us and support us, no matter what.” He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his gaze unwavering. “And our fans, Nana-ya. The ones who truly care about us, not just as performers, but as human beings. The ones who love us because we’re real, not in spite of it.”
Luna inhaled shakily, his words settling deep within her.
“At the end of the day,” Jeonghan said softly, his fingers tracing slow circles against her skin, “they are the only ones who matter. Not the ones who hide behind screens, not the ones who think they have a say in our lives. They don’t know us.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “And they never will and that’s okay because— they don’t matter.”
Luna let out a shaky breath, her fingers loosening their grip. The storm inside her was still raging, but Jeonghan’s words were like an anchor, pulling her back to solid ground.
She looked at him— really looked at him. At the warmth in his eyes, the quiet strength in his presence, the unwavering love he held for her in every touch, every word.
And suddenly, the noise of the outside world didn’t feel so loud anymore.
Luna’s breath hitched, her fingers curled weakly into Jeonghan’s hoodie as she whispered, her voice barely above the sound of their breathing, “I’m going to miss you a little more when the world is being too harsh, Jeongie.”
Her chin wobbled, a single tear slipping past her lashes, tracing a slow, sorrowful path down her cheek. The sight of it melted Jeonghan’s heart in the most painful way. He wanted to wipe away every ounce of sadness, every ounce of fear that she felt— but the reality of it all was that he couldn’t.
Because tomorrow, he had to leave.
Two weeks.
Two weeks of basic training.
Two weeks away from her.
Two weeks where she would have to deal with the aftermath of their relationship being exposed without him by her side.
The thought nearly crushed him. He didn’t want to leave her like this, not now. But he had no choice.
Jeonghan sighed, his hand moving to gently comb through her hair, pushing it away from her tear-streaked face. He gave her a small, knowing smile, trying to ease the tension in her chest, trying to ground her the way he always did.
“You know what you should do when the world is being stupid and I’m not there?” he asked, his voice laced with fondness.
Luna blinked up at him, sniffling, waiting for his answer like it was something sacred.
“You face it headfirst— like you always do,” Jeonghan said simply, his fingers threading through her hair with delicate care. “Like the time you fought off that ridiculous rumor about you paying people to be a part of the group.”
Luna let out a weak, teary scoff, but he saw the way her lips twitched slightly.
“Or the time a fan tried to convince everyone that you secretly hated Seungcheol, and you shut that down with one Weverse live where you spent the whole time telling stories about him and listing the things you love about him in the most adorably aggressive way possible.”
A small huff left her nose.
Jeonghan smirked, tilting his head. “Or how about the time a rookie idol said something shady about you in an interview, and when you an I ran into her backstage, you walked straight up to her, smiled, and said, ‘I heard you have something to say to me. Say it to my face.’”
Luna rolled her eyes at the memory, but the corner of her lips twitched ever so slightly.
Jeonghan gave her a pointed look, his fingers tracing slow, comforting circles on her back. “That’s the Bae Jiyeon I know. The one who doesn’t take shit from anyone. The one who walks into a room and owns it. The one who protects the members like they’re her own blood. The one who, despite everything, still stands tall.”
Luna swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing larger.
His expression softened. “I need you to be strong for me, baby,” he murmured, resting his forehead lightly against hers. “And that should be easy, because you’re the strongest person I know.”
Luna shut her eyes tightly as his words washed over her, but more tears escaped anyway.
“You have to be strong,” Jeonghan continued, brushing his thumb against her cheek, catching another stray tear. “Because we need to face the consequences together. No hiding. No running away.”
She exhaled shakily, nodding against him.
Jeonghan suddenly pulled back slightly, a knowing look in his eyes. “Remember when that girl confronted you at that fan sign a couple years ago? The one who actually had the nerve to say all that nonsense to your face?”
Luna blinked at him, confused for a moment before the memory came flooding back.
Jeonghan smirked. “Remember what you told her? I want you to repeat it.”
Luna stared at him, her lips parting slightly. She let out a soft, watery laugh before she whispered, her voice laced with that sharpness she always carried when she needed it:
“You don’t have to like me. I don’t wake up everyday to impress you.”
Jeonghan chuckled, warmth spreading through his chest at the familiar fire that flickered in her eyes, however faint it was in this moment. He cupped her cheek, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.
“There she is,” he murmured, smiling against her skin. “That’s the Luna I know. She may be a little tired right now, and that’s okay. But I know she’s in there.”
Luna’s eyes glistened even more, her lips pressing together as she swallowed thickly.
She looked at him— at the way he saw her, truly saw her, even when she felt like she was broken beyond repair.
And suddenly, all she could do was whisper, “I love you.”
She exhaled shakily, her voice so fragile yet so full of depth. “So much. It hurts.”
Luna felt everything at once— the weight of the world on her shoulders, the chaos waiting for her outside, the relentless storm she would have to fight through.
But in the middle of it all, in him, she found solace.
Jeonghan was her anchor.
Jeonghan was her safe place.
He was the only person in the world who could make her feel loved when she felt unlovable.
The only person who could make her feel beautiful when the world tried to tear her apart.
The only person who could make her feel important, confident, strong— when she felt like crumbling.
And she knew— without hesitation, without a single doubt in her heart— that if she had to choose, she would always choose him.
She would choose herself and Jeonghan religiously.
Every single time.
Jeonghan smiled, his eyes soft, his thumb grazing over her lips as if memorizing the shape of them. He let out a small chuckle before murmuring, “You really love me, huh?”
Luna let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head as fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. “So much that it hurts, Jeongie.”
Jeonghan hummed, pressing another soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. Then, with a teasing smirk, he whispered, “Well, good. Because I love you too and you’re stuck with me forever.”
The sharp ring of the doorbell cut through the stillness of the room, making both Luna and Jeonghan freeze. Their eyes met instantly, tension thick in the air. For a moment, neither of them moved, waiting, as if the sound itself would just disappear if they ignored it. But it rang again, more insistent this time.
Jeonghan exhaled, pressing a quick, reassuring kiss to Luna’s lips before slipping out of bed. “I’ll go see who it is,” he murmured before making his way to the door.
Luna remained in place, momentarily stuck in the aftermath of their conversation. Her chest still felt heavy, her mind a mess of thoughts that she didn’t have time to organize. With a slow inhale, she wiped the dried tears from her face, ran her hands through her hair a few times, and straightened her posture.
She needed to lock in. She needed to be composed.
After another breath, she got up and followed her fiancé.
She had been expecting the members. It would’ve made sense for them to barge in, bombarding her and Jeonghan with reassurances and attempts to cheer them up. But the distinct lack of chatter, of familiar voices, made it clear that wasn’t the case.
Instead, standing just inside the doorway were her manager and Jeonghan’s manager, their expressions grim.
“Jiyeonie…” Luna’s manager said as soon as she saw her, voice soft, filled with concern. Before Luna could react, the older woman moved toward her, pulling her into a warm yet heavy embrace. She rubbed Luna’s back in a way that was meant to be comforting, but all it did was confirm the severity of the situation.
Over her manager’s shoulder, Luna’s eyes immediately sought out Jeonghan’s. His lips were pressed together, gaze already on his own manager, waiting for an explanation.
“They’re here for the confirmation statement,” Jeonghan finally said, voice comforting.
Luna pulled away, her back straightening as she moved to Jeonghan’s side. He reached for her hand instinctively, fingers curling around hers as they sat down on the couch. Their managers followed suit, settling across from them.
Luna’s manager cleared her throat. “We were supposed to have this conversation at HYBE,” she began, her tone professional yet careful, as if she were treading on thin ice. “The higher-ups wanted to meet with both of you directly to discuss the… situation.”
Jeonghan’s manager nodded, picking up where she left off. “But we convinced them that we should be the ones to talk to you first. There’s a lot to consider here, and we need to discuss the best course of action for both of you— damage control, the confirmation statement, and what comes after.”
Jeonghan and Luna remained quiet, listening.
They understood how these things worked. Rumors came and went, scandals emerged and were buried. They had dealt with their fair share of baseless gossip over the years, ones they had easily denied.
But this…
There was no denying this.
The pictures were clear as day.
The damage that needed to be controlled was far greater.
Their managers continued, taking turns explaining the various approaches they could take. It was all methodical, calculated. The company’s priority was preserving their images, maintaining stability. And the best way to do that, according to them, was through a quiet confirmation— an acknowledgment of their relationship without fueling further chaos.
But then came the part that made Luna’s jaw clench.
“…After the initial confirmation, we wait a few months,” her manager explained carefully. “Then, when the time is right, we announce that you’ve decided to part ways, that you’ve chosen to remain friends instead. You’ll still be together, of course, just… privately. It’s the best way to—”
Luna’s patience snapped.
“Tell them we’re engaged.”
The bite in her tone was unmistakable, sharp and unwavering. Jeonghan smirked at the sound of it, glancing down at his feet, but he didn’t interfere. He simply let her speak, watching as she took full control of the room.
Both managers blinked, clearly caught off guard.
“What?” Jeonghan’s manager said, confusion laced in his voice.
Luna lifted her chin. “Tell them we’re engaged.”
Her manager hesitated, brows furrowing. “Jiyeon-ah, we need to minimize the—”
“Don’t make me repeat again what I just said,” Luna cut her off, voice cold, eyes sharp.
The room fell into silence.
Luna exhaled through her nose, leaning forward slightly. “You’re going to release an official statement confirming that Jeonghan and I are together. Not just dating— engaged. We’ve been in a relationship for five years. Since July of 2019. And we’ve been engaged since September 8th of this year— a few weeks ago.
Her manager opened her mouth, likely to protest, but Luna didn’t give her the chance.
“We’ve spent the last few days together as much as possible before Jeonghan enlists tomorrow, and we deserve to have that respected. I don’t care what loopholes you’re supposed to follow. I don’t care what narrative the company thinks is best. I don’t care about damage control. This is our relationship, and it is not a scandal.”
The authority in her voice made both managers shift uncomfortably, but neither of them dared to interrupt her.
Luna continued, unwavering. “You can also tell them that they should mind their own fucking business and leave us the fuck alone— but I understand that I’m not allowed to say certain things, so instead, you can add how we hope that people will respect our privacy. We hope that those who have supported us for years will continue to do so. And if they don’t?” She tilted her head slightly. “That’s their problem. Not ours.”
Her fingers tightened around Jeonghan’s.
She leaned back against the couch, her expression unreadable. “I want that official statement out as soon as possible. It’s not difficult— you’ve done this plenty of times before. It’s just a few paragraphs.”
Her eyes darkened, her tone dropping a degree colder. “If I don’t see that statement in the next five hours, I’ll post it myself.”
The silence that followed Luna’s final words was thick and suffocating. Their managers exchanged a look, hesitant, as if weighing their options, but there was no winning against Luna in this state.
Then, Jeonghan exhaled sharply, breaking the silence with a lazy smirk. He leaned back against the couch, tilting his head slightly as he regarded their managers with a look that was equal parts amused and unimpressed.
“You know,” he mused, voice slow, deliberate, “we could always just do a live broadcast instead.”
Both managers’ eyes widened in pure horror.
Jeonghan’s smirk deepened. “Go on Weverse, say a few words straight to the fans. No edits, no filtering. Just us, raw and real, telling them exactly how it is. I’m sure they’d appreciate the honesty.” He let the thought linger in the air before adding, “I mean, if that statement doesn’t come out within the next few hours, I might get bored enough to do it myself.”
The underlying threat was not lost on anyone.
Jeonghan’s manager was the first to sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he relented, voice tight. “We’ll make sure the statement is out as soon as possible.”
Luna’s manager nodded, though she still looked slightly shell-shocked. “Yes. We’ll take care of it immediately.”
With that, they stood, clearly eager to leave before Jeonghan or Luna threw any more surprises at them.
“We’ll keep you updated,” Jeonghan’s manager assured as he made his way toward the door.
Luna’s manager hesitated for a second before giving Luna one last look, softer this time. “Take care, Jiyeonie.”
Luna nodded, her expression unreadable. “You too.”
And just like that, they were gone.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Jeonghan wasted no time. He turned to Luna, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, pressing his forehead to hers. Then, with a gentle tilt of her chin, he captured her lips in a slow, deep kiss.
There was nothing rushed about it, nothing urgent. Just warmth, reassurance, and the unspoken promise that no matter what came next, they were in this together. His lips moved against hers with practiced ease, coaxing her into the moment, his hands resting firmly on her waist. Luna sighed into the kiss, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, holding him close as if anchoring herself.
When they finally pulled away, Jeonghan rested his forehead against hers, his thumbs stroking slow circles against her sides.
“I’m proud of you,” he murmured, voice low but filled with nothing but sincerity.
Luna’s lips curled into the softest of smiles as she looked up at him. “I’m proud of us.”
Jeonghan hummed, pressing another quick kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I love you, my pretty moon.”
“I love you more.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Impossible.”
For a few moments, they simply stood there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the day finally beginning to settle.
But then, as expected, Jeonghan was the first to break the moment.
With a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, he tilted his head, eyes glinting mischievously. “You know,” he drawled, “you were really hot earlier.”
Luna blinked at him before scoffing. “Seriously?”
He grinned. “I’m just saying, watching you shut them down like that? Very sexy. Very hot.”
Luna rolled her eyes, but the faint blush dusting her cheeks betrayed her. “You’re ridiculous.”
Jeonghan shrugged. “And yet, you love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
He gasped dramatically. “Unfortunately?”
Luna laughed, and for the first time that day, it felt light. Jeonghan’s grin widened at the sound.
“You know what would be even hotter?” he mused, tone casual but the glint in his eyes anything but.
Luna narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”
Jeonghan leaned in slightly. “Those photos I took of you a couple of days ago,” he started, voice taking on that familiar teasing lilt. “The ones where you were wearing that denim outfit.”
Luna raised an eyebrow. “And?”
Jeonghan let out a wistful sigh, as if recalling something truly magnificent. “You just looked so good, baby. The fit, the lighting, the way the denim hugged you just right— honestly, it was art. Pure art.”
Luna giggled, shaking her head. “And what exactly is your point?”
His smirk turned downright devious. “It would be even hotter if you posted those pictures right now, like nothing happened.”
Luna stilled, staring at him for a few seconds, before her lips slowly curved into a smirk of her own. “It would be hotter if I posted it the second after they publish the confirmation statement.”
Jeonghan’s grin was instant. “This is why I love you.”
Before Luna could react, he grabbed her hand, dragging her back toward their room. “Come on,” he said, practically giddy, “let’s get your phone.”
Once inside, Luna sat on the bed, scrolling through her camera roll as Jeonghan wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, gently swaying them from side to side. He rested his chin on her shoulder, watching as she selected the best pictures of herself in the denim outfit.
“What caption should I write?” Luna asked, glancing at him.
Jeonghan stared at the blue denim for a moment before smirking. “‘Something blue.’”
Luna burst out laughing, the sound breaking through the tension that had loomed over them all day. She shook her head at him, but she was already typing the caption.
It was simple, subtle, but so obviously implying their engagement.
And as if the universe itself approved, both of their phones vibrated at the same time.
A notification.
The confirmation statement had been posted.
Luna smirked.
And with zero hesitation, she hit post.
Within seconds, her Instagram was flooded. She giggled as she scrolled through the comments.
> NOT HER JUST POSTING THIS LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED OMG I LOVE HER!
> girl just got exposed and she said “ok but here’s me looking hot”
> mother is mothering and she does not care
> she wins. she actually wins life.
> yoon jeonghan i know you’re somewhere smiling like an idiot rn
And then, as expected, their group chat with the members exploded— as if it wasn’t already.
kwanie: Bae Jiyeon! I hate you. I actually hate you. I was drinking water when I saw your post.
woo: no because why are you so unhinged, our Jiyeonie 😆
shi-shi: CONGRATS BUT ALSO MA’AM PLEASE??
gyu-gyu: this is why you and hyung deserve each other.
hansolie: Respect.
joshie: You really said “scandal? What scandal?” and dropped a thirst trap 😎
Junnie: Queen behavior. Iconic. Trendsetter.
Jihoonie: You’ve always had a talent for choosing violence at the best moments.
Cheollie: Honestly, I’m just mad I didn’t predict this.
kyeomie: CONGRATS BUT ALSO BAE JIYEON PLEASE?? SOME OF US WERE TRYING TO EAT BREAKFAST AND NOW I’M CHOKING ON MY FOOD.
hao-hao: You really just broke the entire internet, huh? I hope you two know that.
channie: Not you breaking the internet and then logging on like “anyway here’s me looking hot.” I’m scared of you, Noona 😀
Luna giggled as she read through the messages, shaking her head in amusement before typing her response.
Luna: Glad to know you all appreciate my art.
A beat passed before another message popped up.
kwanie: Yeah, yeah. But also, for real… congratulations, you two. We’re happy for you 🥹
Cheollie: We love you both, so don’t stress too much, okay?
Luna felt Jeonghan’s arms tighten around her just slightly, as if he had read the messages over her shoulder. And though neither of them said anything in that moment, they didn’t need to. The people who truly knew them, who truly mattered, were here. Supporting them.
And that was enough.
Luna smiled, shaking her head as she typed out her responses. And Jeonghan, watching her with nothing but pure fondness in his eyes, felt something settle deep in his chest.
She was smiling again.
Despite everything, despite the chaos, she had powered through another hurdle thrown her way just like she always does.
That’s the thing about darkness— it makes the moon shine even brighter.
Everyone knew that.
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Pairing: seventeen 14th member!fem!reader! X Joshua hong
Warnings: since this is a 14th member fic there would be some or other kind of change in the GoSe episode. Humorous, crack, cursing, Joshua is a menace in the first part, fluff, cursing, teeny tiny angst, Joshua can be a bit flirty if you squint.
WC: 6,616
Sana: I had this idea for over a month and took me so long to execute it 😭. A huge thanks to @bella-feed for helping me with most of the fic and listening to me go on and on about it LMAO. Thank you to @mylovesstuffs for beta reading the whole thing and helping me with the grammar <33 @yudaies thank you ves for beta reading ig as well (I love you 😘)
Tagging: @kflixnet @kstrucknet
Sentences written in [ ] are subtitles!
Times when joshua made fans believe woozi’s anti-gentleman Joshua agenda:
Sitting beside Joshua, I observed Hoshi closely as I had a hunch that he was the mafia. “It’s Hoshi.” I said aloud which made everyone look at me.
“What?” Hoshi said in shock as he sat up straight.
I chuckled and placed my hands on my knees. “I saw the way you reacted when others diverted their attention away from you. You’re the mafia, right?” I said. Upon hearing my explanation everyone started exclaiming in angreement saying that it makes sense.
“Okay, we will kill off Hoshi in the next round!” Seungcheol exclaimed before it was said that the night had fallen.
“Make sure that you save me.” I whispered to Joshua since I knew he was the doctor. He simply nodded at my words and placed his head down.
“The morning has come.” I slowly raised my head up, “Innocent citizen…” I anxiously looked at them as they took a dramatic pause.
My gaze shifted up when Jun approached me and gently grabbed my hand before pulling me away, “What? What? Wait…what?” I exclaimed in surprise.
“Innocent citizen, Y/N was killed. The doctor saved the wrong person.” I stared at Joshua, feeling betrayed, as he just smiled sheepishly.
“Joshua, who did you save then?” I immediately sat up when Hoshi asked, staring at Joshua intensely.
“Ah…Seungkwan.” I stood up from my seat when he said that.
“But I told you to save me!” I yelled at him at which he just laughed while waving his hands.
“I just didn’t feel like saving you.” I scoffed at his response which made everyone laugh.
As soon as I started approaching Joshua, Jeonghan pulled me back, patting my head as he chuckled at how Joshua and I were behaving.
Standing behind Wonwoo, I looked at Jeonghan and Joshua in shock as the two of them started washing their hair.
“Was this in the script?” I whispered to Wonwoo, to which he just shrugged and continued filming them.
This small interaction seemed to catch Joshua’s attention as he stood up straight and stared at me for a moment.
“Hey, you,” he said with a small smirk. I pointed my finger at myself in confusion, “Me?”
Joshua simply nodded as he grabbed another bottle of water. “You, wash.” I snorted at that answer in bewilderment.
I took a cautious step back when Joshua took another step closer towards me. “Joshua Hong, step back! I seriously got my hair done just a while ago!” I yelled as he started pulling me towards the red tub.
Jeonghan watched Joshua pull me towards the tub before sitting down again.
“Wonwoo, help me!” I whined and tried to break away from Joshua. Grabbing the bottle from Jeonghan, Joshua wasted no time pouring it over my head while laughing. “Why is it so fucking cold?” I yelled as a curse word slipped out of my mouth.
Joshua simply ignored my protest as he rubbed some shampoo on his hands and applied it to my hair messily. “You lazy?” He asked once he was done applying the shampoo.
Taking a deep breath in, I nodded and stood up straight again as some water dripped down my hair and forehead. “I, lazy.” I mumbled before walking back to my place.
Soon, I heard the voices of Seungkwan and Dino approaching us. I moved my hand through my hair, grimacing at the feeling.
Joshua caught my expression and gave a smirk in my direction before he moved his attention back towards Seungkwan, who was talking.
“We will use our special skill!” Jeonghan called out in the middle of the game as we all stopped to listen to him. “Big ball,” he declared.
I immediately looked at Hoshi as he told me to be careful when making the run to the base. Giving him an okay sign, I stood in front of Seungcheol as he got ready to serve with the big ball.
“Can I even kick this?” I asked once I saw the ball.
“Y/N-ah! You can do it!” Jun cheered me on while clapping his hands. I smiled at his antics and paid attention to Seungcheol when he said that he was going to serve.
Once seungcheol served the ball, I kicked it and made a run for it, drowning out all the noise of them yelling as I focused on my task.
“Shua! Hit her!” I barely processed the words leaving Seungkwan’s mouth before the big ball hit my face, causing me to fall down.
“What the hell!” I shrieked while falling down.
“Am sorry.” I heard Joshua apologise as he approached me and helped me stand up while laughing.
“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” I asked while dusting off my clothes.
“No no, of course not.” I glared at Joshua when he said that. He continued giggling as he spoke up again, “I meant to hit your leg but then, since your face is too big—”
Before he could finish his sentence, I punched his arm while walking away to go and sit beside Dino.
I stared at Joshua and Seungkwan as they played volleyball.
Heaving out a satisfied sigh, I continued relaxing in the swimming pool while lying on one of the inflatable floats.
“Ah! I am sorry!” I heard Seungkwan yell as I just drowned it out. I grabbed my sunglasses, which were on my chest, put them on, and hummed to the sound of nature (and the occasional yelling).
“Y/N-ah! Are you not going to eat?” I propped myself up on my elbow and peeked at Seungcheol through my lashes.
“I will come in a few minutes,” I replied and laid down again as Seungcheol gave me an okay sign.
“Y/N-ah, is it peaceful?” Jeonghan asked softly as he placed his leg in the pool. I simply nodded at him and didn’t care enough to open my eyes.
“Isn’t it too peaceful though?” I suddenly heard Joshua say, his voice feeling too close to me.
I removed my sunglasses and yelped when the float was turned upside down as I fell inside the swimming pool with Joshua and Jeonghan laughing.
“What the—” I tried to speak when I came up again, but Joshua cut me off as he pushed me back inside.
Jeonghan took this as a chance and entered the pool as he started splashing me with water, not letting me speak.
“Stop sto-” without letting me finish, Joshua held my waist and pulled me down into the pool with him as I tried to catch my breath.
Slowly I pushed Joshua away as Seungkwan threw a towel at me to help me dry my hair.
I stared at Joshua as he got out of the pool, “Watch your back hong.” I said in a threatening tone as I sat down beside Mingyu.
“You look like a…like a penguin.” He said while laughing. I just rolled my eyes and grabbed the plate of food which Wonwoo passed to me.
“I really would have cursed if the cameras were not there.” I said with a sigh before stuffing my face with some food.
“But it was fun.” Joshua said as he ruffled my hair and placed some more noodles on my plate.
“Fun for you.” I replied with a sarcastic laugh; “It was fun he says.” I said to Mingyu as I imitated Joshua while making a face, “Yeah yeah. Sure.” I said with an eye roll as Joshua just laughed at me.
—x—
Sitting on the deck beside Minghao, I observed the others enjoying the water rides.
Normally, I would have joined them, but I suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion hit me so I decided to sit this one out.
“Did you try out the banana ride already?” Joshua asked as he approached us.
I shook my head while playing with Minghao’s fingers. “Did you want to try it out?” I asked him before looking up at his face.
“I wanted to try it out, but I didn’t want to do it alone. It’s fine, I guess… I will try it later.” Joshua said as he turned around to look for something else to try.
“We can do it together once they come back,” I offered while standing up to stretch my body.
“Really?” I nodded in response to Joshua’s question, a chuckle leaving my lips when I saw his shocked face.
“Why are you so shocked?” I asked while putting on the helmet.
“Just didn’t expect you to offer to ride it with me,” I rolled my eyes when Joshua said that.
“Don’t sweat it. Just be happy that I agreed to this,” I mumbled.
“Do you want to sit in the front or the back?”
Looking at the ride, I pointed at the front seat as I took my spot with a camera in my hand, ready to record the two of us.
“This is happiness! This vibe… it’s really… really happy!” Joshua said once the ride took off.
I simply nodded at his words as I screamed from the fast speed, a mix of fear and excitement.
“Y/N, look! The drone is there.” I looked in the direction he pointed and waved at the drone camera. “Do you want me to hold the camera for you?” I turned my head slightly to look at Joshua when he asked that.
Not thinking much of it, I handed the camera to him and looked ahead again.
[Look of pure regret coming in 3, 2, 1…]
“WHAT THE—” My voice was drowned out as I was suddenly pushed into the water by Joshua from the moving ride.
“It didn’t happen because of me!” Joshua tried to defend himself as I emerged from the water again.
I glared at him as the ride suddenly took off again which made him lose his balance resulting in him falling in the water.
“Why is it crunchy?” I heard Dino’s voice as I stepped out of my room. Rubbing my eyes, I walked past the guys and out of the camera frame.
“Y/N! Could you come here for a bit?” I heard Soonyoung yell from behind while I was busy talking with one of the staff members.
Sighing, I turned around and approached them as I noticed Joshua holding out a spoon of rice.
“What did you guys make?” I asked softly, my voice still a bit hoarse as I had just woken up.
“Could you taste the rice for us? Dino was not able to tell if we needed more seasoning…” Soonyoung replied while stirring the rice in the pan.
I shrugged and ate the rice from the spoon Joshua was holding out.
Chewing on it, I suddenly felt the saltiness, which made me cough. “Why is it so salty?” I asked after spitting out the rice.
“What are you talking about? We didn’t add any salt!” Soonyoung yelled as he defended himself.
I opened my mouth to yell back when I noticed a pack of salt beside Joshua. “Did you…?” I questioned with my eyebrows raised.
“Isn’t it a bit crunchy?” Dino asked while laughing.
I shook my head and walked towards Dino to go back inside.
“Really crunchy, you jerk,” I said to Joshua with annoyance, though a small smile was on my lips.
“Gentle, yeah right,” Dino said after me as he pushed me inside, laughing.
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ [GOING SEVENTEEN 2020] EP.25 디에잇과 12 인의 그림자 #1 (THE 8 and the 12 Shadows
#1)
I stared at Joshua anxiously when I noticed his annoyed expression because of Jeonghan.
Not wanting to meet the same fate as him, I grabbed a tissue from the table and handed it to Joshua so that he could wipe his now wet face.
“I think it’s still dry…” Jeonghan said while getting up. I looked at Joshua as he nervously laughed before following Jeonghan.
“I should spray some more water,” Joshua grabbed Jeonghan by the neck before he could finish his sentence.
In no time, Jeonghan’s turn was over and now Joshua was the one leading us all.
“We have to copy whatever face he makes,” one of them said when Joshua was drinking some water.
I nodded along while biting my lower lip anxiously, “Look at Y/N. She looks so scared,” I heard Seokmin say while laughing.
I turned around and shot him a glare before looking ahead at Joshua again. I flinched when I saw Joshua staring at me with an angry expression.
[Horror Movie Face]
“Why does he look so angry?” I whispered to Jun and shifted closer to him. “You won’t splash me with water, would you?” I asked Joshua nervously, to which he just shook his head.
I heaved out a sigh of relief when my face turned cold as I saw Joshua grabbing a bucket and filling it with water.
“What is he doing?” Seungkwan asked from behind. I just stared at Joshua anxiously, hoping he wouldn’t do something crazy.
Once his bucket was full, he grabbed another one and placed it under the tap. While the second bucket was filling, he walked towards the fridge and took out a tray of ice cubes.
“I think… Shua hyung is a bit… crazy sometimes,” Dino said with concern.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to…” I stared at Joshua in pure shock when he poured the ice water over his head. “I’m not doing that!” I said to everyone.
“Yah, you can’t just back out. We all did everything when we had to do!” Jeonghan complained as he told me to pour water on myself.
“I am suddenly getting a bit annoyed… I can sense someone not listening to me,” Joshua said, glaring at me.
[Eyes of a totally insane person]
I sighed and picked up the bucket full of water before pouring it on myself.
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ [GOING SEVENTEEN] EP.70 E't Lie: The CHASER #1 (Don't Lie : The CHASER #1)
“It feels a bit scary today,” I said to Seokmin who was walking beside me.
“Right? It feels like an escape room,” he said. I nodded to his words while cautiously looking around the place.
“BHOO!” I flinched and screamed loudly when Joshua suddenly yelled at Seokmin and me.
[One shot, five kills]
“WHAT THE HELL!”
“HEY!” Seokmin and I yelled together at Joshua at which he just smiled and patted our backs.
“What is wrong with you?” I said in frustration and hit the back of Joshua’s head in annoyance.
“Don’t do it again. I am serious.” Seokmin said to Joshua before walking away.
“WhAt tHe hELl.” Joshua mumbled, as if mimicking me.
“Are you seriously making fun of me?” I said while throwing a glare at him.
“No… you just looked so cute when you got scared.” He said with a smile as he patted my head.
“Is there any kimchi?” My ears perked up when I heard Dino ask Joshua. I immediately got up from my seat and approached the two of them.
“Are you eating ramen?” I asked Dino softly, not sparing a glance at Joshua. Dino nodded, offering some to me.
I opened my mouth as he fed some to me and furrowed my eyebrows when I realised they were not fully cooked. “They’re not fully cooked...” I said once I finished chewing.
“I cooked it a little less than usual so that you could enjoy it with the chicken breast...”
“What if he doesn’t want the chicken breast?” I questioned him with my eyebrows raised.
“Well he can decide that. You’re not supposed to eat the noodles anyways.” Joshua said, his eyes getting a bit bigger while defending himself.
“And why’s that? I could give you stickers in return.” When I said that, it was as if there was a switch in Joshua.
“You can eat it however you want! I can cook something else for you as well.” He said with a sickeningly sweet smile.
“Never mind. It looks like you don’t deserve it.” I said dramatically before going back to my seat.
“What does my Y/N want? Do you want some chips? Cola? Or maybe some pasta?” He said while following behind me.
I shook my head at him. “I will give you anything you want, hmm Y/N-ahh?” I opened my mouth to say something but closed it again.
[Look of a person who is desperate for grape stickers]
“I suddenly don’t want to give you any stickers though.” I let out a small ‘wah’ when Joshua immediately turned around and walked away after I said I didn’t want to give him any stickers.
Times when Joshua stayed true to his gentleman agenda:
“We will use the special items!” Seungcheol called out in the middle of the game, which made me sigh.
“Not again!” I whined before slumping down next to Dino on the chair.
“Y/N will wear flippers.” Jeonghan called out, which made me sigh again.
“But I am supposed to serve right now!” I said while walking towards the staff to get the flippers.
“We gave it to you on purpose.” I rolled my eyes at Jeonghan when he said that.
Standing in front of seungcheol I got ready to hit the ball, “Wah it’s really hard to walk in this!”
“Okay, ready?” I gave a small nod to Seungcheol when he asked. “One, two, three!” I successfully kicked the ball when it reached me and immediately took off to reach the first base.
Due to not being able to run properly in it, I stumbled over my feet and hit the ground while twisting my ankle.
“Are you okay?” I closed my eyes in pain and held my ankle in my hand. I didn’t even notice that all the members had gathered around me.
“Mingyu, remove that flipper from her.” I heard seungcheol say at which Mingyu immediately helped me remove it from my feet.
“It looks like it’s starting to swell.” Joshua said from beside me as he traced his fingers over my now hurt ankle.
“I can still play.” I said softly as I looked up at seungcheol for his approval.
Before he could even say anything, Joshua cut him off, “I think you should take some rest and sit beside Minghao. You can’t run with a sprained ankle, you idiot.” He said while hitting the back of my head gently.
“You should take a break.” I sighed softly when seungcheol agreed to Joshua.
“Get on my back. I will carry you towards Minghao.” Joshua said to me at which I let out a small laugh.
“I just twisted my ankle a bit. Not a big deal.”
“Do you want to get on my back or not?” I silently got on his back without answering him. “That’s what I thought.” He said smugly.
“Oh shut it.” I said grumpily as he gave me a piggyback ride to where Minghao was sitting.
After settling me down on the ground, Joshua walked away.
“Does it hurt?” Minghao asked softly at which I shook my head.
“It doesn’t hurt much, just when I put pressure on it.” I answered while showing him my now swollen ankle.
“Y/N-ah, here take this. Apply this on your sprained ankle from time to time.” I looked up and saw Joshua handing me an ice pack.
I took it and started applying it on my ankle, “Where did you get this from?” I questioned since we were outdoors.
“The staff had some ice packs in case we needed it.” I nodded my head at that, “Now don’t move from here. I will come back to check on you once I am done with my turn.” I nodded at Joshua and gave him an okay sign.
Throughout the whole game, Joshua checked up on me from time to time and even handed me some cold drinks to keep me hydrated.
—x—
“Today’s MVP is Dino!” The members cheered, while Dino danced to Left And Right.
In the background Joshua could be seen giving Y/N a piggyback ride and running around the field.
“The losing team doesn’t have an MVP.” I heard Seungcheol, at which I chuckled. “And Shua, Y/N, could you stop loitering around and come here to give your ending ment?” Seungcheol yelled at us.
“Oh sorry. What do you want us to say?” Joshua asked once we reached where all of the others were.
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Nana Tour Episode One
“We’re really going to Italy?” Mingyu questioned in shock, still trying to process everything.
“We’re in a time crunch right now so whose room is the closest from here?” Na PD asked once he reassured Mingyu that they were in fact going to Italy instead of heading back to Korea.
“Y/N’s room would be the closest.” Seungcheol replied from his seat, already reaching out for his crutches.
“I checked on her not too long ago. She’s already asleep.” Joshua answered, not too keen on waking you up.
“We should probably head to her room then right?” Everyone immediately started disagreeing with the idea, not wanting to wake you up. “Why? Is something wrong?” Na PD questioned in confusion.
“Y/N gets really grumpy when you wake her up…” Dino said softly, as if he had already experienced it.
“Let’s just go to her room and one of you can wake her up. Once she’s awake, all of us will come in with the camera. How does that sound?” Na PD asked, hoping they’d agree to it.
He smiled triumphantly when the members agreed.
“I will first go and wake her up.” Joshua said to Na PD when they were walking towards your room.
Upon reaching, he told the members to lower their voices as he grabbed a camera and entered your room cautiously.
Closing the door, he made sure to not make any noise and walked towards your bed with the lights still off.
“Y/N-ah, wake up. We have to go to Italy.” He whispered softly, sitting on the edge of your bed to gently wake you up.
“Hmm?” He chuckled softly when you mumbled in your sleep and cuddled closer towards him, seeking some warmth.
“We have to go to Italy.” He whispered in your ear while tucking your hair behind your ear when he noticed it was covering your face.
“Italy? What are you talking about?” You mumbled, your voice a bit hoarse since you just woke up from your sleep.
“I meant that we cannot go to Korea. We’re going to Italy for seven days. Na PD and the members are waiting for you outside.” He said while helping you sit up straight. “Do you want some jacket or something to cover yourself?” He asked when he noticed you were wearing a simple tank top and some shorts.
When you gave him a small nod, he simply stood up from your bed and took a sweatshirt out of your suitcase and helped you wear it.
“You guys can come in!” Joshua shouted out once you were comfortable enough.
“Y/N-ah are you ready to go to Italy?” Na PD asked once he entered your room.
You waved to the camera, and rubbed your eyes as the members turned on the lights, “Why do you have a magazine on your table? That too your own magazine?” Seungcheol questioned when he saw your vogue cover magazine on the coffee table.
“Let her be, she just wanted to admire the way she looked in that photoshoot.” Joshua defended you while he was busy fixing your hair with his fingers, noticing how sleepy you still looked.
“Y/N looks so out of it.” Mingyu commented while laughing.
“Do you want some water?” Joshua asked although he was already reaching for the water bottle.
I sat on the floor of the dance practice room with a small sigh escaping my lips.
“Drink some water.” I looked up and saw Joshua handing me a bottle of water.
I grabbed it without saying anything and just looked down, “Hey, what’s wrong?” He questioned softly as he held my face in his hands and made me look at him.
“I cannot get the house steps right…” I mumbled under my breath, almost too embarrassed to admit it.
“You still have time to perfect it. Don’t stress yourself out.” I shook my head at his words.
“We have our music video shoot starting from tomorrow. What if I mess up during that time?” I shared my thoughts, too worried to ignore it.
“We don’t have to shoot the house steps tomorrow, dummy. We still have a few days left and you can always ask Hoshi to help you out.” He reassured me.
“He’s already stressed out enough. I don’t want him to worry about my problems just because just because I’m struggling with a few simple steps.”.” Joshua scoffed at my words as he simply snatched the water bottle from my hand and opened it before handing it back to me without saying anything.
“Don’t you dare say things like that again. Everyone is different, some take more time than others to get some steps done. You’re more than capable of doing it. Cut yourself some slack. You have been working on your solo debut as well.” He said while urging me to drink some water.
I listened to him as he started massaging my legs gently, his eyes still on me, “Don’t doubt yourself like that. Hoshi would be more than happy to help you out.” He said softly as he ruffled my hair making me chuckle.
“I can do it, right?” I questioned, uncertainty still evident in my voice.
“You’re going to do great! Come on, cheer up!” I giggled at him while nodding.
“Guys gather up!” Our dance instructor called out as Joshua stood up and held out his hand to me.
“You will do great.” He whispered in my ear while patting my back.
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Live: 230516
Sitting in front of the camera, you stared at the comments and occasionally replied to some as you waited for your food delivery to arrive.
Hearing the bell ring, you got up from your chair and went towards the door to open it. “Oh?” fans could hear you exclaim in surprise. “What are you doing here?” You could be heard asking the mysterious person.
“I saw that you were live on weverse and decided to stop by and here’s your food.” People watching the live immediately understood that it was Joshua and immediately started typing in comments about how you two are always together.
