a/n : i loveeee this fic! might be my fav one yet..
synopsis : your group is known for being sweet and nothing less, while your new peer’s known for being the opposite. what will happens when the opposites date?
**
the first time you meet martin from cortis, you’re convinced the universe is playing some kind of joke on you.
because you’re standing backstage at one of the biggest year-end award shows, wearing a soft pink lace dress with bows trailing down the sleeves — literally the most illit-coded outfit of all time — and then he walks by like a walking contradiction to your entire aesthetic.
chains. black cargo pants. a mesh shirt layered under a graphic tee that looks stolen from an early 2000s rocker. silver piercings catching the blue stage lights. hair streaked with white blonde, styled in a messy, grungy way that somehow looks intentional.
he glances at you for half a second — just a blink — and you feel like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.
you look away instantly.
your manager nudges you. “don’t be shy. you’ll be rehearsing with him.”
right. the collaboration stage. the one every fan has been screaming about since it got announced. illit x cortis — “glitter riot.” a mix of cute and edgy, sugary and sharp. a performance concept that looked insane on paper but somehow worked when the choreographer showed you.
still, no one warned you that martin was… well… martin.
you’re adjusting your mic when someone clears their throat beside you.
“uh. you’re from illit, right?”
you nearly jump. “oh— yes! i’m— uh— i’m y/n.”
you curse yourself internally. why are you stuttering? you don’t stutter. you’ve survived debut stages, encore lives, and fansign chaos. but suddenly one boy with smudged eyeliner has your whole nervous system glitching.
martin nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. “cool. i’m martin.”
you almost laugh. as if you didn’t already know.
silence drops between you like fog. he seems just as unsure as you — eyes flicking to your dress, then to the floor, then back to you.
“i like your style,” he says suddenly.
you blink. “what?”
“i mean— it fits you. it’s… cute.” he scratches the back of his neck. “not cute in, like, a weird way. cute in a— a cool way. not that cute is cool— well it is, but—”
he stops himself.
you smile — actually smile — because watching him unravel might be the funniest thing you’ve seen in weeks.
“thanks,” you say, trying not to giggle. “i like your style too. i could never pull that off.”
he glances down at his outfit. “this? i just threw it on.”
lies. dead, obvious lies. no one who “just throws on” clothes looks that coordinated in grayscale.
“still,” you shrug, “you look cool.”
he goes quiet for a second.
then he turns his head away — but not before you catch it.
the tiniest smile.
**
rehearsals start awkward but end… very much not
at first it’s stiff. your worlds are too different. your group giggles when he walks on set; his members tease him quietly in korean, nudging his shoulders because he keeps glancing at you.
you pretend not to notice.
during choreography blocking, you two are paired for a partner section — a quick spin, a hand-hold, a point toward the audience — but martin keeps messing up the timing.
“sorry,” he mutters after the fourth time. “i swear i’m better than this.”
“it’s okay,” you reassure. “we can go slower.”
“no— i can do it. i’m just— distracted.”
“distracted?”
his eyes flick to your hand in his.
and you get it.
you really do.
it makes your cheeks warm, but your voice stays steady.
“want to try again?”
he nods, jaw tightening in determination.
the next run-through is perfect.
and the choreographer says, “see? you two look good together.”
the entire room goes quiet.
martin goes pink.
you pretend to adjust your hair.
**
the performance is electric
no one expects your energy to match his, but on stage, it happens naturally.
your softness sharpens under the lights; his dark aura brightens just enough next to you. fans scream at every moment you two share — the way he steadies your waist during the spin, the way you grin at him during the camera close-up, the way he mouths “nice job” to you as the stage goes black.
afterward, he pats your head gently. too gently. too naturally.
“you did great,” he says.
“you too.”
and somehow, the sentence that slips out next feels inevitable
“we should hang out sometime. like… after all the award show craziness.”
he freezes.
“yeah,” he says softly. “i’d like that.”
**
you become rookie mcs together
you find out the same day he does — during a media announcement.
you’re practicing in your dorm when your phone explodes with notifications. your members scream.
“y/n! you’re going to be an mc! with martin!”
your jaw drops.
“me? with him?!”
the article headline reads:
“illit’s y/n and cortis’s martin selected as new music program rookie mcs — fans excited for unexpected pairing.”
unexpected is putting it lightly.
but when martin texts you — “did you see?? guess they liked our stage lol” — you can practically hear the smile in his words.
your first day as mcs is chaotic. neither of you knows where to stand. scripts keep being rewritten mid-show. martin forgets a line, panics, and you whisper it to him under your breath while cameras are on the other idols.
after the broadcast, he bows to staff, then turns to you.
“thanks. seriously. i would’ve died without you.”
“you’re doing great,” you say. “really.”
he looks at you for a long moment.
“you make this easier.”
the sentence sits warm in your chest for the rest of the night.
**
feelings grow in small ways
usually it’s subtle.
he gives you his hoodie when your outfit is too thin in the studio.
you fix his hair when his bangs fall into his eyes.
he buys you strawberry milk before every saturday broadcast.
you bring him black hair ties because he always loses his.
he sends you memes at 3 a.m.
you tell him about your favorite hello kitty plushies.
he pretends not to be obsessed with hearing you talk.
your aesthetics still clash brutally — his lockscreen is all neon edits and dystopian filters; yours is pastel sparkles — but somehow you match more than anyone could’ve predicted.
your members tease you relentlessly.
“you LOOK at your phone differently when it’s his name,” minju says.
“you SMILE at your phone differently,” moka adds.
you deny everything.
which is ridiculous, because meanwhile, martin’s members are giving him the exact same grief.
“bro just ask her out,” james groans.
“i can’t just— ask her out,” martin mutters. “she’s cute. and busy. and cute.”
“you said cute twice.”
“because she IS!”
they laugh at him the entire practice.
**
the night everything changes
it’s late.
broadcast filming finished hours ago, but both your groups are doing a joint backstage vlog challenge for fun — behind-the-scenes chaos for fans.
staff is busy. cameras are rolling, but unfocused. members are talking loudly in the foreground, blocking most of the shot.
and you and martin are standing behind them — just barely out of frame.
he’s leaning against a wall, head tilted. you’re standing close, too close to be casual, but neither of you moves.
he holds your hand.
not in a performance way. not in a gimmick way.
just… holds it.
thumb brushing your knuckles slowly.
you look up at him. he looks down at you. and everything feels suspended.
“we’re gonna get caught,” you whisper.
“probably,” he says, completely unbothered.
you try not to laugh. “martin…”
he shifts, stepping closer — hands still linked behind your skirts, your bodies hidden by the chaos of your groups.
“i like you,” he says simply.
your heart stops.
“i’ve liked you since the first rehearsal. and i keep trying to play it cool but i’m terrible at it.”
you swallow. “i like you too.”
he exhales like he’s been holding the breath for months.
“can i—?”
you nod before he even finishes the question.
he presses his forehead to yours. it’s not a kiss. it’s something softer, smaller, safer — but it sends warmth through you anyway.
you don’t realize a staff camera catches the corner of the moment.
not the words.
not the closeness.
just your hands intertwined for half a second before the camera pans away.
**
the scandal breaks
the next morning twitter is a mess.
#martinxy/n
#illitcortisbackstage
“are they HOLDING HANDS???”
dispatch releases an article analyzing the grainy footage like it’s cctv evidence.
comments flood in.
“how is the most dark boy and the most pink girl dating??? this is wild.”
“he looks like he steals street signs and she looks like she collects stickers???”
“honestly kinda cute though.”
“the contrast is insane but i’m living for it.”
your companies panic. meetings are held. statements are discussed.
but unexpectedly — shockingly — the public isn’t mad.
they’re fascinated.
the concept of “grunge boyfriend x fairy girlfriend” becomes a meme overnight.
edit accounts blow up.
fashion blogs call you “aesthetic opposites in the best way.”
and martin texts you:
“are we… trending because we’re holding hands???”
“apparently.”
“should we… talk? about us?”
your fingers shake as you type.
“yeah. we probably should.”
**
the talk
you meet on the roof of the broadcasting building — martin’s idea, which sounds rebellious until he admits it’s because he wanted privacy and fresh air.
he stands there in ripped jeans and a huge black hoodie. you stand there in a cream-colored knit dress.
you look like spring.
he looks like midnight.
and he smiles like he knows it.
“so,” he says quietly. “we’re in trouble.”
you laugh. “a little.”
“i’m not sorry though.”
you blink. “you’re not?”
he shakes his head. “i don’t want to hide that i like you. i know we have to be careful. i know dating isn’t easy for idols. but i’m not pretending i don’t feel what i feel.”
you don’t say anything at first — too busy staring at him, wondering how someone who looks like a walking rock concert can sound so gentle.
“i want to date you,” he says. “for real.”
you breathe out slowly. “i want that too.”
the relief on his face is visible.
he steps forward.
you meet him halfway.
and he wraps his arms around you — warm, surprisingly soft, holding you like you’re something fragile he wants to protect.
you bury your face in his chest. he smells like vanilla and cologne and something unfamiliar but comforting.
“we’ll go slow,” he murmurs. “we’ll be careful. but i’m not going anywhere.”
James x idol!Reader smau, where you and James are each others celebrity crush and it’s revealed when you post on the wrong account (ft. many other idols)
a/n: this fic is purely for fun, don’t be creepy towards james or any other celebrities !! also Zena from Rescene is used as the reader insert and reader is implied to be a year younger than James.
Fans have decided that you and Jeon Jungkook, the youngest of the global sensation BTS, have some underlying tension and consider each other enemies. They'd lose their minds if they found out the truth.
Word Count: 2.4k
note: I've really enjoyed writing on here recently! If you like this or want more, please check out my other bts works and my ao3 account! I have some longer fics on there and here :)
masterlist ao3 link
tags: Jeon Jungkook, reader is an idol, MAMA awards, peak kpop era, i miss 2018 kpop, jungkook is not subtle, jungkook is a YEARNER, yearners are earners, bring back male yearning
The first time fans decided you hated Jeon Jungkook, you were nineteen years old and too exhausted to smile properly at an encore stage.
That was it.
One badly angled camera shot of you looking vaguely annoyed while Jungkook celebrated a win with his members somehow became the foundation of a years-long conspiracy theory. By the next morning, Twitter was full of slowed-down edits with dramatic captions.
“Y/N can’t STAND Jungkook omgggg”
“The tension between them is terrifying.”
“She looked at him like she wanted him dead.”
And unfortunately, the internet loved it. Every interaction after that became “evidence.”
If Jungkook bowed and you didn’t immediately bow back? Drama.
If you sat too far apart at award shows? Suspicious.
If you accidentally made eye contact during ending stages? Suddenly there were twenty-minute YouTube analyses titled:
“The REAL Reason Y/N Hates Jungkook.”
It got so ridiculous that idols started joking about it publicly, even your own members made fun of you for it.
“Please don’t fight Jungkook tonight,” your leader said while your makeup artist adjusted your lipstick.
You looked up from your phone. “I have never fought Jungkook.”
“You shoulder-checked him at MAMA last year.”
“He stepped on my dress.”
“He apologized.”
“He sounded sarcastic.”
Your entire group burst into laughter.
“Oh my god,” another member wheezed. “You sound like a divorced couple.”
You threw a makeup sponge at her head.
“I hate all of you.”
“See?” your leader grinned. “Exactly like that.”
—
Award shows always felt like organized chaos. Managers shouting schedules backstage. Stylists running around with emergency sewing kits. Camera flashes constant enough to leave spots in your vision for hours afterward. By the time your group stepped onto the red carpet at the Seoul Music Excellence Awards, your cheeks already hurt from smiling.
“Y/N! OVER HERE!”
“LOOK LEFT!”
“Y/N-SSI!”
You posed automatically beside your members, silver-black satin dress shimmering beneath the lights. Then suddenly the screaming doubled. You didn’t need to turn around to know BTS had arrived. The photographers practically lost their minds. Your leader leaned slightly toward you without moving her smile.
“Behave.”
“I always behave.”
“That’s objectively false.”
You rolled your eyes.
Still, against your better judgment, you glanced over your shoulder. Immediately you regretted it because Jungkook looked unfairly good tonight. Black suit. Dark hair slightly tousled beneath the camera flashes. Rings glinting as he adjusted his cuff.
Even worse-
He caught you looking.
Your stomach dropped instantly.
For half a second neither of you looked away. Then your heel caught awkwardly on the carpet edge. You stumbled. A hand grabbed your arm before you could fully lose balance. Warm fingers wrapped around your forearm steadily.
Jungkook.
The crowd noise exploded.
“Oh my god!”
“JUNGKOOK SAVED HER.”
“LOOK AT THEM.”
You stared at him in horror while he steadied you carefully.
“You okay?” he asked automatically.
Too soft. Way too soft.
“I’m fine,” you answered quickly.
His hand lingered one second longer than necessary before letting go.
And then, very faintly, he smiled. It was barely noticeable, meant for just you to see and not the cameras, but it was still enough to make your pulse stutter. Your manager looked ready to pass out.
—
“Stop staring at him.”
“I’m literally not.”
“You’ve looked over there seven times.”
“I’m watching the performances!”
“You’re watching Jungkook.”
You shoved your member lightly while she laughed beside you.
The ceremony had been going for almost two hours already, and the seating arrangement tonight was genuinely evil. BTS sat directly across from your table. Every audience camera sweep felt like a threat. Every accidental glance became dangerous. Especially because Jungkook apparently enjoyed making things worse. Halfway through another group’s performance, you looked up and found him already staring at you.
Not blankly.
Not casually.
Actually looking at you. His expression softened slightly the second your eyes met. Then the giant screen above the stage switched to a live audience shot. Directly onto both of you. The venue erupted. You snapped your head away instantly while your members collapsed laughing. Across the room, Jungkook physically covered his face with one hand.
“Oh my GOD,” your leader wheezed. “Twitter is gonna explode.”
“I hate this place.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I am under stage lights.”
“You are under emotional distress.”
Unfortunately, she wasn’t entirely wrong.
Because lately, things with Jungkook had started looking… weird. Not bad weird, just different. Longer conversations backstage, lingering eye contact, moments where the teasing between you didn’t quite feel like teasing anymore. And every time you caught him looking at you lately, something in your chest tightened in a way you didn’t fully understand.
—
BTS performed later that night, and honestly? That was probably where things became dangerous.
You’d seen Jungkook perform hundreds of times before through music shows and festivals and year-end stages. But tonight he seemed especially magnetic under the lights. More Confident, more sharp, you felt more completely consumed by the performance. Your members noticed immediately.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“You have heart eyes.”
You nearly choked on your drink.
“I absolutely do not.”
“Y/N, you look enchanted.”
“I’m appreciating artistry.”
“You’re appreciating his biceps.”
You shoved her shoulder hard enough to make her laugh louder.
Still-
You couldn’t fully deny it.
Because Jungkook onstage was impossible not to watch.
And then, during the final chorus, he looked directly toward your table- directly at you. Your breath caught instantly. The eye contact lasted barely two seconds, but somehow it felt intimate. It felt intentional, like he was looking for you specifically in a room full of thousands. Your stomach flipped stupidly.
“Ohhhhh my god,” your member whispered beside you. “You’re doomed.”
—
Backstage after the performance, things somehow got worse. You’d just turned a corner near the artist waiting rooms when someone collided lightly into you. Strong hands caught your shoulders automatically.
“Sorry-”
Jungkook stopped mid-sentence. You froze too.
“Oh.”
Up close, he looked exhausted. Slightly sweaty from performing. Black button-up loosened at the collar now. Smudged eyeliner still lingering beneath his eyes. Somehow that made him look even prettier. Dangerously prettier.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
Neither of you moved immediately.
The hallway buzzed with distant staff noise somewhere farther away, but this little corner remained strangely empty. Jungkook still hadn’t taken his hands off your shoulders. You noticed at the exact same moment he did. Both of you stepped back instantly.
Awkward silence.
Then-
Unexpectedly-
Jungkook laughed.
You blinked. “What?”
“This is ridiculous.”
“What is?”
“The whole enemy thing.”
You crossed your arms defensively. “You think this is funny?”
“A little.”
“There are compilation videos of us apparently wanting each other dead.”
“I watched one once.”
Your jaw dropped.
“You WHAT?”
“It had good editing.”
“You are unbelievable.”
His grin widened slightly.
And there it was again-
That warmth in your stomach. That weird softness every time he smiled at you lately.
“You did well tonight,” he said after a moment.
The sincerity caught you off guard.
“Oh.”
Your voice came out quieter than expected.
“Thanks.”
Something shifted subtly between you then. The teasing faded slightly, and Jungkook looked at you differently somehow. More carefully.
The air felt heavier.
Then footsteps echoed nearby, both of you instinctively stepped apart at the exact same time. Jungkook noticed too because he snorted softly.
“We look guilty.”
“We’re literally standing in a hallway.”
“Exactly.”
You laughed before you could stop yourself. Jungkook went completely still. Your smile faded slightly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No seriously.”
He rubbed the back of his neck once, then muttered quietly, “I like hearing you laugh.”
Your entire brain stopped functioning. Before you could answer, someone shouted his name from farther down the hallway. Reality snapped back instantly. Jungkook stepped backward first.
“I should go.”
“Right.”
Neither of you moved. he smiled softly one last time.
“Try not to trip again.”
You rolled your eyes automatically. “Try not to stare at me during performances.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
Interesting.
Then he walked away, leaving you standing alone in the hallway with your heart beating entirely too fast.
—
“You have a crush on Jungkook.”
You nearly inhaled your iced coffee.
“What?”
Your members teased you while our manager looked deeply unimpressed from across the couch.
“You literally smiled at your phone for ten straight minutes after he texted you.”, the manager grumbled before getting up to get another drink.
You froze.
“…what?”
Your members stared in silence.
Then their eyes widened.
Slowly.
“Oh my god,” one whispered. “OH MY GOD.”
You buried your face in a cushion immediately.
Because yes.
Okay.
Fine.
There was a reason Jungkook had your number. There was a reason your stomach flipped every time he texted. And there was definitely a reason you’d been sneaking around like an idiot for the last eight months.