“Guys, we have a special guest.” You announced while settling the food down on the table. Pulling out another chair, you placed it beside yours as you patted on it.
“Carats, hi.” Joshua greeted once he was settled in the chair beside you. “I decided to accompany Y/N since she is very boring when alone.” He said teasingly at which you glared at him in annoyance.
“I am a very funny person, Hong.” You mumbled while opening the box which was filled with fried chicken.
“Sure you are,” he said softly while his eyes were still on the phone screen.
—x—
“No, my throat has been in a bad condition.” It had been quite a while since Joshua and you were live. Your conversation flowed smoothly with some music playing in the background from Joshua’s phone.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Joshua questioned as he stopped eating and stared at you.
You just shrugged in response and continued talking with the fans.
—x—
Weverse post: 230517
Bro bought me some medicine 💊
Comments:
Gyugyu: help why are they so cute 😭
Shuji: not Joshua buying Y/N medicines immediately after he got to know bout her throat. Simp 😭 (same bro)
Vernonnotbonon: why does he act so nonchalant around her when he’s so chalant 😭🤚
Scoupsass: I would not blame Joshua for simping on Y/N at this point cause same 😐
Kwanboooo: bros a total simp for her
Hoshisnotahamster: SHSJSJSISJXJJXXJDJ NEED SOMETHING LIKE THIS 😭
Wonwooseyesight: this is so domestic of them 👹
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ [INSIDE SEVENTEEN] 2024 SVT 8th FANMEETING < SEVENTEEN in CARAT LAND > UNIT REVERSE RECORDING BEHIND
I sighed in annoyance when I wasn’t able to get my parts in the right range for the unit switch part.
“Why is this part so hard?” I mumbled under my breath while going over the lyrics again. “Gives me hope before…” I trailed off as I hummed along to the music again. “Should this part be in a higher range as I move forward?” I asked our producer to which he nodded and explained how I should sing it.
I took in a deep breath and gave it another try only for my voice to crack at the end. “Why am I not able to get it right?” I hissed under my breath in anger as I started picking at my skin out of anxiousness.
“Hello…” I looked up and saw Joshua entering the studio with some coffee in his hands.
Without any second thought, he made a beeline for the recording booth with the coffee in hand, “Joshi…” I mumbled his name tiredly.
“How’s the recording coming along?” He asked while handing me the coffee. I shook my head while taking a small sip.
“I am not able to get it right…my voice keeps on cracking.” I said softly, my shoulders slumped.
“Let me see.” He said and held out his hand to take a look at the lyrics. “You’re doing this part together with Hoshi right?” I nodded. “Should we listen to his recording so that you get a hint on how to do it?” I nodded at him again.
After listening to Hoshi’s recording I got a hint of what I should do for the high note. “Should we go over that part before you record?” he asked.
“Yes please. Just sing with me for now.” Joshua nodded as we both sang along to the lyrics quietly. I was starting to feel confident again.
“Do you have more parts?” I nodded and showed him my next part, “This one? Okay.”
I sang my lines a few times with Joshua as he guided me on how to sing the ad-libs and the high notes.
After a while, I started getting the hang of it as I got better at singing my parts. “Okay!” I said while clapping my hands once I was satisfied with the recording.
“You did so great, Y/N-ah.” Joshua said with a smile as he massaged my shoulders while standing behind me.
I looked up at him and gave him a small smile, “Thank you for helping me.” I said softly.
“My pleasure.”
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Nana Tour Episode Three
I sat on the couch while staring at the others running around trying to complete their missions.
I had no intention of completing my mission because it seemed as if I was the only member who was stuck with two missions.
“What’s your mission?” Looking up, I saw Joshua standing in front of me. I looked at him with suspicion.
“Why do you ask?” I retorted back, my guard up, knowing he hadn't been letting others complete their mission since the start.
“So that I can help you, silly.” He said with a laugh at which I just scoffed.
“You have been sabotaging Mingyu this whole time. There’s no way you want to help me.” Hearing my answer Joshua giggled knowing that it was true.
“I have no intention of sabotaging you, seriously. I just want to help you.” He said while taking a seat beside me.
“Why?” I asked with suspicion again as I gave him a side eye.
“Just like that.” He said with a shrug.
“You know when you say it like that it makes you look more suspicious.” I mumbled although I was already reaching out into my pocket to show him my mission.
“Well I do want to help you.” He said while taking the paper from my hand, “Why exactly are you not doing your… oh.” He said once he read the full text on the paper. I nodded while staring at nothing in particular.
“No one will jump in the pool willingly…although sharing ramen with a member should be an easy task.” Joshua encouraged me as he stood up and walked towards the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” I called out.
“To make ramen, you idiot!” I immediately got up from my seat and walked behind him.
—x—
Sitting on the dining table, I ate some ramen with Joshua although he ate most of it because I wasn’t hungry. “Mission one: share ramen with a member, done.” I nodded and hopped off the table.
“Who should I forcefully drag in the pool?” I asked him.
“Well you cannot drag me since I already know the mission. I can help you drag someone though.” He said at which I nodded.
“Seungkwan?” I chuckled at the way Joshua’s eyes immediately lit up and he stood up in full force to drag Seungkwan to the pool.
“Seungkwan!” Joshua and I yelled together as we went around looking for him.
We soon saw him pouring water in Mingyu’s meringue while Mingyu was just staring at him with no intention of stopping him.
“Seungkwan, could you come here for a bit?” I questioned, knowing he wouldn’t say no to me.
“In the pool area, Mingyu hid another bowl of meringue.” I whispered in his ear while Joshua just nodded along.
“Really?” Saying that he started running towards the indoor pool area with me and Joshua trailing behind him.
Once in the area, Seungkwan was busy looking for the bowl. Joshua and I shared a knowing glance to each other and held both hands of Seungkwan.
“What are you doing?” He yelled while thrashing around, trying to get out of our grips.
“One, two…three!” Saying that Joshua and I pushed Seungkwan in the pool and high-fived each other.
“What the hell! What was that for!” I ignored Seungkwan yelling in the background as I turned around and looked at the camera.
“You got that on camera right? Mission complete!” I said happily as I hugged Joshua from behind in excitement while Seungkwan was busy whining about getting tricked.
“This is not fair!” He whined while walking out of the room. I laughed loudly at his complaints.
“Why are you drenched, Seungkwan?” Jeonghan asked him as soon as he saw the state of Seungkwan.
Seungkwan simply threw a nasty glare towards Joshua and I who were still busy laughing. “Ask them.” He mumbled before going into his room to change.
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ That one radio station behind the scenes
I stared at Joshua when I saw him busy fixing his hair. “What?” He asked with a smile on his face.
Moving my hand up, I imitated the way he fixed his hair, making him let out a small laugh. “I didn’t do it like that!” He said softly, his eyes turning into crescent shapes as he slapped my arm playfully.
“You did it like this.” I said and imitated him again while giggling. “One more time.” I said and fixed my hair dramatically while staring at the camera.
“I didn’t stare at the camera when doing it.” He mumbled at which I just shook my head and fixed my hair again showing him the way he fixed his hair.
“Stop it.” He whined and hit my arm again. I glared at him jokingly and swatted his hand away from me.
“Stop acting like kids,” Seungkwan said from beside me as he tried to stop me from teasing Joshua but I just ignored him and looked at Joshua again.
“Wait wait… come here.” I said and brought Joshua’s face closer and moved his hair back on purpose. Our faces closer to each other as we looked at the reflection in the camera. “Damn, look at that receding hairline, Shua.” I teased as he just laughed and pushed me away.
I giggled and pulled him closer to me as I pushed his hair back again.
“I should start taking care of my hair more.” Joshua said as he looked at himself again.
I just giggled and nodded before diverting my attention to the front again, failing to notice the way Joshua kept staring at me.
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Bangkok 17hr concert
“Carat bong time!” Hoshi yelled out as all the members started doing what they prepared.
I stayed back and looked at all the members while they were busy performing.
I couldn’t help but smile when Joshua came forward and did the handstand.
Once done, he immediately turned around to look at me for approval. Giving him an okay sign, I nodded.
“Was it really okay?” He asked once he was beside me.
I nodded and spoke up, “You did great but I think your abs got revealed.” I said while giggling when I saw Joshua’s eyes widened as he quickly looked down at his shirt, only to find it now covering his stomach.
“Y/N, Shua, what are you guys talking about?” Soonyoung asked in the mic as I looked at him.
Joshua went towards Soonyoung to answer in his mic, “It’s a secret Soonyoung-ah. Tigers cannot know about it.” I teased at which Joshua held his hand out to high five me.
I held my hand up for him to high five but instead, he entangled our fingers together and pulled me in a hug.
“I wanna know too!” Soonyoung whined at which Joshua laughed into his mic while still hugging me.
“Sorry Hoshi-ya. Animals cannot know about our secret.” He said once he pulled away from the hug.
The whole stadium could be heard squealing and yelling at our interaction but it was as if Joshua didn’t seem to care about it.
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Caratland 2025 D-1
I held the mic in my hand as I watched the members talk. Wearing a short skirt during this cold weather had to be one of the worst decisions made by the staff but it was nothing new.
I smiled when Joshua handed his blanket to Seungkwan. I looked around for my own blanket but didn’t find any.
I looked at one of the staff and requested for a blanket but they said that they just handed the extra one to Joshua.
I nodded, didn’t say anything, and turned my attention back to Seungcheol when he spoke up.
“Y/N-ah, are you cold?” Hoshi asked in the mic as I gave a small nod.
Before he could continue his sentence, Joshua stood up and walked towards me. Opening his blanket, he placed it on my knees and walked away coolly.
“Thank you,” I said softly into the mic, to which Joshua just nodded.
“A real gentleman indeed!” Seokmin exclaimed as he walked towards Joshua and handed him his own blanket.
“I guess we have two gentlemen in our team.” Wonwoo said teasingly.
synopsis: Beneath the moonlit skies of Berlin, a moment years in the making sparks a whirlwind of love, laughter, and unspoken promises, with a diamond shining as bright as their future.
warnings: cursing, establish relationship, fluff, crying, JEONGNA DATE!, slightly suggestive moments, mentions of passing out, simp!Jeonghan, simp!Luna, teasing, Jeonghan the rizzler, FLIRTING!, pda… in public, JeongNa having no care in the world whatsoever, may result in the feeling of being single
WE HAVE FINALLY MADE IT, MY LOVES!!! after months of asking and requesting and teasing, we have finally made it! to this highly anticipated day… “drum roll please!” *drum roll* it’s officially proposal day! 🎉🥳 this has to be my absolute favorite work of mine so far and i hope you guys enjoy it as well! happy reading, my loves! 🤍
Luna’s instgarm post for this which i have posted months ago is here— 240910: Berlin
Not the one Jeonghan was hoping for, not yet, but a quiet, unassuming yes. A yes to a question so ordinary that it almost felt unfair how much weight the final one would carry.
Berlin was unfamiliar terrain, yet it hummed with a certain vibrancy that made SEVENTEEN’s first visit feel both electrifying and fleeting. The city sprawled before them, waiting to be explored in the rare sliver of free time before their upcoming performance at Lollapalooza in a few days. For once, schedules weren’t dictating their every move, and the members took full advantage of it.
Some of the members chose rest, their hotel rooms dark and silent, filled with the slow rise and fall of their steady breathing as they recharged for the days ahead.
Others had ventured out, drawn to Berlin’s streets, its towering landmarks, and the endless stretch of shops waiting to be perused. A few had split off in groups— Mingyu and Dokyeom had excitedly set out in search of the best local food, Hoshi and Dino had somehow convinced Wonwoo to join them on a sightseeing adventure, and Joshua, ever the connoisseur, had been eyeing record stores and coffee shops.
But Jeonghan had chosen neither.
Instead, he sat in the quiet of their hotel room, his long legs stretched out lazily on the couch, eyes trained on the woman sprawled across their bed. Luna lay on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, her face illuminated by the glow of her phone screen as she FaceTimed her cousin and her cousin’s baby.
He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop— not really.
But it was impossible to ignore her voice, the way it softened into something impossibly gentle, dipped in a warmth that Jeonghan swore made the room feel smaller, cozier.
“Who’s my little baby?” Luna cooed, her voice laced with adoration. She giggled as the baby on the other end let out a high-pitched squeal, his tiny hands flailing toward the screen. “Oh my goodness, you’re getting so big! Are you eating well? You better not be giving your mama a hard time.”
Jeonghan tilted his head, observing the way her entire face softened, her eyes crinkling as she cooed nonsense words at the baby, who was happily babbling back. There was something profoundly mesmerizing about the scene before him— Luna, in her natural state of warmth, love spilling from her in quiet, unguarded moments like this.
“Bubba,” she continued, addressing the baby with a nickname that made Jeonghan’s lips twitch in amusement. “Are you being good for Mommy? Are you? Or are you being a little troublemaker, huh?”
Jeonghan swore he felt something shift inside him, something deep and unspoken that had been resting just beneath the surface for years now. He’d carried the weight of a single question for so long, the ring tucked safely in his possession for what felt like a lifetime.
But suddenly, it felt heavier, as if urging him, nudging him toward the moment he had been waiting for.
Not yet, but soon.. very soon by the looks of it.
He had always known Luna was it for him.
The only question had been when.
And maybe— just maybe— that answer was forming itself now, right in front of him, in the way she smiled, in the way she spoke, in the way she so effortlessly made love something that felt like breathing.
He barely registered when the call ended, when Luna sighed in contentment, placing her phone down on the bedside table beside her before lying on her back. It was only then that Jeonghan found his voice again, though it came out unsteady, like his thoughts had barely caught up with his heart.
“Do you wanna go out for a walk and go sight—”
“Yes.”
Luna didn’t even let him finish.
If fate had a sound, it would be the way she said ‘yes’ without knowing she was sealing her own destiny.
Before she even knew what he was about to ask, she had already said yes.
Jeonghan took that as a good sign.
A slow smile curled on his lips as he stood from the couch, making his way towards her with an air of quiet amusement. He crawled onto the bed, shifting his weight until he was hovering over her, his elbows propped on either side of her as he gazed down at her, his long ash-blonde hair falling slightly into his eyes.
“You always say yes so easily,” Jeonghan teased, reaching down to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you even know what you’re agreeing to?”
Luna hummed, unfazed by his sudden proximity. Instead, she lazily lifted her hand, threading her fingers through his hair, playing with the strands that had grown long again.
“I don’t,” she admitted, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “But that’s us… we’re both only spontaneous when we’re together. I wanna go but only if you promise not to get us lost again.”
Jeonghan chuckled, but the sound was light, almost distracted.
She didn’t know. She had no idea just how much weight he was holding onto at this moment, how her words— spoken so casually— were sinking into him like a prophecy.
His fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns against her arm as he let himself linger in the moment, drinking her in. “You say that like getting lost with me isn’t one of the best parts of our trips, Nana-ya.”
Luna scoffed, poking his cheek playfully. “It is, but it also means I have to listen to you pretend like you did it on purpose. Like you meant for us to wander into that random alleyway in New York, or that time in Bangkok when we ended up at someone’s actual house instead of the temple.”
Jeonghan gasped in mock offense. “That was one time.”
Luna arched a brow. “It was three times.”
“Details.” He waved off her accusation, letting his weight settle more against her as he sighed in contentment. “You act like you don’t love it when I get us lost. If anything, it’s just another adventure. You should thank me.”
“Oh? Should I?” Luna challenged, tilting her head slightly, fingers still tangled in his hair.
“Mm.” Jeonghan grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe you’ll find something unexpected this time.”
Luna narrowed her eyes, sensing his teasing tone but unable to decipher what exactly he was hinting at. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He only hummed, feigning innocence, but there was something in the way he looked at her, something that made her heart stutter just for a moment.
“It means, we should go.” Jeonghan grinned at her.
Thankfully, she let it go, brushing a thumb against his temple before murmuring, “I know, I know. Let’s go.”
“Yeah?”
And then, without thinking, without realizing the sheer irony of it all, Luna said, “Yes.”
Jeonghan exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as if the universe itself had just given him its own silent approval.
Luna didn’t know yet.
Didn’t know that her day would begin with a yes so small it seemed insignificant, and end with a yes so life-altering it would rewrite the rest of their tomorrows.
And that’s how Jeonghan and Luna found themselves exploring the streets of Berlin.
They had barely any time in Berlin, but that didn’t stop them, hands intertwined, laughter spilling between them as they wandered through the streets like lovestruck teenagers with nowhere to be. The cool breeze carried the faint scent of roasted nuts and fresh bread from the bustling market nearby, and the distant sound of street musicians played a soft melody that somehow made everything feel even more surreal.
Jeonghan and Luna weren’t in a rush.
If anything, they wanted time to slow down, to stretch every moment they had in this city into something infinite. So, they did everything they could with the little time they had— walking through the cobblestone streets, peeking into boutiques without the intent to buy, taking pictures at random corners just because they liked the lighting. Their phones were filled with blurry selfies, stolen kisses, and the kind of photos only they would find beautiful.
Hand in hand, they strolled through an open-air market, where vendors called out in German, offering everything from handmade crafts to vintage trinkets. Luna dragged Jeonghan to a stand selling delicate flower crowns, placing one atop his head and giggling when he rolled his eyes but didn’t take it off. He, in turn, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before playfully placing a ridiculously large sunhat on her head, declaring, “This is it. This is your new fashion statement.”
With nowhere particular to be, they allowed the city to guide them. They stopped by street artists painting along the sidewalk, watched a mime perform with exaggerated expressions, and even debated over which ice cream flavor was superior— Jeonghan was adamant that pistachio was elite, while Luna stood firm in her love for strawberry.
Every step, every turn, every glance they shared was filled with a warmth that couldn’t be replicated— an unspoken promise that they were happy, here, together.
And then, naturally, they found themselves standing in front of a high-end jewelry store and started to act like they absurdly wealthy socialites choosing items they’ll ‘buy.’
Of course, it was Jeonghan’s idea.
“That will look good on you when you are cooking,” Jeonghan mused, pointing at an extravagant diamond necklace displayed under glass.
Luna, catching on immediately, tilted her head and pursed her lips in faux contemplation. “I think I’ll get that one. For my party in Monaco.”
Jeonghan nodded, completely serious. “A great choice, pretty. I’ll take the diamond-studded cufflinks. To wear… while gardening.”
Luna smirked. “Oh, and we shouldn’t forget our dog’s new diamond-studded collar.”
Jeonghan gasped dramatically. “Oh, of course! Fluffy deserves only the best.”
A store employee, who had been watching them with amused eyes, finally stepped forward and greeted them knowingly. “Would you like to see the collection up close?”
Without missing a beat, Jeonghan and Luna turned to her and, in perfect sync, said, “No, thanks.”
The employee smiled but didn’t retreat. Instead, she launched into a well-rehearsed explanation about the store’s exclusive deals and the quality of their latest collection.
“This season, we have introduced a new range of ethically sourced diamonds, featuring intricate designs inspired by classic European elegance,” she began, gesturing toward a display. “Many of our pieces are custom-made, and we offer personalized engravings at no additional charge—”
Luna, being Luna, felt guilty. She hadn’t meant for the employee to waste her breath on them, and with each passing second, the guilt weighed heavier.
Jeonghan, on the other hand, found it hilarious. His eyes danced with amusement as he watched Luna nod as she shifted on her feet, her conscience warring with her common sense. He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. “You do realize this is how you get scammed, right?”
Luna waved him off, much too soft-hearted to just walk away now. “I’ll just get something small.”
Jeonghan chuckled under his breath as she stepped inside, already scanning the jewelry cases. “This is why I can’t take you anywhere,” he muttered, following behind her.
The employee, thrilled by the change in pace, immediately directed Luna toward the diamond tennis bracelets.
“These are some of our finest pieces,” she explained. “Crafted with high-quality diamonds set in either white gold or platinum. The design is both timeless and elegant, perfect for everyday wear or special occasions.”
Luna ran her fingers along the glass, eyes twinkling. “They’re beautiful,” she murmured.
Jeonghan, standing behind her, wrapped his arms loosely around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Just so we’re clear, you walked in here out of guilt, and now you’re actually considering buying one?”
Luna ignored him. “Do you have these in a matching set?”
“Yes, of course,” the employee nodded eagerly. “Would you like to see how they fit?”
Before Jeonghan could protest, Luna was already slipping the bracelet onto her wrist. She turned to him with a triumphant grin. “Let’s get matching ones.”
Jeonghan smirked. “I don’t recall agreeing to this.”
Luna batted her lashes at him. “You love me.”
Jeonghan sighed dramatically. “That I do.”
Satisfied, Luna reached for her black card— only for Jeonghan to gently smack it out of her hand, replacing it with his own.
Luna gasped, playfully glaring at him. “Excuse me?”
“I pay,” Jeonghan said smoothly.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Luna snatched his card and swapped it with hers again.
Jeonghan raised a brow, taking hers and replacing it once more. “I do.”
Luna, narrowing her eyes, did the same. “You don’t.”
This went on for a full minute, back and forth, exchanging cards with increasing speed, until finally, they both had the same idea.
“Let’s play our game,” Luna declared, already shuffling both their black cards together.
Jeonghan grinned. “I love this game.”
The employee watched, bewildered, as they held up both identical black cards and gestured for her to pick.
Hesitant, she reached forward and selected one, flipping it over.
It was Luna’s.
She beamed, turning to Jeonghan with a victorious smirk before sticking her tongue out at him.
Jeonghan rolled his eyes but leaned in, pressing a soft peck to her lips. “Fine. I’ll let you have this one.”
With that, Luna happily paid, and they left the store hand in hand, both of them now wearing matching diamond tennis bracelets.
A few hours later, they found themselves in a quaint little restaurant tucked away in a quiet alley, the kind of place that wasn’t flashy or tourist-ridden but radiated warmth and authenticity.
The restaurant was the kind of place you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it— small, tucked into a quiet street, with wooden tables that bore the scratches of time and soft yellow lights that cast a golden glow over everything. It was warm inside, the scent of fresh bread and simmering sauces filling the air, a stark contrast to the crisp autumn chill outside. It felt homey, lived-in, like a secret only a few were lucky enough to stumble upon.
Jeonghan and Luna sat across from each other at a small, candlelit table by the window, the flickering light casting shadows over their intertwined fingers. They hadn’t let go since they walked in, their hands naturally gravitating toward each other as if they belonged nowhere else.
The server had greeted them in German, to which Luna, always interested in languages, responded effortlessly with a simple hello in German. Jeonghan, ever the observer, had only smirked as she ordered for them, watching the way she so easily charmed the waiter without even trying.
“Impressive,” he murmured as the server walked away, leaning his cheek against his palm.
Luna raised a brow. “You say that as if I spoke entirely in German. I could only say hello, Han.”
“Still impressive,” he admitted, tilting his head. “Plus… it’s different hearing you speak in a foreign language. You sounded kind of…” He paused, eyes twinkling.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Kind of what?”
Jeonghan took a slow sip of his water, letting the anticipation build. “Hot.”
Luna blinked, then let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “God, you’re ridiculous.”
“Am I wrong, though?”
She bit her lip to suppress a smile. “Maybe not.”
Their food arrived shortly after— a spread of freshly baked bread, a bowl of creamy soup, a plate of pasta that smelled like heaven, and a charcuterie board filled with cheeses and meats they could leisurely pick at. It was simple, unpretentious, yet everything about it felt indulgent in the way that only slow meals shared between lovers could.
Jeonghan, of course, wasted no time in stealing from Luna’s plate.
She caught his wrist mid-motion, giving him a pointed look. “Jeongie.”
He blinked innocently. “Yes, my love?”
She sighed, loosening her grip just enough for him to snatch a piece of bread from her plate. He took a triumphant bite, chewing happily as if he had won a battle.
Luna shook her head, but there was no real annoyance in her eyes— only affection. “You have your own food.”
“Yes, but yours tastes better.”
She scoffed, picking up her fork. “You haven’t even tried yours yet.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Yours is still better, Nana-ya.”
Luna rolled her eyes but let him get away with it, nudging his foot under the table in silent retaliation.
They ate at a leisurely pace, talking about nothing and everything, the kind of conversation that didn’t need direction because it flowed so easily.
At one point, Jeonghan took a sip of soup and hummed in approval. “Mm, this is good.”
Luna, already mid-bite of pasta, gave him a knowing look. “You’re going to steal mine next, aren’t you?”
Jeonghan gasped, feigning offense. “I would never.”
Luna gave him a deadpan stare. “Yoon Jeonhan.”
“…Okay, but just one bite.”
She sighed but held out her spoon for him anyway. He leaned forward, taking the spoon into his mouth in a way that was far too slow, eyes locked on hers as he pulled away.
Luna felt warmth creep up her neck. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
He smirked. “Doing what, love of my life?”
She huffed, stabbing a piece of pasta with her fork. “Being insufferable.”
“You love it.”
Luna didn’t dignify that with a response, but the way she hid her smile behind her glass of water gave her away.
Jeonghan just watched her, the rest of the world fading into a quiet blur.
She looked effortlessly beautiful like this— soft, relaxed, glowing in the candlelight. Strands of her hair fell loosely around her face, framing her features in a way that made his heart clench.
He had always thought she was stunning, had always known it, but something about seeing her like this, in the simplest of moments, made him feel like he was discovering her beauty all over again.
And then, the thought crept in.
I could just ask her right now. Jeonghan thought.
The realization hit him so suddenly that it almost startled him.
He could do it— right here, right now.
He had the ring.
He always had the ring with him ever since he got it… two years ago.
He had everything he needed.
And God, wasn’t this enough?
Wasn’t she enough?
She was sitting right in front of him, laughing, stealing bites of his food now in retaliation, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that way he loved. She was warmth and light and the only person he had ever wanted to spend forever with.
His fingers twitched against the fabric of his pocket, where the small velvet box had rested for two years now, waiting.
He had carried it with him more times than he could count, always thinking, Maybe this is the moment.
But it never was.
And now, as he sat across from her, watching her twirl pasta around her fork with a quiet hum, he realized that this wasn’t the moment either.
It was too… ordinary.
Not that he minded ordinary— not when it came to her, not when it came to them. He didn’t need anything grand or fancy. He didn’t need anything crazy or out of this world. Jeonghan was a simple man and so was Luna. But if he was going to ask the question, it couldn’t be here. It couldn’t be in a restaurant, no matter how charming or intimate.
It couldn’t be in a place where they were still careful, where their love was something they had to keep hidden.
They were public figures in a very public space, their relationship a carefully guarded secret for the past five years.
He couldn’t do it like this here.
It wasn’t perfect enough for him.
And Jeonghan had waited too long— loved her too much— to settle for anything less than perfect.
So he didn’t ask.
Not yet at least.
Instead, he reached across the table, brushing a stray crumb off the corner of her lips with his thumb, letting it linger there just a second too long.
Luna blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden touch, then softened. “What?”
Jeonghan only smiled. “Nothing.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly, studying him. “You’re looking at me weird.”
He shrugged, leaning back lazily in his chair. “Can’t a man admire the mother of my future children?”
Luna choked on her drink, coughing as she reached for her napkin. “Yoon Jeonghan—”
He grinned, watching her fluster. “What? You’re going to be the mother of my kids one day, aren’t you?”
She huffed, shaking her head as she regained composure. “Not if you keep making me choke on my water.”
Jeonghan’s smirk only widened. “I make you breathless, huh?”
She groaned, tossing a piece of bread at him, which he caught effortlessly. “You’re unbearable.”
“And yet, you’re still here,” he said, popping the bread into his mouth.
Luna sighed, but the corners of her lips betrayed her. “Unfortunately.”
He reached for her hand again, intertwining their fingers effortlessly. “Fortunately,” he corrected, voice softer now.
And when she looked at him then— really looked at him— Jeonghan knew he was right.
He would ask.
Just not yet.
After eating they ended up walking to a park. The park stretched before them, bathed in the soft golden hues of the late afternoon sun. The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves and distant roasted chestnuts from a street vendor somewhere nearby. The path beneath their feet was lined with towering trees, their branches swaying gently as if whispering secrets to the wind.
Luna tightened her grip around Jeonghan’s hand, her fingers lacing between his effortlessly, as though they had been molded to fit together. His touch was warm, grounding, steady— like the very presence of him always was.
A fluffy Samoyed trotted past them, its thick white fur catching the sunlight like a halo. The poor owner at the other end of the leash struggled to hold on as the excitable dog bounded after a stray autumn leaf that had dared to escape the confines of the path.
Luna gasped, her entire face lighting up in an instant as she tugged on Jeonghan’s arm. “Hannie,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper but brimming with excitement. “Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”
Jeonghan followed her gaze, unimpressed, hands buried deeper into his coat pockets. He tilted his head slightly as if analyzing the situation before making a rather nonchalant observation.
“It’s cute, sure,” he said, nodding. “But imagine something smaller. More portable. I’m more of a ‘tiny dog in a handbag’ kind of guy. Like a Pomeranian I can carry in my bag.”
Luna came to an abrupt stop, turning to stare at him, scandalized. The sheer betrayal in her expression was almost theatrical. “You’re joking.”
Jeonghan smirked, ever the picture of mischief. “Nope. Picture it— me, in sunglasses, walking through the airport with a tiny Pomeranian peeking out of my designer tote. Full celebrity mode.”
Luna groaned loudly, throwing her head back in exasperation. “You would carry it around like an accessory.”
“Exactly,” Jeonghan said, nodding in satisfaction. “Imagine the power move. Paparazzi photos of me casually sipping coffee, little dog in tow. We’d be iconic.”
Luna gave him a deadpan stare. “You’re the actual drama.”
Jeonghan squeezed her hand, feigning deep contemplation. “So, compromise,” he mused. “What if we get two? One fluffy Samoyed for you, and one high-fashion, pint-sized diva for me?”
Luna pursed her lips, pretending to consider it before shrugging. “Fine.”
“Good,” Jeonghan said, as if it had been a crucial negotiation. “You can handle the big one. I’ll be busy styling mine.”
Luna rolled her eyes, but her laughter betrayed her amusement.
They resumed their walk, deeper into the park, their hands still intertwined. The chatter of people slowly faded into the background, replaced by the distant chirping of birds and the soft rustle of leaves beneath their feet. The golden glow of the setting sun peeked through the tree branches, casting elongated shadows across the path. The park was quieter here, the world slowing down to match their unhurried pace.
Jeonghan, ever observant, caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. A few people, phones discreetly raised, stood at a distance, filming them.
Fans.
Luna noticed too, but neither of them reacted much. Their fans knew how close they were— had known for years. Holding hands wasn’t out of the ordinary for them. They had spent half a decade in each other’s orbit, and while the world didn’t know the true depth of their relationship, moments like these weren’t unusual in the eyes of those who followed them.
Still, Jeonghan couldn’t resist stirring the pot. He leaned in, voice low and teasing. “Do you think if I dip you like a ballroom dancer, they’ll start clapping?”
Luna, laughing but pulling him back, shook her head. “Don’t you dare. You’re already this close to making me trip over my own feet.”
Jeonghan grinned, unbothered. “If you fall, I fall. That’s romance, baby.”
Luna deadpanned, her expression utterly unimpressed. “That’s gravity, baby.”
He snorted, squeezing her hand tighter as they continued walking. The fans remained at a distance, respecting their space, and after a while, they seemed to fade away, as if realizing this moment wasn’t meant to be interrupted.
With the sun dipping lower into the horizon, the park grew even quieter. The warm hues of daylight melted into the cool shades of dusk, the air carrying a sharper chill now. Jeonghan instinctively shifted closer to Luna, his coat brushing against hers. She, in turn, burrowed against his side slightly, as if drawn to his warmth.
“Do you think we’ll ever get caught?” she asked, voice softer now, more pensive.
Jeonghan hummed. “If we do, I hope it’s when we look really good,” he said. “Like, I want the lighting to be perfect. Angles immaculate. None of that ‘caught off guard’ nonsense.”
Luna laughed. “Of course you’d think about that.”
“Obviously.” He smirked. “If we’re going down, we’re going down looking fucking expensive.”
She shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You know what’s funny? We’ve spent five years sneaking around, and yet, one of the main reasons why we’re not fully outed is because people think we’re too obvious to be real.”
Jeonghan chuckled. “Right? That’s the best part. We hold hands, wear matching outfits, disappear at the same time, and somehow, we’re still ‘just besties.’”
Luna nudged him playfully. “Maybe we should start acting less suspicious.”
Jeonghan feigned shock. “And deny the people their favorite mystery? What would they do without their detective work? We’re providing entertainment.”
She rolled her eyes but leaned into him regardless, their fingers still tangled together as they walked deeper into the park, where the world felt smaller, quieter, just the two of them against the backdrop of the fading sun.
They wandered deeper into the park, hand in hand, the air crisp with the scent of autumn and earth. The path before them was dappled with golden light filtering through the thinning canopy of trees, and a gentle breeze carried the soft rustling of leaves across the open space.
The further they walked, the more secluded it became— fewer people, fewer distractions, just them and the steady rhythm of their footsteps against the leaf-strewn ground.
Luna, still holding Jeonghan’s hand, let her gaze wander over the scenery, taking in the tranquil beauty of it all. And then—
She gasped, her fingers slipping from his as she suddenly bolted forward, her laughter trailing behind her like the lingering scent of something sweet.
Jeonghan barely had time to process before she was crouched before a massive pile of fallen leaves, her eyes wide with excitement, her entire face alight with a childlike joy that made his heart stutter.
“What— Jiyeonie—” He blinked, watching her run her fingers through the pile as if searching for something. “Uh. Are we… searching for treasure?”
“No,” Luna said, completely serious as she scooped up a handful of leaves and began carefully arranging them on the ground. “I’m about to make art.”
Jeonghan exhaled a small chuckle, stepping closer with amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “Art?”
Luna nodded, already focused, her fingers meticulously sorting through the leaves with practiced ease. “I used to do this all the time when I was little. Every autumn, when the leaves started falling, I’d go outside and make designs with them. Animals, flowers, little faces— sometimes even whole landscapes if I had the time.”
She glanced up at him briefly, her expression soft with nostalgia. “Back in London, my mum and I would go for walks in the park near our house, and I’d stop every few minutes to gather the prettiest leaves I could find. Then I’d sit on the grass and arrange them into shapes while she read on a bench nearby. She used to say I had the patience of a sculptor.”
Jeonghan’s gaze softened as he crouched beside her, watching the way she worked with quiet reverence.
There was something so inherently Luna about this— so meticulous yet playful, so creative and endearing. He could almost picture it: a younger version of her, bundled up in a coat and scarf, sitting cross-legged on a damp patch of grass, completely absorbed in her art.
He smiled. “So this is a lifelong passion.”
“Obviously,” Luna said, lips pursed in concentration as she placed a particularly vibrant red leaf in what appeared to be an ear. “You’re witnessing greatness in real-time.”
Jeonghan chuckled, leaning back on his palms as he observed. “What’s today’s masterpiece?”
“You— My Melody,” she answered matter-of-factly, gesturing at the loose but recognizable shape forming before them.
He hummed in approval, crossing his arms as he admired her work. And then, with the air of someone about to contribute something truly groundbreaking, he plucked two small twigs from the ground and carefully set them atop My Melody’s head.
Luna gasped in absolute horror. “You just turned her into an alien!”
Jeonghan leaned back, nodding with satisfaction. “Innovation, my moon.”
Luna dramatically clutched her heart. “How dare you ruin her?”
“Ruined? No, no.” Jeonghan shook his head, grinning. “Enhanced.” He pointed at the altered creation, his expression one of smug accomplishment. “You see, this is My Melody’s long-lost cousin from space. Intergalactic My Melody.”
Luna gawked at him, then scoffed as she grabbed the twigs and threw them at him with an exaggerated flick of her wrist. “Get out of my artistic vision!”
Jeonghan dodged effortlessly, laughing. “You’re just mad because I’m a visionary.”
She gave him a long, unimpressed stare before sighing and turning back to her creation. With careful hands, she fixed the design, her lips pursed in concentration before she finally pulled out her phone to snap a picture.
Jeonghan, however, wasn’t quite done watching her. There was something about the way she looked right now— completely absorbed, wholly unguarded—that made him pause. And then, softer, he murmured, “You know… I like watching you like this.”
Luna glanced up, tilting her head. “Like what?”
Jeonghan tilted his own head in thought before offering her a small, genuine smile. “Happy. Unbothered. Just… you.”
Luna blinked at him, warmth blooming in her chest, slow and golden like the autumn light around them. Slowly, a smile tugged at her lips. “Well, of course I’m happy,” she said, reaching for his hand without hesitation. “I’m with you.”
Jeonghan squeezed her fingers in return, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded patterns against her skin. Somewhere in the distance, the wind rustled through the trees, carrying the sound of quiet laughter between them as they continued venturing deeper into the park.
The air felt cooler now, but neither of them seemed to mind. If anything, Luna pressed closer to Jeonghan, and he, in turn, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side with a contented hum.
“You really used to do that all the time as a kid?” he asked, circling back to their earlier conversation.
Luna nodded, leaning into his warmth. “Every year. Without fail.”
Jeonghan grinned, amused. “I can’t imagine little you sitting still long enough to make a whole art piece.”
“Oh, I didn’t sit still. I’d dart around the park gathering leaves for the perfect colors,” she said, waving a hand dramatically. “It was a process, you see. I had standards.”
Jeonghan chuckled. “Of course you did.”
Luna sighed wistfully. “It was always my favorite part of autumn. That, and jumping into leaf piles.”
Jeonghan arched a brow, glancing down at her. “Are you about to tell me you want to do that right now?”
Luna smirked. “What, scared you’ll mess up your hair?”
He scoffed. “I’ll have you know, my hair is built for resilience.”
She hummed. “We’ll see about that.”
Before he could react, Luna suddenly spun out of his hold, taking off toward another large pile of leaves a few steps away. With absolutely no hesitation, she threw herself into it, landing with a laugh as the leaves crunched beneath her.
Jeonghan stared. “Bae Jiyeon— be careful— you’re ridiculous.”
“You love it,” Luna sing-songed, peeking up at him from the scattered mess.
Jeonghan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head fondly before stepping forward. He crouched beside her, elbows resting on his knees as he studied her with an amused tilt of his head. “Having fun down there?”
Luna grinned. “Loads.”
He sighed, giving her a long, considering look before finally muttering, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” And then, much to her delight (and his own inevitable regret), he flopped down beside her, sending another flurry of leaves into the air.
Luna gasped, eyes wide. “You did it.”
Jeonghan groaned, but there was no bite to his words. “This better be worth it.”
Luna beamed, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. “It totally is.”
And just like that, Jeonghan found he couldn’t argue.
Afterwards, Jeonghan let Luna tug him along by the hand, their fingers intertwined, their pace unhurried. There was a softness in the air, the kind that only came with autumn evenings, where the crisp breeze nipped at their cheeks, but the warmth of each other’s presence was enough to chase away the cold.
Luna was still giddy from her leaf art, occasionally glancing at her phone to admire the picture she had taken, and Jeonghan, ever the opportunist, took the moment to tease.