“YOU’RE DATING?”
“Keep your voice DOWN.”
They looked moments from exploding.
“Since WHEN?”
“Eight months.”
“EIGHT-”
You lunged across the couch to cover her mouth.
Another looked genuinely betrayed.
“You didn’t tell us?!”
“We wanted it private!”
“Private?!” she hissed. “You two stare at each other like you’re in a drama.”
“That is not true.”
“Y/N. Last week he carried your bag through an airport.”
“He was being nice.”
“He looked ready to murder the staff member who asked if you were single.”
You hid your face again because unfortunately, that one was true.
—
After your award acceptance later that night, Jungkook cornered you behind one of the backstage monitor walls during a commercial break.
No cameras.
No staff.
Just the muffled sound of the ceremony through the walls.
“You disappeared earlier,” he said softly.
“I was busy winning awards.”
“Excuses.”
You smiled automatically, and immediately his expression changed. Softened. That look again. The one that always made your chest ache unexpectedly. Jungkook stepped closer naturally, fingers brushing lightly against yours.
Comfortable.
Familiar.
Like this wasn’t secret anymore.
“We haven’t talked properly in days,” he murmured.
Schedules had been brutal lately- different countries, different rehearsals, different comeback preparations. Sometimes dating another idol felt impossible. Still, the second Jungkook touched you, everything else got quieter somehow.
“You looked really pretty tonight,” he said.
Heat rushed immediately into your face.
“You’ve said that three times already.”
“I’m saying it again.”
“You’re annoying.”
“You like me annoying.”
Unfortunately-
Very unfortunately-
He was right.
You leaned lightly against the wall behind you while Jungkook looked at you with that unbearably soft expression again. He checked around the corner and then, without hesitation, he leaned down and kissed you.
Gentle.
Brief.
Familiar.
Your fingers curled instinctively into the front of his jacket.
God.
You missed him.
“You know,” you whispered against his mouth afterward, “the internet still thinks I hate you.”
Jungkook laughed softly.
“They’d lose their minds if they knew the truth.”
—
Turns out-
The internet did find out. Next time, be careful what you speak into existence?
It wasn’t the way either of you expected. Near the end of the ceremony, fans started noticing strange things online. Little things at first- a blurry backstage photo posted by a staff member accidentally showing Jungkook holding your iced coffee in the background, a clip from the audience where he instinctively reached toward your chair when you stood up too quickly, a slowed-down fancam catching you smiling at him during BTS’s acceptance speech.
Individually, none of it meant much.
Together?
Twitter lost its collective mind, especially after one fan account posted side-by-side screenshots from backstage livestreams.
In Jungkook’s reflection through a mirror, barely visible, was you. Wearing his hoodie. The tweet exploded instantly.
“WAIT.”
Within twenty minutes, hashtags started trending worldwide.
#JungkookYN
#THEYWEREDATINGTHISWHOLETIME
#EnemiesToLovers
Your phone started vibrating nonstop backstage. Messages flooding in. Your manager sounded seconds from a breakdown.
“How did Twitter figure this out from A REFLECTION?”
Your members were screaming. Actually screaming. Meanwhile you sat frozen on the dressing room couch while tweets multiplied by the second. Somebody had already made a thirty-picture thread titled:
“PROOF JUNGKOOK AND Y/N HAVE BEEN IN LOVE FOR MONTHS.”
You groaned loudly into your hands.
A new notification appeared.
[Kook 🐰]
well
Another message immediately followed.
at least they stopped thinking you hate me
Despite yourself, you laughed. Your phone rang seconds later. Jungkook. You answered immediately.
“This is your fault.”
“My fault?” he repeated, sounding deeply amused. “You wore my hoodie on camera.”
“It was comfortable!”
“You looked cute.”
“You are taking this suspiciously well.”
There was a pause, then his voice softened.
“Did you see the reactions?”
You blinked slightly. You’d been too busy panicking. Slowly, you reopened Twitter.
And froze.
The top tweets weren’t angry.
They weren’t hateful. If anything, people seemed delighted.
“WAIT THE TENSION WAS FLIRTING THIS WHOLE TIME?”
“THEY’RE ACTUALLY ADORABLE.”
“enemies to lovers in real life i’m crying.”
“Jungkook looking at her like that during performances suddenly makes sense.”
There were memes. Edits. Fans joking about “winning” after years of conspiracy theories. But underneath all of it-
Support.
Warmth.
Excitement.
No outrage.
Your chest loosened unexpectedly.
“I think…” you said slowly, “they’re okay with it.”
Jungkook hummed softly on the other end of the line.
“Told you.”
“You did not tell me.”
“I implied it confidently.”
You laughed quietly. Outside your dressing room, your members were still losing their minds over Twitter edits. Somewhere farther down the hallway, staff rushed around panicking over press statements. But for the first time all night, you felt calm. Jungkook spoke again, softer this time.
“So.”
“So?”
“You don’t have to glare at me in public anymore.”
You snorted.
“I never glared at you.”
“You shoulder-checked me at MAMA.”
“You stepped on my dress.”
“I apologized.”
“You sounded sarcastic.”
His laugh crackled warmly through the phone and suddenly you realized something. Maybe the internet had been wrong about the hatred. But they’d been right about one thing all along. There really had been tension between you and Jungkook.
𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 : for seven years, you've been almost everything — almost chosen, almost debuted, almost enough. long after your mother's death, long after friends left and opportunities disappeared, the only thing that remained was the stubborn refusal to quit. then a last-minute decision places you in CORTIS, a group built without you in mind, and suddenly the future you've spent years chasing is within reach. but resentment has a way of lingering in crowded rooms, and belonging isn't something that can be assigned by a company. especially when you're the sixth chair at a table set for five.
𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : contemporary fiction, idol Industry, drama, coming-of-age, found family, slow burn, miscommunication, slightly character driven, comedic at times
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 (chapter) : description of burn out, dissociation, anxiety, grief of a parent — literally blink and it's gone, depictions of exhaustion, depictions of pressure within the industry, for more in depth warnings of the series visit the master list linked above, SHAKESPEARE!!
𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 : comment or dm to be added.
cherry 🍒 speaks : my laptop officially has some hidden agenda against me. this chapter is boring I'll warn you. pretty short chapter, slow paced mostly inside mcs head, I would love to hear what stands out to you, comments, reblogs are all appreciated. show some love and don't be a silent reader!
"You'd be perfect if you were just a little luckier."
The manager probably meant it as a compliment. That's the funny thing about compliments. Sometimes they stay longer with you than insults.
You don't even remember his face anymore. Only the sentence. Human memory is a landfill. It discards entire beings and preserves fragments. Like the color of a stranger's umbrella glimpsed through the rain. A melody leaking from a convenience store radio. A sentence spoken carelessly by a man who probably forgot it before the meeting ended.
"You'd be perfect if you were just a little luckier."
As though luck were a skill. Something measurable. As if you could spend another hour in the studio and emerge with better odds.
The memory followed you into consciousness. It arrived before the sunlight.
Before the ache in your neck.
Before the familiar weight beneath your ribs.
By the time you opened your eyes, the room had already begun to brighten.
The dorm was suspended in that uncertain hour between night and morning, when the darkness had retreated but the day had not yet committed to arriving. The walls were washed in a weak grey. Your hoodie lay where you dropped it yesterday. Or the day before. A water bottle rested beside the desk, half-empty. Or half-full.
You suppose optimism has always been a matter of perspective.
The air tasted stale. The window had been shut for so long you couldn't remember opening it.
For a moment, you stayed exactly where you are. One arm was numb. Your cheek was creased from the pillow. Your mouth was dry in the particular way only mornings seem capable of achieving and the teeth felt fuzzy. Neither dirty nor clean. Just coated in the residue of being alive. It was disgusting when you thought about it.
Sleep was supposed to make you feel better. Most mornings it felt more like an intermission.
The mattress shifted beneath your weight. The springs complained—a tired metallic groan. You knew that noise. You had known it for years.
The same way you knew the stain on the ceiling looked like a non-existent continent.
Knowledge accumulated not through affection but repetition. Knowledge accumulated the way a river accumulates sediment. Slowly. Without permission.
Most people imagined their lives were built from grand moments. The triumphs and the tragedies. The turning points that split existence into before and after. But perhaps people were really assembled from smaller things. The details repeated so often they became part of the architecture of the self.
The room smelled faintly of detergent. The cheap kind the company bought in bulk. Sharp and artificial. Trying far too hard to smell clean.
You knew that smell too. But suddenly that felt unbearable. Not because there was anything wrong with the room. But because you had become fluent in it.
Every nook and cranny. Every smell and stubborn imperfection. As though the dorm had memorized you. Or worse — as though you had memorized it.
A laugh died somewhere behind your teeth. You had spent years trying to become unforgettable. Only to end up knowing the exact sound a cheap mattress made when you sat up too quickly.
There should have been a word for this. For dedicating years of your life to something and still feeling like a guest inside it. For standing in the middle of a dream you had spent so long chasing and realizing it fitted someone else better than you. Perhaps there was.
You dragged a hand down your face.
The digital clock read 7:12.
Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed. Someone laughed. Another swore.
Life continued with the stubborn persistence of a weed breaking through concrete. You considered staying in bed.
Not seriously. Just long enough to imagine it.
People thought quitting arrived like lightning. Most days it was only a passing thought. Gone before you had finished brushing your teeth.
You wondered how many times you had almost quit. Not enough, apparently.
A line surfaced from somewhere in the back of your mind.
Shakespeare.
"I have no spur to prick the sides of my intent, but only vaulting ambition."
You had always thought ambition was misunderstood. People talked about it like it was a virtue. Something polished or admirable. A shining thing. Most of the time it felt more like an old injury. The kind that healed incorrectly. You learned to move around it. You forgot it was there. Until someone brushed against it. Until someone said the wrong thing.
Then suddenly the ache returned.
"You'd be perfect if you were just a little luckier."
The worst part was that he hadn't been entirely wrong. You hated that. Almost as much as you hated the fact that part of you still cared.
The thought lingered longer than it should have. Then vanished faster than it felt.
One moment you were staring at a dormitory ceiling, feeling the thoughts turn in your head like gears. The next—your lungs were burning and the hands on your wristwatch pointed to 10 something.
The practice room mirrors glared back at you from every angle, merciless in their honesty. Overhead lights flooded the room in sterile white. Sweat trickled down the back of your neck.
For a second, you just stood there. Blinking. Panting in rapid and loud breaths.
Your towel hung around your shoulders, damp and heavy. Your shirt clung unpleasantly to your skin. Music reverberated through the floor beneath your feet, bass vibrating through bone.
Someone was speaking. You realized, belatedly, that they were speaking to you (well mostly).
"…and then he told me to shut up. Like the audacity!"
Sharp laughter erupted somewhere to your right. Several people groaned. You wiped your face with the edge of the towel.
"Huh?" It was like the room paused.
The girl, Chae-hwa, stared at you with an unreadable look in her eyes. "Damn."
"What?" you repeated, hands clutching the towel at the sudden attention, the dense loopy fiber suddenly felt course to you
"I've been talking for, like, three minutes." You considered apologizing. Then decided against it.
"Sounds important," you said, turning away from the other trainees with a sigh.
"It wasn't." A beat passed. "That's not the point."
You weren't entirely sure what the point was anymore.
A water bottle arced through the air. You caught it without looking. The movement happened before thought could reach it. Muscle memory.
Most of your life seemed to operate that way those days. The choreography. The schedules. The monthly evaluations—you name it.
The endless cycle of wanting something badly enough that it became indistinguishable from obligation.
You twisted the cap open. The water was uncomfortably warm. The kind of tepid drink that did not quench your thirst after hours of physical exertion. You drank it anyway.
Across the room, someone changed the music. The opening beat rattled through the speakers. Conversation died instantly.
Bodies shifted.
Everyone returned to their places. Like a flock startled into flight. Feet moving to find their marks. Hands lifting. Entire sequences unfolded without permission, as though some quieter version of themselves had taken the wheel.
Including you. Especially you.
Your body obeyed before your mind did.
Burial. Layer after layer of practice pressed beneath your skin until it became instinct.
Left. Turn. Step. Again. And again.
The strange thing about exhaustion was that eventually it stopped feeling like tiredness. It settled deeper than that. Into muscle and habit. Into the space between thought and movement.
Which meant that when the lines blurred, you would realize that you had simply forgotten how to stop.
The music ended mid-beat, and silence rushed in to occupy the space it left behind.
A collective groan followed. Someone collapsed dramatically onto the floor.
You hooked the towel around your neck, offering your throat to the air as you slid down the mirror wall, pulling your knees up to your chest. Your lungs were still trying to negotiate with the rest of your body. You grunted, the sound low, hollow, and utterly spent.
Sweat slid down the side of your face. The mirrors blurred beneath the harsh lights. Or maybe your vision did. It was hard to tell anymore.
"Sunbae." You glanced over.
One of the newer trainees stood nearby. He was tall and looked polite.
The look of a kid who apologized when somebody else stepped on his foot.
"Yeah?" He shifted his weight. He sat down beside you while maintaining a strangely respectful distance. The sort of space anyone barely gave regardless of age these days.
He looked strangely nervous. Then:
"I was just curious about how long you've been here," he asked softly. It didn't hurt. It was just familiar. Like touching a bruise to see whether it still throbbed. A small pause later he added, "it's just that the others said you are the oldest here." Your eyes trailed the maladroit explanation that was demonstrated by alot of hand movement. After a few moments of silence, you replied.
"Six years and a few months. Give or take." His eyes widened slightly. Right on cue. You looked away toward the mirror before it arrived. Because it always arrived.
"But—given your reputation," he paused, as if wondering if he should continue, "given how talented you are, shouldn't you—" He cut himself off, scratching his nape awkwardly.
"Yeah, well, that's impressive." Even more awkward laughter followed. The kind people used to patch over a conversation they had accidentally damaged. Because silence had a way of making people uncomfortable, and you had just handed him plenty of it.
You could almost hear the questions forming behind his eyes.
Persistent. Dedicated. Look how young she is. She spent her entire childhood here?
Nobody said it. Nobody ever did. They let the sentence die before it reached their lips. As though mercy existed in omission.
It didn't make it any gentler. A blade doesn't become less sharp simply because nobody names it.
Your phone vibrated. The screen lit up. For a moment, you only stared at the name
Your tongue darted out to wet your lips—a nervous tic that you had developed over the years. You didn't particularly dislike the sender, but some names became associated with places. Conference rooms. Evaluations. Plastic water bottles arranged neatly across long tables. The slow erosion of expectation.
Your thumb hesitated. Then tapped on it.
Come see me after practice.
Nothing else. No explanation. No urgency. One ordinary sentence.
Your pulse stumbled uncomfortably anyway. The body remembers things the mind grows tired of carrying.
"Everything okay?" The question came from the new trainee, whom you just noticed was still sitting beside you.
You locked your phone. "Probably." Too quick. Too automatic. As though good news had ever arrived in a message that shorT.
Around you, conversation resumed. Life continued with the confidence of people who still believed tomorrow belonged to them. You stared at your reflection. Sweat-darkened shirt. Hair stuck to your forehead.
A face made familiar by repetition. A face you had seen in dressing-room mirrors and bathroom mirrors and practice-room mirrors and elevator mirrors.
A face that suddenly felt temporary.
The thought arrived so quietly it almost slipped past unnoticed. Maybe this is it. Seven years is the pathetic end of the line.
Long enough for seasons to change. Long enough for entire trainee generations to come and go. Long enough for potential to become a question instead of a promise. The idea should have terrified you. Instead—relief. Small, sharp, and sudden, hits. Gone almost immediately.
There was the possibility of an ending. The possibility of putting down something you had carried for so long that you had forgotten what it weighed. Guilt followed a second later, as predictable as gravity.
For those who weren't first in this continuous and endless race, burnout waited at the finish line—if they even reached it, that was. Raw and immovable. Even the most successful ones didn't get the warmth of commemoration nor caresses.
After practice ended, you remained where you were. Still enough for a passerby to think that you were trying to count the droplets of sweat that dripped down from your face to the floor. Your phone felt heavier in your pocket. Five words. Not many people could ruin an afternoon in five words. You sighed, you do that a lot these days.
Moving toward something had always made it harder to pretend it wasn't real.
The hallway outside was colder than the practice room. The glass panels threw your reflection back at you. You looked past it.
The walk should have taken two minutes. You made it take seven. Then eight.
At one point, you stopped to check your phone. Nothing.
No new messages or missed calls. You stared at the screen anyway. Wishing that another notification might appear and spare you from the first.
Halfway down the corridor, a thought caught you off guard.
If they terminate my contract today—who do I tell?
Your footsteps faltered. The answer arrived immediately.
Nobody. Nobody cares.
The words landed with a dull sort of finality. Years ago, there would've been another answer.
Your mother. Before every evaluation. Every showcase. Both of the almost-debuts—those frantic weeks where you had tried on stage outfits, only to pack them back into suitcases when the groups dissolved before the first teasers could even drop. Every tiny victory inflated by excitement into something enormous. You would've called her first
Like a hand withdrawing from a flame, out of motor reflex, you shoved that thought down.
Your thumb hovered over your contacts. Names. Phone numbers. People you cared about. People who probably cared about you. Friends. Former trainees. Some mentors. A dozen conversations waiting to be resumed. People already carrying enough weight. Enough that adding to it made your chest feel heavy.
Yet none of them felt like the person you would call when a life ended. Because that is what this would be. Not your life exactly, just the version of it you had been constructing since you were ten years old. Brick by brick. Practice by practice. Evaluation by evaluation.
You wondered what happened to dreams after they were declared dead. Whether they got buried somewhere. Whether there was a ceremony. Flowers. A eulogy. A polished plaque engraved with something respectable.
'Here lies Potential.'
The thought should have been funny. It wasn't.
You kept walking while the building hummed around you. Managers carrying coffee and employees carrying laptops. People who were all pretending to know what they were doing. You used to think adulthood came with certainty.