“Are you going to frame that?” he mused, peering over her shoulder.
Luna scoffed, locking her phone and giving him a playful shove. “Obviously. This is a masterpiece. It deserves to be remembered.”
Jeonghan hummed, tilting his head as if deep in thought. “Should we submit it to a museum? Maybe the Louvre? ‘Intergalactic My Melody’— it could be the next Mona Lisa.”
Luna groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “Why do you have to ruin everything, Jeongie?”
“I don’t ruin things. I make them better,” Jeonghan corrected, bumping his shoulder against hers.
Luna shook her head, but there was a fond smile playing on her lips. “You’re impossible.”
Jeonghan grinned. “And yet, you love me.”
She rolled her eyes, but the way her fingers tightened around his gave her away. “Unfortunately.”
He gasped, clutching his chest as if wounded. “The betrayal! After everything I’ve done for you!”
“Oh, yes, because ruining my leaf art is such an act of devotion,” she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Jeonghan chuckled, pulling her closer so he could drape an arm over her shoulders. “I’ll have you know, my dear, that my presence alone is a gift.”
Luna snorted, leaning into his warmth. “A curse, more like.”
“You wound me,” he said dramatically, resting his head against hers.
She sighed, but it was laced with amusement. “And yet, you’re still here.”
Jeonghan smirked. “That’s because you’re obsessed with me.”
Luna hummed, as if contemplating. “Hmm… obsessed might be a strong word.”
Jeonghan stopped walking, placing a hand over his heart. “Nana-ya,” he said in an exaggeratedly pained voice, “after years, this is how you treat me?”
Luna turned to face him, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m just keeping you humble, love.”
Jeonghan narrowed his eyes playfully. “Oh, so that’s your game?”
She grinned, standing on her toes to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “Mm-hmm.”
His grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her in closer. “Then I guess I’ll have to remind you just how obsessed you are,” he murmured, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down her spine.
Luna, to her credit, kept her cool. “Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?”
Jeonghan leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “By making you say my name in that lovesick voice you always use when you’re being needy or when you think I’m not listening.”
Luna’s breath hitched, her cheeks warming despite the chilly air. “I do not—”
Luna huffed, poking his chest. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here you are, still holding my hand, still hopelessly in love with me,” he teased.
She exhaled through her nose, feigning exasperation, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Fine. You win.”
Jeonghan gasped dramatically. “Say it again. I want to record it for proof.”
Luna groaned, but she was laughing, and Jeonghan knew— knew without a doubt— that he would never get tired of this. Of her. Of the way she looked at him like he was her entire world, even when she pretended to be annoyed.
And as the last sliver of sunlight dipped behind the horizon, casting them in the golden afterglow of autumn, he realized something— he had already won.
As the evening deepened, the soft hues of twilight stretched across the sky, casting a gentle glow over the secluded part of the park they had wandered into.
The air was cooler now, the crisp scent of the lake blending with the earthy fragrance of the grass beneath their feet. Towering above them was a majestic willow tree, its long, delicate branches swaying with the evening breeze, cascading down like a curtain shielding them from the rest of the world. Beneath the tree, the lake shimmered under the fading light, its surface rippling gently. It was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets.
Luna’s eyes widened as she spotted movement in the lake. “Oh,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Two swans glided across the water, their pristine white feathers illuminated by the moon’s emerging glow.
Luna gasped, her face lighting up with childlike wonder before she instinctively stepped closer, her movements slow and careful so as not to startle them. The swans, however, remained unbothered, merely continuing their serene journey across the lake as if they had deemed her presence non-threatening.
Jeonghan, who had been trailing behind her, let out a quiet sigh before following. He watched as she crouched near the lake’s edge, her eyes locked onto the birds, mesmerized. The glow of the moon danced across her face, highlighting the softness of her features.
“Be careful,” he warned gently, stopping just a step behind her. “Swans still bite, you know.”
Luna turned her head slightly, flashing him a small, amused smile. “I’ll be fine.”
He exhaled, giving her a knowing look. “You say that, but you almost fell in trying to get closer just now.”
Luna waved him off with a dismissive flick of her wrist, her attention already back on the swans as she cooed at them softly. “Oh, hush. They’re so graceful… look at them, Hannie,” she murmured, completely enchanted.
Jeonghan didn’t respond— not because he didn’t agree, but because, for the past few minutes, he hadn’t been looking at the swans.
He had been looking at her.
The way her eyes reflected the water’s surface, gleaming with quiet joy. The way the corners of her lips lifted ever so slightly, a small, wistful smile forming as she admired the birds. The way her hair cascaded down her shoulders, strands occasionally catching the wind and brushing against her face.
These were all things he had noticed before— things that had drawn him to her in the first place.
But then, there were the little things, the ones he hadn’t fully realized until now.
The way her nose scrunched slightly whenever she focused intently on something. The way her fingers curled over her knees as she crouched, as if anchoring herself to the moment. The way she occasionally hummed under her breath without even realizing it, a quiet melody of contentment.
He felt something deep within his chest tighten, warmth spreading through him like a gentle tide.
He knew he would fall in love with more things about her.
He knew, with absolute certainty, that this was the moment.
The moment to do it.
It was the moment to finally ask her.
The swans eventually drifted away, disappearing into the distance, and Luna, satisfied with her little encounter, pushed herself back up to her feet, stretching her arms above her head.
Jeonghan bent down, picking up a smooth stone from the ground, testing its weight in his palm before effortlessly flicking it across the lake’s surface.
It skipped three times before sinking.
Luna watched, tilting her head. “I’ve never been good at that,” she admitted.
Jeonghan smirked, tossing another stone up and catching it. “Want me to teach you?”
Luna pursed her lips in thought before picking up her own stone. She mimicked his movement, flicking her wrist— only for the stone to plop unceremoniously into the water without a single skip. She blinked, then slowly turned to Jeonghan with an exaggerated pout.
His laughter came immediately, warm and amused, before he reached over and affectionately flicked her nose. “Cute,” he murmured.
Luna scrunched her nose at the action but smiled nonetheless.
Jeonghan then grabbed another stone before stepping behind her, his chest pressing lightly against her back as he wrapped his arms around hers. His fingers ghosted over hers as he adjusted her grip, his voice low and patient.
“Loosen your wrist a little. You’re flicking it too stiffly.”
She nodded, feeling his warmth surround her, and let him guide her hand.
“Now, angle it slightly. You want the stone to touch the water at just the right tilt so it doesn’t sink immediately.”
His chin nearly rested on her shoulder as he spoke, his breath tickling her ear. Luna swallowed, focusing on his words rather than the way he was practically enveloping her.
“Got it?”
“Mhm.”
“Alright, now flick— gently.”
She did as instructed, following the movement of his arms. The stone left her fingers, skipping once, twice, three times before disappearing beneath the surface.
Luna gasped, twisting in his hold to face him. “Did you see that?!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.
Jeonghan chuckled, watching her burst with excitement. “I saw, I saw.”
She turned back, still beaming. “I did it!”
He smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Told you. Just needed my expert guidance.”
Luna playfully rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Let’s see if I can do it myself.”
She bent down again, picking up another stone with renewed determination. Jeonghan stepped back, crossing his arms as he watched her prepare.
She inhaled, flicked her wrist— and this time, the stone skipped twice before sinking.
Luna let out a delighted squeal, immediately turning back to him. “Did you see that?! I did it again!”
Jeonghan chuckled, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “You’re a natural now.”
Luna huffed, swatting his hand away, but her smile remained wide. “I should go pro.”
Jeonghan raised a brow. “Pro at skipping rocks?”
“Yes.” She tossed another, this one failing miserably. She blinked, before laughing at herself. “Okay, maybe not.”
Jeonghan shook his head fondly. “Don’t quit your day job just yet.”
She stuck her tongue out at him before picking up another stone, determined to try again.
And as he watched her, her laughter echoing softly in the quiet night, Jeonghan’s heart swelled.
He really, truly, couldn’t wait to spend forever with her.
He’s about to.
The rhythmic plopping of stones against the water filled the quiet night air as Luna, standing at the water’s edge, let out a triumphant laugh. She had finally gotten the hang of skipping rocks, and the way the small stones bounced across the surface sent a rush of exhilaration through her.
“Did you see that?” she called over her shoulder, breathless with excitement. “That one went four times!”
Jeonghan, crouched a few feet behind her, hummed in amusement, his lips tugging into a smirk as he absentmindedly picked up another smooth stone from the ground. “Not bad,” he mused, running his thumb over the cool surface before handing it over. “But I think you can do five.”
Without looking back, Luna reached her hand behind her, her fingers blindly grasping for the next rock, and Jeonghan slipped it into her palm effortlessly. She adjusted her stance, took a deep breath, and flicked her wrist. The stone danced across the water— one, two, three, four… five.
“Yes!” she cheered, spinning slightly on her heel before looking back at him with wide, sparkling eyes. “Did you see that?! Five skips, Jeongie!”
He chuckled, nodding, already fishing another stone from the ground. “I saw, good job. I knew you could do it,” he assured her, handing her another. “But now you’ve got to go for six.”
Luna grinned, her competitive streak flaring. “Oh, I can do six,” she declared confidently, turning back around as she lined up her next throw.
Jeonghan remained behind her, watching with quiet adoration as she lost herself in the simple joy of the game. There was something almost childlike in the way she celebrated each successful skip, in the way her body practically hummed with excitement. He kept supplying her with stones, handing them over whenever she reached back without thinking, their movements fluid and synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance.
“Okay, six skips,” she muttered to herself, bracing her stance before throwing another. The stone soared across the water— one, two, three, four… and then it sank.
“Damn,” she sighed dramatically, placing a hand on her hip. “I got too cocky.”
Jeonghan laughed, already placing another rock in her waiting hand. “It happens to the best of us, my moon.”
Luna huffed, but there was no real frustration in her voice, only determination. “Alright, next one. I feel it. This is the one.”
She threw again. Five skips.
“Ahh, so close!” she groaned.
Jeonghan smirked, his fingers already brushing the ground for another rock— but then he hesitated. His hand hovered over the pebbles for a moment before his eyes flickered to the small box tucked securely in his pocket.
An idea struck him like lightning.
The corners of his lips curled, a slow, knowing smile creeping onto his face as he reached into his pocket instead, fingers wrapping around the box as he exhaled softly. His heart pounded, steady but strong, like it had been waiting for this moment all along.
Luna, oblivious, held her hand out behind her again, fingers wiggling impatiently. “Come on, Hannie. Another one, please.”
Jeonghan’s smirk deepened as he carefully flipped the small box open, revealing the delicate oval diamond ring nestled inside. His breath was steady, his movements sure as he lowered himself onto one knee, the cool pavement pressing against his knee as he positioned himself directly behind her.
Luna, still blissfully unaware, waited for the familiar feeling of a rock against her palm. But instead, something entirely different met her touch.
Smooth. Cold.
Not the rough texture of a stone— but something else.
Her fingers brushed over the unexpected object, and she froze. Mid-sentence, mid-motion, her entire body halted as a small frown crossed her face.
“What is—”
Her voice trailed off, her breath catching in her throat as she turned around— slow, hesitant, almost afraid to confirm the thought forming in her mind.
And then she saw him.
Yoon Jeonghan.
On one knee.
A small black velvet box in his hand.
An oval diamond ring gleaming under the soft glow of the moonlight.
Luna’s breath left her in a sharp, staggering exhale.
Jeonghan’s grin was easy, mischievous, and entirely confident as he tilted his head slightly, his eyes twinkling with something almost playful.
“What do you think?” he mused, voice smooth as silk. “Wanna keep this rock instead?”
Luna’s heart stopped.
Literally stopped.
Her body swayed slightly, her legs locking up as if the ground beneath her had disappeared entirely. Her mind was blank— completely blank— her thoughts refusing to catch up to what she was seeing.
Her chest tightened, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts as her hands began to tremble uncontrollably.
“Han— what is—”
The words barely made it past her lips, her voice nothing more than a breathless whisper.
Jeonghan’s smirk deepened as he raised an eyebrow at her, his confidence never wavering. “You know exactly what it is, Nana-ya,” he said smoothly. “All you have to do is just say yes.”
Luna’s breath hitched. Her eyes, wide and glassy, burned with the sting of overwhelming emotion. Her hands trembled at her sides, her fingers twitching as though unsure whether to reach for him or to hold herself together.
“What?” she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper, her breath shaky, her hands shakier.
She needed to hear him say it— for her sanity, for her heart, for the sheer disbelief consuming her entire being.
And he did.
“Marry me, baby,” Jeonghan murmured, his voice unwavering, his gaze locked onto hers with a certainty that stole the air straight from her lungs.
The moment the words left his lips, the dam broke.
A sharp, choked sob tore from Luna’s throat as the tears she had been holding back poured out, fast and relentless. Her knees buckled, the weight of the moment too much, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed onto the pavement, falling from her kneeling position onto her bottom, her hands flying up to cover her face as her sobs wracked through her body.
Jeonghan’s smile softened, his heart swelling at the sight of her completely overwhelmed, completely undone, completely his.
For a moment, he just watched her, his chest tightening in the best way possible, before he leaned forward slightly, his voice low, teasing, full of the love he couldn’t contain any longer, he needed to say it again.
“Marry me, Bae Jiyeon.”
Jeonghan exhaled softly, his heart aching at the sight of Luna so overwhelmed, tears spilling down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away.
Without hesitation, he moved closer, his arms slipping around her as he scooped her up with ease, shifting her into his lap. The cold pavement pressed beneath them, but neither of them cared— nothing else existed in that moment but the two of them. His hands ran up and down her back in slow, soothing strokes, and he rocked her ever so slightly, the gentle motion coaxing her out of the sobs that shook her small frame.
Luna clung to him instinctively, her fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater as she buried her face into his shoulder. Jeonghan pressed a kiss to the top of her head, murmuring soft reassurances as she let her emotions pour out.
“You wanna marry me?” she whispered against his shoulder, her voice so small, so fragile, it sent a shiver down Jeonghan’s spine.
God, she had no idea what those words did to him. His arms tightened around her as he let out a breathy chuckle, tilting his head down to press another kiss against her hair before responding.
“Luna, baby,” he cooed, his voice dipping into something soft, something so full of love it was almost tangible. “Of course, I do. I wanna marry you so badly it’s been driving me insane.”
She sniffled, her breath shaky as she slightly pulled away to look up at him, her eyes glassy and red-rimmed. Jeonghan reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear before cradling her face between his palms, his thumbs catching stray tears as he gazed at her like she was the only thing that mattered.
Because to him, she was.
“Being your teammate makes me feel invincible,” he began, his voice steady, sure. “Like no matter what, we can take on the world together, side by side. Being your best friend makes me feel safe, like I have someone who knows me, sees me, understands me in a way no one else does.”
Luna hiccupped, her lips parting as her tears fell harder, but Jeonghan continued, his tone unwavering.
“Dating you, though?” He smiled, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “That makes me feel alive. It’s exhilarating, it’s terrifying, it’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me. But the thought of marrying you—” He let out a breath, his fingers tightening ever so slightly against her skin. “The thought of spending the rest of my life as your husband? That makes me feel like I’ve finally found where I belong.”
Luna let out a strangled little sound, her hands clumsily gripping at his wrists, her eyes pleading, overwhelmed. “Jeonghan—”
“Shh, baby, I’m not done.” He kissed the tip of her nose, smiling when she whined.
“I love the way you hum when you’re doing something you enjoy. I love the way you organize things but somehow still manage to lose your phone every five minutes. I love the way you get way too invested in drama shows and yell at the screen like they can hear you.” He chuckled, and Luna let out a shaky breath, gripping at his sleeves. “I love how you always pretend like you’re fine even when you’re not, but I see through it every single time. I love how you love so deeply, so completely, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. I love how even after all these years, you still look at me like I hung the moon.”
Luna squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as she hiccupped again, the weight of his words making her dizzy. “You— you need to stop,” she whined, her voice muffled as she pressed her hands over her face. “You’re too much— I feel like— I feel like I’m gonna pass out—”
Jeonghan let out a soft laugh, prying her hands away from her face as he cupped her cheeks once more. “You’re not gonna pass out, baby,” he murmured, kissing away the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes. “You’re just feeling everything all at once.” Another kiss to her forehead. “And that’s okay.” A kiss to her temple. “I’ve got you.” A kiss to her nose. “I always will.” A final kiss, this time lingering at the corner of her lips.
Luna sniffled, her body trembling slightly in his arms, but her breathing had evened out, her sobs quieting into soft hiccups. She blinked up at him, her doe eyes still wet with tears, her lips parted as if she was searching for the right words.
“You love me that much?” she finally asked, her voice so quiet, so full of wonder, it nearly broke him.
Jeonghan’s expression softened, his smile warm as he rested his forehead against hers. “I love you more than that,” he murmured. “More than words, more than anything. You’re it for me, Luna. Always have been.”
Jeonghan stared at her— this woman who had somehow become the center of his universe without him even realizing it. But he needed her to realize it. Needed her to understand, without a shadow of a doubt, just how deeply, irrevocably, impossibly he loved her.
“Jiyeon-ah,” he started, his voice softer now, but no less intense. His fingers skimmed over her cheek, tracing the shape of her face as if memorizing it all over again. “If there was a word greater than love, if there was an emotion that surpassed it, if there was a way to quantify just how much I need you, then that’s what this is.”
Luna let out a trembling breath, her lashes still damp, her fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater as if holding onto him would keep her grounded.
“I love you in ways I don’t think the world has words for,” he continued, his gaze never wavering. “It’s not just love— it’s devotion, it’s adoration, it’s this ridiculous, overwhelming, all-consuming need to make sure you’re happy, safe, and beside me for the rest of my life. It’s wanting to be the reason you smile first thing in the morning and the last thing you see before you fall asleep. It’s the way my heart physically hurts when you’re sad and feels like it’s about to explode when you’re happy. It’s every damn thing, Bae Jiyeon.”
Luna shook her head weakly, as if she couldn’t handle the weight of his words, as if they were too much.
But Jeonghan wasn’t done.
“You don’t get it, my pretty moon,” he whispered, leaning in so their noses brushed, his breath warm against her lips. “You’re my home. You’re my best friend and my greatest love. If I could rewrite the dictionary, if I could invent a new language, it still wouldn’t be enough to explain how much I love you.”
Luna let out a soft, broken whimper before she suddenly dropped her forehead to his shoulder, her body pressing fully against him. She inhaled shakily against his skin before whispering, “You need to stop. I’m serious— I’m gonna black out.”
Jeonghan let out a breathy laugh, his palm immediately coming up to the back of her neck, warm and steady as he gently lifted her head. His fingers curled slightly, tilting her face up so their eyes met once again. His gaze softened as he took her in— the flushed curve of her cheeks, the glossy sheen in her eyes, the way her lips parted just slightly as if she was still trying to catch her breath.
His eyes flickered across her face, tracing every detail before his gaze dropped to her lips.
And then, without another word, he leaned in.
The moment their lips met, it was soft. Delicate. A mere brush, a gentle press, as if he was still savoring the moment. But then Luna made a tiny sound— a breathy little sigh against his lips— and something in Jeonghan snapped.
His hand tightened at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, his other arm coiling around her waist like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go. Luna melted into him, her fingers twisting into his sweater as her lips moved against his, matching his urgency, his desperation.
The kiss shifted, slow and sweet one second, then fierce and demanding the next. Jeonghan angled his head, his lips parting as he took her deeper, tasting the remnants of her earlier tears, the warmth of her breath mingling with his own. Luna gasped softly into his mouth, and that only made him kiss her harder, his lips molding perfectly against hers, as if this was what they had been made for.
His teeth caught her lower lip for a fleeting second before soothing the sting with his tongue, his hands roaming, pressing, holding.
It wasn’t just a kiss— it was a confession, an exhale, an entire vow wrapped into one singular moment.
By the time they finally pulled away, their breaths were ragged, their foreheads still pressed together as they tried to steady themselves.
Jeonghan was the first to break the silence, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk as he murmured, “By the way, if you don’t answer soon, I might start skipping this ring across the lake.”
Luna let out a choked laugh, her head tilting back slightly as she looked at him with watery eyes and the softest smile.
And then, with a nod, she whispered, “Yes.”
Jeonghan exhaled, his breath shaky yet filled with something indescribable— something so raw, so profound, that it felt like the entire world had just tilted on its axis. His fingers trembled slightly as he held onto her, his heart hammering against his ribs, but his voice was steady when he whispered, “Yeah?”
Luna nodded again, a watery smile playing on her lips as she whispered back, “Yes.”
But Jeonghan wasn’t satisfied with that. He needed more. Needed to hear it fully, clearly, explicitly, just so it would settle into his bones as an irreversible truth. His hand remained at the back of her neck, keeping her gaze locked onto his as he murmured, “Say it.”
Luna let out a soft chuckle, the sound breathless yet full of warmth, before she gave him exactly what he wanted. “Yes, I will marry you, Yoon Jeonghan.”
A slow, genuine smile spread across Jeonghan’s face— the kind of smile that was purely, undeniably him. A mixture of smugness and affection, mischief and sincerity, all wrapped up in that signature expression of his. “Lucky you.”
Luna huffed out a laugh before gently smacking his chest. “Oh my god, can you be normal for one second?”
“This is me being normal,” Jeonghan grinned, entirely unrepentant.
Still laughing, Luna shook her head, but her eyes softened when Jeonghan reached for the ring. The massive diamond glistened under the moonlight, catching every tiny flicker of light as he held it between his fingers.
For a second, he just stared at it, as if the weight of this moment was truly sinking in. And then, with a deliberate slowness, he slipped it onto Luna’s left ring finger.
It was a perfect fit.
Luna stared at it, her lips parting slightly in awe. The way it sat on her hand felt… right. Like it had always belonged there, waiting for this very moment. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, turning her hand slightly to admire how it gleamed.
Jeonghan smirked, tilting his head. “It better be perfect,” he said before giving her a knowing look. “Took me long enough to get your size right.”
Luna glanced at him, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “What do you mean?”
Jeonghan let out a pleased sigh, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re a heavy sleeper, baby. Measured your finger while you were knocked out.”
Luna gasped before bursting into laughter, her head tilting back as she playfully shoved his shoulder. “You what?! You could’ve just taken one of my rings for reference!”
Jeonghan raised a brow, looking thoroughly entertained. “What’s the fun in that?”
She gave him a look of pure exasperation, but there was no real annoyance behind it— just a deep, overwhelming fondness.
They both fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, just staring at each other, just being. And then, after a few seconds, Luna spoke again, her voice soft yet filled with so much emotion.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Jeonghan’s gaze softened instantly. He lifted a hand, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before letting his fingers trail gently down her jaw. “I love you,” he murmured.
Luna’s lips curled up into a small, tender smile. “I love you too— so much.”
And then, she leaned in, capturing his lips in another kiss.
This time, the kiss was different. It wasn’t urgent or desperate like before. It was slow, steady, and overflowing with emotion. Luna’s hands slid up to cradle Jeonghan’s face, her fingers pressing gently into his jaw as she melted against him. Jeonghan sighed into her mouth, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist, holding her close— closer than ever before.
Their lips moved in perfect sync, a gentle dance of love and promise. Jeonghan’s thumb brushed against her cheek as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss just slightly, savoring every single second. It was warm and sweet, delicate yet unyielding, like the most silent yet profound declaration of love.
By the time they pulled away, their breaths were mingling, their noses brushing as they remained impossibly close. Luna blinked up at him, dazed, before she let out a soft laugh. “I could never top your speech earlier,” she admitted, shaking her head.
Jeonghan smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “Well, that’s because I’m always the best.”
Luna rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the amused smile on her lips. “You always want to be the best at everything,” she teased.
Jeonghan shrugged, the corners of his mouth tugging up mischievously. “Of course. But you know what’s gonna make me the absolute bestest?”
Luna raised a brow, humoring him. “What?”
Jeonghan grinned, leaning in just slightly, his voice dropping to a casual, almost teasing whisper. “I’ve had that ring for two years now.”
Luna froze.
And then, her eyes widened, her mouth falling open in shock as tears instantly welled up again. “What the fuck?!” she choked out, smacking his arm.
Jeonghan threw his head back, laughing— really laughing, the kind that made his shoulders shake, his entire body leaning into hers as if he couldn’t contain the joy bubbling up inside him.
Still grinning, he pulled her back in, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head.
Jeonghan pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes glinting with mischief as he tilted his head slightly. “What do you say we head back and tell the guys?” he asked, his grin stretching wider, playful and smug all at once.
Luna caught onto his energy instantly, her own lips curling into a matching smirk. This was going to be fun. “Let’s.”
With that, they pushed themselves up from the ground, brushing off the bits of grass and dirt from their clothes. Jeonghan, ever the perfectionist when it came to appearances, ran a hand through his hair, adjusting the strands with a practiced ease before reaching out to Luna, lacing his fingers through hers like it was second nature. She squeezed his hand once, their matching grins never fading as they made their way back to the hotel.
The air between them crackled with a quiet excitement, their steps falling in sync as they navigated the familiar hallways of their temporary home. The elevator ride was silent, but the weight of what they were about to do was tangible in the way Jeonghan lightly swung their joined hands between them, a silent rhythm of anticipation.
And soon enough, they were standing in front of the door to the main suite, where all the other members—except for Jun, who was still in China for his acting project— were already gathered for dinner.
The chatter from inside was unmistakable, a blend of laughter, overlapping voices, and the occasional clatter of dishes as they settled into their usual chaotic routine.
Jeonghan didn’t bother knocking. Instead, he simply turned the handle and stepped in with Luna beside him, both of them still holding hands, still wearing those telltale grins.
The second they walked in, their presence was acknowledged immediately. A wave of greetings crashed over them as their arrival was met with the warm familiarity of their members’ voices.
“You’re finally here!” Seungkwan announced first, setting down his drink as he leaned back against the couch.
“Now we’re complete,” Joshua added, smiling up at them from his spot near the table.
“Take a seat,” Seungcheol offered casually, nodding toward the empty spaces that had clearly been left for them.
“Food’s arriving soon,” Hoshi informed them, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, as if he’d been thinking about it all day.
But it was Wonwoo, ever the observant one, who tilted his head and asked, “Where have you two been?”
Before either of them could respond, another voice cut through the room— one that wasn’t physically present, but still familiar to all of them.
“You guys finally made it, huh?” Jun’s voice rang from the phone screen, which Minghao was holding up, his face filling the frame of the FaceTime call.
Jeonghan and Luna both paused at the sight, exchanging brief glances.
It was as if the universe had conspired to ensure every single member was here for this moment, even the one who was miles away.
Luna let go of Jeonghan’s hand just long enough to wave at the screen, her expression softening as she greeted the missing member. “Junnie! I miss you.”
Jun’s lips curled into a grin. “Miss you too. You guys took your time getting here. What, were you out on some top-secret mission?”
Jeonghan chuckled, his free hand slipping into his pocket while his other stayed comfortably around Luna’s. “Something like that.”
There was an ease to the way they all spoke, a natural flow to their banter that came from years of knowing each other inside and out. The room buzzed with their usual energy, the kind that could only come from a group as close as them. Seungkwan was already side-eyeing them suspiciously, while Vernon leaned back in his chair, observing with mild interest.
Meanwhile, Luna subtly kept her left hand tucked beneath the table, out of sight, as she and Jeonghan settled into their seats next to each other. Their matching smirks remained firmly in place.
Something told them this was going to be fun.
The moment Jeonghan and Luna settled into their seats, their hands still intertwined beneath the table, Jeonghan gave her a knowing look.
It was a silent exchange, one they had mastered over the years— a smirk that said, Go on, have your fun.
Jeonghan, ever the picture of nonchalance, reached for the wine bottle in front of him and leisurely poured himself a glass, completely unbothered as he swirled the deep red liquid in his glass.
Meanwhile, Luna, fully relishing in the moment, reached for the fork in front of her. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she tapped it against the rim of her wine glass a couple of times, the delicate ting, ting, ting slicing through the casual chatter like a bell demanding attention.
The room quieted almost instantly.
Thirteen pairs of eyes turned toward her, some mid-bite, others mid-conversation, all now fully focused on whatever she had to say.
“Okay, since we’re all here together—” Luna began, drawing out her words just a little, watching as curiosity flickered across their faces. “I’m going to make this quick because I am hungry.”
There were a few snorts of laughter at that, because of course she was. But they still listened.
“I need your opinion on something.”
The shift in her tone, from playful to serious, made the members exchange wary glances. Even Seungcheol, who had been comfortably leaning against the couch, straightened a little at her words.
“What is it?” Joshua asked first, tilting his head.
“Is this a trick question?” Vernon muttered, glancing at Jeonghan, who had yet to say a word but was now smirking behind his wine glass.
“Should we be nervous?” Dokyeom added, already glancing at Hoshi, who was nodding like he agreed.
Regardless of their suspicions, they all nodded, signaling for her to continue.
Luna let the silence stretch for just a beat longer, making sure she had all their attention before she finally moved.
“What do you guys think of this?”
She lifted her right hand, wrist tilted just so, allowing the light to catch on the diamond tennis bracelet adorning it.
For a moment, no one said anything.
Their eyes darted from her face to the bracelet, then back to her, as if waiting for the punchline.
Then,
“Are you serious?” Woozi voice came lazily, but the mirth in it was unmistakable.
“Jiyeon-ah.” Seungcheol sighed, exasperated, before shaking his head.
“I thought you were about to tell us something crazy.” Mingyu placed a hand on his chest, as if steadying his heartbeat.
“Noona, you scared me!” Seungkwan scolded, throwing his hands up dramatically.
“I mean, it’s nice—” Dino chimed in, leaning in for a better look. “—but why did you make it sound so serious?”
“It is serious.” Luna countered smoothly, her lips twitching.
“It’s pretty.” Wonwoo nodded in approval, before suddenly pausing, eyes narrowing as his sharp gaze flickered between Luna and Jeonghan. “Wait a second… Jeonghannie has the same one.”
All heads turned to Jeonghan, whose wrist now rested lazily against the armrest of his chair, the identical bracelet peeking from beneath his sleeve.
Jeonghan merely smirked. “Matching, aren’t they?”
“Okay, that’s cute.” Joshua admitted, nodding in approval.
“Of course you guys have matching jewelry.” Minghao muttered, unimpressed but not at all surprised.
“It’s giving ‘power couple.’” Seungkwan commented dryly, but there was amusement in his voice.
“You two are so extra.” Seungcheol groaned, though he was grinning.
“I still feel like you’re messing with us.” Dino squinted at them both, pointing an accusatory finger. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
Luna, still enjoying every second of this, simply held up a hand, effectively silencing them. “Guys, last one.”
The members eyed her with suspicion this time.
After the first stunt, they were expecting another bracelet. A pair of earrings. Maybe a necklace. Perhaps she’d even lift her foot up onto the table to show off a new pair of shoes.
But no.
Slowly, deliberately, Luna lifted her left hand.
The diamond ring on her ring finger glistened under the warm glow of the suite’s lighting.
Unmistakable.
“What do you guys think of this?” she asked, her voice sweet, matching the grin on Jeonghan’s face as he took a slow sip of his wine.
And then—
Chaos.
Absolute, unfiltered pandemonium.
“WHAT THE FUCK!!??”
“WHAT?!”
“NO. NO. WAIT.”
“YOU’RE LYING.”
“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!”
“YOON JEONGHAN, YOU DID NOT—”
“FUCKING FINALLY!!!”
Screams erupted from every corner of the room. Chairs scraped against the floor as members shot up from their seats, some tripping over themselves in their rush toward the newly engaged couple.
Dokyeom was jumping up and down, practically vibrating with excitement.
Seungkwan had his hands over his mouth, eyes already welling with tears as he took a shaky breath. “No. No way. Oh my god—”
Joshua had stood up, one hand on his hip, the other running through his hair as he let out a disbelieving laugh. “Finally.”
Mingyu was pointing at them, looking between Jeonghan and Luna as if trying to process reality. “You guys— this isn’t a joke?”
“Nope.” Jeonghan answered, popping the ‘p’ casually.
Minghao, who had been relatively calm until now, exhaled sharply before breaking into a slow, knowing smile. “I can’t believe it.”
Meanwhile, Dino had his hands on his head, pacing back and forth. “Hyung, you proposed?!”
“Of course, I did.” Jeonghan answered smoothly, finally setting his wine down.
Before either he or Luna could react, a wave of bodies crashed into them. The younger members rushed to Luna first, engulfing her in a series of tight hugs, their words overlapping—
“Noona, congratulations!”
“You’re engaged?! Don’t leave us.”
“So cool.”
Meanwhile, Jeonghan was being aggressively patted on the back by Seungcheol, Woozi, and Wonwoo, their congratulations a mix of excitement and “you little shit, you actually did it.”
“You sneaky bastard.” Seungcheol muttered, shaking his head but unable to hide his proud grin.
“I’m so happy for you, man.” Woozi clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Damn, after two years of you hesitating,” Wonwoo whistled.
And then, as if finally comprehending reality, Hoshi burst into tears. “OUR JEONGHANNIE HYUNG AND JIYEONIE ARE GETTING MARRIED!”
That set off another round of chaos— Dokyeom pretending to cry along with him, Seungkwan dramatically falling to his knees, Vernon recording the entire thing, Minghao shaking his head fondly, and Jun, still on FaceTime, yelling from the phone, “JIYEON, YOU BITCH! I AM FLYING MY ASS THERE TO CELEBRATE! THE FUCK!”
Through all the noise, Jeonghan turned to Luna, their eyes meeting amidst the joyful mayhem. His smirk softened into something warmer, something undeniably fond.
Luna, still laughing as Dino and Seungkwan clung to her, tilted her head at her fiancé, her own gaze filled with nothing but love.
This was only the beginning.
Because it started with a yes.
A simple, quiet yes whispered against the Berlin night, sealed with a kiss beneath the moonlight.
And now, it echoed in the laughter filling the room, in the joyful chaos of their friends, in the way Jeonghan’s hand instinctively sought Luna’s beneath the table, fingers lacing together like they always had.
It started with a yes, and now it was here— loud, undeniable, unshakable.
A forever, a love written in stolen glances, matching bracelets, and many promises, in the weight of a diamond ring and the warmth of a knowing smile.
It started with a yes.
And it would never end.
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i have been getting comments about wanting more negative comments on Luna’s instagram posts, so here you go! it’s so much fun to write how everyone reacts 🤭
╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰౨ৎ luna's instagram
Liked by jeonghaniyoo_n, vernonline, min9yu_k and 7,454,454 others
lunabae spring wrote me a love letter 🌷💐✨
View all comments
moonlightbae Bugs is living a better life than us
jeonghaniii BUGGSSSS 🥹💕
↳ bugsbunny_17 This is a Luna & Bugs fan account now.
jiyeonienienie_ you are spring personified Jiyeon ☺️🌷
jxjdaily the Lego dates 😩
h0shik-tiger Mom, Spring wrote you a love letter? Meanwhile, I got seasonal allergies
boojae_dk The real masterpiece here is YOU 💖💖
gyuldaekwan Luna with a paintbrush? Luna painting? Oh, hang that up immediately in Louvre, she’s making history
shua_angels And where is my Lego invite?
↳ lunaticsforever lets third wheel together 🫣
seokminsbiceps When did Bugs sign up for a modeling career?
lalunanova Bugs… let’s switch positions… i can be a bunny *starts hopping*
verkwan_ how do WE join the Lego date?!
horanghaehoe A performer, an artist, a songwriter, a model, Yoon Jeonghan’s fiancée, a bunny mother, a Lego master… what can’t she do?
user0762727215 Ugh, here we go again 🥱 Luna and her constant need to shove her relationship in our faces. You’re only showing off Jeonghan because you know it gets you more likes and engagement. We all know your entire relationship is a PR stunt. You just love male attention, don’t you? Anything for the views, right? Gosh, you are embarrassing 🤮 do us all a favor and kys, thanks.
↳ jeonghaniyoo_n Imagine waking up, choosing to be bitter, and still being this bad at it. If jealousy was a sport, you wouldn’t even make the bench. Try harder.
↳ jeonghaniyoo_n You can be bitter all you want, but the moment you speak badly about my fiancée, we have a problem. Careful now— I’d hate for your sad little comment to be the biggest mistake you make today.
↳ jeonghaniyoo_n Oh, look what I found— your account spreading hate and fake news about my fiancée. Don’t worry, I already reported it. Maybe spend less time being obsessed with Luna and more time preparing for that account suspension and enjoy being sued.
↳ lunabae oops, sorry! can you repeat that? i was too busy admiring the custom Lego set MY FINACÉ bought and built with me. just because your life is as dry as overcooked chicken doesn’t mean you need to project your misery onto mine. MY FINACÉ loves ME, my bunny that MY FIANCÉ bought ME is adorable, and my life is thriving— sorry that bothers you 😊💕
↳ sound_of_coups Not the audacity being on sale for free today.
↳ joshu_acoustic Ah, jealousy. A disease with no cure.
↳ woozi_universefactory Imagine thinking you matter in this conversation.
↳ everyone_woo This level of delusion is fascinating. Should we study it?
↳ ho5hi_kwon If Luna wanted clout, she’d get it from me. Not Jeonghan 🤷♂️🐯
↳ junhui_moon You spent all that time typing just to embarrass yourself. Inspiring.
↳ pledis_boos PR stunt?? LMAO, babe, have you seen them? They’re disgustingly in love 😂
↳ min9yu_k The irony of calling someone out for “clout” when you’re the one desperate for attention.
↳ dk_is_dokyeom It’s giving “I have no love in my life so I hate happy people.”
↳ xuminghao_o You’re mad at Jiyeon for existing? Have you tried… not being miserable?
↳ feat.dino If you don’t like her, why are you here? No, really. I’ll wait.
↳ vernonline Seek help.
caratrose SEVENTEEN WENT FERAL I CAN’T BREATHE.
bunnies4luna Not Hoshi saying she’d get clout from him LMAOOO.
jeongluna4ever SEUNGKWAN EXPOSING THEIR RELATIONSHIP HELP 😂
lulu-hannie YOON JEONGHAN IS OUT HERE COMMENTING NOT ONCE, NOT TWICE, BUT THRICE AND THREATENING A LAWSUIT? This man does not play around!! I’m shook.
↳ svtfan1997 I am literally shaking. Jeonghan’s scary side is RARE, but when it comes to Luna? He doesn’t hold back. @/user0762727215 your done.
94zlover_ Vernon really said “therapy is an option.”
bugsbff I want to be reincarnated as Bugs so I can witness this drama in real-time. also… KEEP YOON JEONGHAN’S WIFE’S NAME OUT YOUR MOUTH!!
loveforluna @/user0762727215 got jumped by the entire band. ALL FOURTEEN of them. Imagine 😂
ashonashonash Jun’s “Inspiring” sent me to another dimension 🤣🤣🤣
svtmoonchild seventeen in the comments like it’s Fight Club. Don’t mess with Bae Jiyeon. Period.
aegyo_king Petition to frame this comment section and hang it in a museum.
missluna_17 that bitch just got publicly executed… well… that’s one way to get their attention 😝
napipopeta I’ve never seen Jeonghan this scary… He reported the account and said they’re about to be sued? My jaw is on the floor.
lunaandsunshine Jeonghan is acting like the CEO of Protecting Luna and I’m LIVING for it! You NEVER see him this fired up.
bunnyboo_THREE comments and one of them says they’re getting sued. He’s not joking too.