Now you suspected everyone was improvising. Some were simply better at hiding it.
The conference room waited at the end of the corridor. The door was closed. You stopped in front of it, and suddenly the hallway felt very quiet. For a moment, all you could hear was your own breathing. Seven years distilled into a closed door and a trembling hand. It was ridiculous.
You curled your fingers toward the wood. But just before your knuckles met it—the handle turned first. The door swung inward. You stepped back automatically. The person emerging did the same.
A near-collision with a man tall enough to classify as a pole. Silky brown hair was pushed back from his forehead with a hairband, and rimless glasses hung from his nose, looking one careless nod away from falling off. He had a black folder tucked beneath one arm.
There was a particular look people wore after spending years chasing something. You had the ability to recognize it immediately.
After all, it was knowledge accumulated not through affection but repetition. You recognized it because you saw it in the surface of every mirror you stood in front of.
The exhaustion sat differently on everyone. On some people, it sags. On others, it hardens. His had settled somewhere behind his eyes.
His gaze landed on you. Briefly. Not long enough to become rude. Not short enough to be accidental. A flicker of recognition passed between strangers who had occupied the same building for too many years. The ecosystem of people perpetually waiting for permission to begin their lives. Perhaps something adjacent to familiarity.
The moment slipped away. He shifted to the side. You noticed the distance he left. Just a few inches. Enough. The space reserved for strangers. Or for people carrying fragile things, there was no in between. His eyes were still on you. Assessing carefully.
"Sorry." His voice was rough around the edges. Overused. Like he had spent hours arguing with someone.
Despite the fact that it was nothing but a careless apology thrown at a stranger, to you, it felt oddly heavy.
You nodded once. The universal language of people who had no intention of having a conversation. The exchange ended there. He continued down the corridor. Long strides. Head lowered slightly. The folder (now lowered) tapped gently against his leg with every step. Then he disappeared around the corner.
The silence returned. You stared after him for a moment. There was something oddly comforting about seeing another person leave a room you were terrified to enter. Proof that survival remained possible.
The conference room waited. The open door revealed only a sliver of the interior. Small plants littered the brightly lit room. They all looked vaguely like plastic.
The office was smaller than you had expected. Not cramped. Just ordinary. A desk. A few chairs. A framed platinum record hanging slightly crooked on the wall. The sort of room where futures were discussed in the same tone people used to discuss lunch.
The man behind the desk looked up when you entered. Mr. Choi. He smiled, motioning for you to sit down.
With your lips in between your teeth, and legs dragging behind you like wet blankets, you did.
He slid a folder toward you, it was yellow. At that moment, you weren't sure why that bothered you so much.
Maybe because yellow was the colour of summer. Children's drawings pinned to refrigerator doors. Bright and happy. This yellow looked tired. Muted by lighting and fingerprints. The color of something handled too many times. The front page read :
CORTIS. An acronym for 'Color outside the lines'.
The words landed softly. That was somehow worse.
You stared at the folder, unblinking, as if maybe by looking long enough, you would wake up from this dream. It felt cold and the bristly texture irritated the tip of your finger.
You had always imagined this moment in your head. Not often.
The future had been dangerous territory when you were a trainee. Most people learned not to visit it too frequently.
Still—sometimes when it was late at night. On the walk back to the dorm. Or perhaps during evaluations.
You had imagined hearing the word debut. You had imagined relief. Excitement. Vindication. The sudden certainty that all those years had been building toward something.
Instead, all you felt was strangely disconnected from your own body. As though the room had shifted half an inch to the left. As though reality had made a decision without consulting you.
The manager continued speaking. Schedules and preparations and training adjustments—you name it. But the words all drifted past. All meaningless.
The manager noticed your expression. "You've worked very hard," he said, then nodded as if he were satisfied with the words of encouragement he had offered. As if they would be the medicine to the sickness that plagued your mind right then.
CORTIS. Everybody knew CORTIS. Not officially. Companies loved pretending secrets remained secret.
A debut rumored to be weeks away. A lineup polished so thoroughly it had practically become fact.
Your gaze lingered on the pages. The concept sketches, recording schedules, and the styling notes; the promo ideas and, of course, the lineup.
Every page told the same story.
Five boys standing shoulder to shoulder. Five shadows cast in the same direction. Five pieces cut to fit together.
Five. Five. Five.
Five boys. CORTIS wasn't a mixed group. It was a pathetic testament to how much effort people were willing to spend making sure everything fit together.
A completed shape.
Your name sat at the edge of it now. New ink on an old blueprint. The realization settled somewhere beneath your ribs. Nothing inside this folder felt new. Except you.
Companies were capable of astonishing things. Apparently, common sense rarely ranked among them those days.
Mr. Choi called your name. You looked up.
"Do you have any questions?" Thousands. None of them useful. None that could be satisfied with whatever answer he would offer.
You thought of the brunette trainee leaving the room. The folder beneath his arm.
The careful distance he had left between the two of you.
The split second of recognition which you had labeled as 'something adjacent to familiarity' You were wrong. Terribly so. The apology made more sense now.
A strange pressure unfurled beneath your ribs.
Your excitement (not really) folded in on itself. Collapsing like a star at the end of its life. The feeling of arriving late to your own life. Because for seven years you had imagined a door opening. You had never imagined walking through it and finding people already seated.
Already comfortable. Already belonging to one another. For years, the future had been simple.
Someday. Everything lived inside someday.
Someday you would debut.
Someday things would make sense.
Someday all the sacrifices would line up neatly beside the reward and balance the equation.
Now someday sat inside a folder with the names of five boys.
Printed and scheduled and painfully real.
The strange feeling stretched further and further into the shape of a question.
One sharp enough to draw blood.
How do you join a future that already learned how to exist without you?
synopsis: SEVENTEEN’s Luna and Jeonghan put their relationship to the test as they answer how well they really know each other in the Couple Quiz by GQ.
wc: 7.3k
backstreet’s back alright~ what could this possibly be about ?? it’s jeongna’s first public couple interview, but why now ? why are they both in white ? why now that jeonghan is almost finished with his service ? why not after he finishes ? why are jeongna everywhere ? what are they preparing us for ? . . . the wedding of the century perhaps ?!
╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ more interviews
The set was simple, it made everything else stand out more, a clean space with soft lighting that rested gently over them without being harsh, and in the middle of it Luna and Jeonghan sat across from each other dressed in white, the color making them look even softer against the background, like they had been placed there on purpose to contrast yet match at the same time.
They were both holding small cards in their hands, their fingers lightly gripping the edges as if they already knew what was coming but were still curious about how it would unfold. They both smiled at the camera at the same time, not rehearsed, just natural.
Luna leaned forward just slightly as she spoke first, her voice calm but bright. “Hi, GQ. I'm Luna.”
Jeonghan followed right after, his tone just as steady, his eyes still lingering on her for a second longer before shifting forward. “I'm Jeonghan.”
“And today we'll be taking the Couples Quiz.” Luna finished, her voice carried a small hint of amusement, like she already knew how this would go, and when she finished she turned her head toward him, catching him already looking at her, his gaze steady and unreadable but familiar in a way that made her lips curl just a little more.
“Who's going first?” Luna asked.
Jeonghan did not answer with words, he simply lifted his arm and stretched it out toward her, his hand forming a loose fist.
Luna let out a small breath of laughter before mirroring him, her arm extending forward until their hands hovered close, the space between them filled with something light and playful.
They both lifted their hands up and down in rhythm, the movement small but in sync.
“Rock, Papers, Scissors... shoot,” Luna muttered softly.
Their hands snapped into place at the same time, and when the shapes settled it was her scissors against his paper, a clean win, and Luna’s smile widened just a little as she pulled her hand back.
“Okay. I'll go first.”
She said it like she expected to, like she had already prepared herself for this moment, and she began flipping through the cards in her hand, her eyes scanning the questions briefly before she paused and looked back up at him, her expression shifting into something teasing.
“Ready? You'll have to get all of these right or I'll be very upset.”
Jeonghan leaned back into his seat, his posture relaxing as if the warning did nothing to shake him, and he gave a small nod, a quiet hum leaving him that carried confidence more than anything else, like he had already accepted the challenge without thinking twice.
Luna watched him for a second before she let out a soft giggle, her fingers adjusting the card before she read the first question aloud. “What was I wearing when you first saw me?” She lifted her gaze again immediately, her finger pointing at him to make sure he understood exactly what she meant. “When you first saw me. Not when you first spoke to me.”
Jeonghan nodded once, his expression barely changing as he answered without hesitation. “You were wearing a black shirt and black jeans, and you had red Converses on. You were wearing a black zip up sweater over it.” He paused just slightly, like he was looking at the memory again instead of just recalling it.
“You wore black a lot when we were trainees. That was one of the reasons you stood out to everyone.” His eyes shifted to her then, softer. “But you stood out to me because you were really pretty.”
For a moment Luna did not say anything, her smile already there but her cheeks slowly turning red as she nodded, her gaze dropping briefly before she looked back up.
“That's right, I had an emo phase.” She said it lightly, brushing it off even if the reaction lingered on her face, and she quickly moved on, flipping to the next card as if to hide it.