↳ jeongnadaily Yoon Jeonghan is really about to take someone to court for Bae Jiyeon and I’m here for it! And they said chivalry is dead 🤩
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Pairing: Idol Scoups X Solo Idol Y/n
Genre: Romance/Angst/Second chance romance/Drama
Plot: After a highly publicized breakup with Seungcheol, Y/n finds herself caught between the past and the present as she navigates love, heartbreak, and the pressures of fame. With the world watching her every move, unexpected encounters, media scandals, and unresolved emotions complicate her journey. As tensions rise and feelings resurface, she is faced with a choice—one that could change everything.
Authors note: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a while since I last posted, but I’m finally back with a new story! I’ve put a lot of effort into this one, and I really hope you all give it a chance. Writing this wasn’t easy, but your support always keeps me going. Thank you so much for your patience and for sticking with me—I truly appreciate it! Please keep commenting; your words inspire me more than you know. Hope you enjoy the story! Love you guys 💕✨
And also feel free to make any request for any other members or other group
The bustling chaos of the airport filled Y/n’s senses. She pulled her cap lower over her face and adjusted her sunglasses, hoping to slip past unnoticed. It was her first public appearance since announcing the cancellation of her engagement, and she knew the media frenzy that awaited her.
But the fans were relentless. As she walked toward the departure gate, a small crowd gathered around her, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of questions.
“Y/n! Is it true you and Seungcheol broke up because of Sewon?”
“Do you regret ending the engagement?”
“What happened between you and Seungcheol?”
Y/n stopped in her tracks, her heart pounding. She forced a calm expression, though her hands trembled as she gripped the strap of her bag.
“I’m sorry, but I won’t be answering any personal questions today,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
The cameras continued to flash, and the murmurs grew louder, but Y/n kept walking. Her chest tightened with every step, each question cutting deeper than she cared to admit. By the time she reached her gate, she felt like she could barely breathe.
Finding a quiet corner, she slumped into a seat and closed her eyes, willing the tears to stay hidden. The echoes of the fans’ words lingered in her mind, reopening wounds she thought she had begun to heal. But as painful as it was, Y/n reminded herself why she had made the decision to walk away. It was for her own peace, her own worth things she refused to compromise any longer.
Seungcheol stared at his phone, his thumb hovering over Y/n’s contact. He had hesitated so many times before, unsure if she would even want to hear from him. But tonight, the emptiness in his apartment felt unbearable, and he couldn’t shake the need to hear her voice.
Taking a deep breath, he pressed the call button. The line rang, each tone dragging out the silence he dreaded. Finally, the call went to voicemail.
“Hey, Y/n,” he began, his voice low and uncertain. “It’s me. I… I just wanted to check on you. I know I don’t have the right to ask, but I hope you’re doing okay. I miss you."
He paused, the words catching in his throat.
“I… I’m sorry for everything. I hope someday we can talk. Take care, Y/n.”
Ending the call, Seungcheol let out a shaky breath and set the phone down. The emptiness lingered, but for the first time, he felt a flicker of hope—however small—that things might one day be different.
A day later, Seungcheol sat in front of his phone camera, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. He had debated for hours about making this video, but the backlash Y/n was facing left him no choice.
Pressing record, he took a deep breath and began to speak.
“Hi, this is Seungcheol. I know a lot has been said and speculated about my relationship with Y/n and the engagement we ended. I want to start by saying that Y/n has always been someone I deeply respect and care for. The decision we made to part ways was mutual, and it was a deeply personal matter.”
He paused, his eyes glancing down briefly before returning to the camera. “But what I cannot stand by and watch is the way she’s being harassed and blamed. Y/n does not deserve the hate or the accusations being thrown at her. She made the decision that was best for her, and I respect that wholeheartedly.”
Seungcheol leaned forward slightly, his tone growing firmer. “I also want to address the rumors about Sewon. She is a friend, nothing more. Any assumptions beyond that are untrue and have caused unnecessary pain to everyone involved.”
He exhaled slowly, as if releasing the weight of his words. “I’m asking, sincerely, for everyone to stop harassing Y/n. She deserves peace and privacy, just as any of us do. Please be kind. Thank you.”
With that, he ended the recording and uploaded the video, hoping it would help ease the storm Y/n was facing. As he sat back, he realized that while he couldn’t undo the past, he could at least try to make things right in the present.
Two days later, Seungcheol found himself dialing Y/n’s number once again. To his surprise, this time, she answered.
“Hello?” Y/n’s voice was calm but distant, guarded.
“Y/n,” Seungcheol said, his voice heavy with emotion. “Thank you for answering. I just… I needed to talk to you.”
She remained silent, and he took it as his cue to continue. “I know I hurt you. I know I let you down in ways I can’t even begin to make up for. But I want you to know how sorry I am. Truly. You didn’t deserve any of this—the doubts, the pain, the public scrutiny. None of it.”
“Seungcheol,” she interrupted, her tone sharp yet composed. “I didn’t answer this call to hear your apology. I’ve heard it before. What I needed from you was action, not words. And you failed me when it mattered most.”
He swallowed hard, the weight of her words cutting through him. “I know. I just… I hoped there might be a way to fix this. To fix us.”
“There’s no fixing this,” Y/n said firmly. “Not anymore. I gave everything to this relationship, and I lost myself in the process. I won’t do that again.”
Her words were final, and Seungcheol felt his chest tighten. “I understand,” he said quietly. “I just want you to be happy, Y/n. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“I hope you find happiness too,” she replied
Three years ago
Under the bright lights of Y/n’s solo concert, Seungcheol and the members of Seventeen stood backstage, waiting for the show to begin. The crowd’s energy was electric, and their excitement mirrored the audience’s.
When Y/n finally took the stage, she owned it. Her presence was magnetic, her voice captivating as she performed with a passion that seemed to radiate beyond the stage. Seungcheol found himself mesmerized, his admiration growing with every song.
“She’s incredible,” Jeonghan whispered, nudging him. “No wonder everyone’s in love with her.”
Seungkwan nodded enthusiastically. “She’s not just talented; she’s got this aura. It’s impossible not to admire her.”
As Y/n finished her set and thanked the audience, her smile was radiant, lighting up the entire arena. Seungcheol couldn’t help but feel a spark of something deeper—a connection he couldn’t quite explain.
When they were finally introduced backstage, Y/n was gracious and warm despite the exhaustion evident in her eyes. She greeted each member with genuine kindness, and when her gaze met Seungcheol’s, he felt his heart skip a beat.
“You were amazing out there,” he said, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest.
“Thank you,” she replied, her smile soft and sincere. “I’ve heard so much about you and your group. It’s an honor to finally meet you all.”
That night, Seungcheol found himself lingering after the others had left, gathering the courage to speak again. “Y/n,” he began, his voice quieter this time, “I was wondering… if you’d like to grab coffee sometime. Just us.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly, surprise flickering across her face. Then, she smiled—a real, genuine smile that made his heart race. “I’d like that,” she said simply.
And so, it began. Coffee turned into late-night conversations, shared laughter, and a deep bond that grew stronger with each passing day. For Seungcheol, falling in love with Y/n was as natural as breathing, and in her presence, he felt like he had found a kindred spirit. The world seemed brighter, and the burdens of their demanding careers felt lighter when they were together.
Though their love story had its share of challenges, those early days were a reminder of the connection that had once brought them so much joy. And even now, as Seungcheol reflected on everything they had lost, he couldn’t help but cherish the moments that had made him fall in love with her in the first place.
As their coffee meetings turned into a weekly ritual, Seungcheol found himself looking forward to those moments more than anything else. Y/n had a way of making him laugh, even on his worst days. She listened intently, offering advice when he needed it and silence when words weren’t enough.
One evening, after a particularly long day of rehearsals, Seungcheol showed up at their favorite cafe, his exhaustion evident. Y/n noticed immediately and pushed a steaming cup of tea toward him.
“You look like you’ve been through a war,” she teased gently.
He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Something like that. But seeing you makes it all worth it.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she hid it behind her own cup. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Choi Seungcheol.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he replied with a playful smirk. “It got me here with you, didn’t it?”
Their banter flowed effortlessly, the connection between them growing deeper with every interaction. Over time, Seungcheol began to realize that Y/n wasn’t just someone he admired—she was someone he wanted by his side, through every high and low.
One night, as they walked along a quiet street after another coffee date, Seungcheol stopped abruptly. Y/n turned to him, puzzled.
“What is it?” she asked.
He hesitated, his heart pounding. Then, he took a deep breath. “Y/n, I know we’ve only been seeing each other for a short time, but… I like you. A lot. And I was wondering if you’d give us a chance—like, a real chance.”
Y/n stared at him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, he feared he had ruined everything. But then she smiled, her eyes softening.
“I’d like that,” she said simply.
Relief and joy washed over Seungcheol, and without thinking, he reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezed his hand gently, and they continued walking, their steps perfectly in sync.
It was the beginning of a love story that would change both of their lives forever.
Three years into their relationship, Seungcheol knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted Y/n to know how deeply she meant to him and how much he wanted to build a future together. With the help of the Seventeen members, he meticulously planned the proposal.
The venue was a private rooftop garden, adorned with twinkling fairy lights and surrounded by blooming flowers. It was the same place they had shared their first late-night conversation about their dreams and fears. Seungcheol wanted the moment to feel intimate, just as their relationship had always been—a sanctuary from the chaotic world around them.
Y/n arrived at the venue under the pretense of a casual date. As she stepped onto the rooftop, her breath hitched at the sight before her. A path lined with candles led to Seungcheol, who stood waiting under an arch draped in soft, white fabric and flowers.
He smiled nervously as she approached, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. “You’re here,” he said, his voice tinged with both excitement and nerves.
“What is all this?” she asked, her eyes glimmering with curiosity and emotion.
Taking a deep breath, Seungcheol dropped to one knee, pulling out a small velvet box from his pocket. Y/n gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.
“Y/n,” he began, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. “From the moment I met you, you turned my world upside down in the best way possible. You’ve been my rock, my partner, and my greatest love. Every day with you feels like a gift, and I can’t imagine my life without you by my side.”
He opened the box, revealing a delicate ring that sparkled under the soft glow of the lights. “Will you marry me?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.
Tears streamed down Y/n’s face as she nodded, unable to find the words. “Yes,” she finally managed to say, her voice breaking. “A thousand times yes.”
Seungcheol stood, slipping the ring onto her finger before pulling her into a tight embrace. The sound of soft applause broke out as the Seventeen members emerged from their hiding spots, cheering and congratulating the newly engaged couple.
The night was filled with laughter, love, and promises for the future. For Seungcheol and Y/n, it was a moment they would treasure forever—a testament to the love that had grown between them, steady and unwavering, through every challenge and triumph.
But as the weeks passed, cracks began to appear in their seemingly perfect engagement. It started when Seungcheol grew closer to Sewon, a fellow idol he had known for years. Initially, Y/n didn’t mind; she trusted Seungcheol and knew how important friendships were in their industry. But gradually, his priorities seemed to shift.
Missed calls, delayed responses, and canceled plans became more frequent. Whenever Y/n tried to address the issue, Seungcheol brushed it off, claiming he was busy with group schedules and projects. However, Y/n couldn’t ignore the pattern: most of his excuses coincided with him spending time with Sewon.
One evening, after yet another postponed dinner, Y/n decided to confront him. She waited for him in their shared apartment, her heart heavy with unease. When he finally walked through the door, his tired expression did little to soften her resolve.
“Seungcheol, we need to talk,” she said firmly.
He sighed, dropping his bag onto the couch. “Can it wait? I’m exhausted.”
“No, it can’t,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly. “You’ve been distant lately, and I feel like I’m not even a priority anymore. What’s going on?”
He rubbed his temples, frustration flickering across his face. “Y/n, I told you, it’s just work. You know how demanding our schedules are.”
“Is it work?” she pressed, her eyes searching his. “Or is it Sewon?”
At her words, Seungcheol’s expression hardened. “Why are you bringing her into this? She’s just a friend.”
“Then why do I feel like I’m competing with her for your attention?” Y/n’s voice cracked, the pain she had been suppressing spilling out. “You cancel our plans to meet her, you talk about her all the time, and you don’t even see how it’s affecting us.”
“You’re overthinking this,” he snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. “Sewon has nothing to do with us. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
Y/n took a step back, stunned by his dismissiveness. “Nothing?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you even hear yourself, Seungcheol? I’ve tried to be patient, to understand, but I can’t keep pretending that everything’s fine when it’s not.”
He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to choose us,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “But it feels like you’ve already made your choice.”
The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging heavily between them. Seungcheol opened his mouth to respond but stopped himself. Instead, he turned and walked toward the bedroom, leaving Y/n standing alone in the living room, her heart breaking.
The days that followed were filled with strained conversations and unspoken tension. Y/n tried to hold on, hoping that Seungcheol would realize what was at stake, but his continued indifference only deepened the rift between them. Meanwhile, the rumors about him and Sewon began to spread, fueled by fan speculation and media reports.
Y/n found herself caught in a storm of doubt and heartbreak, unsure of how to salvage a relationship that seemed to be slipping through her fingers. And as much as she loved Seungcheol, she couldn’t ignore the growing feeling that she was fighting for something he no longer valued.
One rainy afternoon, Y/n received a message from Seungcheol, asking to meet at a small café they used to frequent during the early days of their relationship. Despite her reservations, she agreed, hoping for clarity amidst the chaos.
As she entered the café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of soft jazz music greeted her. Seungcheol was already there, sitting at a corner table, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug. His eyes lit up when he saw her, but there was a hesitance in his gaze.
“Thanks for coming,” he said as she sat down across from him.
Y/n nodded, folding her hands on the table. “What did you want to talk about?”
Seungcheol sighed, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his mug. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us… about everything.”
“And?” Y/n prompted, her heart pounding in anticipation.
“I don’t think I’m ready for marriage,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I’m too young. There’s so much going on in my career, and I feel like I’m being pulled in so many directions.”
Y/n stared at him, her chest tightening. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? Before proposing?”
“I thought I could handle it,” he said, his eyes filled with regret. “I thought my love for you would be enough to overcome everything else. But now, I’m not so sure.”
Her lips trembled as she spoke. “Do you even want to be with me, Seungcheol? Or am I just another thing you’re unsure about?”
“Of course I want to be with you,” he said quickly, reaching across the table for her hand. She pulled away, shaking her head.
“You can’t have it both ways,” she said, her voice breaking. “You can’t ask me to commit my life to you while you’re unsure about yours.”
Her voice was sharper now, the edge of frustration cutting through. “Is it about Sewon?”
Seungcheol’s silence spoke louder than words. Sewon’s name had become a sore point between them in recent months. A close friend and fellow idol, her bond with Seungcheol had always been evident. While Y/n had trusted him implicitly, the whispers of fans and the media began to seep into her mind, planting seeds of doubt.
“She’s just a friend,” he said, but his tone lacked conviction. “You know that.”
“Do I?” Y/n’s voice cracked, betraying the pain she had tried so hard to mask. “Do you realize how it feels to constantly see her by your side, laughing with you, leaning on you? And the worst part? You’ve never once tried to reassure me."
Seungcheol reached across the table, his hand hovering over hers. “I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe me.”
“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one fighting for this relationship?” She pulled her hand away, tears threatening to spill. “We’re supposed to be partners, Seungcheol. But lately, it feels like I’m competing for your attention.”
“Maybe… maybe we need some time apart,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Y/n felt her heart shatter. The engagement ring on her finger suddenly felt like a burden, its brilliance mocking her pain. She slipped it off and placed it on the table between them.
“If that’s what you want,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “Then I won’t stop you.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears brimming in his eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
Y/n felt her heart shatter. The engagement ring on her finger suddenly felt like a burden, its brilliance mocking her pain. She slipped it off and placed it on the table between them.
Y/n stood, her chair scraping against the floor. “You already have.” Without another word, she walked out of the café, leaving Seungcheol sitting alone, the weight of his choices pressing down on him like never before.
*Flashback ends*
In the weeks that followed, Y/n channeled her heartbreak into her music. Late nights in the studio became her solace as she poured her emotions into lyrics and melodies. Each song she wrote was raw and vulnerable, capturing the pain, confusion, and longing she felt.
When her album was released, it became an instant hit, resonating with fans and critics alike. Tracks like "Falling Out of Love" and "Shadows of Us" topped the charts, their haunting lyrics striking a chord with listeners. In interviews, Y/n remained composed, describing the album as a reflection of her personal journey but never delving into specific details about her relationship with Seungcheol.
One particular song, "Unspoken Goodbye," drew widespread attention. Its lyrics painted a vivid picture of unreciprocated efforts and the ache of realizing love wasn’t enough to hold two people together.
“I reached for you in the dark, but you were already gone. Promises turned to whispers, and now I sing alone.”
Fans speculated endlessly, piecing together clues from the lyrics and her recent public appearances. Some sympathized with her, while others continued to draw comparisons between her and Sewon, fueling debates online.
Through it all, Y/n remained focused on her craft, using her art to heal. Though her heart was still mending, her music gave her
Months after the release, Y/n was invited for an exclusive interview with a renowned media outlet. The interviewer, known for their probing questions, eventually brought up the topic that many were curious about.
“How do you feel about Seungcheol now?” they asked, leaning forward slightly. “After everything that’s happened, do you still think about him?”
Y/n paused, her hands resting gently on her lap as she considered her words. She met the interviewer’s gaze, her expression calm but tinged with melancholy. “A piece of my heart will always love him,” she admitted, her voice steady but soft. “I could never hate him. He was a significant part of my life, and what we shared was real and meaningful.”
She took a deep breath before continuing. “It hurts me to see him getting hurt. Despite everything, I don’t wish pain or hardship upon him. I think that’s what love truly is—wanting the best for someone, even if they’re no longer in your life.”
Her candid response resonated with fans and viewers alike, painting a picture of grace and emotional maturity. It reminded everyone that even in heartbreak, love could leave behind a legacy of compassion and understanding.
Seungcheol watched the interview late at night, alone in his apartment. Her words echoed in his mind, filling him with a mix of regret and longing. The song, the interview, everything she had shared publicly—it all made him realize just how deeply he had hurt her and how much he missed having her in his life.
On an impulse, he picked up his phone and dialed her number. It rang twice before she answered, her voice cautious. “Hello?”
“Y/n, it’s me,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I—I saw the interview. And the song. I just… I needed to tell you how sorry I am. For everything.”
She was silent for a moment before responding. “Seungcheol, we’ve already been through this. I’ve moved on, and you should too.”
“I know I messed up,” he said desperately. “But seeing you, hearing your words—it reminded me of everything we had. I miss you, Y/n. I miss us.”
Her voice remained calm but firm. “You miss what we had, Seungcheol, but that doesn’t change what you did. You made choices that hurt me deeply, and I can’t just forget that.”
“I’ll do anything to make it right,” he pleaded. “Please, just give me another chance.”
She sighed softly, her tone filled with a mixture of sadness and finality. “Sometimes, love isn’t enough. I’ll always wish the best for you, but I can’t go back to the way things were. Take care of yourself, Seungcheol.”
Before he could say anything else, she ended the call, leaving him staring at his phone, the weight of her words sinking in. For the first time, he truly understood that some things, no matter how much he wished otherwise, couldn’t be undone.
Months passed, and Y/n eventually entered a new relationship. Her new boyfriend was kind, understanding, and patient—everything she thought she needed to heal. On the surface, they seemed happy together, and the public saw it as her fresh start.
But deep down, Y/n couldn’t shake the emptiness she felt. The laughter didn’t feel as genuine, the conversations didn’t spark the same warmth, and despite her efforts to move on, her heart still ached for the love she had lost.
She found herself reminiscing about Seungcheol more often than she cared to admit—his bright smile, the way he always made her feel safe, the late-night talks where they dreamed about their future together. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, a part of her still belonged to him.
And no matter how much she wanted to forget, she couldn’t.
One evening, Y/n took the stage at a major rock festival, her energy electrifying the crowd. She had always loved experimenting with different genres, and this performance was one of her most powerful yet—raw, intense, and full of emotion. She poured her heart into every note, her voice carrying the weight of everything she had been through.
Backstage, her old friend Seungkwan watched from the wings, deeply moved by her performance. He had always been close to Y/n and seeing her like this—fierce yet fragile—made him realize how much she was still hurting.
Unable to ignore it any longer, he reached out to Seungcheol. “Hyung, you need to come see her. You need to hear her.”
Despite his initial hesitation, Seungcheol agreed. The two arrived at the concert venue unnoticed, blending into the sea of fans as Y/n performed.
Seungcheol’s heart clenched as he watched her under the bright lights, singing her heart out. He could feel her pain in every lyric, see the lingering sadness in her eyes. It was a painful reminder of everything they had lost.
And in that moment, he realized—he had never stopped loving her.
The moment Y/n stepped off the stage, her adrenaline was still pumping. The roar of the crowd echoed in her ears, but even their deafening cheers couldn’t drown out the heaviness in her heart. She barely had time to catch her breath before a familiar voice cut through the haze.
“Y/n.”
She froze.
That voice. That tone.
She turned slowly, her eyes widening as she met Seungcheol’s gaze. He stood just a few feet away, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those same eyes she once drowned in—were filled with something raw. Something she wasn’t ready to face.
Before she could say a word, her boyfriend Minseong appeared by her side, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asked, glancing between Y/n and Seungcheol.
The tension was suffocating. The members of Seventeen and her own group lingered nearby, uneasy, unsure if they should step in.
Seungcheol let out a bitter chuckle, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So this is him?” His voice was sharp, edged with something close to resentment. “The guy you moved on with?”
Y/n’s jaw clenched. “Cheol—”
“Did he ever make your heart race the way I did?” Seungcheol asked, his voice rising. “Or did you just force yourself to move on because you were scared?”
The room fell silent.
Y/n took a shaky breath, her eyes burning. “You don’t get to do this,” she snapped. “You don’t get to walk back into my life after all this time and question my choices. You were the one who let me go.”
Seungcheol stepped closer, his frustration bubbling over. “Let you go? Y/n, you walked away!” His voice cracked slightly, and for a moment, the anger wavered, revealing the hurt beneath. “You left me. And now you’re here, acting like none of it meant anything?”
“It meant everything,” she shot back, her voice trembling. “And that’s exactly why I had to leave.”
Her boyfriend shifted awkwardly beside her. “Maybe we should talk about this later—”
“No.” Y/n shook her head, eyes locked onto Seungcheol. “You don’t get to stand here and act like you’re the only one who suffered. Do you think it was easy for me? Do you think I didn’t spend nights wondering if I made the right choice?”
Seungcheol’s breath hitched.
Y/n’s hands balled into fists. “I waited, Cheol. I waited for you to fight for me, to give me a reason to stay. But you didn’t. You let me leave. So don’t you dare show up now, acting like you still have a say in my life.”
Seungcheol stared at her, chest rising and falling with the weight of everything he wanted to say. The members of Seventeen shifted uneasily, exchanging glances.
Seungkwan finally stepped in, his voice gentle but firm. “Hyung, maybe this isn’t the right time—”
But Seungcheol ignored him. His eyes stayed on Y/n, desperate, pleading. “Tell me one thing,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are you really happy?”
Y/n faltered.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
And in that silence, Seungcheol got his answer.
The morning after the heated confrontation backstage, the internet was in chaos. News outlets, gossip sites, and social media platforms were flooded with headlines, each twisting the story in its own way.
"Y/n and Seungcheol's Backstage Clash: Former Lovers Turn to Heated Argument at Music Festival!"
"Caught on Camera: Y/n and Seungcheol's Explosive Fight – Tensions Boil Over in Front of Seventeen and Industry Insiders!"
"Seungcheol Confronts Y/n Over Their Past – Did She Ever Move On?"
Fan-recorded videos from the concert venue circulated online, showing snippets of their intense exchange. Though no official statement had been released, lip readers and “insiders” claimed to have deciphered the argument. The drama escalated as netizens took sides.
🗣️ "Y/n deserves to move on. Seungcheol had his chance, why is he acting up now?"
🗣️ "You can literally see the pain in Seungcheol's face... he's still in love with her."
🗣️ "Not Seungcheol pulling a ‘are you really happy?’ moment like it’s a K-drama 😭😭"
🗣️ "Her new boyfriend just standing there while Y/n and Seungcheol basically confess their unresolved feelings 💀"
Within hours, major entertainment news outlets picked up the story. Some reporters speculated on whether the ex-couple had lingering feelings, while others accused Seungcheol of being possessive. Articles broke down the timeline of their past relationship, analyzing every interaction they’d had in public since their breakup.
A particularly viral article from Dispatch read:
"Inside Y/n and Seungcheol’s Emotional Backstage Confrontation: A Love That Never Faded?"
"Sources close to the artists claim that the fight was years in the making. ‘They never fully moved on from each other,’ an anonymous staff member revealed. ‘Everyone knew there was unfinished business between them.’"
Another gossip site went even further:
"Did Y/n Settle for a ‘Safe’ Relationship? Fans Speculate That Her New Boyfriend is Just a Rebound!"
Y/n’s company quickly released a short statement:
"Y/n had a private conversation with a colleague. We ask for your understanding and request that unfounded speculations be avoided."
But Seungcheol’s company remained silent, fueling more rumors. Some fans believed it was because he had nothing to deny.
Meanwhile, Seventeen’s members were being bombarded with questions during schedules. Seungkwan, who had been there that night, looked visibly uncomfortable when asked about it during a live stream.
“Ah… it’s not my place to say anything,” he murmured, avoiding eye contact with the camera. “I just hope people don’t believe everything they read online.”
Three days after the backstage altercation between Y/n and Seungcheol shook the internet, the idol finally addressed the controversy.
At midnight, Seungcheol went live on Weverse, looking visibly tired. Dressed in a simple hoodie and cap, he sighed before speaking, his voice softer than usual.
“First of all, I want to sincerely apologize to the fans,” he began, his fingers laced together as he bowed slightly. “I never wanted to cause a scandal or bring unnecessary attention to anyone, especially Y/n. That night… things got emotional, and I let my feelings get the best of me.”
He paused, exhaling shakily. “I know many of you have seen the videos and read the articles. There’s no excuse for what happened. It was a private conversation that, unfortunately, became very public. And for that, I take full responsibility.”
His eyes flickered with emotion as he hesitated before continuing. “I also won’t lie to you. The truth is… I never stopped caring about Y/n.”
The comment section exploded instantly.
Seungcheol swallowed hard, his hands slightly shaking. “I don’t expect anything to change. She has her own life now, and I respect that. But I also don’t want to pretend anymore.”
💬 “DID HE JUST CONFESS???”
💬 “Wait wait wait HOLD ON.”
💬 “HE STILL LOVES HER??? SEUNGCHEOL WTF”
💬 “Someone check on Y/n’s boyfriend bc there’s no way he’s okay rn 💀”
“I loved her. I still do. And that’s something I can’t hide, no matter how much time passes.”
A heavy silence filled the air. The weight of his confession was undeniable.
“I don’t regret what we had, and I will always be grateful for the memories. But I also know that some things… can’t be undone,” he murmured. “No matter what happens, I just want her to be happy.”
He looked straight into the camera. “To the fans who were disappointed in me, I’m sorry. To Y/n, if you ever see this… I’m sorry for putting you through this again.”
With one final bow, he ended the live.
But the internet was just getting started.
Within minutes, hashtags like #SeungcheolApologizes, #CheolStillLovesY/n, and #Y/nResponseWhen? trended worldwide. Fans were divided—some heartbroken over his pain, others hopeful that this was the beginning of something new.
A few days after Seungcheol’s confession sent the internet into a frenzy, Seungkwan found himself standing outside Y/n’s apartment, nervously shifting on his feet. He had sent her a text earlier, asking if he could talk, and to his surprise, she had agreed.
When the door finally opened, Y/n stood there, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her face. She looked tired—exhausted, really. And Seungkwan hated knowing that he had contributed to it.
She stepped aside, allowing him in without a word. He hesitated for a second before walking inside, the air between them thick with unspoken tension.
Taking a deep breath, Seungkwan turned to face her. “Y/n, I… I’m so sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
She raised an eyebrow. “For what exactly?”
His stomach twisted. He knew she wasn’t making it easy for him—and honestly, he deserved it.
“For dragging Seungcheol to your concert,” he admitted, guilt evident in his voice. “I thought I was helping. I thought if he saw you, if he heard you sing, he’d finally get some closure. I never meant for things to spiral like this.”
Y/n let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “Closure?” She scoffed. “Seungkwan, I was finally starting to move on, and now look at this mess. Do you know how many headlines I’ve had to ignore? How many people have been asking me about my relationship, about Seungcheol, about us?”
Seungkwan lowered his head, shame washing over him. “I know. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am for putting you through this again. I never wanted to make things harder for you.”
She studied him for a moment before sighing. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” she said, voice softer now. “But you should have stayed out of it, Seungkwan. It wasn’t your place to interfere.”
Seungkwan swallowed hard. “I get that now. And if I could take it all back, I would.” His voice cracked slightly. “I just—seeing you like that on stage, I knew you were still hurting. And I saw how much hyung was struggling too. I thought… maybe, deep down, you both just needed a push.”
Y/n’s shoulders slumped, and for the first time, Seungkwan saw the raw emotion in her eyes. “You don’t think I know that?” she whispered. “You don’t think I’ve spent every single day wondering if I made the right choice?”
His breath hitched.
“I still love him, Seungkwan,” she admitted, the words hanging heavy in the air. “But that doesn’t mean we can go back to how things were.”
Seungkwan felt his chest tighten. He had hoped—prayed—that maybe, just maybe, things would fall back into place. But Y/n’s expression told him everything he needed to know.
“I get it,” he murmured. “And I swear, I won’t interfere anymore.” He looked at her with sincerity. “I just want you to be happy, Y/n. Whether that’s with Seungcheol or not.”
For the first time that night, Y/n’s expression softened.
“I know,” she said. “And I appreciate that.”
The tension between them eased, just slightly. And as Seungkwan left that night, he hoped—more than anything—that one day, Y/n and Seungcheol would find the happiness they both deserved.
The buzz surrounding Y/n and Seungcheol hadn’t died down, and after weeks of speculation, Y/n finally agreed to an exclusive interview. It wasn’t to explain herself, nor was it to address the scandal directly—she simply wanted to remind the world who she was beyond the drama.
Sitting across from the interviewer in a beautifully lit studio, Y/n looked poised and elegant, her aura calm despite the chaos that had surrounded her lately.
Halfway through the interview, the inevitable question came.
“Y/n, with everything that has happened recently, I think what everyone wants to know is… are you happy?”
The studio fell into silence, and for a moment, Y/n only blinked, as if carefully choosing her words. The interviewer watched her expectantly, and fans watching from behind their screens held their breath.
Then, Y/n smiled—not forced, not hesitant, but genuine.
“I am happy,” she answered simply, nodding. “I have people around me who love and support me. I’m doing what I love. I’m growing, learning, and becoming a better version of myself every day.”
She paused, her fingers gently running along the armrest of her chair. “I think happiness isn’t just about one person, or one moment. It’s about finding peace within yourself, no matter what’s happening around you.”
Her words sent waves across social media. Some fans cheered her on, proud of her strength, while others couldn’t help but read between the lines.
No matter how people interpreted it, one thing was clear—Y/n wasn’t letting the past define her anymore.
💬 “She didn’t say she moved on. She said she’s happy… but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him anymore.”
💬 “If she’s happy, then that’s all that matters. She deserves it.”
💬 “So this is really the end for her and Seungcheol?”
💬 “What if she’s saying this to convince herself? She looked kind of sad for a second.”
And whether Seungcheol was part of her future or not… that was a story only time would tell.
Just when the internet was beginning to settle down after Y/n’s interview, a single post sent fans into a frenzy once again.
Late at night, Y/n’s boyfriend uploaded a picture to his Instagram story—an intimate yet casual shot of him and Y/n. She was leaning against him, laughing softly, while he had his arm draped over her shoulders.
But what truly set the internet ablaze was the caption.
"Thanks for letting her go."
Within minutes, screenshots flooded Twitter, Instagram, and online forums. Fans and netizens had mixed reactions—some supporting the new relationship, others furious over what they saw as an unnecessary dig at Seungcheol.
It didn’t take long before Seungcheol’s name began trending again, fans anxiously waiting to see if he would respond.
💬 “Y/n deserves to be happy, but this caption was not it.”
However, Seungcheol remained completely silent. No statements. No cryptic posts. No subtle likes or unlikes.
Following the viral Instagram story from Y/n’s new boyfriend, media outlets wasted no time in picking up the drama. Within hours, headlines flooded every major entertainment site, further fueling the ongoing controversy.
📢 K-Buzz News: "Y/n’s New Boyfriend Takes a Dig at Seungcheol—‘Thanks for Letting Her Go’ Sparks Debate!"
📢 AllK-Entertainment: "Is It a Low Blow? Y/n’s Boyfriend Posts Shady Caption Amidst Seungcheol’s Confession!"
📢 Dispatch Exclusive: "Aimed at Seungcheol? Y/n’s Boyfriend Under Fire for His Controversial Instagram Post!"
The articles analyzed every angle of the situation—some supporting Y/n’s boyfriend, claiming he had every right to express his love publicly, while others criticized him for being unnecessarily petty.
One report even included insights from an anonymous industry insider:
"It’s no secret that Seungcheol and Y/n had a deep history. For a new boyfriend to make such a statement so publicly… it seems more like a declaration of victory than genuine love. Fans are divided, and understandably so."
Online discussions became more heated, with netizens and fans picking sides.
After days of silence, Seungcheol finally broke his silence—and he did it in the most Seungcheol way possible.
💬 “I mean… he’s not wrong, Seungcheol DID let her go.”
💬 “There was no need for this. If he was confident in their relationship, he wouldn’t have posted that.”
💬 “Is Y/n okay with this? She’s been trying to move on peacefully.”
💬 “This is getting so messy. I just want all of them to be happy.”
During SEVENTEEN’s sold-out concert, emotions were already running high, but no one expected the leader to address the controversy head-on.
Right before launching into a rap solo, Seungcheol took a deep breath, smirked slightly, and let the mic drop to his side for a second. The crowd fell silent, sensing something was about to go down.
Then, he looked out at the audience and said, “Someone decided to run their mouth… but I can’t just let that go, right?”
The stadium erupted in screams.
Without missing a beat, the beat dropped, and Seungcheol spit bars sharper than knives, delivering what fans immediately recognized as a freestyle diss aimed directly at Y/n’s boyfriend.
“You think you won, but why you still talkin’?
Got my leftovers, but you’re still stalkin’.
Holdin’ her hand, but you checkin’ my page—
You insecure, man, just stay in your lane.
The crowd went wild, some covering their mouths in shock while others jumped, hyped at the unexpected callout. Seungcheol didn’t stop there. He ended the rap with one last line that sent chills through the venue:
Talkin’ like you won but you don’t know the game,
She’s not a trophy, she don’t need a new name.
You flex online but we know it’s pretend,
If you gotta talk about me, are you really her man?”
“Real love don’t need a caption, it just stays.”
🔥 FANS. LOST. THEIR. MINDS. 🔥
💬 “DID CHEOL JUST DISS HIM LIVE???”
💬 “HE REALLY SAID I CANT LET THAT GO LMAOOO”
💬 “That was directed straight at him and everyone knows it 💀”
💬 “The way Seungcheol handled this was straight SAVAGE but CLASSY.”
As expected, clips of the performance exploded online within minutes. Hashtags like #SeungcheolDissTrack #StayInYourLaneand #ICantLetThatGo trended worldwide.
💬 “DID HE JUST CALL HIM INSECURE???”
💬 “Seungcheol said ‘you got her but you’re STILL mad’ LMAOOO”
💬 “This man had enough and snapped 💀💀”
💬 “Y/n’s boyfriend better not check Twitter today.”
💬 “The fact that he did this in a FULL concert with THOUSANDS of people watching… legendary.”
Even fellow SEVENTEEN members couldn’t hide their reactions—Mingyu was seen howling with laughter, Hoshi dramatically clutched his chest, and Jeonghan smirked knowingly.
Meanwhile, Y/n’s boyfriend remained silent on social media. No response. No clapback.
Because at that moment, Seungcheol had already won the battle without even trying.
The K-pop world is ablaze once again as Seungcheol's recent concert performance has sparked a fresh wave of controversy.
Leading outlets like Dispatch, AllKPop, and K-Buzz wasted no time covering the unexpected diss.
📢 Dispatch Headline: "Seungcheol's Savage Rap Sparks Speculation – Is Y/n's Boyfriend the Target?"
📢 K-Buzz: "‘Stay in Your Lane’ – Seungcheol Sends a Clear Message During SEVENTEEN’s Concert!"
📢 AllKPop: "Seungcheol Breaks Silence in the Most K-Pop Way Possible – Fans Call It the Ultimate Clapback!"
The viral moment had fans dissecting every line of the rap, with many convinced that the lyrics were aimed directly at Y/n’s boyfriend following his controversial Instagram post.
The reaction online was immediate:
One industry insider told Dispatch:
"Seungcheol is known for writing deeply personal lyrics, but this performance felt different. It was raw and deliberate—he knew exactly what he was doing."
Neither Seungcheol nor his agency released an official statement, but fans noticed that SEVENTEEN’s official social media accounts carefully avoided posting clips from that performance—further fueling the speculation.
💬 "He didn’t even name-drop, but we all know who he’s talking about."
💬 "Seungcheol said ‘stay in your lane’ and mic dropped. ICONIC."
💬 "If I were Y/n’s boyfriend, I would deactivate every social media app right now."
💬 "Seungcheol is fighting demons with a whole concert tour."
Meanwhile, Y/n’s boyfriend remained silent on the matter, with some fans calling his Instagram caption “the worst mistake of his life.”
As the drama unfolds, all eyes are now on Y/n, waiting to see if she will respond—or if she’ll continue to rise above the storm swirling around her.
After the chaos from Seungcheol’s viral rap performance, Y/n couldn’t stay silent any longer.
Furious over the public spectacle he made, she reached out to him directly—and it wasn’t a pleasant conversation.
The tension was thick the moment he answered.
“What the hell was that, Seungcheol?” Y/n snapped, skipping past pleasantries. “Did you really have to turn this into a public mess?”
“Don’t play dumb!” Her voice was sharp with frustration. “You knew exactly what you were doing! You turned this into a damn spectacle, and now everyone is talking about it.”
Seungcheol, still heated from everything that had happened, scoffed. “Oh, but your boyfriend’s post wasn’t a spectacle? He went out of his way to take a shot at me, and I was just supposed to stay quiet?”
Y/n exhaled sharply, her patience wearing thin. “You don’t have to stoop to his level! Do you even realize what you’ve done? Fans are eating this up, and now it looks like some childish feud. And me? I’m stuck in the middle of it.”
Seungcheol was silent for a moment before he muttered, “He started it.”
Y/n let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, grow up, Seungcheol. This isn’t about winning or losing. This is my life you keep dragging into the spotlight.”
Her voice softened slightly, but the hurt was still there. “I just wanted to move on. Why couldn’t you let me?”
Seungcheol clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of her words. “Is that really what you wanted?” His voice was quieter now, raw with emotion.
Y/n hesitated for just a second. But she forced herself to stay firm. “Yes. And if you actually cared about me, you would have respected that.”
The call ended before Seungcheol could respond.
For the first time in a long time, he felt like he had truly lost her.
After their heated call, Seungcheol couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at him. He knew he had hurt Y/n, and no words could undo the mess he had made.
So, instead of words, he chose actions.
Every single day, he sent her favorite flowers, carefully arranged and delivered without a note. He didn’t expect a response—he just wanted her to know that despite everything, he still cared.
At first, Y/n thought it was from a fan or maybe her company, but as the days passed, the steady arrival of fresh bouquets started to make her wonder.
Then, one evening, she finally acknowledged them—posting a picture of the flowers on her Instagram story.
🌸 "One of my fav things." 🌸
Fans immediately flooded the comments with love, but one particular comment caught her attention.
💬 "Minseong is so sweet for doing this!"
Y/n didn’t respond, assuming her boyfriend, Minseong, was the sender. But before she could even process it, a verified comment appeared below.
💬 Seungcheol: "They’re from me."
The internet exploded.
💥 Fans Lost Their Minds 💥
Y/n stared at the comment, her heart dropping into her stomach. She had unknowingly posted a gift from Seungcheol, and now the entire world knew.
💬 "OH MY GOD. SEUNGCHEOL, WHAT?!"
💬 "The audacity… but also… the romance??"
💬 "Minseong is getting secondhand embarrassment right now LMAO."
💬 "This man does NOT give up."
💬 "Y/n, girl, we need a response ASAP."
The moment Minseong saw the comment from Seungcheol, he was furious. His name was trending alongside Seungcheol’s, and fans were speculating about their relationship.
That night, he stormed into Y/n’s apartment, his jaw clenched, his voice laced with anger.
“Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me?” he snapped, tossing his phone onto the table. “The whole internet thinks I’m some fool who’s been competing with your ex this entire time!”
Y/n, still overwhelmed by everything, took a deep breath. “Minseong, I didn’t know the flowers were from him. I thought—”
“You thought what?!” he cut her off, his voice rising. “That I’d waste my time doing some grand romantic gesture when I know you’re still stuck on him?”
Her eyes widened at his tone. “That’s not fair.”
Minseong let out a bitter laugh. “Fair? You’re the one making me look like an idiot while secretly holding onto the past.” He stepped closer, his presence suddenly suffocating. “You liked it, didn’t you? Knowing he’s still chasing after you?”
Y/n took a step back, her chest tightening. “I didn’t ask for this. I was moving on—with you.”
Minseong scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “No, Y/n. You weren’t. You were just pretending to.”
His words struck deep, but before she could respond, his hand slammed down onto the table, making her flinch. He didn’t hit her, but his anger was dangerously close to boiling over.
That was it. The final straw.
Y/n’s voice was firm, unwavering. “We’re done.”
Minseong froze. “What?”
She exhaled, steadying herself. “This isn’t love, Minseong. You don’t trust me. You don’t respect me. And I refuse to stay in something that makes me feel like this.”
His expression hardened, but he didn’t fight her decision. He knew he had lost. Without another word, he grabbed his things and left, slamming the door behind him.
The moment he was gone, Y/n finally let herself breathe.
It was over. For good.
Following the sudden news of Y/n and Minseong’s breakup, fans speculated about the reasons behind their split—especially after the viral Seungcheol flower incident.
To address the growing rumors, Y/n’s company released an official statement:
📢 [OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM Y/N’S AGENCY] 📢
*"Hello, this is [Agency Name].
We would like to address recent reports regarding Y/n’s personal life.
After much discussion, Y/n and Minseong have decided to part ways. They will continue to support each other as colleagues and friends. We ask that fans respect their privacy during this time and refrain from spreading speculation that could harm either party.
Regarding the recent online discussions, Y/n has no involvement in any public disputes, and we kindly ask for understanding as she focuses on her career and well-being.
Thank you for your continued support."*
— [Agency Name]
Fan Reactions
Late at night, Y/n’s phone buzzed with a message from a number she hadn’t seen pop up in a long time.
💬 "‘No involvement’?? Her ex-boyfriend literally humiliated her, and they’re acting like nothing happened??"
💬 "I just know Minseong is punching the air right now."
💬 "Seungcheol’s somewhere smirking."
💬 "Hope Y/n is okay. She deserves better."
💬 "They didn’t even deny the flowers were from Seungcheol. Interesting… 👀"
Seungcheol.
Seungcheol: Hey… How are you feeling?
Seungcheol: I heard about everything. I just… I wanted to check on you.
Y/n stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She knew she should ignore him. After everything that had happened, after all the chaos, it would be easier to just move on.
But a part of her—the part that still remembered how safe he once made her feel—couldn’t.
Y/n: I’m fine.
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.
Seconds later, her phone started ringing. Seungcheol was calling.
She hesitated before answering. “What do you want, Seungcheol?”
His voice was gentle, laced with something softer than usual. “I wanted to hear your voice, baby.”
Y/n’s breath hitched. “Don’t call me that.”
He chuckled, but there was an undeniable sadness behind it. “I can’t help it. You’ll always be my baby.”
She closed her eyes, gripping the edge of her blanket. “You don’t get to say that anymore.”
Seungcheol sighed. “I know I messed up. I know I’ve made things worse instead of better. But I meant what I said… I’m not giving up on you.”
Y/n swallowed, her heart racing. “You can’t just decide that.”
“But I can decide to keep trying,” he countered, voice firm. “I let you go once. I’m not making that mistake again.”
Silence stretched between them. Y/n hated how her heart betrayed her in that moment, how it ached at the sound of his voice, how it longed to believe him.
“I don’t know if I can do this again, Seungcheol,” she whispered.
He exhaled, his voice softer this time. “Then let me show you that you can.”
The world was buzzing with excitement—both Seventeen and Y/n had been nominated for the Billboard Music Awards. Social media exploded with congratulations, and fans couldn’t stop talking about how fate kept bringing them back into the same spaces.
That night, Y/n was in her hotel room when her phone lit up. Seungcheol was calling.
She stared at the screen, debating whether to pick up. But a part of her already knew—she would always answer when it was him.
With a sigh, she swiped the call open. “What do you want now, Seungcheol?”
His deep chuckle came through the line. “Can’t I just call to congratulate my baby?”
She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat. “I told you to stop calling me that.”
“I’ll stop when you stop running away from me,” he said smoothly.
Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. “I’m not running.”
Seungcheol scoffed. “Then tell me why every time I reach out, you push me away. Every time I try to come closer, you take another step back.”
She clenched her jaw, looking away as if he could see her through the phone. “Because it’s easier that way, Seungcheol. You and I… we always end up hurting each other.”
His voice softened. “Not always.”
“Enough times.”
A pause. Then, “And yet… here we are. Still picking up each other’s calls.”
Y/n closed her eyes. He wasn’t wrong. No matter how hard she tried to stay away, something kept pulling them back together.
“Just tell me one thing, baby.” His voice was quieter now, more vulnerable. “Is there still a part of you that wants me?”
Silence.
Y/n knew her answer. But she also knew that saying it out loud would mean stepping back into a storm she wasn’t sure she could handle.
So instead, she whispered, “Goodnight, Seungcheol.”
And then she hung up—leaving him with the silence that said everything he needed to know.
The stadium roared with cheers as Seventeen was announced as the winner. The members hugged, overwhelmed with emotions as they took the stage to accept their first-ever Billboard Music Award.
Backstage, the energy was electric. Staff members, fellow artists, and friends were congratulating them left and right. Amid the chaos, Y/n found them.
Dressed in a sleek black outfit, she approached with a small smile. “Congratulations, Guys.”
The members turned to her, pleasantly surprised. Seungkwan was the first to pull her into a hug, followed by Joshua and Hoshi. They had always been close to her, and despite everything that had happened, there was no awkwardness—only warmth.
Then, her eyes met Seungcheol’s.
He stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “You are here.”
Y/n smirked. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
The members exchanged knowing looks before slowly dispersing, giving them space.
Now alone in a quieter corner of the backstage area, Seungcheol studied her carefully.
“Thank you for coming,” he said softly.
She shrugged. “You worked hard for it. You deserved to win.”
Seungcheol took a step closer. “And do I deserve another chance?”
Y/n inhaled sharply. “Seungcheol—”
“Listen to me, baby,” he cut in gently. “I know I’ve messed up before. I know I let you go when I shouldn’t have. But I swear to you, I’ve never stopped loving you.”
Her heart pounded, but she kept her face neutral. “It’s not that simple.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But I also know you still feel something for me. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he was right, and they both knew it.
Seungcheol sighed and reached for her hand, his touch hesitant but warm. “One date. That’s all I’m asking. No pressure, no expectations. Just you and me, like old times.”
Y/n bit her lip, her walls threatening to crumble.
One date.
That was all.
What was the worst that could happen?
“…Fine,” she whispered.
Seungcheol’s face broke into a boyish grin, his dimples showing. “Really?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s just one date.”
He chuckled, squeezing her hand. “One date is all I need.”
Breaking News: Seungcheol & Y/n Spotted on a Date!
The entertainment industry was buzzing with new headlines the morning after Seungcheol and Y/n’s long-awaited reunion.
Photos had surfaced of the two enjoying a quiet evening at a luxurious yet cozy restaurant. Fans noted how they laughed easily, leaned close to talk, and looked at each other like no time had passed.
🔹 "Seventeen’s Seungcheol & Y/n Reignite Romance? Spotted on an Intimate Date!"
🔹 "Old Flames Reunite: Seungcheol and Y/n Seen Boarding the Same Flight Together!"
🔹 "Eagle-Eyed Fans Notice Y/n Wearing Her Old Engagement Ring—Is Love Back in the Air?"
“Look at the way Seungcheol is staring at her… He’s so in love.” – A fan commented on Twitter.
“It’s crazy how they just fit together. Like they were never apart.”
If the dinner date wasn’t enough, a bigger surprise came the next morning when both Seungcheol and Y/n were spotted at the airport—boarding the same flight.
Fans went into a frenzy.
A Few Months Later…
“Where are they going together??”
“This feels like a drama plot… a romantic getaway???”
It started with a simple Instagram post.
Y/n wasn’t one to flaunt her personal life, but tonight, something felt different. She uploaded a picture of her hand resting against a bouquet of white roses—and on her ring finger, a brand-new engagement ring sparkled under the dim light.
💍 CAPTION: “Some things are worth finding your way back to.”
The internet exploded.
🔥 BREAKING NEWS: Y/n Is Engaged!
"Months after rekindling her romance with Seungcheol, fans noticed Y/n sporting a dazzling engagement ring. While no official statement has been released, the caption and the ring say it all!"
As the world celebrated, somewhere in the quiet of their own little world, Seungcheol pulled Y/n into his arms and whispered against her forehead:
📝 Fans React:
💬 “THEY’RE REALLY ENDGAME OMG 😭😭”
💬 “Seungcheol, you romantic fool, YOU DID IT!!”
💬 “The way this love story has come full circle… I’M SOBBING.”
“Told you I’d never stop trying, baby."
Seungcheol Confirms Marriage to Y/n—Fans Go Wild!
Seventeen’s leader, Choi Seungcheol, has just dropped the biggest bombshell during an album promotion event—he and Y/n are officially married!
"We Got Married Recently" – Seungcheol’s Unexpected Announcement
During an interview for Seventeen’s latest album, the members were discussing the inspiration behind their new songs. When asked about the meaning behind a particularly heartfelt track, Seungcheol smiled knowingly.
“This one’s special. It’s about someone I love. Actually… I guess it’s the perfect time to say it—Y/n and I recently got married.”
The room went silent for a second before exploding into chaos.
The members clapped and cheered. The interviewers were speechless, fumbling for words before finally stuttering, “Wait—married?! Like, officially?”
Seungcheol grinned. “Yeah. Officially.”
As if that wasn’t enough, minutes after the interview aired, Seungcheol posted a never-before-seen picture of Y/n on his Instagram.
The photo was simple yet stunning—Y/n sitting in their living room, wearing one of Seungcheol’s oversized hoodies, holding a cup of tea with a soft smile.
The caption?
“Wifey. ❤️”
The Internet Breaks: Fans & Celebrities React
Within minutes, social media exploded.
Even celebrities joined in.
🔹 "WHAT DO YOU MEAN WIFEY????? SEUNGCHEOL PLEASE EXPLAIN.”
🔹 “Not only are they back together, THEY’RE ACTUALLY MARRIED. MY HEART CAN’T TAKE THIS.”
🔹 "This man just dropped a marriage announcement like it was a casual Tuesday.”
Jeonghan commented: “Wow, we lost him for real. Congrats, bro.”
Seungkwan: “I DESERVE CREDIT FOR THIS!!!”
Hoshi: “Does this mean I can still be part of your love story? 😭”
Following Seungcheol’s viral "Wifey ❤️" post, fans eagerly waited for Y/n’s response—and she did not disappoint.
She uploaded a candid photo of Seungcheol in their home, wearing a cozy sweater, running a hand through his hair as he smiled at something off-camera.
The caption?
“Hubby ❤️”
As expected, the internet went absolutely wild.
Mingyu: “Wow, you two are really doing this, huh?”
🔹 “WIFEY AND HUBBY POSTS ON THE SAME DAY???? THEY ARE SO IN LOVE I’M CRYING.”
🔹 “Y/n is now officially the luckiest person alive. Like. LOOK AT HIM.”
🔹 “THEY REALLY GOT MARRIED AND NOW THEY’RE CASUALLY POSTING ABOUT IT LIKE THIS ISN’T THE BIGGEST NEWS EVER.”
Jeonghan: “I give it 3 months before Seungcheol starts posting ‘My wife is the most beautiful person in the world’ every single day.”
Woozi: “Congrats, now please stop writing sad songs about her.”
Felix (Stray Kids): “This is actually the cutest thing I’ve seen in my life.”
After days of trending worldwide, Seungcheol and Y/n finally sat down for their first official interview as husband and wife. Fans had been eagerly waiting to hear their love story straight from them, and the couple did not hold back!
1️⃣ Why Did Y/n Give Seungcheol a Second Chance?
💬 Y/n: “A lot of people asked me this, and honestly, I asked myself the same thing at first. But… Seungcheol never stopped trying. Even when I was stubborn, even when I told him to move on, he just kept proving to me—through his actions, not just words—that his love for me never changed.”
💬 Seungcheol: [laughs shyly] “It was never even a question for me. I just knew she was the one, and I was willing to wait however long it took.”
2️⃣ How Did Seungcheol Propose?
💬 Seungcheol: “I was nervous. Like, really nervous. I had planned everything perfectly, but when the moment came, my hands were shaking.”
💬 Y/n: [laughs] “I noticed! He dropped the ring box at one point.”
💬 Seungcheol: “I wanted it to be special, but at the same time, I didn’t want some big public thing. So, I took her to the place where we had our very first date. Just the two of us. I told her everything I felt—why I loved her, why I’d never stop choosing her. And then I got down on one knee and asked.”
💬 Y/n: “And I said yes. Obviously.”
3️⃣ How Did the Seventeen Members Help?
💬 Seungcheol: [groans] “Oh my God. They were worse than me.”
💬 Y/n: “It was adorable, actually.”
💬 Seungcheol: “So, before I proposed, the guys decided they had to be involved. I thought they’d just help with the setup or something, but no… they insisted on singing ‘Marry Me’ by Jason Derulo while I was proposing.”
💬 Y/n: “I walked into the venue and suddenly all of Seventeen was standing there, singing with way too much passion.”
💬 Seungcheol: “Jeonghan was even pretending to wipe tears like he was my mother.”
💬 Y/n: [laughing] “It was so chaotic but also the sweetest thing ever.”
4️⃣ Why Did You Keep the Marriage a Secret for So Long?
💬 Y/n: “We really wanted to enjoy this moment for ourselves first. In this industry, so much of our lives is public, and we just wanted a little while where it was just us.”
5️⃣ How Did Seungcheol Win Y/n Over Again?
💬 Y/n: [teasingly] “He was persistent. Annoyingly so.”
💬 Seungcheol: “I sent her flowers every day, wrote her letters, checked in on her, reminded her of all the little things I remembered about her. I just wanted her to know that no matter how much time passed, my love for her never changed.”
💬 Y/n: “At first, I was so set on keeping my distance, but then one day… I realized I didn’t want to run anymore.”
💬 Seungcheol: “So, you admit I won?”
💬 Y/n: [laughs] “You never had to ‘win.’ You were already the one.”
6️⃣ Final Thoughts?
💬 Seungcheol: “I know our story has been crazy—lots of ups and downs. But I think that’s what makes it special. We grew, we changed, and we still found our way back to each other. And now… I get to call her my wife.”
💬 Y/n: “And I get to call him my husband.”
💬 Seungcheol: [grinning at her] “Best title I’ve ever had.”
As expected, social media exploded with love and admiration for the couple.
🔹 “This is literally a K-drama but real life.”
🔹 “Seventeen SINGING while he proposed? I need a documentary on this whole love story.”
🔹 “They were always meant to be. I’m so happy for them.”
With their love stronger than ever, Seungcheol and Y/n’s journey continues—but this time, as husband and wife.
synopsis: After Luna gets injured during Be The Sun tour rehearsal in Bangkok, her members— willing to do anything and everything for her— refuse to let her face it alone.
warnings: angst, cursing, crying, injuries, mentions of blood, stitches, graphic description of injury, graphic description of stitches, medical jargons, protective!svt, worried!svt, injured!Luna, angry!Cheol, anxiety, mentions of panic attack, fluff by the end, couple goals, team goals (i lOvE mY tEaM, i LoVE mY cReW!)
angst might be my favorite genre to write… what does that say about me? 😝 anyway, hope you lovlies enjoy this one! happy reading❤️🔥
There were good days, and then there were perfect days.
This was the latter.
Luna had woken up that morning with the kind of well-rested feeling that came once in a blue moon. The kind where her body felt weightless, her limbs loose and relaxed, as if sleep had actually done its job for once instead of teasing her with a few hours of restless tossing and turning. The kind where her eyes opened naturally, with no groggy blinking or sluggish protests against reality, just a deep inhale followed by a satisfied sigh.
No alarms blaring, no manager knocking, no overwhelming exhaustion from back-to-back schedules— it was almost unsettling how good she felt.
Almost.
She rolled over, half-expecting Jeonghan to still be fast asleep beside her, but to her surprise, he was already awake. Awake and staring at her with a soft, sleepy-eyed smile that made her heart flip just a little.
“Good morning,” he murmured, voice still husky from sleep.
Luna blinked at him, half convinced she was still dreaming. “You’re awake before me?”
He smirked. “Miracles do happen.”
That alone was enough to tell her that today was going to be a good day. Because if there was one thing Jeonghan wasn’t, it was a morning person.
They both weren’t, really.
They usually spent their mornings in a sluggish haze, shuffling around each other in slow motion as they tried to find the will to start the day.
But today? Today, they were both awake, well-rested, and— dare she say it— energized.
Which was shocking cause it usually takes the both of them a couple hours to actually wake up— sometimes they don’t even talk, a mutual understanding enveloping them that it could take a few minutes.
And if that wasn’t enough, breakfast had only solidified the perfection of the morning.
They had eaten together, just the two of them, something that didn’t happen as often as they would have liked with their schedules. The meal had been simple but satisfying— nothing extravagant, just warm food and quiet company. And Jeonghan, despite being notoriously grumpy before noon, had been in a good mood. He had nudged her knee under the table, stolen a bite from her plate with a mischievous grin, and even made her laugh before she had finished her coffee.
Perfect.
The weather, too, had decided to play along.
It was the kind of day that made traveling easy— clear skies, a gentle breeze, the kind of temperature that was neither too hot nor too cold. The airport had been bustling as always, but their departure had been smooth, their flight to Bangkok a breeze.
No delays, no turbulence, no last-minute chaos that usually came with their schedules.
And, to top it all off, Luna looked good.
She wasn’t even going to be humble about it. Her airport outfit was one of her favorites— effortless yet chic, the kind that made her feel both comfortable and confident.
She knew she looked amazing because Jeonghan had given her that once-over when she walked out of their room, the kind of look that lingered for just a second too longer than normal before he hummed and said, “You’re going to make the fans go insane with that outfit, Nana-ya.”
And he wasn’t wrong.
Everything was going right.
They were in Bangkok for the Be The Sun tour , a city filled with fans who always made them feel like royalty, and as soon as they landed, the energy was contagious. Excitement buzzed in the air as they made their way to the venue. The anticipation for tomorrow’s concert was already thick, and the entire team was riding on that high.
By the time they arrived at the arena, spirits were high. The members were in a great mood, their team was in a great mood, and— perhaps most importantly— everyone was in excellent condition. No colds, no injuries, no exhaustion lingering in their bones from the previous leg of the tour.
It was rare for things to align so perfectly, but somehow, today, everything just was.
As always, the day before a concert was dedicated to rehearsing— going through the flow of the show, refining their markings, making sure every little detail was in place. Unlike the soundchecks on concert days, which were open to VIP ticket holders, today’s rehearsals were private. Just them and their team, no audience, no distractions.
It was a familiar routine.
They ran through their setlist, making sure their formations were clean and tight. They tested their microphones, adjusted their in-ear monitors— everyone had their own preferences for how they wanted to hear themselves, whether they needed more bass, more vocals, or a balance of both. The tech team ran through lighting cues, pyrotechnic timings, and camera placements.
Everything had to be perfect, every detail accounted for.
But despite the professionalism, there was still that undercurrent of chaos that only they could bring.
Dokyeom kept acting he was playing random guitar riffs in between songs. Hoshi and Seungkwan kept breaking into impromptu dances that had nothing to do with their actual choreography. Mingyu was either mimicking everyone’s vocal runs or dramatically collapsing onto the floor every time they finished a song. Even Woozi, their usually focused producer, had cracked a few jokes, making everyone laugh as they rehearsed.
And Jeonghan— of course, Jeonghan— had been nothing short of a menace.
At one point, he had somehow gotten his hands on a stage prop and used it to poke at the other members mid-rehearsal. Then, when he got bored of that, he started throwing Luna mischievous glances, making faces at her from across the stage until she nearly choked on the water she was drinking.
But through all the chaos, the rehearsal itself was smooth. Everyone knew their marks, their moves, their cues.
It was all going so well.
Too well.
Luna should have known.
Should have known that the moment she started labeling the day as perfect, she had already jinxed herself.
Should have known that there was no such thing as perfect.
Because perfection was a fragile, fleeting thing. A delicate illusion that could shatter in an instant.
And in just a few moments, it would be.
The stadium was quiet, save for the gentle strumming of the backing instrumentals playing through their in-ear monitors. The air inside the vast arena was still, almost heavy with the kind of warmth that came with rehearsing for hours under stage lights.
They were nearly done for the day— so close to wrapping up their final run-throughs before they could head back to the hotel and rest.
Seated in rows along the metal bleachers set up on the main stage, the members swayed lightly to the melody of ‘Our Dawn is Hotter than Day’. The song was always a moment of solace in their setlist— warm, nostalgic, fun, filled with a quiet kind of comfort. It wasn’t a song they just performed; it was a song they felt.
Luna sat beside Jeonghan, their shoulders barely touching as they sang, their voices blending effortlessly with the rest of the group. Their microphones were held up to their mouths as they always did, their bodies slightly leaned forward as they focused on their harmonies. She could feel the energy between them, that unspoken connection of knowing exactly when to breathe, when to soften, when to let the music take over.
The moment was peaceful.
Almost lulling. Almost perfect.
And then it wasn’t.
It happened so fast that for a second, Luna didn’t even register it as pain— just a sudden, sharp pop in her right ear, so loud and jarring that it rattled her skull. A strange sensation, foreign and terrifying, like something had snapped inside her head.
And then— Agony.
A white-hot, slicing pain shot through her right ear, so sharp, so immediate, that it was as if she had been electrocuted. The pain was cutting, searing, burning— an unbearable sting that radiated from deep inside her ear canal and spread like wildfire through the side of her face, down her neck, into her jaw.
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up.
A startled, high-pitched squeal of pain tore from her throat as she jolted up from her seat, her left hand instinctively dropping the microphone she had been holding. The mic hit the stage with a loud, echoing clunk, the sound of it reverberating through the empty stadium and blasting into the members’ in-ear monitors with a harsh, grating screech.
At the same time, her right hand shot up, yanking both of her in-ear monitors out of her ears in one swift, panicked motion. The small earpieces tumbled from her fingers, falling somewhere on the stage, forgotten. Her heart was slamming against her ribs, her entire body seized with alarm.
She barely registered the members’ voices, their sudden shouts of confusion and concern as she stumbled away from the metal bleachers, her legs moving on autopilot.
She needed space.
She needed to breathe.
She can’t breathe.
She’s in pain.
Her hands flew up to her ears, pressing against them as she crouched down on the stage, trying to steady herself. But nothing was steady. The pain was relentless, roaring in her right ear like an explosion that refused to fade.
And the worst part—
The worst part was that she could feel it.
The warm, sticky sensation trailing down her neck. The unmistakable wetness pooling beneath her fingers.
Blood.
It was pumping, both inside and out— throbbing in her head like a relentless pulse, trickling down the curve of her jaw, soaking into the collar of her shirt. Her ears were ringing, a high-pitched whine that drowned out everything else, leaving the world muffled and distant.
She wasn’t even sure if she was crying or if it was just the blood she felt dripping down her skin.
Maybe it was both.
Somewhere in the haze of pain, she vaguely registered movement around her— shadows shifting, voices yelling, hands reaching.
“Jiyeon-ah!”
“Hey, hey— what happened?!”
“Someone get the medic, now!”
But the words were warped, lost in the deafening ringing in her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut, her chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven breaths.
The perfect day was over.
And all she could do was hold her head in her hands as the world blurred around her.
The metallic scent of blood was thick in the air, sharp and unmistakable. It clung to her skin and her clothes— overwhelming her senses as she pressed her right hand tightly against her ear. The sticky warmth seeped between her fingers, and even without looking, she knew the extent of it. The iron-tinged, coppery smell made her stomach churn.
Hands were on her— gentle but firm, rubbing slow circles on her back, trying to ground her. Voices overlapped in frantic concern, some closer, some further away. Through the relentless ringing in her ears, she could just barely make out the distinct sound of Seungcheol’s voice cutting through the chaos.
“Where the hell are they?!” he barked, the weight of his authority sharp and urgent. “I said hurry up!”
Luna barely processed his words. She kept her head bowed, eyes shut tight, too afraid to look at the damage. She wasn’t good with blood— never had been. It made her queasy, made her feel lightheaded. If she removed her hand, if she actually saw how much she was bleeding, she knew she’d be teetering on the edge of passing out. Her body already felt weak, her breathing uneven.
But then, through the mess of panic, there was Jeonghan.
He was crouched in front of her, his presence steady, unwavering. He had been one of the first to reach her the moment she screamed, and now, as she blinked against the blur of pain and tears, she found his eyes— calm, focused, searching hers.
For a second, everything else faded. The noise, the chaos, the overwhelming nausea. It was just Jeonghan, his gaze locked onto her like he could somehow anchor her back to reality.
Then he moved, reaching out with a touch so careful, so deliberate, as he cupped the back of her neck. His palm was warm against her clammy skin, his thumb ghosting over the curve of her jaw in the softest reassurance.
“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice impossibly gentle. “You’re alright, Nana-ya.” His eyes never wavered, steady as the way he spoke. “I know it hurts, but you’re gonna be fine. I promise.”
Luna swallowed hard, her breath shuddering as another sharp pulse of pain throbbed through her ear. She winced, squeezing her eyes shut, fighting against the dizziness creeping in.
Then suddenly, there was another shift beside her— stronger, more urgent.
Before she could react, she felt herself being lifted, scooped up effortlessly from the ground. A pair of arms secured her in a bridal carry, firm but careful, moving with quick purpose.
Seungcheol.
His jaw was tight, the muscle in it flexing as he carried her with ease. His usual composure was cracked, frustration seeping through in the way his grip tightened just slightly, in the way he muttered under his breath, words laced with quiet, restrained anger.
“They need to be way faster in situations like this,” he muttered darkly, his voice low but sharp.
But when he looked down at her, the frustration melted into something softer. His brows furrowed in concern, his lips pressing together for a second before he exhaled through his nose. And then, despite everything, he offered her a reassuring smile.
“You’re gonna be okay, Jiyeonie,” he said, this time gentle, meant just for her. “We’re getting you help. Just a little longer, alright?”
Luna didn’t say anything— she couldn’t. She only nodded faintly, her body instinctively leaning into him, her forehead resting lightly against his chest. Even with her hands still pressed against her ears, she could hear the murmurs of the other members trailing closely behind as Seungcheol carried her off the stage.
The moment they entered the backstage area, the chaos only intensified.
Backstage was always busy, always filled with movement and overlapping voices, but this was different. The usual calm, controlled energy had been shattered. Managers and staff were darting around, some grabbing medical supplies, others speaking hurriedly into their earpieces.
Everyone’s eyes were on Luna.
And not in the way she liked.
There was no hiding it— she was visibly shaking, the top of her shirt stained, her hands still shielding her ears like she could somehow block out the pulsing pain.
The rest of the members hovered, not a single one of them sitting despite the waiting room’s couches lining the space. They couldn’t. Their worry was palpable, radiating off of them in waves as they stayed close, watching as Seungcheol carried her straight to one of the sofas.
Only when he gently lowered her down did they finally exhale, but the tension in the room remained thick, suffocating.
And as Luna sat there, dizzy, aching, and clutching onto the last bit of strength she had left, she knew one thing for certain.
She jinxed herself.
The second Luna was sat down on the sofa, Jeonghan was right beside her. He moved without hesitation, pressing himself close as if to shield her from everything else in the room. His hand found her thigh, palm warm as he caressed it in slow, soothing strokes. The touch was grounding, firm but gentle, a silent reassurance that he was there. That she wasn’t alone.
Her breathing was uneven, her hands still clamped over both of her ears, though it was the right one that throbbed relentlessly. Her fingers were sticky with blood, and the coppery scent was still thick in her nose, making her stomach churn. She kept her eyes down, trying to focus on anything other than the pain, other than the fact that her head was spinning.
Then a voice cut through the tense silence of the room.
One of their tech team members, a man with glasses and a staff badge hanging around his neck, stepped forward hesitantly. His expression was tight, nervous, like he knew that whatever he was about to say wouldn’t be well received.
“We checked the equipment,” he started, his tone careful, measured. “Jiyeon’s in-ear monitor… it malfunctioned. It, um… exploded.” He swallowed, shifting slightly under the weight of so many stares. “From what we can tell, it was a wiring issue. A buildup of pressure. It caused the internal components to—” He exhaled sharply. “Basically, it blew apart from the inside. Thankfully, it only affected the right ear and not both.”
A beat of silence.
Then—
“Thankfully?”
Seungcheol scoffed, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack, his eyes dark with barely restrained frustration. He turned his full attention to the staff member, incredulous.
“Seungcheol-ah,” Jeonghan said with a warning tone, his eyes not leaving Luna.
“We should be thankful?” Seungcheol’s voice rose slightly, though not from hysteria— no, it was something sharper. Something dangerously close to fury. “This shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”
The air in the room shifted, tense and heavy.
Joshua was the first to move. He stepped toward Seungcheol, placing himself between him and the tech staff, his presence as calm and collected as ever.
“That’s not what he meant,” Joshua said, his voice steady, level. He turned slightly toward Seungcheol, making sure his words were heard clearly. “It could’ve been worse.”
Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. He let out a sharp exhale through his nose, shaking his head. His hands curled into fists at his sides before each raked a hand through his hair.
“This isn’t worse?” His voice was low, but the anger behind it was clear. He gestured toward Luna without looking, his eyes still locked onto Joshua. “She’s bleeding.”
Joshua didn’t waver. “It could’ve been worse,” he repeated. His tone didn’t change, still as levelheaded as before. “She could be bleeding out in both ears. Don’t be mean.”
The weight of the words settled over the room.
But the thing was— no one thought Seungcheol was being mean.
Not really.
Everyone knew why he was reacting the way he was. He wasn’t just the leader of SEVENTEEN. He was their oldest, the one who carried the weight of their well-being on his shoulders. His job, his responsibility, was to make sure his team— his family— was safe. And out of all the things he hated, out of everything he could tolerate, the one thing that gutted him was seeing his members hurt.
And right now?
Seeing Luna sitting there, blood trailing down her fingers, eyes glassy with unshed tears, visibly shaken— this was the worst it had ever been.
So of course Choi Seungcheol was pissed.
If he was a cartoon character he would have steam coming out of his ears right this second.
Jeonghan was angry too, sure. Not angry at anybody— he knew none of this was intentional. But he was angry at the circumstances, the cards that Luna was dealt with today.
Before anyone could say anything else, the medics finally arrived.
The moment they stepped into the room, they swarmed to Luna, their movements efficient and practiced. They wasted no time— one of them crouched in front of her while another stood to the side, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. A third unpacked medical supplies from a case, working swiftly.
Luna barely reacted. She just let them do whatever they needed to do, too drained to resist. Her mind was foggy, her body heavy. She could still feel Jeonghan beside her, his fingers running through her hair, soft and rhythmic. The gesture kept her grounded, kept her from slipping too far into the haze of pain and exhaustion.
“Alright, sweetheart,” one of the medics murmured gently. “We need to take a look.”
She felt gloved fingers against hers, prying her hands away from her ears. The second her palm lifted from her right side, she winced. The fresh sting of air against the open wound made her suck in a sharp breath, and Jeonghan’s hand immediately slid to her back, rubbing slow, soothing circles.
There was a pause. Then a murmur. The medic studying her injury leaned in closer, brow furrowed as they examined the damage.
There was a long, deep cut on the top of Luna’s right earlobe. It was bleeding heavily, the skin torn in a way that suggested something sharp had sliced through it.
One of the medics exhaled through their nose. “Looks like she was cut by something sharp.” They turned slightly, addressing the others in the room. “Most likely from the shards of her in-ear monitor when it blew apart.”
Another medic nodded. “It’s a bit deep. She is gonna need stitches.”
The second Luna heard the word stitches, her entire body went rigid. A sharp inhale hitched in her throat before she instinctively recoiled, twisting in Jeonghan’s arms as a whine escaped her lips.
“No, no, no—” she mumbled, attempting to squirm away.
But Jeonghan was faster.
The moment she moved, he moved too— his grip firm yet gentle as his arms tightened around her, stopping her from slipping away. His fingers curled securely around her forearm, his other hand pressing lightly against her back to keep her steady. He wasn’t restraining her, not really— just holding her in place, keeping her from running when they both knew she needed to stay.
“I’m fine,” Luna whined, her voice breaking, the threat of tears bubbling up again.
“You’re not.”
A chorus.
The room spoke in unison, voices overlapping— some firm, some soft, but all unwavering.
Luna’s chest heaved. She could feel all their eyes on her— the members watching from the couches, quiet and tense, their expressions drawn with sympathy.
“I don’t wanna—” Luna’s voice came out so small, barely above a whisper, and that made it worse somehow.
The members exchanged glances, their faces softening at the way her shoulders curled inward, the way she was shrinking into Jeonghan like a child avoiding a doctor’s visit.
“It won’t hurt—” one of the medics attempted to reassure her.
But Luna shook her head vehemently, cutting them off before they could finish.
“It’s not the pain.”
Jeonghan’s voice came at the same time as hers, his understanding immediate.
“It’s not the pain,” he repeated softly.
He knew.
They all did.
Luna was terrified of getting stitches.
She had only gotten them twice in her life, and this was about to be the third.
The first time was when she was ten. She had broken her collarbone after falling during a ballet recital. But that time, she had been asleep during surgery, and when she woke up, the stitches were already there— just small, neat little lines held together with dissolvable thread.
That experience wasn’t traumatic.
But the second time?
The second time was different.
She had been twelve when it happened. She had cut herself with a pair of scissors, a deep gash along the side of her palm that wouldn’t stop bleeding.
And this time, she had been very much awake when they stitched her up.
That was the moment she realized she hated getting stitches.
It wasn’t about the pain— Luna had a high pain tolerance. She could handle pain. She had powered through sprains, bruises, even broken bones before.
No, it was the feeling that made her stomach churn. The sensation of a needle threading through her skin, the constant tugging and pulling as they sewed her back together— it made her head spin, made her skin crawl.
Some people didn’t understand why.
Luna had tattoos, after all.
But tattoos were different— very different.
A tattoo needle moved fast, penetrating the skin in rapid bursts, barely giving her time to register the sensation before the next movement came.
And getting her blood drawn? Shots? Cake. The needle went in, then out. Quick. Simple. Done.
But stitches?
Stitches made her feel like Frankenstein’s monster. Like she was being stitched together, piece by piece, with nothing to do but feel it all.
A deep, anxious breath shuddered through her as she turned toward Jeonghan, still encased in his arms. She tipped her head back against his shoulder, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes.
“Han,” she whispered. “I don’t want…”
Jeonghan’s gaze softened instantly. His fingers moved to stroke her arm, his touch featherlight.
“I know you don’t want stitches, my moon,” he murmured, his voice low, soothing, like a lullaby. He nodded slowly, his thumb tracing small circles against her skin. “But you need them.”
Luna opened her mouth to argue, but Jeonghan was already speaking again, his tone calm, steady— gentle, but leaving no room for negotiation.
“We know you— you’re going to want to perform tomorrow,” he said knowingly, brushing his fingers along her cheek to tuck away the strands of hair stuck to her damp skin. “Despite all of this.”
Luna blinked at him.
“And we won’t let you if you have an open wound.” His tone was patient but firm. “You know that.”
Her lips parted, ready to protest— but the words never came.
Instead, Jeonghan used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe away the dried tear stains from her cheeks, his touch careful and unhurried, like he was tending to something delicate. “It’s going to be okay,” he continued softly. “It’ll be over fast. I promise.”
Luna stared up at him, her breathing still uneven, her lips pressed into a hesitant line.
Jeonghan held her gaze, nodding ever so slightly. Then, after a beat—
“Do you want to lay on my lap?” he asked gently.
Luna hesitated, her mind warring with itself.
For a few long seconds, she just sat there, the weight of his words settling over her. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, she gave a small nod.