“What is something about me that people get completely wrong?”
Jeonghan answered just as easily, his tone calm. “It used to bother you how people thought you were rude because of how you look.”
Luna nodded immediately, not even letting him finish fully. “I have a resting bitch face.”
There was no hesitation in the way she said it, and Jeonghan let out a small breath of amusement before continuing, his voice steady. “People tend to have that as their first impression of you, that you're rude or a snob, but you're not.”
Luna watched him for a second before nodding again. “Correct.” She said before glancing down at her cards, her energy picking up again as she flipped to the next one. “Next question! What is my go-to order when I'm hungry and don't want to think of what to order?”
Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, thinking for a second, not because he did not know but because he was choosing how to answer.
“Go to order? It depends on your mood…” He started slowly. “You normally go for something spicy. If you're feeling something Korean it's Jjamppong. If you're feeling Western it's pizza.”
Luna’s smile returned immediately, a little more playful this time. “What kind of pizza?” She asked it like a test, like she already knew he would get it right but wanted to see him say it anyway.
“Pepperoni pizza with stuffed crust.”
“That's correct.” Luna chuckled, clearly pleased.
Jeonghan turned his head toward the camera slightly, shifting just enough to include the viewers. “She dislikes pizza crusts and won’t eat them unless it’s stuffed.”
Luna nodded right away, her expression serious for a second as if defending herself. “I don’t like plain crust, it’s too dry, so if it’s stuffed I’ll eat it.”
She then glanced back at her card, her fingers tapping lightly against it before she read the next question “What is something I do when I'm shy or flustered? She lifted her gaze again, watching him closely. “You have to be very specific.”
Jeonghan’s lips curved slightly, like he already knew exactly what she was referring to, and he leaned forward just a bit this time as he answered. “You tuck your hair behind your ear even if it’s already tucked, your voice gets quieter without you noticing, and you blink a lot as if you’re trying to hide in your eyelids.”
Luna blinked at him, her lips parting just slightly before she let out a small laugh, her hand instinctively moving up to her hair before she caught herself halfway.
“I didn’t even know about the blinking thing…” Luna raised her eyebrow at him.
Jeonghan nodded. “You blink a lot when you’re flustered.”
Luna shook her head lightly, still smiling, and moved on. “You got all those right, I guess.” She flipped the card. “What is my most used phrase or reaction when I'm annoyed?”
Before she could even look up properly, Jeonghan was already reacting, his face shifting as he mimicked her, his eyes rolling slightly before he spoke in a tone that was clearly hers. “Yoon Jeonghan!”
Luna immediately turned toward the camera, laughing under her breath, her shoulders shaking just a little. “That's my most used reaction when I'm annoyed because he annoys me the most.”
Jeonghan muttered quietly under his breath, just loud enough to be heard. “It's because I like hearing you say my name like that.”
Luna let out another laugh at that, her eyes briefly closing as she shook her head. Her gaze back went to the cards in her hand, her fingers sliding one forward as her smile settled into something more focused, though the softness from before still lingered in the way her lips curved, and without looking up right away she read the next question.
“What did I want to be when I was younger?”
She finally lifted her eyes to him, watching him carefully, and Jeonghan did not take long to answer, his voice steady like he had gone over this before in his head without realizing it.
“You first wanted to be a prima ballerina. Then you wanted to be a psychologist at some point before you wanted to be an idol.”
Luna’s expression shifted almost immediately, her smile widening just a little as she nodded. “Correct!”
Jeonghan leaned back just slightly, his gaze still on her as he added without hesitation. “You achieved the first two dreams in some shape or form.”
For a brief second Luna did not speak, her smile softening as her eyes dropped for a moment before she nodded again, slower this time. “I did.”
There was a small pause, not uncomfortable, just enough for the weight of that to sit, before Jeonghan spoke again, his voice just as calm but softer.
“You're amazing.”
Luna looked back up at him, the compliment landing without surprise.
“Thank you.” She said, shifting in her seat slightly, as if brushing off the moment before it could linger too long, her fingers already moving to the next card.
“Next question… What is my biggest pet peeve?”
Jeonghan leaned forward this time, his elbows coming closer to his knees as he looked at her, his lips already curving with a hint of mischief. “How much time to we have?” He teased, and Luna immediately let out a laugh, shaking her head as if she already knew what was coming.
He did not stop there, his tone turning into something more animated as he went on. “You have a few, but your biggest pet peeve is when someone doesn't close the door after opening it.”
The moment he said it Luna physically reacted, her shoulders lifting slightly as she cringed, her expression tightening before she straightened up in her seat almost instinctively, like she had been waiting for an excuse to say this out loud.
“It doesn’t make sense to me when people open a door, enter, and leave it wide open as if they have a long tail trailing behind them.” She paused only to breathe before continuing, her brows pulling together. “It’s not hard to shut the door afterwards. It’s so annoying. I don’t know why, but it genuinely gets me heated.”
As she spoke Jeonghan slowly turned his head toward the camera, nodding once, his expression calm but knowing, like he had seen this exact reaction too many times before.
“You also hate people who are rude, people who lack common sense, people who walk slow, people who chew loudly… you hate being woken up by turning the lights on. You also hate when someone goes 'Tch'." He shifted slightly before continuing, adding more with the same ease.
Luna was already nodding before he even finished, her lips pressing together in agreement, and from behind the camera a voice from the producer cut in. “Why do you hate when people go 'Tch'?”
Luna turned toward the direction of the voice, her expression thoughtful for a second before she answered. “I don’t know why, but usually people make that sound when they are worrying about something or frustrated about something.” She tilted her head slightly as she continued, trying to explain it clearly. “And I feel like it’s annoying because it’s like they’re making it known they’re annoyed but won’t say anything… they just want you to know they’re annoyed. Does that make sense?”
Jeonghan let out a small chuckle under his breath, shaking his head slightly as he looked at her. “You're so passionate.”
Luna let out a quiet breath of laughter, nodding like she was aware of it herself. “I know.” She answered before quickly moving on, flipping the card again.
“Anyway, next question. What is my ideal day off?”
Jeonghan did not even need a second for that one. “Staying at home doing nothing.”
“Yup. I don't get to do that often, so whenever I can I just rot in bed.” Luna elaborated with a nod, and without lingering she moved to the next question, her eyes lighting up just a little as she read it.
“Next question... ooh this one is good—What is my favorite nickname from you?”
Jeonghan paused this time, actually thinking, his eyes drifting for a second as if sorting through options.
“You call me a lot of nicknames.” Luna said, watching him closely.
Jeonghan hummed before answering, “My moon.”
Luna’s smile returned immediately, softer this time, and she nodded. “That is my favorite, but it has to be a complete answer.”
Jeonghan let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Alright, my pretty moon.”
Luna giggled, she turned her head toward the camera for a second, giving a quick wink before looking back down at her cards.
“Ooh, this one is... okay,” She said before reading the next question out loud, her tone shifting just slightly. “When did I realize that I liked you more than a friend?”
Jeonghan snickered almost immediately, not even pretending to think. “That's a trick question because you always liked me more than a friend.”
Luna tried to keep her composure but it showed, the way her lips pressed together as she held back a laugh, her cheeks warming as she avoided looking at him, her eyes dropping down to the next card instead.
“You're one to talk.” She muttered under her breath, and Jeonghan only shrugged in response, a small smirk settling on his lips as he watched her.
“Moving on...” Luna said quickly, clearing her throat slightly as she continued. “What is something I always steal from you?”
“My clothes.” Jeonghan answered right away.
“You have to be specific.”
“Hoodies,” He said. “Specifically the oversized yellow hoodie.”
“That's right. It's technically mine at this point.” Luna said, lifting her chin slightly as if claiming it fully.
“What's mine is yours. It doesn't matter.” Jeonghan did not look away from her as he responded.
Luna held his gaze for just a second before she looked back down at her cards again. “How many tattoos do I have?” She asked. “Bonus points if you can name what they all are.”
Jeonghan straightened up in his seat this time, his eyes scanning over her instinctively as if the answer was written there, and he let out a quiet breath.
“Give me second...”
Luna nodded, watching him as he went quiet, his gaze moving carefully all over her body as he counted on his fingers one by one, his focus clear.
“You have seven.” He started, then continued without rushing. “The number ‘17’ on the side of your right wrist, a crescent moon on the left side of your wrist, a small letter ‘J’ inside your left ring finger, a bow at the back of your right hand, the word 'eventually' in between your right middle finger, one on your right side by your ribcage that says 'lady of the moon' and one on the back of your neck that says 'lovebug'."
Luna broke into a smile before she even spoke, her hands coming together in a small clap. “Correct.” She said, her tone bright as she nodded at him. “That was really good.” She added, clearly impressed.
Jeonghan leaned back again, satisfied but not surprised.
Luna flipped to the next card without wasting time. “What is something I do when I'm jealous?”
Jeonghan let out a small chuckle at that, his head tilting slightly. “You rarely get jealous.”
“That's true. But what do I do when I am?” Luna pressed, watching him carefully.
“You either ignore me completely or don't leave my side. There's no in between.” He answered confidently.