Jeonghan’s lips quirked in understanding. He shifted slightly, adjusting his position, his hands warm and steady as he helped her maneuver onto his lap. It was a careful process— his fingers bracing her waist as she turned, his touch never rough, never rushed.
Eventually, Luna settled, laying sideways across the couch, her head resting on Jeonghan’s lap. Her injured ear was facing up, perfectly positioned for the medics to work.
Jeonghan’s hand found her hair again, fingers gliding through the strands in soft, rhythmic motions. A silent reassurance.
She swallowed thickly, squeezing her eyes shut.
This was the best she could do.
God— she’s gonna throw up.
The room buzzed with quiet shuffles as the medics began preparing their tools, the soft clinking of metal against metal mingling with the occasional rustle of gauze and sterile packaging being torn open. The scent of antiseptic grew stronger, sharp and clinical, contrasting the warmth of Jeonghan’s touch as he continued to run his fingers through Luna’s hair.
Though her eyes remained closed, she could hear everything— the sound of gloves being snapped onto hands, the shuffle of boots against the floor, and the faint murmur of instructions exchanged between the medical staff.
One of the medics, their voice calm yet firm, broke through the quiet preparation. “Before we begin, we’re going to need to give you a tetanus shot,” they informed her. “Since you were, in fact, cut by… unknown materials, it’s just a precaution.”
Luna exhaled through her nose. She knew it was coming, but it barely fazed her. The next thing she felt was a light squeeze on her shoulder— a silent reassurance— before a brief, sharp pinch as the needle entered her skin.
It was over in seconds, and Luna didn’t even flinch. Again, cake.
What she focused on instead was Jeonghan’s fingers still carding gently through her hair, his other hand tracing slow, absentminded circles on her waist, grounding her. It was comforting, something familiar amidst the severityof the situation. The medics continued working, methodically cleaning the dried blood from her ear and neck, the damp sensation of antiseptic wipes ghosting over her skin. The sting was mild compared to the deep, dull throbbing of her wound.
“We’re checking for any remaining shards now,” one of them said, the faint clatter of tweezers against a metal tray following soon after.
A few moments passed before another medic confirmed, “Looks like you’re clear. No remaining fragments.”
Luna let out a slow breath. Good. That was good.
And now… the hard part.
She kept her eyes closed, allowing herself to just exist in Jeonghan’s hold, listening to the soft rustling of the medics moving around her. But as the distinct sound of tools shifting on the tray reached her ears, her stomach twisted. Her heart pounded louder, beating erratically against her ribs.
She knew exactly what was coming next.
The stitching.
She didn’t need to see it to know, the second Jeonghan linked his fingers with hers it was almost a signal. It was the same hand that had been smeared with blood earlier but she hadn’t even noticed it had been cleaned. She was too out of it to care at the time.
Now, though, the warmth of Jeonghan’s grip around her own was all she could focus on.
And if that wasn’t enough of a sign, the quiet shuffling of the members confirmed it. They knew she was tense. They could see it, hear it in the sharp breath she inhaled.
Then, suddenly, she felt her legs— previously sprawled across the couch— being carefully lifted. Someone settled into the empty space before gently resting her legs on their lap, large hands smoothing over the fabric of her sweats before rubbing soft, reassuring circles over her shin.
Mingyu.
She knew it was him without even opening her eyes. Don’t ask her how, she just did— when it comes to the members, she always knows.
Dokyeom moved next, circling the couch to stand behind it, peering down at her with unspoken concern. She could feel the weight of his stare, watching her closely, making sure she was okay. Making sure she was distracted.
Luna exhaled shakily before blinking her eyes open, her blurry gaze immediately landing on Dokyeom’s face. His usual bright expression had been replaced with something softer, something worried. But the second he saw her looking at him, his lips stretched into a bright, dimpled smile, as if trying to will the tension away.
Without thinking, Luna lifted her free hand and did grabby hands in his direction.
Dokyeom let out a soft chuckle before instantly intertwining his fingers with hers, squeezing gently. But then, as if facing a grave dilemma, he whined dramatically, his brows furrowing. “Aigo… Jiyeonie, don’t look at me like that because I might actually tackle them away from you and drag them out.”
The joke was lighthearted, effortless, exactly the kind of thing he always said to make her laugh. And it worked. The medic team chuckled, the members around them letting out amused huffs. Even Luna, despite the looming dread sitting heavy in her chest, felt the corners of her lips twitch into a small, appreciative smile.
Dokyeom sighed, his grip on her hand tightening slightly as he looked down at her. His voice was softer this time, tinged with genuine sympathy as he gently whined, “I’m so sorry.”
And he meant it. Not just for the stitches, not just for the situation, but for the helplessness he felt in not being able to take her place.
Luna squeezed his hand in return.
Luna barely had time to brace herself before she felt the faintest brush of fingers against her injured ear.
Even though she knew it was coming, even though she knew they were being careful, the sudden touch still sent a sharp prickle of awareness up her spine. Instinctively, she clenched her jaw and squeezed both Jeonghan’s and Dokyeom’s hands tighter, her grip turning rigid with the kind of tension that refused to leave her body.
She screwed her eyes shut again. She didn’t want to see, didn’t want to think about what was happening, only about getting through it. But the second the cool antiseptic swiped over her skin, a sharp, burning sensation igniting in its wake, she felt faint.
It was just a disinfectant, just numbing cream settling over her torn skin, yet her body reacted as if she were already in the thick of the stitching process. Her stomach churned. She swallowed hard, her breathing slowing, controlled, forcing herself not to focus on it, forcing herself to focus on the familiar warmth around her instead.
Jeonghan’s thumb ran over the back of her hand in soothing, lazy circles, his grip steadfast and unwavering. Dokyeom’s palm, slightly clammy with nervousness, squeezed hers gently, a silent reassurance that he was right there. And Mingyu, who had barely spoken since taking his place beside her, continued to rub slow, comforting patterns over her leg, his fingers pressing in just enough to ground her.
Then— she felt it.
The first prick of the needle.
It was supposed to be numb. And it was. Mostly. But there was still an occasional sting, a sharp reminder that her skin was being punctured, thread being pulled through, looped, secured.
The sensation was horrible. It wasn’t necessarily pain— it was something worse. The second she felt the thread glide through her skin, tight and unnatural, she wanted to claw at her own flesh, rip it away just to stop the feeling.
God, she hated this. She hated this so much. It made her feel like… like a piece of fabric, being sewn back together as if she weren’t human at all.
A flinch.
Luna barely noticed it at first, but her body reacted before she could stop it, her fingers twitching in Jeonghan and Dokyeom’s hands, her leg tensing in Mingyu’s lap.
Instantly, Mingyu’s hand slid from her shin to her knee, rubbing gentle, mindless strokes over it, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of her pants. Dokyeom, who had been doing his absolute best to avoid looking at the process, tightened his grip on her hand, his thumb stroking over her knuckles as if to say, I know, I know, I hate this too.
Dokyeom’s face, when Luna dared to open her eyes for even a second, was slightly pale, a hint of queasiness lingering in his expression as he purposefully kept his gaze fixed on her and only her.
And then there was Jeonghan.
A soft, delicate “shh” left his lips, barely above a whisper, as he shifted closer. His free hand, the one that had been holding her waist, lifted to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch featherlight.
“You’re doing so well, angel,” he murmured, voice laced with warmth and something so heartbreakingly gentle it almost made her cry. He tilted his head, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of her hand, his lips warm against her skin. “Just a little more, yeah? You’re okay. Almost over.”
His voice was a lifeline.
A thread tying her to reality, steady and unshakable, unlike the one currently being woven through her skin.
She exhaled through her nose, trying to focus on his words rather than the loopty-loop sensation of the thread moving through her ear.
Another sharp sting, another flinch, another press of Jeonghan’s lips against her hand.
“You’re okay, Nana-ya. You’re so strong,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over her wrist. “I’m so proud of you.”
Luna barely had the energy to react, but deep down, his words settled over her like a warm blanket, softening the jagged edges of her discomfort.
Around them, the other members sat silently on the sofas, watching her carefully.
They didn’t speak, didn’t disrupt the moment, but their presence alone was enough. They were her silent support system, steady and constant.
Luna didn’t need them to say anything— just knowing they were there was enough.
And then there was Seungcheol.
He hadn’t moved.
Not once.
Still standing exactly where he had been earlier, arms crossed so tightly over his chest it looked like he might snap in half. His sharp, scrutinizing gaze remained locked on the medics, watching their every move like a hawk.
Every time the needle so much as twitched, every time Luna so much as winced, his jaw clenched tighter, his eyes darkening as if he were committing every detail to memory.
As if the second something went wrong, he would bolt out that room and sue for malpractice and personally ensure someone lost their medical license that night.
God, Luna loved them.
Soon, it was finally over.
Luna didn’t know how long she had been lying there with her eyes closed, but she was grateful it was finally over.
The moment she felt the soft press of gauze being placed over her upper ear, a deep breath slipped past her lips, her body finally— finally— releasing the tension it had been holding onto so fiercely. Every muscle that had been locked in stiffness slowly uncoiled, her shoulders slumping as the reality of it being done settled into her bones.
Now came the aftermath.
The adrenaline was already starting to drain from her system, leaving behind an exhaustion so deep it nearly swallowed her whole. It was creeping up on her faster than she expected, the sharp clarity she had maintained throughout the process now slipping away like sand through her fingers.
Luna could hear her doctor speaking, the sound of her voice reaching her ears, but the words themselves barely registered.
Something about changing the bandage.
Something about taking the painkillers she was going to be given.
Something about not getting the area wet.
Something about how Luna was cleared to perform tomorrow.
She barely caught any of it.
Thankfully, the rest of the members were listening for her, nodding along with rapt attention, their expressions set in the same serious concentration they wore during meetings, as if they were students listening to a lecture.
They would remember. They always remembered.
They had her covered.
She just wanted to go back to the hotel, crawl into bed, and watch something mindless until she inevitably passed out.
Once all instructions were settled and the medics packed up to leave, Luna finally made the effort to move. Slowly, carefully, she pushed herself up, her body feeling heavier than it should, her hair slipping forward to frame her face in soft waves.
The reaction was immediate.
“Slowly, noona—”
“Does it hurt? Are you dizzy?”
“Wait, don’t move too fast—”
“Careful with your ear, please—”
Questions and reminders came at her from every direction, overlapping and blurring together as the members crowded around, fussing over her like an entire flock of worried mother hens.
A soft smile tugged at Luna’s lips as she listened to them, their concern seeping into every syllable they spoke. Before she could say anything, she felt arms carefully wrap around her, a gentle but firm presence pressing into her side.
“Noona…”
Seungkwan’s voice was quiet, filled with something tender and unspoken as he held her close, mindful of her injury.
Luna melted into his embrace, her hand coming up to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “I’m okay, Boo.”
That didn’t seem to convince him, but he didn’t say anything else. He just held her for a few more seconds before finally letting go, though his hand lingered on her arm as if making sure she was really there.
As the others continued fussing, Jeonghan moved behind her. Without a word, she felt his fingers gently gathering her hair, brushing it away from her face with careful precision. His movements were slow, patient, almost habitual, as he reached for the hair tie he always kept around his wrist. Within seconds, he secured her hair into a loose ponytail, mindful not to tug too much, ensuring nothing disturbed her bandage.
She didn’t even need to ask— he just knew.
Then, for the first time since the stitches started, Seungcheol finally moved.
Luna barely had time to react before she was being pulled into another hug, this one a bit firmer, warmer, grounding her completely. His arms wrapped securely around her, his chin resting lightly atop her head.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and weighed down with guilt.
Luna turned her head slightly, pressing her cheek against his chest. “Not your fault, Cheollie,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.
“I—”
“Don’t argue with me, please,” she cut him off before he could even try.
And he didn’t.
He only sighed, nodded once, and squeezed her a little tighter before finally pulling away. His gaze flickered downward, and the next second, he was pointing at her collar.
“You need to change,” he said, nodding toward the small bloodstain marring the fabric. “Then we can go to the hotel and rest. We are done for the day.”
Luna glanced down at her shirt, barely registering the stain before she felt Jeonghan’s hand gently rubbing soothing circles over her back, his touch steady and comforting.
“You want my help?” Her boyfriend asked, already knowing the answer.
Luna turned to face him, exhaustion evident in her features as she nodded.
“Please, Han.”
He hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes softening as he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear— the uninjured one. “Alright.”
Then, without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, warm and reassuring, before gently guiding her toward the bathroom so she could change.
Once everything was done— clothes changed, things packed, and the last of the lingering worries soothed— the members finally made their way out of the venue, exhaustion weighing heavily on their shoulders.
The adrenaline from earlier had long since faded, leaving behind only the telltale signs of weariness in their steps and the occasional heavy sighs that filled the quiet of their car ride back to the hotel.
They needed this rest.
Luna most specially.
After everything that had happened, after the stress, the panic, and the sheer emotional rollercoaster they had just endured, they needed this moment of peace before tomorrow’s show.
Luna barely remembered walking into the hotel, barely registered the soft murmurs of goodnights exchanged between the members as they each retired to their respective rooms.
By the time she finally found herself where she wanted to be— curled up in bed, dressed in her softest pajamas, and tucked safely against Jeonghan—her body felt like it had melted into the sheets.
This was exactly what she had been craving.
Jeonghan, after finally finishing his endless fussing over her, had settled down beside her, his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders as he idly scrolled through Netflix on the TV. His fingers absentmindedly traced slow, lazy patterns against her arm, his touch featherlight and soothing, as if he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.
Then, as he continued scrolling, his voice broke the comfortable silence.
“They have Harry Potter.”
Luna tilted her head slightly to look up at him, immediately perking up at the mention of one of her all-time favorite movies.
“You always know how to make me happy,” she said playfully, the corners of her lips twitching upward as she nudged him lightly.
Jeonghan smirked, his thumb still moving lazily over the remote as he glanced down at her. “I am your happiness, aren’t I?” he teased, his voice smooth, effortless, dripping with that familiar charm he wielded so easily.
Luna rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. “Wow. You really think highly of yourself, huh?”
Jeonghan hummed, shifting slightly so that his face was closer to hers, his gaze dark and teasing. “Isn’t that one of the things you love about me, Nana-ya?”
Luna scoffed, but she couldn’t deny the warmth creeping up her neck at the way he was looking at her.
Smug.
Charming.
Absolutely full of himself.
But God, did it work on her every single time.
“I tolerate it,” she replied coolly, lifting her chin in mock indifference.
He let the word roll off his tongue like he didn’t quite believe her, like he was daring her to take it back. But instead of pressing further, he simply returned his attention to the TV, resuming his scroll through the Harry Potter movies.
Luna watched him for a moment before furrowing her brows.
“There are only eight movies… What are you looking for? The first one is right there.”
Jeonghan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he clicked on Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1.
Luna’s confusion deepened.
“This isn’t Star Wars… why are we starting there?”
Jeonghan, completely unbothered, simply leaned back against the pillows, his smirk widening. “It has that scene.”
Luna narrowed her eyes at him. “What scene?”
His smirk remained, unwavering, filled with that all-too-familiar mischief she had seen countless times before.
“You know that scene.”
Luna scoffed, shaking her head. “No, I don’t know.” She let out a chuckle, amused by whatever nonsense he was trying to pull now.
Jeonghan’s eyes gleamed. “You know… This is the movie where one of the twins loses an ear.”
Silence.
For a brief second, Luna just stared at him, her brain processing the words he had just so casually thrown at her.
Then—
Without hesitation, she reached for the nearest pillow and whacked him square in the face.
Jeonghan burst into laughter, his body shaking against hers as he clutched his stomach, absolutely delighted with himself. His laughter was loud, unapologetic, completely unrestrained, and despite herself, Luna felt the corners of her lips twitching upward.
“Yoon Jeonghan!” she yelled, hitting him once more for good measure.
He was crying from laughing at this point, barely able to contain himself as he dodged her next attempt. “What? Too soon?” he managed between fits of laughter.
Luna huffed, but the amusement in her eyes betrayed her. “You’re terrible.”
Jeonghan wiped at his eyes, still grinning. “Aren’t the twins your favorite characters?” He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Now you can twin with one of them.”
Luna could only laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I still have an ear!” she shot back.
Jeonghan shrugged, leaning in close once more, his smirk never fading. “Technicality.”
Luna rolled her eyes, but as she looked at him— really looked at him— she felt something warm settle in her chest.
This.
This was one of the main things she loved about him.
She knew how much the others cared. She knew their concern was genuine, and she was grateful for it. But sometimes, the weight of their worry, the endless “Are you okay?” the pity in their eyes— it could be exhausting.
Luna appreciated the concern and being taken care of by the members but— she hated being fussed over for too long. She didn’t want to dwell on what happened, didn’t want to let it dampen the mood for everyone.
And Jeonghan knew that.
He always did.
So instead of treating her like she was fragile, instead of letting things become too tense or too serious, he made sure to give her exactly what she needed.
And right now, what she needed was to laugh.
He was doing a damn good job.
Luna playfully pouted at Jeonghan, her lips pushed forward in exaggerated offense as she stared at him with wide, betrayed eyes.
“You’re so mean,” she mumbled, huffing for added effect.
Jeonghan, in return, gasped dramatically before cooing at her like she was the cutest thing he had ever seen in his life. “Aww, is my baby upset?” he crooned, shifting closer and cupping her cheeks in his warm hands. His thumbs stroked against her skin, his voice dripping with faux sympathy as he pouted right back at her. “I love you, my pretty baby. Even if you don’t have an ear— even if you didn’t have two ears, I’d still love you.”
Luna narrowed her eyes at him, the corners of her lips twitching. “Oh, how kind of you.”
Jeonghan chuckled before continuing, his tone light but his grin mischievous. “Actually, I’d still love you even if you had Dumbo-sized ears. Imagine that.” He made a wide motion with his hands next to his head as if demonstrating. “You’d be so cute flapping them around.”
Luna gasped, swatting at his chest. “Yoon Jeonghan!”
Jeonghan only laughed, dodging her weak attempt at retaliation before capturing her hands in his. “I’m serious! I’d still love you. Would you still love me if I had Dumbo ears?”
Luna scoffed. “No.”
His mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. “Wow.”
“I’m kidding,” she giggled, then dramatically sighed. “I would still love you. Even if you looked like an elf or something.”
“Oh, that’s generous of you,” he teased, his hands still holding hers.
Luna hummed in thought before her eyes twinkled with a new idea. “Would you still love me if I had no eyebrows?”
Jeonghan burst into laughter. “What happened to your eyebrows?”
“I don’t know, maybe they got burned off in by accident.”
His laughter didn’t falter. “Then of course, pretty girl, I would still love you.”
Luna wasn’t done. “Would you still love me if I had scales instead of skin?”
Jeonghan squinted at her before nodding solemnly. “I mean… it depends. Are you a mermaid or a lizard?”
Luna snorted. “Why does that matter?”
“Well, one is mystical and the other is just… concerning,” he grinned.
She rolled her eyes but was unable to hide her smile. “Okay, okay. What if I turned into a fish?”
Jeonghan pretended to think for a moment before responding, “I’d get you a really nice tank.”
Luna gasped, smacking his arm. “Jeonghan!”
“What?! You’d be a fish! What am I supposed to do, take you on a date to a restaurant?”
“I’m leaving you.”
“No, you’re not,” he said easily, and before she could argue, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. When he pulled back, he had that smug, knowing smile that she hated to admit was justified. “See?”
Luna sighed dramatically, shaking her head as if put upon. “Fine. But last one— would you still love me if you woke up one day and turned to see that I was a horse?”
Jeonghan’s grin faltered as he blinked at her, as if genuinely processing the absurdity of the question. Then, he leaned back against the pillows, crossing his arms. “You know what? If I woke up one day and turned to see a horse, the first question in my head is not if I would love you. It’s ‘how did you turn into a horse?’”
Luna let out a laugh, but he wasn’t finished.
“Or worse,” he added, pointing at her. “I’d probably just turn to the horse and go, ‘Did you eat my girlfriend?’”
That was it.
Luna burst out laughing, her whole body shaking as she collapsed against his chest. Jeonghan joined her, his laughter intertwining with hers as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.
“You’re an idiot,” she managed between giggles.
“But I’m your idiot,” he said smoothly, grinning as he placed another kiss to her forehead.
Still chuckling, Luna shook her head. “Let’s just watch the movie.”
Jeonghan hummed in agreement and reached for the remote, but just as he was about to press play, Luna swiftly took it from his hands and exited the movie he had chosen.
Jeonghan blinked in confusion as he watched her navigate back to the first Harry Potter movie instead. “Nana-ya, what are you doing?”
She glanced at him with innocent eyes. “Starting from the beginning.”
Jeonghan squinted. “We were literally about to watch the seventh one.”
“And?”
“And we can’t watch all the movies tonight.” His voice was serious now, as if he was explaining something incredibly obvious.
“But why not?” Luna pouted, knowing damn well why not.
Jeonghan gave her an incredulous look. “Because you need sleep, I need sleep, and we have a show tomorrow.”
Luna sighed, flopping back onto the bed. “But it wouldn’t make sense to just watch one.”
Jeonghan exhaled through his nose, amused but firm. “How about we just sleep?”
She frowned but couldn’t deny that exhaustion was settling into her bones. Begrudgingly, she nodded. “Fine.”
Jeonghan smiled in victory before turning off the TV, then reaching over to switch off the bedside lamp. The room was cast into darkness, the only light coming from the faint city glow outside.
Settling back into his arms, Luna let out a content sigh as Jeonghan pulled her closer, his warmth surrounding her.
A few moments passed in comfortable silence before Jeonghan murmured, “Don’t turn into a horse.”
Luna giggled. “I can’t promise you that… but I thought you’d still love me no matter what?”
Jeonghan smirked. “Fine. As long as I turn into a horse as well.”
Luna chuckled softly. “Why?”
“So that we can live our horsey lives together,” he said, completely serious.
She giggled again. “Okay.”
Jeonghan pressed one last kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Hannie.”
There was no such thing as a perfect day.
Luna realized that.
Because it wasn’t the fact that she woke up energized that made today perfect. What made it perfect was waking up next to Jeonghan, who was just as energized, his sleepy voice teasing her the moment her eyes fluttered open.
It wasn’t the food they ate this morning that made it perfect. What made it perfect was eating with Jeonghan, their conversations stretching endlessly about everything and nothing at the same time.
It wasn’t the flight itself to Bangkok that made it perfect. What made it perfect was the members who she was with, filling the space with laughter and lighthearted chaos.
Just like how the rehearsal earlier wasn’t perfect because of itself. What made it perfect was the shared excitement, the inside jokes, the way they hyped each other up and eased the nerves that threatened to creep in.
There was no such thing as a perfect day.
Just people who made it perfect.
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Summary: Modern problems call for modern solutions, including naming a random stranger in the book store as your boyfriend to avoid an embarrassing encounter with your ex. The problem? The stranger is Vernon and he’s not supposed to be a stranger at all - he’s your coworker, and now everyone at the office - including your ex - thinks you’re dating.
Word Count: 20,296
Genre: Faking dating, Coworkers to Lovers, Romcom
Type: Smut, some fluff and crack
Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
Warnings: Reader has some insecurity about how her working hard is perceived, some ranting about Being A Girlboss, a little bit of inner angst, my bad attempts at humor, reader’s ex boyfriend SUCKS sorry to all the Minho’s of the world I named him after, explicit language, some minor commentary on power dynamics, Star Wars Lore, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex (never do this), oral (f. receiving), nipple play, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, a little bit of a handjob, some cum eating if you squint, Vernon was supposed to be a freak but I made him soft instead, mutual pining.
A/N: Thank you to @camandemstudios for allowing me to be a part of the Lonely Hearts Collab. I’m honored to be among such amazing writers and I cannot wait to see what everyone else wrote.
A/N 2: Thank you to the (w)hor(e)anghae squad @daechwitatamic @eoieopda and @jihopesjoint for beta reading this and letting me blind pass it over so I wouldn’t have to read it again because I don’t like it :)
Masterlist | Permanent Tag List | Ask | Lonely Hearts Collab Masterlist
Whosoever slayeth Cain shall suffer sevenfold… or whatever it is the Bible says. You haven’t slayed Cain and you’re not really sure you believe in anything in the Bible, but you’re certainly suffering sevenfold. Eightfold. Ninefold.
Sevenfold had been earlier this morning when you dropped your glass of coffee on the ground, shattering your favorite cup and staining your white tile. Several Clorox wipes later, there is still brown stuck to the grout, looking a bit like you had an unseemly accident in the middle of your kitchen.
Eightfold had been when you decided to fix your weekend by heading to the bookstore. Surely purchasing books that you were going to let sit on your shelf months before reading would fix your day - until someone rear-ended you in the parking lot, leaving a good dent and an apologetic exchanging of numbers and insurance information.
Ninefold comes when you least expect it, standing in the aisle with a stack of books in your hand, eyes flickering over the different titles and ornate covers. You already feel better than you had this morning. The smell of paper, the whisper of turning pages, and the hum of the cafe brewing coffee in the distance immediately puts you at ease.
You swear nothing can put a damper on a good hour spent between shelves - until ninefold walks around the aisle corner.
The stack of books in your arm nearly drops to the ground when you see your ex-boyfriend hand-in-hand with his new girlfriend. You wheel around so fast you slam into the person behind you, which does knock all the books from your hands onto the floor.
A hissed curse leaves your lips followed by a quick apology. You drop to your knees, picking the books up as quickly as you can. The dude you’ve collided with has also dropped his books, the amalgamation of your soon-to-be-purchases making it more difficult for you to pick up your shit and leave the scene before Minho sees you.
Minho says your name, surprised.
“Fuck,” you whisper, fingers going rigid on the stack of books in your hand. You shoot to your feet and spin around, breathless as you come face to face with Minho and the new girlfriend that you definitely didn’t look up on social media a few weeks ago. “Hi, Minho.”
“Wow, it’s nice to see you not in the marketing department for once.”
“Well, I work there…” You offer a bit sharply, tapering to adjust to a nicer tone. “Hence, you know - finding me there.”
“I meant you rarely leave there.” He laughs and you feign a grin, eyes flickering over to the rosy-cheeked and very glossy-haired girl on your ex’s arm.
Good for her, you think. I wonder what hair product she uses.
“This is Mina.”
“Mina?” You ask, sticking your hand out as you shuffle your books awkwardly to the crook over your elbow. She smiles - god she has good teeth - and shakes your hand. “Mina and… Minho. Easy to remember.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Minho tells me you’re the only ex he’s ever left things on good terms with.”
Your eye twitches.
Good terms was a serviceable way to put it, you suppose. Sure, there had been no fighting or infidelity or long distance that put a strain on your relationship. In fact, you hadn’t been aware that there was a strain on your relationship until Minho was sitting you down on his couch and letting you know that it just wasn’t working for him anymore.
That had been confusing. You hadn’t asked any questions though, opting to sit and stare at him while clenching your teeth, nodding along while he explained that your inability to leave work at work and enjoy home while at home was wearing down on him.
You’re not saving lives, he’d said. He had been earnest too, which is the crux of it. You’re in marketing. You need to take a breather.
As if he didn’t come home in a bad mood after shitty sales calls all day, as if he wasn’t stressed when he didn’t hit quota, or didn’t complain about how long the department meeting went - you know. You were there, too.
So sure, you were on good terms. But only one of you seemed to have been unhappy with where things were going, and only one of you seems to have moved on to someone with really good hair genes and great dental hygiene.
Your tongue runs over your teeth, suddenly worried that you’d forgotten to brush them this morning.
“Yeah,” you agree, clearing your throat and choking a bite. “Good terms are always the goodest - best way to end things.”
“He’s really hopeful you’ll find someone,” she sighs, looking up at him dreamily. “He’s always wanted the best for you.”
A vein bursts in your head. Well- no. You wish the vein you feel throbbing in your head would burst and knock you out so you’d no longer have to suffer through this ninefold moment of suffering. Perhaps, even, a very attractive medic with glossy hair and good teeth could come save you and fall in love at first sight.
The genuine way that Minho and Mina look at you tells you that they’re serious, that they see you as something that deserves love too. Said in a cooing voice, said patronizingly, said with a pat on the head and a firm pout.
You turn with your free hand, grabbing the sleeve of the man who is hovering behind you and pull him over to you, grin growing sevenfold. Eightfold.
“No need to worry,” you assure them. “My boyfriend is right here! The stars really did align for me, just like you hoped and dreamed.”
Your seconds-old-star-crossed-lover looks entirely startled, looking between you, Minho and Mina. His books are cradled against his chest, his brown eyes wide. He’s actually incredibly cute, his glasses a little askewand his brown hair a little unruly.
“You’re dating Vernon?”
You look at Minho, blank. “What?”
Minho looks at your Very Real Boyfriend. “You’re dating Vernon? From IT?”
Ninefold, meet Tenfold.
“Of course,” you answer slowly, looking at your partner of now thirty seconds. “I am dating Vernon… from IT.”
Vernon (from IT) looks like he would rather be anywhere else than standing in the middle of the fantasy novel aisle with you at a bookstore, your nails digging tighter into his sleeve and your crazy eyes telling him to get with the program.
Vernon (from IT) clears his throat and nods, looking over at Minho. “Yeah. Hey, Minho.”
“Wow. This is really unexpected.”
“It sure is.”
Your nails dig in harder and Vernon (from IT) tries to pull away from you but you step closer, leaning toward him while flashing Minho and Mina a smile. “Anyway, no need to worry about me finding a relationship. I am very happy.”
“Figures you found someone at work again.” He laughs, but the comment lands like a blow. You feel yourself flinch, smile going too tight. “You really don’t leave enough to find anyone else, huh?”
Vernon (from IT) seems to notice, shifting toward you to slide his arm around your waist. The move startles you, drawing your attention to his face. He really is pretty this up close, his lips the perfect shade of bubblegum pink, his cheekbones high and hidden beneath the rim of his glasses, the tangy scent of citrus on his clothes.
“I like women who work really hard,” Vernon (from IT) assures Minho. “I’ll never get tired of resetting her password over and over again because she loses all her sticky notes everytime the cleaning crew comes through.”
If Minho senses the shift, he doesn’t let on. He’s never been great at social cues anyway, which is what makes him a decent salesman. Still, you’re eager to get out of their way and the glare of Mina’s shiny hair.
“Well,” You state. “We have to get going.”
“For sure. It was nice seeing you outside of work!”
With a final nod, Vernon (from IT) tugs on your waist. You both navigate awkwardly down the aisle, steps not quite in time and hips bumping. It’s uncomfortable and uncoordinated, but as soon as you’re around the aisle and away from your encounter, the two of you separate.
Vernon (from IT) looks anywhere but you. His cheeks are tinted pink as he looks up at the ceiling, shifting from foot to foot while you regain all your books in your arm. Embarrassment and gratitude both well up inside of you, one beating the other out.
“I am really sorry,” you blurt, voice a little loud. The people around you startle and you lower your pitch when Vernon (from IT) looks at you, chewing on his lip. “Thank you - I don’t even know how to say thank you for doing that.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
Your cheeks heat. “Right.”
“Happy to help, though. You can thank me by swapping books with me, though.”
“What?”
He gestures to your books. “I was standing behind you because you grabbed my books after you ran into me.”
Oh. Right. You look down at the pile of books in your hand and see a few titles that you own, but did not plan on buying today. You divest yourself of his selections, taking the ones he’d collected off the ground from there.
“So you really work in IT?”
He snorts. The sound is… a little off. You glance up at him, but his face gives away nothing. “Yeah.”
“I didn’t know.”
His smile is off, too. “I know.”
You’re unsure how to reply to that, but you’re also uneager to let him go, suddenly. Vernon (from IT) stands there for a second, lips pressed in a firm line and studying you. He really is beautiful, the light hitting his eyes in a way that turns them molten gold and-
“Alright well,” he interrupts your thoughts. “See you later or something.”
The urge to stop him strikes you, your mouth opening and closing. No words come out. You don’t know what to say - or why you want to stop him, just that you do. He walks toward the front of the store to purchase his books, leaving you standing in the middle of the store and wishing you’d met Vernon (from IT) under different circumstances.
-
Routine is important to you, especially during the weekdays. Wake up, snooze your alarm for at least fifteen minutes, get up when the second one goes off. Groan as you feel every single joint in your body pop after sitting up in bed. Wonder if you really need a corporate job to pay your bills (decide the answer is yes), and get up to feed the furious beast yowling from the bed.
The ferocious beast in question has a routine as well. Perhaps not as important as yours, the cat knows when he’s supposed to be fed and when it’s even a minute past feeding time. Halloween takes his meals very seriously, which you respect.
Your morning continues with the monotonous rhythm you’ve learned to appreciate: make coffee, shuffle back to your room into the ensuite bathroom for skin care, start your morning proper. The only thing that isn’t the same thing every morning is your playlist and your outfit of choice, leading both items up to fate to decide.
A hint of spring is in the air when you step outside. It’s that kind of sunny day with a cool breeze that promises longer days of sun ahead, despite still being brisk in the morning and biting when the sun sets.
Mornings during the days that hang between winter and spring are your favorite. You roll the windows down a little on your drive to work, fingers drumming against the steering wheel as you crawl along with all the other commuters.
Buildings shoot up toward the sky on either side of you. Dozens of banks, private firms, buildings with multiple different businesses and food courts become your entire world as you navigate to the parking garage. It’s already full of cars, but you get special parking.
Well - special as of your promotion just a few weeks ago. The designated parking spot and title bump was all that had come with the promotion, though, much to your dismay.
Still. You’d worked for this particular publishing house in the marketing department for close to a decade now. You weren’t quite as far up the ladder as you wanted to be, but you were trying to get there little by little.
So close. No cigar.
The elevator of the parking garage opens to reveal other office workers already filling the mirror-walled space. You step in as everyone makes room, clutching their bags and briefcases a little closer. You see Mingyu from creative and flash him a polite grin, which is answered with a bright one of his own and a small wave.
When the people not associated with your company shuffle off on other floors, Mingyu slides over closer to you. He’s one of the many designers in the art department, and definitely several rungs below your position, but you started the company at the same time together.
“How was your weekend?” He asks, wagging his brows up and down.
You frown. His questions suggests there’s something salacious to your wild weekend spent reading books with Halloween, but you don’t think burning the bagel you ate for girl dinner or staying in the same shirt for forty-eight hours straight is what he’s looking for.
“It was fine?” It comes out as a question. “How was yours?”
“Hm. It was good. We went out to catch the big game. Seokmin got so drunk he vomited, and Vernon won all of the bets we placed before.”
Mingyu leans forward, looking at you like you’re supposed to understand something. You don’t get it, looking him up and down with a pinched brow.
“That’s nice?” Again, it comes out as a question. “Not for Seokmin, I guess.”
His eyes narrow. Pin you to your spot against the elevator wall.
Then the elevator dings, signalling that you’re at his floor. Creative is an entire level down from marketing, all dim lights and glowing screens for the designers hard at work. Mingyu gets off, still looking suspicious as the elevator doors close and you shoot up another floor.
Instead of focusing on it, you shrug it off. Mingyu has a penchant for being weird - a creative thing, in your opinion. As soon as the elevator door opens, his behavior is long forgotten as you slip into work mode.
Everyone greets you with a polite smile or small wave on the marketing floor. The main office is filled with grey-walled cubicles, employees popping up to peer over walls with mugs of coffee and protein shakes and breakfast items as they ask their neighbors how the weekend was.
A glass wall in the far back denotes the executive and director offices. You head for the one in the back, right corner. Instead of turning on your lights, you let the natural lighting from the floor-to-ceiling windows filter in, keeping the ambiance muted and relaxing. The only additional lights you flick on are the monitor light at your desk and a small salt lamp wedged between the books on one of the many shelves behind you.
Your office is still slowly being decorated. You’d only moved in after your recent promotion, and it’s still bare of personalization, save for the salt lamp and a few things you’d moved in from your cubicle.
And the coffee machine - your own private, blessed coffee machine in the corner on a small bar cart. That might be your favorite thing about your office. You like your coworkers - for the most part, anyway - but being able to bury yourself in your work without having to interact with all of them every time you want coffee is nice.
Sitting down, you roll your shoulders. When your monitor flashes to life, you see the number of emails in your inbox and try not to groan out loud. You’re thrilled to be the new Senior Director of Marketing, but you’ve gone and made the mistake of becoming too important at work, most things unable to move forward without you playing some part in it.
In theory, that was one of the reasons Minho had broken up with you in the first place. Too buried in work, too many late nights at the office, too many dates or movie nights interrupted by the blue glow of your phone screen on your face while you answer urgent emails.
The thing is - you don’t mind. It doesn’t bother you to pause and send a quick email, or to stay late and help get something launched. You like the intricacies of being a problem solver, and with as fast as your company is growing and publishing new titles, you’ve got challenge after challenge ahead of you.
It’s easy to fall into the monotony of answering emails, joining virtual meetings and striking your pen through your to-do list. It fills three pages, but it feels good to cross something off, even if you’ve only completed two things.
By lunchtime, someone is knocking on your window. You look up, surprised to see Seungkwan sticking his head in. He’s the Manager of Digital Marketing and Social Media and he’s dubbed himself as your assistant.
Other duties as assigned, he always jokes, but you are thankful for him.
“You have to eat,” he reminds you in a singsong voice, crossing his arms over his chest. His glasses are pushed up into his blonde hair. “Maybe you can take me to lunch and divulge every detail about your new romance.”
That makes you sputter. “My what?”
Looking like the cat that ate the canary, Seungkwan slips into your office, clapping his hands together. He sits on the edge of the couch in front of your desk, bounding with energy.
“Come on,” he whispers, looking at you earnestly. “Everyone knows - you don’t have to keep it a secret anymore!”
“Keep what a secret?”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re dating Vernon!”
You stare. “Who?”
“Vernon! From IT!”
It comes back in tunnel vision. Ninefold meeting tenfold, Minho and Glossy Hair Mina, Vernon (from IT). Suddenly you’re hot all over, feel it creeping up your neck and blooming across your cheeks. You clear your throat, leaning back in your chair as your fingers reach for your water.
“I’m - oh!” You escape answering for a second by gulping down copious amounts of water, trying to cool the panic that is licking flames up your skin. “Right. Vernon… from IT.”
“Honestly, he’s cute.”
“Ha. Ha. Yes. Um. Yeah.”
“You’re so cute when you’re flustered. How long have you been dating?”
“Uhh very new. Yes. Super new. I’m sorry - how did you hear about this?”
“Mingyu told me, but Soonyoung told him and Joshua in sales told Soonyoung because Minho told the Always Closing group chat.”
“The what?”
He sighs. “Ugh, do you keep up with anything? The sales floor has a group chat. It’s where Soonyoung gets all his tea because he and Joshua room together.”
“Who the fuck is Joshua?”
Seungkwan stares. “It is a wonder you even know who Vernon is. I swear you don’t know people you’ve worked with for years.” A thought seems to strike him and he gasps. “Oh my god is that why you’re always going to him for your fucked up passwords?”
Something Vernon said comes back to you vaguely. Something about forgotten passwords when the cleaning crew throws out your sticky notes. Of course, no one would throw out your sticky notes if you weren’t dropping them all over the floor, but that’s neither here nor there.
Bolting from your seat, you startle Seungkwan, whose brows disappear in his hairline as he stares up at you.
“Actually, I can’t do lunch today.”
He sighs. “Boss, you have to eat.”
“I am! I am going to lunch with my…. Vernon from IT.”
“Oooo.” He leans back, shaking his head and grinning at you. “Go on then. Make sure you wrap it before-”
“If you finish that sentence I will revoke your privilege to my coffee cart.”
Seungkwan’s grin only gets wider. “Enjoy, boss.”
In a flurry, you leave your office. Eyes follow you as you go and suddenly you’re unsure if people are looking at you because you’re walking so fast that you’re almost running, or if it’s because they think you’re dating Vernon).
Your finger nearly breaks as you slam the button over and over again to shoot a few floors down. It doesn’t make the elevator go any faster. When the doors finally close and you begin to descend, you turn to the mirror walls and panic, tucking stray pieces of hair back into place and trying to fix the mascara smudges from staring at your screen for four straight hours.
A knot forms in your stomach. You press your damp palms against your dress pants, wiping viciously to try and keep the moisture at bay. When the elevator dings and the doors open to the silent hum of the IT department, you think you might vomit.
Unlike the marketing floor, no heads turn as you go. You try to maintain a normal pace this time, marching down the rows of cubicles before you realize you have no idea where Vernon sits. You pause awkwardly, standing on your tiptoes to try and see over the walls of cubicles to spot him.
“Can I help you?” A man sticks his head out of his cubicle, his headphones around his neck. He looks you up and down critically. “You’ll have to have proof of submitting a ticket before-”
“Vernon,” you interrupt him. “Vernon from IT? Where does he sit?”
For a second, the guy narrows his eyes. Then a lightbulb seems to go off and he grins, leaning back in his chair. He looks far too pleased with himself, and there’s something oily and slick you don’t like about his gaze. “You’re her.”
“I’m a senior director, yes.”
That changes his tune immediately. He sits up, clearing his throat. “To the back on the left.”
“Thanks.”
Following his lead, you pass by several empty cubicles, everyone seemingly at lunch. You take the corner as instructed and find a handful of men sitting in the same cubicle, one sitting atop a desk and swinging his legs, another leaning against the cubicle wall, and the last one sitting in the seat.
The one sitting in the seat is the quarry you seek, his eyes going wide when he sees you storming toward him. He goes rigid in his seat, clearing his throat and slapping the leg of the man sitting atop his desk. He kicks at Vernon before spotting you and immediately jumping down, straightening his shirt.
Nervous energy crackles as all three sets of eyes settle on you. You stop right in front of his cubicle, trying to put on your bravest smile.
“Hi?” Vernon asks, looking at the two men on either side of him. “Did you forget your password again?”
“What? No. I don’t do it that often.” He looks unsure, brows raised behind his glasses. You huff, putting your hands on your hips. “Okay, I forget it sometimes. But no, that isn’t why I’m here.”
“Does your software need updating?”
“No, I-”
“Oh. I did forget to give Seungkwan that new phone he asked for on behalf of the social team. It came in last week - I’ll finish setting it up and-”
“Lunch!” You all but yell, startling all three men. “I came here for lunch.”
There’s a long pause. Vernon’s coworkers look like they’d rather be anywhere else than trapped by you. You ignore them in favor of a quick study of Vernon. He’s in dress pants and a button down shirt that is untucked and a little wrinkled. It’s a far cry from the casual way he was dressed at the bookstore, but it’s still not totally work appropriate.
Still he pulls it off. There’s something casual and cool about it, aloof in a way that still looks good. His hair is even styled neatly, though a brown lock falls over his eyebrow as he leans forward and asks, “Lunch? The cafeteria is on the first floor.”
The man who had been sitting on his desk kicks him. “She’s asking you to go to lunch, dude.”
“She’s not-” Vernon pauses and looks at you. “Are you asking me to go to lunch?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Your patience narrows to a tight smile, your words pinched between your teeth, “Because that’s what loving girlfriends do, sweetie.”
The words land and have an immediate effect. Vernon flushes from the neck up, mouth opening and closing as he presses his palms against his thigh. The man who kicked him snickers and tries to hide it with a thinly veiled cough.
Your gaze narrows and he notices you watching, clearing his throat to stretch his hand toward you. “I’m Chan. It’s nice to meet… Vernon’s girlfriend?”
You shake his head and say nothing, eyes drifting to the man leaning against the wall. He gives you a small salute. “Seokmin.”
“Oh.” You blink. “The puker?”
His charming smile drops immediately as he looks at Vernon, smacking him on the shoulder. “You told her about that?”
“I didn’t tell her anything.” Vernon stands, shrugging away from both of his friends’ wandering eyes. “Sure, sweetie,” he answers you, giving you a plastic grin. “It’s your treat this week, right? At that very nice, very expensive steakhouse down the block.”
There’s a glimmer in his eyes that tells you Vernon will only play along if it’s by his rules. You’re at a disadvantage, so you grin and nod, willing to go by his rules for now. “That’s so right, darling. Let’s go.”
“Enjoy lunch!” Chan calls behind you as Vernon shuffles behind you, quickly trying to tuck his shirt. “Don’t do anything I-”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Vernon warns, quickening his step to match yours. “Sorry about him.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got my own version of him sitting in my office.”
The elevator ride down to the first floor and the walk out onto the busy street is silent. It’s not the comfortable, easy silence you might have with Seungkwan or Mingyu - if Mingyu could wrap his head around silence. It's awkwardly silent, both of you looking anywhere but one another.
You don’t know where you’re going, but Vernon leads you to a Michelin steakhouse down the block, true to his word. You glare at him when you step into the dark entryway where a host with hair as glossy as Mina’s greets you.
“Two?” You both nod and she grins. “Right this way.”
Vernon follows her first, shuffling behind her as she leads the two of you into the dining room proper. It’s a beautiful establishment with lacquered floors, rich wooden tables draped with fine tablecloths and the kind of glassware that looks like real crystal.
When you both sit down with menus in hand, the hostess leaves you and you lean forward, hissing, “How much money do you think I make?”
“More than I do in IT,” Vernon answers breezily, eyes roving the menu. For a second, his gaze flickers to meet yours over the top of the menu. It’s the first time he’s really looked at you since you marched into his office. “Consider it an apology meal for the mess you’ve got us in.”
“Hey! You played along?”
“You’re right, I guess I could have just super embarrassed you in front of your ex-boyfriend. That would have been very polite of me.”
That stumps you. You open and close your mouth, feeling a bit like a fish. You suppose that’s fair - what was Vernon supposed to do when you’d grabbed him in the middle of a bookstore and staked your claim?
Sighing, you lean back as your server gives you a moment of respite, filling your glasses with water and going over the specials. When they leave, you grab your glass and take several gulps of water, trying to cool your head.
It only works a little.
“I didn’t know Minho was going to tell the entire world.”
“Really? Minho has the biggest mouth at this company. You should see his Teams messages.”
“You can do that?”
“On the clock?” He asks. When you shake your head, assuring it stays between you, he nods. “Yeah, we can see everything you do.”
“Oh.” You think of all the terrible things you’ve searched on your work computer like how to get over a breakup and how to tell if my ex still likes me. “Anyway, I didn’t know he was going to say anything.”
The server returns to take your orders. You order some sort of steak salad at random while Vernon orders something blessedly modest. As the server parts ways, Vernon leans back in his chair and looks at you again, expression unreadable.
“Well,” he eventually says. “No harm done once you tell everyone we’re not dating.”
“Once I what?”
“Well you’ll have to-”
“No way.”
“What?”
“Do you know how embarrassing that would be?”
He raises a brow. “More embarrassing than grabbing some dude in the bookstore and claiming he’s your boyfriend.”
The air leaves your lungs and you melt into the seat, your misery showing. “I already said sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Just tell everyone you broke up with me.”
You snort. “No one would believe that.”
“Why?”
Instead of answering him immediately, you busy yourself unraveling silverware. It’s a hard question to answer, not because you don’t know the answer but because you don’t want to tell him. Vernon is quiet, though. Patient.
He doesn’t press you for an answer, happy to wait you out until you’ve folded your napkin and placed it on your lap, and once again drained the rest of your water. It does nothing for your nerves as you fixate on a spot atop the table.
“I don’t… date.”
“You dated Minho.”
“Yeah. That’s uh… it. It’s kind of a running joke that I am undateable.”
He frowns at that. “Respectfully, I find that incredibly hard to believe.”
“Thanks. I think.” You pick at a string in the tablecloth. “Anyway, no one would buy that I ended the first relationship I’ve had since Minho. I didn’t even end the last one and sort of clung to it in a way that was sort of embarrassing.”
“I see.”
You’re unsure if he really does. When Minho had broken up with you, you’d attempt to make arguments to keep him around. Offered less work hours, even said you’d go to therapy to talk about your insane need for success. He hadn’t wanted any of it, and you’d eventually realized that he just… didn’t want you.
They never did, when people realized what dating you entails. Everyone wants a woman who works hard. They like the illusion of it, the woman who gets up early in the morning and goes to workout before going to her corporate job and girl bossing all day long. They desire the woman who dresses fashionably, who wears designer tags and commands a room all day before coming home to make an effortless dinner followed by a luxurious night routine.
And you get it. You want to be that too. But the truth is most days you wake up past your alarm and rush to the office wearing shoes that don’t match, and sometimes you come home so late and burned out from your job that you eat a handful of shredded cheese over the sink with a stick of beef jerky, only to do it all again the next day.
That wasn’t what anyone wanted. At least, not in your experience.
“Anyway,” you clear your throat. “You’re right, or whatever. I should just tell them I lied. I’ve given worse news. Just you know - less personal.”
For a few minutes, Vernon is quiet. You don’t look up to meet his gaze. Instead you watch the ice cubes in your glass melt, little beads of condensation zigzagging down the curve of your glass.
A sigh makes you look up at Vernon. “What if we dated for like a month or something?”
“What?”
“I don’t mean really date,” he offers quickly, sensing your surprise. For some reason, that stings a little. You swallow it down past the knot forming in your throat. “It’ll get people off your back or whatever and we can just mutually end things.”
“Really? You’d do that.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “I guess, yeah.”
“You can break up with me,” you promise eagerly, leaning forward with the new promise of a solution to your problem. “Everyone will believe it. Just say I work too much and I’m too obsessed with my career.”
An uneasy gaze flickers in Vernon’s eyes. “It can be mutual,” he says firmly. “That way it ends nicely.”
“Fine. Everyone will think one thing anyway, you’ll get out without a scratch, trust me. Are you sure you’re willing to do this? I can… suck it up and tell everyone I made it up.”
“Do you really want to?”
“No,” you admit.
“Then it’s settled.” He shrugs, heaving a heavy sigh. “I’ll give you a month and then we can mutually end things.”
Sticking your hand over the table, you offer it for Vernon to shake. His mouth twitches a little as he smiles, leaning forward to take your hand. His is warm and softer than you imagined, enveloping yours firmly as he shakes.
“Deal,” you smile, feeling a glimmer of hope.
Just like that, Vernon (from IT) becomes Vernon (your boyfriend).
Sort of.
-
Vernon doesn’t consider himself anxious. He’s never really dealt with anxiety, and there are only a few things that can make him nervous in the world. The few times he remembers being nervous were when he was in a bidding war for a limited edition Millenium Falcon model, in line at a meet-and-greet for his favorite band when he was sixteen, and when he lost his virginity to Carley Waters in his sophomore year of college.
He’d won the bidding war and managed to not sound like an idiot meeting his idols, but he definitely came immediately after putting his dick inside Carley. Two out of three were pretty good odds, all things considered.
Vernon is more nervous than all three of those events combined as he checks himself in the mirror for the millionth time. Usually, he doesn’t really think twice about what he wears to the bar on the weekend. He has fifteen of the same shirt in the same colors, and his jeans all look the same, even though he thinks they’re different.
Now, though, he has the added element of you. He cannot recall a single time that you’ve ever agreed to go out with your work friends - and to your surprise, not his, you do have the same work friends - but tonight is different.
Tonight, you’re supposed to be dating.
It’s weird. Chan and Seokmin agree it’s weird. He keeps no secrets from them and had already told them about the encounter at the bookstore. They’ve sworn themselves to secrecy, though Vernon cannot fathom how they just go with it.
She’s really hot, Chan had said after a few sips of beer. Fuck it, right?
She’s the third most executive person in marketing, Seokmin warned. Be careful.
Both are true. Vernon had acknowledged Chan’s point the first time he’d seen you in Information Technology a little over two years ago. You’d been dating Minho then and entirely untouchable - still are, kind of - and Vernon had been the only person at the office early enough to help you out. He’d been new then, and often came in the earliest to get started on the overload of tasks he was always given as the junior employee.
Even then, Vernon thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Sure, you had on mismatched shoes and there was a breathy chaos to you that would probably stress most people out, but he sort of liked it. Thought that it was different in a good way, and spoke to the sort of person who worked really hard and didn’t fake their way through the day.
Vernon had realized Seokmin's point right after he’d learned Chan’s. As soon as he helped you login to your computer, he’d realized you were a Senior Manager of Marketing. Not a huge title in a company so big, but high enough that Vernon thought twice about his attraction to you.
Now, both of their points are moot. You’re still attractive but that doesn’t really change the situation - makes it harder, even. Vernon had never really dreamed of an actual relationship with you and now that he’s found himself in a fake one, he’s not really sure what to do with the acknowledgement that he’s attracted to you.
Worse is that he doesn’t actually know if he’s allowed to date you. Vernon is a senior coordinator in the IT department and you’re a senior director. Perhaps not in his department or directly overseeing him, but it’s a high enough position that Sekomin is right - it could mean trouble if this goes poorly.
So why the fuck did he offer to fake date you for a month?
As someone in Information Technology, most people think Vernon is smart. He doesn’t consider himself to be above average intelligence, and as he slides his sneakers on his feet to go pick you up for a night out, he thinks everyone is wrong about him - he’s fucking stupid.
Looking in the mirror one more time, Vernon decides it’s as good as it’s ever going to get. Jeans, a black shirt and a hat facing backward is all he really knows how to style. He shoves his keys in his pocket, a tiny vial of contact solution just in case, and grabs his phone as he heads out the door.
Your apartment complex isn’t that far from his. He finds it with ease, surprised that you don’t live in one of those high-rise apartments that all the other executives live in. The apartment is pretty modest with only three floors and rows of respectable Toyota Camrys and Honda Civics.
When he spots you coming down the stairs, his traitorous heart does that same little staccato it had last weekend when he saw you at the bookstore. He hadn’t expected to run into you outside of work and only panicked for a split second before he realized that you didn’t recognize him.
And then you’d called him your boyfriend.
Recovering from the memory of it, Vernon stares as you open the door to his car, flashing a tight smile as you slide in. He doesn’t know what he thought you might wear on the weekend, but he’s surprised to see you in jeans, a black form-fitted shirt tucked in, and a simple purse on your arm.
“What?” You ask, a little breathless. He sees the sticky shine of lipgloss on your mouth and squeezes the wheel, fighting the urge to lean over and taste it.
Insane, he thinks as he puts the car in gear. He’s gone insane.
“Nothing. I guess I just thought you’d live somewhere nicer.”
“Oh.”
Your shift in tone makes him realize how it sounded. “Sorry - not like that. I thought it would be somewhere really fancy. You’re a senior director and all that.”
“I only got promoted a few weeks ago. And it was not a pay raise, trust me.”
“Seriously?” You glance sidelong at him, pausing like you’ve said something you shouldn’t. His lips twitch and he says, “Not on the clock.”
That gets you to grin, leaning back into the passenger seat. “Only came with an office and title bump. I was already doing all the work of a senior director so they felt like they needed to bump my title to protect themselves, I think.”
“That’s kind of shitty.”
You hum. “Is it like that in IT?”
“I think it’s like that anywhere.”
“Good point.”
A comfortable silence falls over the car. It’s not at all like the awkward, stilted lunch the two of you had at the beginning of the week. He had been sweating through his shirt that time around, though you didn’t seem to notice. He’d been a little angry with you too, for getting the both of you into this mess.
But… it had been his idea to help you save face. He didn’t have to. He didn’t owe you anything, and he believes you when you say you would come clean and admit you lied through your teeth. Maybe that’s why he offered to help anyway, your willingness to swallow the pain of embarrassment to relieve him of the facade.
Library is a hole in the wall bar that Vernon and his friends from work like to go to on Saturday nights. It’s sort of a funny joke, a bunch of professionals from the publishing industry getting drunk and eating shitty bar food in a place named for the very buildings they dedicate their life to, in a weird, roundabout, mathematical way.
Vernon has friends outside of work that come too, but tonight it’s just the usual crowd: Chan, Seokmin and Seokmin’s girlfriend, Mingyu and Soonyoung from creative, and some of the people from the sales team. The sales team is only there by virtue of Joshua, who is the only person from sales Vernon remotely tolerates.
Vernon isn’t exactly sure what a sales team does at a publishing company anyway.
When Vernon parks, he sees you take a deep breath. He averts his eyes, feeling like he’s intruding on a moment before you brace yourself and get out of the car suddenly. He makes a noise and panics to follow you. You’re already plunging ahead like you’re storming into battle, and perhaps in your mind you are.
He jogs to catch up. “Wait!”
You stop, turning to face him with a dubious expression. “What?”
“We should walk in together.”
“Oh.” You blink. It’s a bit cute but Vernon shoves that down. “You’re right. Sorry. I sort of… set my mind to the task and forgot.”
“You can’t approach this like you approach work.”
“I can’t?”
He laughs. “No. Relationships aren’t jobs - so a fake one isn’t either. You have to try and appear like this is natural. If you come in all to-do list and checkmarking the boxes, it’s going to look weird.”
“Oh.”
The confidence you had a second before deflates. He feels a little guilty, reaching out to take your hand before he realizes what he’s doing. Your hands are cold in his but he doesn’t mind, wrapping his fingers in yours as you stare at him like he’s grown three heads.
Maybe he has.
“We should walk in together. Maybe holding hands.”
“Right.” You lick your lips and he tries to give you a smile more confident than what he’s feeling. His heart is hammering in his chest, both at the way your hand squeezes his nervously and at the preposterousness of it all. “You’re kind of good at this.”
“I just have a different perspective.”
“The perspective of someone who knows how to date versus… whatever I am.”
He hears the joke in your tone so he lets himself laugh a little. He starts walking, tugging you next to him. “Not exactly. I just watch a lot of movies, including romances.”
“Really? What’s your favorite one?”
“Uhhh.” He thinks about it as you both approach the door. He doesn’t answer for a second while he flashes the security outside his ID. “I really like The Proposal. With Sandra Bullock.”
Instead the bar is filled with modern music at a reasonable level and small, wooden tables with chipped tops. There is nothing about the bar that actually looks like a library, save the single shelf shoved in the corner with beat up comic books and an insane amount of hentai that Soonyoung put there.
“You mean the one where the boss fake dates her employee… and they work at a publishing company?”
As soon as you ask the question, Vernon realizes the irony. He looks at you with a wide gaze, pausing at the entrance to look at you. Your mouth folds on itself, trying not to laugh as you too realize the irony of the movie.
“Yeah, so that’s weird I guess,” he admits. He tugs on your hand. “Come on, we always sit in the back.”
You follow him wordlessly. The crowd isn’t big inside, but there are enough people that you have to shuffle a little closer to him. He catches the scent of your perfume - it smells like sweet tobacco and vanilla, something that is subtle with a little bit of spice.
Turning around the corner of the bar, you see a wall entirely taken by booths with pool tables in the open space. Mingyu and Seokmin’s girlfriend are already fighting over the felted green as she points a pool cue at him, threatening. Seokmin is lounging in one of the booths, watching on with a dopey grin that makes Vernon roll his eyes.
Everyone else sits in in a variety of booths, an entire corner dedicated to the dozen or so of them who have made this their home for the last two years. Vernon keeps you close, feeling his hands go clammy when all the eyes turn to the two of you. Despite the rumor having spread far and wide, it’s clear that surprise ripples through the crowd at seeing evidence of your relationship.
The fake one, that is. Naturally.
Instead of going directly to the safety - or danger, in this case - of his friends, Vernon heads to the bar. He needs to take the edge off immediately, though he knows he can’t get too crazy. The drive home is short, but even if you weren’t in his car for the evening, he doesn’t like to tempt fate.
Next to him at the bartop, you drop his hand to press your palms against the sticky wood. You make a face and he laughs before ordering a simple rum and coke. You order the same but with a lime and the bartender flashes you a charming grin.
Vernon glances at you and realizes you don’t even register the bartender. You’re chewing your lip and fidgeting, pulling at the sleeves of your shirt and shifting from foot-to-foot. A pang goes through him.
“Relax.” You look up at him, eyes wide. “We’re going to do fine.”
“What if I fuck it up?” You ask, voice barely audible as you lean in. “They’re going to see right through me, Vernon from IT. They’re going to have one conversation with us and be like ‘no way is he dating that lunatic.’”
“For starters, you’re not a lunatic.” You give him a look and he amends, “Not in the way that’s bad, anyway.”
“How do you know? We barely know each other.”
You’ve got him there. The bartender comes back with your drinks and you take yours, draining half of it before remembering the lime. He watches you squeeze it into the drink while he contemplates his answer.
“I guess I just have a feeling for these things. You don’t seem very crazy to me.”
“Thanks.”
“And I guess I’m getting to know you, so there’s that.”
You sigh. “Right.”
“You’ll do fine. But maybe don’t call me Vernon from IT.”
“Right.”
“Come on.”
With wavering confidence, you follow Vernon over to the crowd from work. Everyone greets you warmly, though a little unsure. He notes the comments about being shocked to see you outside the four walls of your office, a joke you take in stride.
It’s clear you don’t know how to interact with everyone at first. It’s not to say that you’re stiff or awkward, but Vernon can see the rigid set in your shoulders and the way your eyes follow the conversation but don’t actually contribute.
You have an effect on others as well. For those who are a little more unfamiliar with you, they can’t seem to puzzle out why one of the higher ups is here guzzling down rum and cokes. And you are guzzling them down, carving a path to and from the bar at a rate that impresses Vernon.
“How are things going?” Chan slips into the seat you just vacated to march to the bar again. “She seems surprisingly normal.”
“Why is that surprising?”
Chan gives him a look. “She’s a suit.”
“I don’t think so,” Vernon laughs. “Trust me on that.”
Chan hums unconvinced, watching you at the bar. “She’s nice, at least.”
“Very.”
“Don’t fall in love with her or anything.”
“Weird thing to say, man.”
“Yeah, well. She’s attractive, nice, and no offense, a little weird. She’s exactly your type.”
That makes him frown. “What’s weird about her? Also, would that be so bad?”
“She knew the radius of the sun and the verbatim definition of parsecs. I’m not answering that second question because I shouldn’t have to.” Chan claps him on the shoulder, looking over Vernon’s head. “She’s coming back, but seriously. Be careful.”
Chan scoots away, flashing Vernon a look that makes the single drink Vernon has had sour in his stomach. Then you’re there, sitting down next to him, swaying a little bit. He smells sweet tobacco and vanilla, his eyelids fluttering for a second as you shift a little too close - or what would be too close, if you weren’t fake dating.
“What’s that look on your face?” You ask, sipping your drink. He wonders if it’s appropriate to ask if you need water.
“What look on my face?”
“You know, like-” You try to pinch your brows together and your mouth puckers downward. He feels himself smile and he shakes his head. “Sort of frowny.”
“Nothing.” You look at him skeptically. “Hey, I have a question.”
You pause, looking a little panicked. “Okay.”
“What’s the radius of the sun?”
“Oh!” You visibly brighten and it’s like watching the sun spill over the lip of the horizon, all gold and liquid, warm and bright. “432,690 miles. Surface temperature is about 5,772 Kelvin.”
Suddenly, Chan’s warning feels very, very real. Vernon tries to hide his smile, looking down at the table. Meanwhile, you start rattling off facts about the sun, not taking a single breath as you explain you memorized them from when you were working on the marketing for a line of textbooks about space early on in your career.
Vernon lets you talk. Lets you somehow divert back to work, watching as you animatedly walk him through the process of what you do. How you think. It’s fascinating, and he’s not really sure how anyone else could find it tiresome, seeing the way you light up when you tell him about a project that Seungkwan’s team killed it on.
Your pride is palpable, your energy shifting from unsure to confident.
Suddenly, you pause, leveling Vernon with a hard stare. He says nothing, watching the way you drink him in, something beneath the surface of your gaze he can’t quite read. “Can I say something?”
“On the clock?” he asks, grinning. You shake your head and he gestures for you to continue.
“You have pretty eyes. I still like when you wear glasses, though. They suit you.”
Yeah. Vernon thinks Chan’s warning is very real.
-
Running in heels is hard. You don’t know how anyone manages to do it in movies. Not that you think anything that happens in movies is real, but you can’t imagine how they make it work for the scene. You nearly break your ankle three times on your sprint to IT and you’re sure you scare the daylights out of Chan when you come tearing around the corner.
You shout a greeting over your shoulder but don’t stop until you’re hissing Vernon’s name while rushing into his cube. He flinches, turning around to look at you mid-task. You’re heaving, putting a hand on your hip as you straighten, trying to suck down air.
“Say no!”
He’s visibly confused. “To what?”
“Just say no!”
Before Vernon can ask you another thing, you hear Minho’s voice. Your heart thunders in your ribcage as you try to lean against the wall of Vernon’s cube, nearly missing it. You stumble a few steps and he catches you by the elbow, lightning quick as he helps steady you.
When he drops his grip, the place where Vernon had held you moments before is warm. You try not to think about it, heart thundering doubletime as you watch Minho approach, a lazy swing to his step and a smirk on his face.
“Funny I found you here!”
“Why would that be funny? My Vernon - my boyfriend is down here.”
From the corner of his eye, you see Vernon wince. You’re not doing a great job at keeping it casual, but you’re also still out of breath from sprinting down the stairs to beat Minho here and warn Vernon. Seungkwan had barely been able to give you the heads up that Minho was going to ask for a double date, and you simply couldn’t have that.
Even as you near the end of your second week dating - fake dating - Vernon, you’re unsure the two of you can get through a date with someone who actually knows you. Vernon might be able to give some details on the surface, but you dated Minho for a year - how could Vernon ever hope to keep up?
Minho leans against Chan’s cube. Luckily it’s vacant of its usual occupant - Chan hates Mihno, as you’ve recently learned through a lunch with him and Vernon.
“Glad I caught you together, then,” Minho says, though you think he’s not that glad. But what do you know? “I wanted to see if you were busy on-”
“Yes.” You flash him a too-wide grin with too many teeth.
“I didn’t even give you the date.”
“We’re always very busy.”
“Ah.” Minho scratches the back of his neck and gives Vernon a look akin to sympathy. “Never has time, does she? Always all work, no play. I wanted to see if you guys wanted to go to dinner with Mina and I tomorrow night, but…” He shrugs. “Same old.”
You try not to let your exterior crack, but Minho’s words cut right through your outer shell to the softness of you. Without fail he manages to highlight this obsession you have with work, making it sound worse every single time.
Behind you, Vernon shifts closer. You become acutely aware of him suddenly, warmth radiating from him as his chest presses against the back of your arm and his hand slips to the middle of your back, featherlight, like he’s afraid to touch you. He smells like ocean driftwood and salt, something that makes you think of warmer days. Fresh fruit. Cold water.
Fighting a shiver, you freeze up, hyper aware of him.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Vernon says gently. “She doesn’t work that much. She makes plenty of time for me.”
Minho’s eye twitches, the only sign he’s annoyed. As a trained salesperson, his tells are always subtle, nearly undetectable. But you know him inside and out, can see the sliver of annoyance there.
Satisfaction rules supreme, a smile tugging at your lips until Vernon adds, “We can make time for them, right?”
You snap your head to the side, eyes meeting his. Vernon has beautiful eyes. You’d said as much the other night when you had a little too much to drink, staring up at him without his glasses. He looks good without them, but you like the way the frames sit on his nose, the way they reflect light against the liquid brown of his iris.
Now, those eyes are staring back at you straight on. There’s something fierce in them, and though you barely know him, you have a sneaking suspicion Vernon is annoyed. Not with you but with Minho.
Still…
“Are you sure?”
Your question is gentle. For a moment, you forget Minho is there at all. You’re looking at Vernon, trying to puzzle out why he would say yes to something insane again. It was lucky enough he’d offered to participate in this little charade to save your pride, and now here he is doing it again, unprompted.
Vernon’s mouth twitches. He nods, hand pressing into your back a little firmer before he drops it away. You turn to Minho, who watches the two of you with a peculiar expression. “Alright,” you tell him. “It’s a date.”
“Great. I’ll send you the details.”
When Minho leaves, you turn to Vernon, the question on the tip of your tongue. He doesn’t give you a chance, shooting you a sidelong glance as he says, “Why is he always bringing up your work schedule?”
You wince. Vernon either doesn’t notice or is nice enough not to say anything. Instead of answering right away, you sit on top of Vernon’s desk, feet dangling a little. He makes room for you, turning his chair to face you and give you his full attention.
He’s dressed the same as always today, but you notice his shirt is ironed and tucked in neatly. Rubbing his brow, he slides his glasses up on his head, pressing his fingers along his eye sockets like they’re strained.
“What kind of stuff do you do?” You ask instead of answering his question. You gesture to his multiple computer screens. “Besides help me figure out my passwords.”
“Lots of stuff. It’s mostly small things like remoting into people’s computers to help them solve their issues. I spend a majority of my day showing people how to unmute themselves on their virtual meeting software.”
“Do you like it?”
He shrugs. “It’s got a rhythm to it that I like. I like having a to-do list every day and I can pretty much always know what to expect.”
“That does sound nice. And you can spy on everyone’s messages right?”
He raises his brow. “On the clock?” That makes you smile and you shake your head. “I could, but I don’t. There are a ton of people who forget us and HR can see all their shit, though.”
“Ooo like what?”
He sucks in air through his teeth, “Man, I don’t think I can tell you.”
You can tell he’s teasing and you scoff, kicking out with your foot toward his knee. He dodges you easily with a playful grin. “Come on!”
“I’ll tell you off the clock. Real off the clock.”
“Fine. Speaking of - are you busy tonight?” He raises his brows in question. “We should probably meet up and try to flesh out some details of our uh… relationship. I know some things about you but not a lot. Like, when is your birthday?”
“February 18.”
You slap your hand on top of his desk. “Vernon! That’s super soon! Are you doing anything for it?”
“Nah. I don’t ever want to make a fuss and it's close to Valentine’s Day so sometimes people are doing things retroactively.”
You hum, displeased with the answer, but you file it away for later. “So are you free tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool, you can come over to my place. Do you like pizza? You have to like pizza, right? You’re a boy.”
“A lot of boys like pizza, yes. Specifically me.”
“Good. Seven?”
“Seven.”
-
A knock at the door makes you look up from your computer. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust, the light outside the office windows long fading with the setting sun and the only other source the salt lamp behind you and the burn of the safety lights in the main cubicles.
Vernon leans against the door frame, resting his head against it as he peers at you. For a second, you forget about everything except the way he looks leaned against the frame, his glasses perfectly perched on his nose and hair soft with wear from the day.
Then, you lurch with realization, gasping and looking at your watch. “It’s seven.”
“It’s seven,” he agrees, laughing gently.
You bolt from the seat, groaning and grabbing things to shove in your bag. In the process, you knock over a cup and a curse flies out your lips. He pushes off the door, walking over to help you tame the chaos.
“Easy,” he admonishes. “All good here, don’t panic.”
“I’m really sorry. I got stuck working through this media plan that someone asked for and I completely lost track of time.”
“It’s okay.”
The panic welling up inside you calms down as you look up at him. Vernon says nothing further, picking up your cup and righting the pens that you’ve knocked over. His movements are casual, straightening the things on your desk until he’s satisfied and steps away.
You prepare for annoyance, for the same expression you’re used to when you’re late to an event or have missed a thing, when you’ve yet again lost track of time holed up in your office and yet… Vernon just gives you an easy smile and a shrug.
No annoyance. No judgment. Just… Vernon.
Perhaps tenfold isn’t so bad.
“It’s not pizza, but there's a tiny little bar a few blocks down that I really like. They serve food.”
“Yeah?”
He nods and hesitates. “It’s… themed, though.”
“That’s okay. I like a theme.”
The theme in question isn’t so much of a theme as it is an entire franchise. You stand in the doorway of Cantina Far Away, mouth parted as you drink in the sights and sounds of the Star Wars themed bar.
A circular bar sits in the middle of the small establishment. There isn’t a ton of room to recreate the iconic corner of the world where you were first introduced to Han Solo as a kid, but there’s just enough to make the magic work.
Kegs and other apparatuses hang from the ceiling of the stone top bar. Lights track underneath the bar top and in the ceiling, giving the dim illusion that it’s permanently dusk inside. Small, round tables fill the main space, with three booths lined against the back wall. An R2-D2 replica stands beside C3-PO in the corner, and a familiar soundtrack plays through the sound system.
“If you want to go somewhere else-”
“Do they have blue milk?”
Vernon pauses. “What?”
You look up at him, grinning. “Do they have the blue milk?”
“They have something on their menu like that, yeah. I don’t know what it is.”
“I always wanted to drink the blue milk as a kid.”
“Alright.” He gestures to the bar, which is mostly empty. “Let’s get you blue milk.”
Popping up on a stool, you can’t help but crane your neck upward to look at the bar from this angle. It truly looks like every part of it was taken from the movie set. You run your hand atop the bar’s surface to realize it’s actually wood that looks like stone, marveling at the smoothness.
Behind the bar, two bartenders move in sync, dressed in Jedi robes. When they approach, you both order the blue milk - you, because you demand to know what it tastes like, Vernon, in solidarity.
Vibrating with excitement, you turn to look at Vernon. “When I was a kid, watching Star Wars was one of the few things my mom and I got to do together.”
“One of the few things?”
You nod, clapping your hands excitedly when the bartender brings you whatever concoction the blue milk is. It comes in a tall glass and is clear, baby blue and frothy at the top. Leaning over, you take a whiff. It smells vaguely coconutty and you narrow your eyes, leaning forward to take a tentative sip.
Coconut rum hits your tongue and you cringe. Vernon does too, making a face and sticking his tongue out as he immediately shoves the drink away from him. You laugh, not even caring that you hate it. It tastes nothing like you expected and you don’t really like coconut, but it strikes a nostalgic chord.
“My mom was a single parent and worked really hard at a law firm,” you eventually answer, taking another sip and cringing. Vernon orders something more generic - a rum and coke for you both. “But she always made time on the weekend if I really wanted to do a Star Wars marathon and she took off work for all the prequel releases to take me.”
“That’s cute. My mom was really into it too. Want to know a secret?”
“Yes.”
“My first name is Hansol. A little inspired by Han Solo. I prefer to go by Vernon with everyone who isn’t my family, though.”
That makes you smile. “I like it, though. Your mom has good taste like mine. Think they’d be friends?”
He blushes. “Maybe.”
You realize how forward of a question it is. You avert your gaze to your blue drink, sipping it and grimacing. Vernon chuckles and says, “You don’t have to drink it.”
“I don’t have to do a lot of things but I do anyway.”
“Hmm. Like what?”
“Ugh. I don’t know? Attend meetings all day?”
“I think you do have to do that.”
You scrunch your nose. “Alright, fair.”
“Tell me about your job.”
You glance at him, brows raised. “You want me to talk about work?”
“It’s obvious you like what you do, and by the sounds of it, working hard runs in the family. Tell me what you like about it.”
That makes you sigh as you push the ice around in your glass. What do you like about your job? Well, you like a lot of things and you hate a lot of things. So you start listing them, telling Vernon that you like the routine and you enjoy having a rhythm to your day. You like feeling proud when you can solve a problem no one else can, or when you lead your team through chaos and they look at you like you’re a god who showed them the way.
You like that you can be an authority in the room but you don’t feel like a dictator, and that now when you talk, people listen. Your team is your favorite, loving the way you and Seungkwan work in tandem, and the way the creative department likes to pick your brain. Mingyu and Soonyoung are always asking for your feedback, even if your opinion doesn’t matter in the hierarchy of their world.
The dislikes though… well, you dislike that you never have enough time in the day. That you’re always in a meeting and feel like you leave your team drowning in work picking up the slack. Hate that you get time blindness and sit in your office for hours past dinner to get something right, to get something perfect.
Hate that because you like what you do, everyone thinks you don’t have a life or don’t want a life. And that leads you to the center of the entire issue with your relationship with Minho.
You pull away like you’re approaching a particularly purple bruise when you near the topic of Minho. Your blue drink is gone and you order something more normal instead. The coke and rum sizzles on your tongue as Vernon looks at you expectantly.
“I’m doing all the talking,” you mutter, a little defensive. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue.”
“What kind of blue.”
“Blue like that very nasty milk you just drank.” You stick your tongue out and Vernon smiles. His smile is like a burning star at the center of a solar system, glowing and bright and warm. It gives life. “What’s yours?”
“Deep red. Like… wine or burgundy. What’s your favorite movie?”
“Ah, not that question. I’m a bit of a cinephile.”
“Too bad. You have to pick one.”
Vernon thinks about it. The tip of his finger traces the condensation of his glass lazily and you hyperfocus on it, watching the way he catches the bead of liquid every time. He has nice fingers, you realize. The thought makes you clench and suddenly wonder if you need to walk out of the bar down to the church to confess the sin of your mind.
Not that you’re religious, but maybe you should be, with where your mind has wandered.
“I like The Princess Bride.”
You gasp, grabbing him by the wrist and shaking it excitedly. “My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die!”
Vernon’s laughter is infectious. You both fall into a fit of giggles, quoting your favorite parts of the movie. It’s nice - this is nice. It’s unexpected and you’re a little unsure how you got here, but Vernon makes the pressure of getting to know one another in preparation to fake date in front of your ex fade away.
Until, of course, you remember that’s why you’re at the bar and the thought suddenly sobers you.
Straightening, you ask, “Why’d you want to go on a double date, anyway? You don’t owe me that.”
“He seemed kind of smug. I thought it was annoying.”
You hum, studying him. “It’s a bit risky. I dated him for a year… if there’s anyone who knows anything about me, it’s probably him.”
“I can always just hack into your data and learn everything about you.” You stare at him, mouth opens. His grin grows. “I’m kidding. I mean I probably could but I’m not a hacker.”
“Are you sure? You’re a bit suspicious, Vernon Chwe.”
“Hansol.” You frown in confusion. His tone is gentle, eyes soft when he murmurs, “You can call me Hansol. You know… to make it um. Seems legit.”
“Hansol.” You try out the name, liking the way it fits on your tongue. His eyes are dark and you feel like you could fall into them - you kind of want to. “Hansol. I like it.”