Before Luna could respond the producer’s voice came in again from behind the camera. “What situation do you ignore him versus not leaving his side?”
“It depends.” Luna and Jeonghan said in unison, their voices overlapping perfectly.
Luna let out a soft laugh right after, shaking her head slightly as the moment settled between them. She then lifted the next card, her fingers lightly tapping against the edge as she glanced down for a brief second before looking back up at him, her expression already hinting that she expected him to get this right without effort.
“What irrational fear do I have?” She asked, “This is really easy.”
There was a small lift of her brow, almost challenging, but the softness in her eyes gave her away, he knows this, he always does.
Jeonghan nodded immediately, not even needing a second to think as he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow against his knee while counting off in a calm and steady tone.
“You’re scared of spiders,” he began, his voice even as if he were reciting something he had gone over many times before, “you’re claustrophobic, you hate throwing up, you’re scared of the dark because in extension you are scared of going blind,” he continued, his lips pressing together briefly as he recalled the rest, “and you’re scared of the deep sea.” He finished without hesitation, his gaze fixed on her as if confirming each one as he said it.
Luna nodded along as he spoke, her lips curling into a small smile that grew wider with each correct answer before she let out a quiet hum of agreement. “Other than those things, I’m scared of nothing else irrational,” she said.
She shifted slightly in her seat, the card in her hand flipping to the next one as her eyes skimmed over it before she read it aloud. “What movies or shows do I enjoy watching?” Luna asked Jeonghan as she watched him expectantly.
Jeonghan let out a soft breath, tilting his head as if organizing his thoughts before answering. “You watch a lot of animated shows and movies,” he started, his tone thoughtful but confident, “you prefer comedy over dramas, and you have a weird obsession with documentaries, especially crime documentaries.” He finished, glancing at her with a faint smile as if already knowing he had it right.
Luna smiled at that, her shoulders relaxing as she nodded. “I love a good documentary,” she said, her voice soft with a hint of fondness.
“She was sobbing over an animal documentary a few weeks ago,” Jeonghan said to the camera, his tone calm but carrying a quiet amusement as he turned his head slightly.
“I was,” Luna admitted without hesitation, her lips pressing together briefly before she let out a small breath of a laugh, “they’re unnecessarily sad.”
Without lingering too long, she moved on, flipping to the next card with practiced ease. “What kind of pets did I have growing up?”
Jeonghan answered just as quickly. “You used to have a lot of childhood pets, but you didn’t have anything with fur because your mom is allergic,” he said before continuing without pause, “you had two goldfishes, two angelfishes, two janitor fishes, two turtles, and two hermit crabs.”
Luna’s face lit up at that, her smile widening as she leaned back slightly. “I’m so happy you remember,” she said.
“Of course,” Jeonghan hummed softly, his lips curving into a small smile as he looked at her.
Luna tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes as she added, “I’ll give you bonus points if you can tell me why I had two of each.”
“It’s because you didn’t want them to get lonely,” Jeonghan said with a small smirk, his answer coming easily before he turned his head toward the camera, his expression softening into something more amused, “Isn’t she so cute?”
Luna let out a quiet laugh at that, shaking her head slightly as she looked down for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “You’re such a smooth talker,” she said, her tone teasing but not denying it.
She moved on quickly after that, her fingers tightening slightly around the last card as she glanced down at it. “This is the last question,” Luna said, her voice carrying a small hint of anticipation, “Out of all the gifts you have given me, what’s my favorite one?”
Jeonghan paused this time, his brows drawing together slightly as he thought, his gaze dropping for a second before lifting back up to her. “It’s either Bugs or that ring on your finger,” he said after a few seconds, his tone measured but sure.
Luna nodded almost immediately, her smile softening as she looked at him. “Those are my two favorites,” she confirmed, her voice quieter this time.
There was a brief moment where she simply looked at him, her expression filled with something warm before she let out a small laugh, shaking her head lightly. “You got all of the questions correct,” Luna said, her voice carrying a mix of surprise and admiration.
Jeonghan nodded once, leaning back slightly as a small, confident smile settled on his face. “Of course I got a perfect score,” he said, his tone playful but assured, “I’m just that good.” His eyes flickered toward her, the corner of his lips lifting a little more. “You have to get a perfect score as well now.”
He reached for his cards then, picking them up with ease as Luna straightened in her seat, her posture shifting into something more focused as she prepared herself. There was a small spark of determination in her eyes as she looked at him, ready.
“Bet,” Luna said, her voice certain, as she waited for the first question.
“Okay, first question...” Jeonghan said, scanning through his cards before continuing, “What is something I do when I want your attention?”
Luna did not even take a second to think, her answer coming out immediately as if it had been waiting. “Be extra annoying.” She said it so plainly that it made the crew behind the camera let out a quiet laugh, her tone carrying a certainty that came from experience.
Jeonghan’s lips curved into a slow smirk, his head tilting slightly as he leaned forward just a little, clearly enjoying this. “In what way?” Jeonghan smirked, asking her to elaborate, his eyes fixed on her as if he already knew what she was about to say and wanted to hear it anyway.
Luna exhaled softly through her nose, already amused as she glanced at the camera before looking back at him.
“Remember the door closing thing I mentioned earlier?” Luna looked at the camera, her brows lifting slightly as if pulling them into the moment, “That. He leaves the door open knowing it will get my attention.” Her voice held a mix of disbelief and familiarity, like it was something she had accepted long ago.
Jeonghan let out a quiet chuckle at that, his shoulders lifting slightly as he nodded, not even trying to deny it. There was something satisfied in the way he reacted, like he took pride in how well he annoyed her.
He moved on smoothly, his eyes dropping back to the card as he read the next one. “When and where was our first kiss?” he asked, his tone casual but his gaze flickering up to her with quiet interest.
Luna’s reaction was immediate, her expression shifting as a faint blush crept up her cheeks, her lips parting slightly before she let out a small breath of a laugh. “I wasn't expecting that question.” She said it softly, almost to herself, her fingers tightening slightly around her own cards as she tried to gather her thoughts.
Jeonghan raised a brow at her, watching her closely. “You don't remember?” he asked, his tone light but carrying a hint of teasing that only made her more aware of his attention.
“I do...” Luna said, her voice quieter now as she shook her head slightly as if clearing it, “It was in your car on the drive home from Wonwoo's birthday six years ago.” Her voice steadied as she spoke, her eyes lifting to meet his again.
Jeonghan’s expression softened at that, a small smile forming on his lips as he watched her. “You remember everything, don't you?” he teased gently, his tone low and amused.
“Yes! Next question!” Luna waved him off quickly, her hand making a small dismissive motion as she avoided holding his gaze for too long, already knowing the look he was giving her.
There was a quiet glint in Jeonghan’s eyes as he watched her for a moment longer before moving on, flipping to the next card. “What was the first thing I ever said to you when we first met?” He asked.
Luna’s expression softened instantly, her smile turning fond as the memory settled in her mind.
“You introduced yourself to me, asked me my name, welcomed me, and then told me if I needed anything that I could tell you.” She answered with a smile, her voice carrying a warmth that lingered in the air. “You kept me company the entire time, making me laugh because you said I looked like I needed a laugh.”
Jeonghan watched her as she spoke, something softer settling in his expression before he nodded. “Correct. Good job.”
“Next question… Oh—Who is my celebrity crush?” There was already a smirk on his face as he asked it, his eyes narrowing slightly in amusement.
Luna let out a small breath of a laugh, her lips curving as she tilted her head. “If it's not me then I don't want to hear the correct answer.” Luna joked, her tone light but her eyes watching him carefully.
“That's too bad because it's actually—” Jeonghan started teasing, his voice stretching the words just enough to make her react.
Before he could finish, Luna leaned forward and playfully poked him with the pointy end of her shoe, her expression warning but amused as he broke into laughter.
“I'm joking.” He said quickly, his laughter soft but genuine.
“I know... you're obsessed with me.” Luna said nonchalantly, her tone steady as if it were a simple fact.
Jeonghan’s smile deepened at that, his eyes lingering on her. “You get a point for that.” He said, winking at her before shifting his attention back to the cards.
“Next question...” he continued, his voice smooth as he read, “Where did we go on our first date?”
“The zoo.” Luna answered immediately, her lips curving as she leaned back slightly. “Because you said if I got bored, at least the animals would be entertaining enough to save the date.” She added, her tone carrying a hint of teasing as she looked at him.
Jeonghan let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly. “That was a good reason.” He said, his voice light.
“It was a very you reason.” Luna replied, her eyes narrowing slightly in amusement.
“It worked, didn’t it?” he shot back, his brows lifting.
“It did.” Luna admitted, her smile softening as she looked at him.
Jeonghan nodded once, satisfied. “Another point for you.” he said before moving on without missing a beat. “What was I wearing when we first met? These are easy questions.”
Luna smiled back, her answer immediate. “A neon green shirt with your name written on it, the shirt they made the trainees wear.”
“Correct!” Jeonghan said, his tone bright with approval as he flipped to the next card, “What's my routine before I go to sleep?”
“Nowadays? Or before you started your service?” Luna asked, her brows pulling together slightly as she needed the clarification.