Maybe you don’t need to go to that church to beg for forgiveness after all. What you think you need might be divine intervention to stop the butterflies in your stomach when you say his name, or the nervous shake in your hand when you see him smile.
Not Vernon (from IT) but Hansol.
-
Hansol (from IT) is late when he picks you up. For once, you’re just glad it’s not you. Your heart beats a little faster when you see him pull up in his nondescript, black RAV4. He waves through the window when he sees you, a shy smile on his face as he reaches to turn down the music.
Inside the car smells distinctly like Hansol - driftwood, salt, a little bit of the air freshener that has long since dried but still sways under his rearview mirror. He looks good tonight, dressed in ripped jeans, a black shirt and a black leather jacket. He’s sans glasses, and though he looks good, you miss them a little.
Hansol without the glasses is a little intimidating. Especially this version of him that grins when you settle into the seat next to him, his brows slightly raised as though to ask if you’re good. When you nod, his grin tilts upward again and he puts the car and drive, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift tapping to the beat of the music.
It feels like you’re radiating nervous energy, but you relax as Hansol asks about your day. He’s good at that, eliminating whatever weight is sitting on your shoulders or whatever residual stress you’ve got from work. You don’t feel so… well. On the clock.
The thought makes you squirm in your seat, pulling the edge of your dress down your thighs a little. You picked it out as a last minute choice, unsure whether you’re trying to dress to impress or dress to show you don’t care what Minho thinks of you.
Hansol notices you fidgeting. “You alright?”
“Kind of nervous.”
“Any reason in particular?”
You blow out air, your head smacking against the headrest. “On the clock?”
“Off,” he says with a grin.
“I feel like I’m going to fucking blow it.”
“How so?”
“What if he asks me to kiss you?”
The words are out before you can stop them. It isn’t until you’re met with silence that you realize what you’ve said. You’ve certainly stuck your foot in your mouth on more than one occasion. You do it often, and quite wonderfully, truthfully. It has taken years of practice to stop flubbing presentations and pitches at work, but that doesn’t mean you don’t say insane shit.
Like right now, when you tell Hansol that of all the things you’re nervous about, the very slim, tiny percent of a chance of being asked to kiss him is at the top of the list.
And yet, because it’s Hansol, he grins and says, “Damn, Minho’s a freak like that? He likes to ask people to kiss so he can watch?”
Just like that, the tension eases. You laugh, hand flying your mouth to try and suppress it. His eyes are on the road, but they glitter when you catch a glimpse of his face in the headlines, flashing from dark to liquid gold for a split second.
“Okay,” you admit, laughter dying down. “He’s definitely not going to ask that. It’s just one of those irrational fears, especially with him.”
“Why especially?”
“I feel like he’s always trying to prove that he was right when he broke up with me. Or I guess, in general. He loves being right and sometimes it’s like he’s trying to force a gotcha moment.”
Hansol is silent as he turns into the parking lot. You say nothing, watching as he navigates to find a parking space. The restaurant is busy and there’s a valet, but Hansol is determined to find his own. He does - very close to the entrance - letting out a happy noise as a car backs out.
Car in park, he turns to look at you. “Can I say something? Not on the clock.”
Your heart skips a little. “Sure.”
“Minho is an asshole.” You smile, looking down at your hands folded in your lap. “And you’re going to get through dinner just fine because he’s an asshole, and you’re not.”
“Are you sure?”
His laugh is full. “I’m actually pretty confident in this. And if he does ask us to kiss, you have my full consent to lay one on me. Come on.”
You wish you felt as confident as Hansol seems. He slides out of the car easily, coming around to your side as you get out. He reaches out a hand almost instinctively, waiting for you to grab it. You look at him in surprise to find that he looks equally stunned at his own gesture.
Grinning, you take his hand. It’s warm in yours and he gives you a squeeze as you drop your linked fingers between you, walking toward the establishment like a real couple.
It feels real. You’re not sure what to do with that. The sudden realization of it churns in your stomach as you approach the dark interior of the steakhouse, immediately hit with a romantic ambiance that feels far too big for this tiny thing brewing inside of you.
Twelvefold? How many times have you suffered since that first day you ran into Hansol at the bookstore? You think it might continue through the evening, especially when he glances over at you on the way to the table to check on you, hand tightening for a split second.
As soon as you spot Minho and Mina, you’re glad that Hansol has a steady grip on you. Mina’s glossy hair is nearly blinding under the glow of the soft lighting and her smile is brighter still. You almost want to shield your eyes as they wave you over.
Neither of them seems to know if they should stand and greet you or what the protocol is. Good, you think, happy to see them as off kilter as you feel by this very weird and very unnecessary dinner date.
Why had Hansol agreed to do this again?
“She keep you late?” Minho asks Hansol, immediately reminding you why Hansol had said yes in the first place: he seemed kind of smug. I thought it was annoying. “You’ll get used to it!”
“Actually, it was me,” Hansol answers smoothly. He pulls out your chair for you, startling you again. You try to fein admiration - it’s not hard - and sit, looking up at him with a little bit of awe. Hansol sits, adjusting his seat so that it’s a little closer to yours. “I was working on an infrastructure request and lost track of time.”
That seems to shut Minho up for a moment. Then he laughs his businessman laugh and you wonder if it’s always sounded that way, hollow and fake and… well, annoying. “Damn, so you’re both like that?”
“Yep.” Hansol leans back in his chair, stretching his arm so that it rests over the back of yours. He doesn’t explicitly touch you, but you feel the warmth of him radiating like a furnace, a shiver snaking through you at how close he is. “Works well for us.”
You try not to frown. He’s not going to make it easy for your fake breakup. You’d assumed that you’d tell everyone you just didn’t have time for him, but with the way he’s talking to Minho now, you’re worried it’ll make the impending breakup a little less believable.
“That’s good, then,” Minho says eventually. “Just don’t schedule any vacations or you’ll both miss it.”
“I never did that,” you scowl.
Before he has time for a rebuttal, the server is there welcoming you to the restaurant. You shift in your seat, feeling irritated. Hansol senses it, the tips of his finger brushing against your bicep as if to tell you it’s okay. You relax, but only a little, still frustrated.
Again, you can’t help but feel like your faults are being exacerbated, like Minho is drawing them up to be far grander than they really were. You had missed some dinners and cancelled on some things, but you’d never gone as far as to miss a vacation or a birthday - never the big things. Never the milestones.
If the server can tell the energy at the table has shifted, they don’t let on. They pour glasses of wine that you let Hansol order while you’re spiraling in your head, and leave with the promise of coming back to take orders when the table is ready.
It’s Mina who restarts the conversation, glancing at Minho who sucks down the entire glass of wine in a single go. “So,” she says. “What is it exactly that you do?”
“Careful with that question,” Minho jokes. “She’ll talk to you about work for hours.”
“Which is what makes her good at her job.” Hansol’s voice is even. Smooth. Almost severe, a tone you’ve never heard from him before. Tension ripples from him for just a moment before he looks at you and smiles. “Her job is very cool.”
Unlike her blockhead of a boyfriend, Mina seizes the chance for normalcy and asks, “Marketing, right?”
Mina (with the glossy hair) is really nice. You like her almost immediately and strangely enough, you’re glad she’s there. Minho is like a stormcloud at the edge of the table, a little pocket of pressure that everyone can feel but tries to ignore.
Hansol makes your fake relationship look effortless. You have to mask your surprise when he recounts a detail about you that you didn’t expect him to know, or makes an observation that has you warming, ducking your face to hide the smile tugging your lips.
You know little things about him too. It’s almost like you weren’t aware until you’re saying them, all the small things about him bubbling to your lips like an instinct.
“He’s such an Aquarius!” You laugh, finish the rest of your steak. “The IT department is full of them, even and they’re all so effortlessly cool and have different interests. Hansol has the coolest case full of Star Wars collectibles and-”
“Hansol?”
Minho’s question catches you off guard. You blink at him a few times, confused until Hansol interjects, “That’s my legal name.”
“Damn. Should we be calling you Hansol?”
“Nope. Reserved for my mom and my girlfriend.”
“Wow.”
Minho sits back and observes the two of you. The plates have been cleared away for the evening and the glasses of wine have dwindled. You’re a little sleepy, ready to go home, but the appraising look in Minho’s eyes as they flicker back and forth between you and Hansol has you on edge.
Hansol seems unbothered, finishing his water. His arm rests against your back properly now and you almost melt when his fingers start to trace a pattern on your arm, almost absently. You’re so acutely aware of him that you’re nearly vibrating, telling yourself over and over again that this is just him committing to the bit. This isn’t something to overthink. His touch is for show.
You don’t want it to be for show. God, you don’t want it to be, but you try not to let it unravel right now, instead finishing your water under the heavy and calculating gaze of your ex-boyfriend, who, over the course of dinner, has made you realize you are so grateful is your ex.
“Huh.”
“What?” you ask, voice coming out a little more challenging than you intend. He has that look on his face like he’s trying to figure something out, like he’s trying to position himself in a way where he’s not wrong.
“You guys are really together.”
That makes you stiffen. Hansol’s fingers go still on your arm. “What do you mean?”
“You just didn’t really seem like you were dating at the bookstore. It didn’t even seem like you knew who Vernon was.”
“It was still new,” You lie. “I also wasn’t expecting to run into you both. That’s all.”
“I guess. Just… find it surprising, I guess. Figured you’d never have time for someone.”
It’s Hansol who says, “She has plenty of time for me. Speaking of time, it’s time we head home. I have to finish up some stuff for work tomorrow and she just finished an insane project and deserves some sleep.”
Again, Minho seems thrown for a loop. You could get used to seeing him like a fish out of water, trying not to let an evil smirk take over your face when Hansol beats everyone to the check.
There is an edge to Hansol’s movements. You observe him quietly, noting the way his mouth is pinched at the corners and the way his eyes darken when he looks at Minho. But when he looks at you, it’s like the world stops. Hansol’s eyes soften and his lips turn up at the corner, a gentle smile for you.
Only you.
You’re fucked. You’re fucked fucked fucked and it’s nearly all you can think about as dinner wraps up and Minho and Mina thank Hansol for paying. You want to smack him for offering to pay for the insanely expensive bill, but he takes everything in stride.
Outside, it’s a little cold. Hansol shucks his jacket off immediately, wrapping it around your shoulders while giving Mina some sort of computer advice that goes over your head because all you can focus on is the way Hansol smoothes the jacket over your shoulder, his hand dropping to your waist to keep you close.
You’re dizzy with it. Dizzy with him. You can’t recall a single time you ever felt this affected by Minho, much less anyone else. Despite having two glasses of wine, you know it’s Hansol and not the wine that has you buzzing. Hansol who has you warm, Hansol who makes it feel like there’s static in your brain when he glances at you to make sure you’re still okay after you’ve gone silent.
Hansol gives you a quick smile and turns to say farewell to the other couple. You’re happy to say goodbye - though perhaps you should have asked Mina her haircare routine - and you wave as Hansol leads you into the parking lot, fingers intertwined.
He turns to you, making you look up at him. “I’m going to kiss you,” he murmurs, barely giving you a warning. “Unless you say no.”
“I - okay.”
There is the barest of smiles on Hansol’s face before he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. It’s brief and gentle, so quick that you barely register he’s kissed you at all. He’s already pulling away when you blink, nearing his car as he does.
“He was a dick,” Hansol explains. “And he was staring at us when we left. So. Let him question what’s real now.”
Minho isn’t the only one questioning what’s real. You’re hung up on the kiss, despite it being nothing more than a peck. Your mouth is warm, thoughts spinning as Hansol helps you into the car. You say nothing, completely consumed by the feel of his mouth, the smell of driftwood and salt, the barest taste of wine.
The drive home is quiet but not uncomfortable. Hansol’s hand grabs yours instinctually over the center console, fingers tied together loosely as he drives. But there’s no one to perform for her, no one to show off too. No one who needs convincing.
It’s just you and the burning desire for him bubbling up inside of you.
You’ve lost count of how many folds you have suffered, but somehow, this one is a little less worse than the others.
-
Hansol cannot stop thinking about you. He’s pretty sure the last time he had brain rot this bad about another person, it was Larcy Dodsen in his senior year of college who had blown him to heaven and back. He’s had better (and worse) blowjobs since then, and doesn’t really think of Larcy Dodsen ever anymore.
But you. You.
You occupy every corner of his mind. He wavers back and forth between thinking about the way you smell or the way you laugh (a little reedy, but cute) and thinking about how bad he fucked up by kissing you that night.
Things aren’t exactly weird. The very basis of your relationship - or lack thereof - is weird. He’d agreed to be your fake boyfriend for a month, but with zero terms. No contract outline. No do’s and don’ts. No guidelines. No rules. No regulations. Just an agreement and a fucking dream.
Now, he’s wishing he had something to go off of, because what started out as an agreement to help someone out has turned into something else entirely.
Chan was right. Hansol is desperately trying to hide that fact from his best friend, but the way Chan side-eyes Hansol at lunch when he stares off into the distance, he thinks that the younger man might be onto him.
It doesn’t help that Hansol is buried in Help Desk tickets the weekend following kissing you, and you’re six feet under in a pile of projects. It isn’t until he goes a few days without talking to you multiple times that it’s occurred to him how much he texts you during the day.
Hansol finds himself checking his phone again at lunch, swearing that he felt it vibrate. This time, Chan catches him, putting down the fork and clearing his throat to gesture at the phone. “So it happened, right?”
“What?” Even Hansol winces at his own defensiveness. “I can’t check the time?”
“Do you check the time three times every five minutes? I know you can do math.”
“Just checking to see how her presentation went.”
Chan laughs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Right. So it did happen.”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
He doesn’t. Chan knows it. Hansol knows it. Chan gets more specific anyway. “You like her. As in, you have feelings for her after… well. This weekend will make it a month. So wouldn’t that be your deal coming to an end?”
Hansol wants to think about anything other than that. “Everything is fine.”
Chan holds up his hand, a white flag. “You’re an adult. You can do what you want. Just make sure you know what she wants too, is all I’m saying.”
And that’s the crux of it. Hansol isn’t sure what you want. He assumed that you just wanted to get through this month and your fake breakup, but now he’s not so sure. He thinks of the way you’d look at him during dinner last weekend, the way your expression gets dreamy with a soft smile, eyes glowing.
Hansol doesn’t think he made it up - his creativity is good but not that good. He had been so sure that you felt something too, swears that you melted into him every time he touched you, every time he turned to check in on you.
And the kiss… it had been brief and born from wanting to rub it in Minho’s face, but Hansol had wanted to do it, too. Wanted it for himself. Wanted to allow himself a single, greedy thing. You’d been surprised but leaned into him, almost instinctual. It had been so short but it haunts his dreams, the phantom press of your mouth keeping him up late at night.
Even now, Hansol’s fingers trace his mouth, as though he can remember the feeling of your mouth against his. So maybe Chan is right. Hansol likes you - has feelings for you. There is a lingering sense that you might too, but he’s not sure.
He needs to be sure.
Finding a window to make sure, is tough, though. He only hears from you once throughout the rest of the day, and it's to shoot him a quick text that the presentation was moved to Monday and that you have to work all weekend on it.
He feels more disappointed than he lets on. He wonders if you remember his birthday is on Saturday. Not that you owe him that since you’re not actually dating, but in a perfect world Hansol thinks it might have been a good day to tell you how he feels. That he kind of wants to make this thing real.
On the bright side, you do remember his birthday. On the shitty side, he can’t spend it with you. You’re working on your presentation for the foreseeable future, and Hansol had hesitated to make plans with his friends knowing some of them were celebrating Valentine’s Day late with their partners and because he’d hoped to maybe spend it with you.
It feels stupid, thinking about it now. Of course you weren’t going to spend it with him. He knew what this was when he offered to do it. You were a bright burning star at the top of the company, and Hansol had been someone you barely registered.
By the afternoon, he’s still sullen. He’s thinking about just spending the evening eating pizza and playing video games online where he’ll get bullied by a bunch of high schoolers when he hears his phone ring and your name flashes across the screen.
Hansol’s heart soars. He all but throws the control across the room, diving to pick up the phone and answer, “Hi!”
“Please don’t hate me,” you rush out, completely out of breath. “I am panicking right now. My work laptop randomly got the blue screen of death and I’m in the middle of my project and-”
“I’ll come look at it.” He cringes, realizing how down bad he is. It’s his birthday and he shouldn’t have to work, but he’d rather come solve a problem for you than have a bunch of thirteen year old’s tell him that they’re fucking his mom. “I can come over in fifteen.”
“Oh! Uh… can you make that twenty?”
Weird. “Sure?”
“Great! Text me when you’re here and I’ll give you the unit number.”
Twenty minutes ends up being perfect, because Hansol goes through the mental anguish of what to wear, which is new for him. He showers as quickly and efficiently as he can, hopping with one leg in his jeans and the other missing the hole multiple times. He nearly runs into the wall as he’s pulling on a band tee over his head while also looking for his flannel.
Hair still damp, he pulls on a hat and twists it around backward, grabbing his glasses because he doesn’t feel like wearing contacts (and because you said you liked them) as he barrels out the house, radiating with nervous energy.
Hansol wonders if it’s appropriate to tell you how he feels today. It will be face to face but… no. You’d sounded stressed on the phone and he knows how important this presentation is for you, despite not knowing what it’s about.
He barely remembers the drive to your apartment, blinking and realizing he’s parked and texting you that he’s there. You give him directions to your unit and with shaky hands, Hansol turns off the car. He takes a few steadying breaths before getting out and heading to the stairs, his heart hammering with each step.
When he finally gets to your door, he double checks that it's the right one. His hands shake when he knocks, and he has to remind himself several times that he’s just here to fix your computer. Sure, he’s thrilled that he gets to see you, but this is on the clock. Not off.
You’re breathless when you open the door. “Hi!” You say a little too loudly. He raises his brows but you open the door and step aside, ushering him in. “Come on in.”
Hansol gives you an amused grin as he walks into your apartment. He’s confused as to why it’s completely dark, a question that he’s about to ask you as you shut the door, but you flick on the lights and he’s met with the world’s loudest shout of surprise he’s ever heard.
He flinches, hand flying to his chest in terror as the lights flood on and Hansol realizes that the reason they were off is to hide the obscene amount of Star Wars decorations covering every part of your apartment. He can’t even picture what your home is supposed to look like, just that it’s covered in streamers and paper Luke Skywalkers and RD-D2s, and filled with familiar faces.
Hansol’s mouth pops open as the crowd screams at him. Chan and Seokmin are at the forefront, phones in hand capturing Hansol as he stands there, dumbfounded. Soongyoung and Mingyu are blowing through noise makers with so much force that the paper on them breaks, and Seungkwan is leading an off-key rendition of happy birthday with Hansol’s friends you’ve never even met.
Slowly, Hansol turns to look at you. You’re standing behind him, hands clasped nervously and tucked under your chin as you watch him, terrified. You’re chewing on your lips, entire frame vibrating with energy.
He wants nothing more than to walk over to you and kiss you stupid. The flame of desire that licks through him is borderline impossible to tamp down, staring at you like the eighth world wonder as you slip over to him, scanning his face.
“Surprise?” You squeak.
“You did this for me?”
“Well, yeah.”
You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He wants to pin you against the island counter behind you, but it’s fill with food and beverages and blue fucking milk. “Is that okay?” you ask, suddenly nervous.
Hansol softens and starts to laugh. “Yeah,” he shakes his head. “It is more than okay.”
Before he can say anything else, the crowd of people crashes into him. Seokmin and Chan are screaming in his ear, grabbing him and yelling for shots. Mingyu and Soonyoung are chanting his name and his best friend from college manages to squeeze in and give him a hug and a birthday greeting.
How did you even know Minghao existed? Or how to contact him? Hansol has no idea, but before he can ask you any questions about the how or the why, he’s swept into your kitchen for birthday celebrations he thought would never happen, orchestrated by the single person he wanted to see most.
Fuck was Chan right more than ever.
-
The thing about being a bad liar is that you found it nearly impossible to hide what you were doing from Hansol. The thing about everyone thinking you’re always busy, is that it was an easy facade to shield the sheer stress of trying to plan a surprise party for him.
Your apartment is filled with more people than you’ve ever dared to let inside. It makes you a little nervous for all of these people to see this new part of you, but with a little bit of rum and the released pressure of Hansol looking like he’s enjoying himself, you decide it’s worth it.
Squished in the corner of your couch, you watch as Chan leads a game of cards that he is losing very badly at. Most of these people in your apartment are casual friends, with the exception of Seungkwan who is playing DJ in the kitchen, but they’re all friends that Hansol would want at a celebration for him.
At least, that’s what Chan and Seokmin said. Recruiting them had been pretty easy, but during the process of them helping you plan this, you’re pretty sure they’ve caught on to the AT-AT Walker-sized elephant in the room: you are very much into their friend. In a very Not-On-The-Clock appropriate way.
Now, you watch as Hansol makes his way over to you, dodging people who stop to talk to him. He seems pretty determined to reach you, clapping someone on the shoulder and moving them aside to continue his journey to you.
Your stomach flips when he sits on the arm of your couch, perched perfectly next to you. He looks good today, dressed in jeans, a soft looking tee and a flannel. The backwards hat does wonders for you - which you will not be psychoanalyzing now - and his black frame glasses.
“How did you do all this?” He asks, shaking his head in wonder. “I just… what?”
“It wasn’t easy, but it worked, right?”
“Is this the presentation you’ve been working on all week?”
“Yes. Please don’t be mad at me for lying.”
He laughs. “I couldn’t be mad at you if I tried.”
An argument breaks out over cards, Chan and Mingyu yelling at each other about someone cheating. Hansol winces at the noise and you scoot a little closer to avoid the deck of cards Mingyu throws in Chan’s direction.
“Is there anywhere quiet we can talk?” Hansol asks, though he’s laughing at them. “They’re giving me a bit of a headache.”
You grin. “For sure.”
Getting up, you lead Hansol down the hall to your bedroom, which is off limits to the rest of the party. The good thing about adult festivities is that no one is a weirdo about going into rooms they shouldn’t, staying exactly where it’s appropriate to be.
Shutting the door behind you, the noise of the party dies down immediately. It’s dark in your room, save for the single lamp burning in the corner at a low setting. You realize it’s a bit messy, apologizing to Hansol as you kick clothes out of the way. You hadn’t intended on bringing him in here, and suddenly the implication of Hansol standing in your room tingles down your spine.
“I, uh-” You stammer, looking at him. “Sorry it’s a mess. I didn’t intend on anyone seeing this.”
Halloween yowls, getting up off your bed. Hansol makes a surprised sound and you apoogize again, “It’s just Halloween. He likes to sleep in here. Out, kitty!”
You open the door and Halloween bolts out, going to find Seungkwan who will give him snacks.
Hansol grins and wanders over to the bookshelf, looking over the titles. You take a few steps to follow him but keep your distance, suddenly very nervous. He points his finger at a title and looks at you, inviting you to step closer to read it in the dim light.
You recognize the title - you’d bought it the day you’d crashed into him and got some of your books mixed up.
“This one one of the books you accidentally swapped with me,” Hansol notes, running his finger along the spine. You zero in on his finger - his hands, in general. They’re pretty. You swallow hard, looking up at the ceiling instead. “Have you read it yet?”
“Not yet. I started one of the others but I’ve been having trouble breeding - reading lately.”
Hansol presses his lips together in a flat line and you can tell he’s trying not to laugh at you. Warmth floods your face and you want to die on the spot, especially when he turns to face you head on, leaning against your bookcase.
His eyes are dark, drinking you in. Your pulse skyrockets, thinking about that quick kiss he had given you the other night. It’s all you’ve been able to think about, too afraid to ask him if it was just for show and too busy trying to plan this party to work out what to say about it.
Now, alone in your room, the questions fizzle on your tongue at the nearness of him.
“Thank you,” Hansol says eventually. “For planning this. I… would never have expected you to do that.”
“I wanted to celebrate you.”
He blushes, ducking his head. “It’s sweet. It did make me nervous, though.”
“Why?”
“I thought you were avoiding me, kind of.”
You blink. “Why on earth would I be doing that?”
“Thought that maybe I took it too far with the kiss.”
“No. You didn’t.”
Hansol’s gaze falls on you. It’s razor sharp and there’s something there, burning just under the surface. You swear it’s something like desire, but you’re too afraid to name it. Too worried that it’s just what you want reflected in his glassy gaze, and not his.
Then, “Did I not take it far enough?”
The question hangs in the air. You cannot hear anything but the pounding of your own heart. It’s just Hansol in this dark room with you, looking at you with exactly the same hunger that’s been churning in your gut.
You don’t know when this hunger started. All you know is that the last few weeks, it’s been there. Every time you look at him you feel it ignite, the desire so raw that you don’t know what to do with it.
Now, you know he feels it too - see it, in the way he waits for your answer. Patient. Calm. Steady.
“On the clock?” You ask, voice shaky. He shakes his head no. “You could go further.”
That’s all Hansol needs. He’s gentle when he reaches for you, cradling your face in his hands. You barely get to suck in a trembling breath before he’s kissing you.
This kiss is entirely different from the peck he gave you in the parking lot last weekend. This kiss steals the breath from your lung, his mouth confident and sure as he slots his mouth against yours. He smells like the sea, all driftwood and salt and his lips taste like the tangy drink he’d been sipping on earlier.
Everything else fades to the background. Your hands twist in his flannel. It’s soft, but nothing compared to the softness of Hansol’s tongue as he licks at the seam of your lips. You let him in and he groans, pulling you in impossibly closer as the kiss turns more desperate.
You melt. He kisses you hungrily now, sucking your tongue into his mouth. It makes your head spin, the party long forgotten as you press further into him. The bookshelf wobbles under the weight of both of you leaning against it, making you break, both of you panting.
Hansol’s mouth shines with your spit in the low lamp light and you have the urge to lean forward and lick it. You resist, only for him to give into his urge. He leans forward, tongue pressing to the corner of your mouth gently.
“What about now?” he mumbles, voice muffled against your mouth. “Too far?”
“No.”
He makes a sound in the back of his throat, hands dropping to your waist. You let him grip you, backing you up toward your bed. It’s a bit clumsy but you don’t care, hands looping around his neck to keep him close.
“Tell me what you want,” Hansol mumbles. Your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall backward. He follows you, caging you in with both of his planted on either side of your head. “Tell me how far you want me to go.”
“On the clock?”
“Fuck no. Nothing I want to do right now is on the clock.”
“Good. I want you to go as far as you want.”
He drops his mouth to your neck. A moan slips between your lips when you feel his tongue scrape across the soft skin of your throat. He sounds strained when he says, “You gotta tell me, baby. I need to know what you want.”
“You.” It’s the most honest thing you’ve said all month. “All of it. Everything. But for real.”
Hansol nods. He presses messy, wet kisses up your neck, along your jaw, stopping at your mouth. His nose nudges yours and he smiles against your lips, giving you a chaste peck. “You’ve got me. For real.”
Grinning, you slide your hands underneath his shirt. He moans, throaty and delicious. He twitches under your exploration but he lets you brush your palms up the warmth of his stomach, reaching around until your hands are gripping his lower back.
His mouth attaches to yours again. The kiss is messy and addictive, Hansol filling your senses as he lowers himself so that his weight is rested on top of you. It’s comforting and wanted, your knees squeezing his hips to hold him in place.
One of his hands leaves the mattress to drop to your hip, squeezing before he scratches his nails against your thigh. You shiver, feeling the stimulation through your jeans. His hand slips under you, gripping the curve of your ass to lift you a little, pressing you closer to him.
A moan slips through your mouth to his when he rolls your hips against him. The stimulation isn’t remotely enough but you like this version of Hansol. His touch is confident, his lips intentful as they leave a trail from your mouth to your collarbone.
With one last squeeze to your ass, Hansol traces his fingers over the tops of your thigh to drop between your legs. He presses his fingers to the apex of your thighs, working you through your clothes. You let out a desperate sound and you feel the way he smiles against your skin.
His touch sparks a flame. You tear at his flannel, peeling it from his shoulders. He helps you get it off of him but he’s just as eager to peel you out of your jeans and shirt. A deep curse leaves his mouth when he sees you in just a bra and underwear, your chest heaving as you pant, staring up at him, mouth swollen and tender.
Reaching for him, you grab the hat and throw it. “Hat is very hot,” you admit. “But I wanted to do this.”
You slide your fingers in his hair, curling them through the strands to tug him back to you. He smiles into the kiss, tangling his tongue with yours. His hand skims up your thigh, fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes until he slides his hand back between your legs.
A gasp leaves you as he presses his fingers back to your cunt, pressing the fabric into your aching clit. He whispers a string of curses when he feels how damp you are, resting his forehead against your shoulder for a moment as he teases you over your panties.
“Please,” you whisper, hips rising off the bed. “Want more.”
“Mhmm.” He lifts his head and gives you a quick kiss to the cheek. “I’ve got you.”
Hansol doesn’t make you beg. You like that about him. Your breath catches when he drops to his knees, reaching his arm up to pull the back of his shirt over his head, tossing it. The sight of him between your knees in just jeans, his hair mussed and mouth swollen is enough to make you dizzy.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching with hooded eyes as Hansol grabs you by the calves, spreading you a little more. His hands are gentle and warm, rubbing up and down while he takes his time pressing a myriad of kisses up the right side of your inner thigh.
It feels so good. Your lashes flutter a little, breath coming in quicker. Everywhere his mouth touches tingles, a little path of buzzing electricity as he makes his way closer and closer to your heat until he switches sides.
You make a sound of protest and Hansol looks up at you through his lashes, grinning. He looks smug, leaning forward to bite your thigh playfully. It stings but it feels good, making your fingers twist in the sheets.
“Feel good?” he whispers, pressing his tongue to soothe the sting. You nod, mouth parted, unable to speak. He smiles again, dragging his tongue down your thigh. You think you might die right there.
Hansol makes his way back up. He drags his burning gaze up to meet yours, deliberately making eye contact as he presses the flat of his tongue against your underwear. If it wasn’t soaked before, it is thoroughly drenched now. You suck in a sharp breath, knees closing on instinct to squeeze against his shoulders.
He chuckles, dragging his tongue upward where it presses against your clit momentarily. He brings one of his hands up, pressing his middle finger right against your hole. You feel yourself clench around nothing and you know he knows, his grin wicked.
“Don’t worry,” Hansol promises with another languid lick to the soaked fabric. “I will make up for all the times you didn’t get to come.”
“Fuck.”
Vernon (from IT) has been replaced with Hansol (the Menace). He hooks a finger in the crotch of your underwear, pulling them to the side. He drags a knuckle against your pussy on purpose, both of you groaning in unison.
Eagerly Hansol leans forward, giving you a teasing lick. Your fingers dig into the mattress anyway. You can do nothing but stare at him, watching the way Hansol drags his dark eyes up to watch you as he drags his tongue through your folds again.
“Shit,” you hiss at him, a shiver wracking your body.
He seems pleased, shooting you a quick smile before he brings his mouth to you again, sucking gently. He avoids your clit at first, working you up slowly. Hansol eats you out like he has all the time in the world, like there’s no where he would rather be than tonguing your pussy.
It drives you mad, his name slipping from your lips in little gasps. His tongue circles your clit, applying pressure indirectly, working you up and up until finally, he closes his mouth around the throbbing bundle of nerves, suckling.
“Ohhhh,” you laugh, half delirious. “That. Whatever that is.”
He hums, parting only to say, “You got it.”
You see God when he fastens his mouth to you, sucking your clit gently. Dropping back against the bed, you twitch and gasp under Hansol’s ministrations. He sets a rhythm, adding his fingers to the mix as they press against your entrance. He doesn’t push in, but rather traces a pattern, making you squeeze.
Panting, you drop a hand to his hair. He hums in delight as you tangle your fingers in the strands, bringing him closer to your cunt. You feel like you’re burning up, your sheets sticking to your skin, the room spinning as Hansol eats you out in earnest now.
No one has ever seemed this dedicated to your pleasure. He doesn’t let up for a second, fingers and mouth working in tandem to bring you to a cliff of insanity. All you have to do is jump and dive head first into an orgasm.
You do. Hansol works you right to the very edge and you topple over, falling into it hard. You go taught but he holds you down, fighting your spasm as you come hard. He doesn’t miss a beat, the obscene sounds of him slurping at you drowning out the pitiful, high pitched whine that leaves you.
In a wave of exhaustion, your orgasm subsides. You flop on the bed, still shaking as he removes his mouth in favor of pressing slick, cum-stained kisses to your thighs. You lift your head and his eyes meet yours, flashing wickedly.
He pauses, looking at your wet, messy cunt back to your face. “Want a taste?”
Hansol (the Menace) is going to kill you.
You nod and he smirks. He runs his tongue generously up your pussy, making sure to dip into your entrance just a little before he stands up and leans over you to press a filthy kiss to your mouth. You suck at his tongue greedily, tasting yourself and him, a combination you’ll never get tired of.
One of his hands snakes up to your chest, tweaking a nipple gently, testing the waters. You nod, breaking the kiss with a gasp, “Yeah.”
“Gonna work you open with my fingers,” he slurs. He kisses down your neck again, working his way to your chest. “That okay?”
“More than okay.”
“God,” he whispers. “You sound so fucking good when you come. Want to hear it again.”
There is no doubt he will. Hansol rids you of your bra before returning to suck greedily at your chest. Your nails bite into his shoulders, dragging down his sides as he presses a finger into your warmth.
“God damn,” he laughs. He plucks at a nipple with his teeth and you curse. “You’re so fucking wet.”
“On the clock?”
“Fuck no. My finger is in your pussy.”
“I am really turned on.”
He gives your other breast a playful bite. “Good. Now I want you to come apart on my fingers.”
That won’t be an issue. Hansol gets you there embarrassingly fast. He finds the sensitive spot inside of you with ease and doesn’t hold back, pressing another finger in. He works you toward another orgasm like it's easy - and maybe for the both of you, it is. Maybe Hansol was meant to have you like this, gushing around his fingers and babbling nonsense as you come again, his mouth pressed against your hammering heart.
Maybe he was meant to have you fucked out and light-headed by the time you’re helping him out of his jeans, sliding his briefs down his muscular thighs to free his cock. The tip is dark and sticky, weeping with precum when he pins you to the bed, catching you in a bruising kiss.
Gone is the patient Hansol who had started with gentle kisses to your thighs, replaced by his need to have you. To consume you. You let him, willing to let him do whatever he wants. You want his pleasure just as much as he wants yours, slipping your hand between your bodies to palm his cock, heavy and warm in your hand.
He whispers your name and it sounds like a prayer. His forehead presses against yours, letting you pump him slowly. His hips twitch as though he’s fighting to control himself, letting you have your fun before he growls and grabs your hand, lacing your fingers to pin above your head.
Hansol scoots you up the bed, putting you where he wants you. Gone is the sweet guy from IT, replaced with whatever this is. You like this side of him equally, listening to him when he asks you to lift your hips so he can slide a pillow under your ass.
With a kiss to your brow that feels sweeter than the moment allows for, Hansol lifts your leg, prying you open for him. His cock is heavy against your cunt and he ruts a little, making you both whine in tandem.
“You still want this, right?” He asks, voice shaking. “For real?”
“Yes.” You squeeze the hand he has laced with yours, pinned to the mattress near your head. “On the clock. Off the clock. Literally all of the hours.”
“What if I refuse to change your computer password?”
That makes you laugh. He gives you a glowing smile, kissing the tops of your cheekbones. “Even then,” you promise.
“Good. Try breathing for me when you come this time.” You give him a look and he smiles. “Did you think you were done? I told you I was making up for lost time.”
He doesn’t give you a second to retort, his cock pressing in at that exact moment. “Ohhh you fucker,” you moan and he laughs, which makes things worse. You squeeze around him hard, barely breathing as Hansol slides in to the hilt, the pressure and stretch divine. “You did that on purpose.”
“I did,” he admits before trapping you into an uncoordinated kiss.
With one hand holding yours to the bed and the other sliding under your ass to help lift you with the pillow, Hansol sets a slow pace. You continue to kiss him, just as slow as he fucks you. He is deep, cock brushing against your g-spot on every upstroke.
Your free hand slides to his lower back, urging him to keep going. His tempo is measured, perfect, the angle of his hips just right. You start to feel insane, mumbling his name, whining between kisses, making a pathetic noise when he increases his pace.
Hansol fucks like he knows exactly how you like it. Of course he does. Even from the moment in that bookstore, he had you figured out. No one else has been able to adjust to you like he has, no one else has been able to understand - to see you.
“Fuck,” he hisses when you start squeezing on him for harder and longer. He’s pushing you toward that edge again, so close you’re already seeing stars. “Pussy feels so good.”
He shuffles up the bed more, folding you a little. You make a wild sound, gasping as the angle pushes his cock in deep. “Holy shit, Hansol.”
“That the spot?” he asks, and you nod. He starts fucking you in earnest, pace picking up. “God damn I could do this all day.”
“Keep doing that and I’ll let you.”
He laughs and kisses you again, all tongue and teeth. You start to spasm, feeling the way your muscles clench as you near your third orgasm. This one is tight in your stomach, a pressure that is so compact you feel like you’re going to combust.
“Breathe through it,” he reminds you, out of breath as he chases your high. “You can do that, yeah?”
You nod, saving your breath for when he tells you to use it.
A few more hard strokes and you’re doing exactly as instructed, taking in a deep breath as your orgasm hits. You see white, shaking underneath Hansol as the warmth of your high blooms in your lower stomach and expands. It’s better than the first two, stretching longer, the feeling reaching to your toes.
You manage to breathe all the way through it, barely hanging on as he fucks you through the entire length of your high. He presses his mouth to your temple, slowing his pace to let you recover. You feel melted, like your bones and muscles have all gone on vacation, leaving Hansol to do the work for you.
“Good?” he asks, breath fanning your face.
You nod and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close. “You,” you mumble. It’s not a complete sentence, but he gets what you mean, kissing you quickly before chasing his own high, gritting his teeth.
As spent as you are, you do your part to help him get there, squeezing with what strength you have left, whispering his name, pulling him in close with a leg around his hip. It works, sending Hansol over the edge and spilling into you within a few seconds.
He curses into your shoulder, pace turning sloppy until he finally stops, hips pressed to yours, cock sheathed to the hilt. Both of you stay like that, trying to catch your breath in a sweaty pile of limbs.
Hansol recovers first, shifting so that he can lay next to you. He pulls out, a mess of cum and fluid going with him. You don’t care, rolling to your side to kiss him slowly. Softly. He rests an arm over your hip, keeping you connected.
“This is a great birthday,” he jokes, voice hoarse. “I uhhh, forgot there was a party. No one will think we’re fake dating now.”
You grin. “Whatever. We’re not on the clock.”
He kisses you again. “Thank god. Cause I really want to do this again in fifteen minutes.”
You smile, really glad that Hansol (the Boyfriend) is on the same page as you.
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