“Nowadays.” Jeonghan answered simply.
Luna straightened in her seat slightly, her expression focused as she answered, “Once you get home from work you immediately shower, then you eat dinner if you feel like it which is most of the time, then you lay in bed scrolling on your phone or we watch a movie we’ll never finish, then you brush your teeth, and go to bed and sleep.” Her voice was steady, each step coming naturally as she listed them out.
Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “You're missing one step.” He said it casually, but there was something in his tone that made it clear he had been waiting to say it.
Luna frowned slightly, her brows furrowing as she replayed her answer in her head. “No I didn't.” She said, her voice firm as she looked at him.
“You did.” Jeonghan smirked at her, clearly enjoying this.
“I didn't. What did I miss?” she asked, leaning forward slightly now, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Jeonghan’s smile turned more smug as he answered, “Before I go to sleep, I kiss you first. You missed the most important step.”
Luna let out a small laugh in disbelief, her head tilting back slightly before she rolled her eyes playfully, her lips still curved as she turned her head toward the camera. “He is doing too much because he knows this interview is relationship centered.” She said it with a mix of amusement and mild exasperation, her tone giving him away completely.
Jeonghan chuckled softly at her reaction, clearly pleased with himself. “You'll get a point for that anyway because I'm generous.” he said as he leaned back slightly.
“I get a point because I was right!” Luna retorted immediately, her voice quick as she looked at him, not letting him have the last word.
Jeonghan did not waste any time as he lifted the next card, his fingers sliding it forward with ease as his eyes scanned the question before he read it aloud. “What's my zodiac sign?”
“Libra.” Luna answered without hesitation. She did not even pause before adding, a small smile forming on her lips as she tilted her head slightly, “That's easy... what's my zodiac sign?”
Jeonghan’s lips curved immediately, his eyes glinting with mischief as he answered without missing a beat. “Intj.”
Luna’s reaction was instant as she reached over and smacked his arm, her brows pulling together in disbelief while her lips parted in protest. “Ya! That's correct and wrong at the same time.” she said, her tone caught between amused and mildly offended.
Jeonghan let out a quiet laugh, clearly pleased with himself before answering properly this time, his voice softer as he looked at her. “You're an Aquarius, baby.”
“Mm hmm.” she said, nodding as she settled back slightly, accepting the answer with a small satisfied hum.
He flipped to the next card, his fingers tapping lightly against it before reading, “What's something that you weren't expecting to love about me?”
Luna let out a soft chuckle at that, her eyes briefly dropping before lifting again as she answered, her voice carrying a quiet honesty. “That you’re annoying.” She said it plainly, but there was warmth in the way she spoke. “Normally that would obviously annoy me with other people,” she continued, her lips curving into a small smile as she looked at him, “but it’s one of the traits I love the most about you.”
Jeonghan watched her as she spoke, his expression softening just slightly before shifting into something more playful again. “So you’re saying I’m special?” he asked.
“You’re saying that, not me.” Luna replied immediately, though the smile on her face betrayed her words.
Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, studying her for a brief moment before nodding as if accepting her answer anyway. “Sure, sure. I’ll take that.”
He moved on, flipping the card with practiced ease as he read the next question. “What are your nicknames for me? You also have a lot.”
“Jeonghannie, Hannie, Han, Jeongie, and Angel Boy.” Luna answered confidently, her voice steady as she listed them off without missing one.
Jeonghan’s lips curled into another smirk, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at her. “Don't forget...” he said, lifting the cards up to cover his mouth from the camera as he mouthed something to her.
Luna frowned slightly, her brows knitting together as she leaned forward, trying to catch what he was saying. “Huh?” she said, her voice filled with confusion.
Jeonghan mouthed something again.
She squinted slightly, trying to read his lips again, still not getting it. “What?”
Without warning, Jeonghan hooked his foot around the leg of her chair and pulled her closer, the movement smooth as it caught her off guard.
Luna’s eyes widened in surprise as she was pulled toward him, her body shifting forward before he leaned in and whispered something quietly into her ear.
Her eyes went even wider before she pulled back and smacked him, her hand landing against his arm as he threw his head back and laughed, the sound full and unrestrained.
“You're so annoying. Read the next question.” she told him, her voice trying to sound firm but the slight shake of her head and the lingering smile on her lips gave her away.
Jeonghan gathered himself, clearing his throat lightly as he looked back down at the cards, though the grin had not fully left his face. “What's my favorite Lego set I built?” he read.
Luna’s expression brightened instantly, her eyes lighting up as she let out a small gasp. “You really enjoyed the Ferrari set,” she said, her voice animated as she leaned forward slightly, “and the Bowser one we built together.”
Jeonghan nodded at that, his expression softening again. “The cars are my favorite ones,” he said, his tone calm as he confirmed it, “but yeah, the recent one we built... Bowser is my new favorite.”
Luna nodded, her smile lingering as she turned her head toward the camera. “We both have a Lego addiction,” she said.
“What’s your favorite set you’ve built?” the producer asked from behind the camera.
Luna turned back slightly, her expression thoughtful for a moment before answering. “Hannie bought me the Hogwarts Castle that had like six-thousand something pieces. We spent three whole days building it together.” Her voice softened slightly at the memory, her eyes flickering toward him.
Jeonghan watched her as she spoke, his gaze steady and fond, the corner of his lips lifting just slightly.
Luna continued, her hands moving slightly as she spoke, more animated now. “It’s the biggest Lego set we have,” she said, her tone filled with a quiet pride, “and it was one of the reasons we bought a bigger house.” She let out a small laugh at that, shaking her head slightly. “Now we have an entire separate room filled with just our Legos.”
Jeonghan let out a soft laugh, nodding in agreement. “It got out of control.”
“You encourage it.” Luna shot back immediately, her brows lifting as she looked at him.
“That goes both ways. I encourage you, you encourage me.” he replied just as quickly.
“We’re bad for each other.” she said, teasing.
“Absolutely terrible.” Jeonghan winked at her, playing along.
He moved on to read the next question, “What is something I cannot leave the house without?”
“Phone, wallet, earphones... and your emotional support item.” She answered with confidence, her eyes flickering toward him as if waiting for his reaction.
Jeonghan’s face immediately broke into a grin, his head dipping in a small nod as he looked at her. “Correct!” he said as he flipped to the next card between his fingers. “This is another easy one. What is my favorite season of the year?”
Luna let out a soft breath of a laugh, her shoulders relaxing as she answered, “That's easy! We like the opposite sides of the season. I like spring and you like autumn.”
Jeonghan smiled at that as he nodded. “That's right. Good job.” His voice softened slightly as he said it, his gaze lingering on her for a second longer than needed.
Luna turned her head toward the camera then, her lips curving into a small smile as she added, “Basically we like it when it's not too hot and not too cold.”
Jeonghan let out a quiet chuckle at that, shaking his head slightly before looking back down at the cards, already moving on. “What were we doing when I proposed to you? Bonus points if you remember where it was.”
The moment the question left his lips, Luna’s expression shifted, her eyes dropping for a brief second as a faint blush crept up her cheeks, her fingers tightening slightly around her own cards. She took a small breath before answering, her voice softer now. “We were skipping rocks on the lake at a park in Berlin.”
Jeonghan looked at her with a small smile, his eyes soft as he nodded. “That’s correct.” His voice carried a quiet satisfaction, but there was something gentler underneath it. “You even got the bonus.” He added, his tone teasing lightly.
Luna let out a small laugh, shaking her head slightly as she looked at him. “Of course I did.”
There was a quiet confidence in her voice, but her cheeks were still faintly flushed.
Jeonghan glanced back down at the cards, though there was a hint of mischief returning to his expression as he asked her another question. “Is it true that you passed out when I proposed to you?”
Luna’s head snapped up at that, her eyes immediately narrowing as she caught the look on his face, disbelief written all over hers before it turned into a laugh. “That's not a question! Don't lie!” she said, her voice quick as she reached out instinctively to grab his cards, her hand brushing against his as he pulled them slightly out of reach, laughing.
“I didn't pass out...” Luna pointed at the camera as she clarified, her brows lifting as if addressing the viewers directly while Jeonghan continued chuckling beside her. “Almost, but I didn't.” she added, her tone firm but still laced with amusement.
There was a brief pause before the producer’s voice came from behind the camera, clear and amused. “You both got perfect scores.”
Luna’s eyes widened slightly before she turned toward Jeonghan, a bright smile breaking across her face as she lifted both her hands toward him. He mirrored her instantly, and they met in the middle with a double high five, both hands connecting at once with a soft clap.
“Good job.” Jeonghan said, his voice warm as he looked at her, his smile lingering.
“You too.” Luna replied.
“Can we end it with a kiss?” the producer asked, his tone teasing.
Luna and Jeonghan both turned to look at each other at the same time, a brief moment of shared understanding passing between them before Jeonghan reached out, his hand coming up to cup the side of her neck gently. He leaned in without hesitation and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of her nose.
Luna smiled at that instantly, her eyes crinkling slightly as she let out a small breath of a laugh.
“On the lips.” the producer teased, chuckling from behind the camera.
Luna shook her head lightly, still smiling as she glanced toward the camera. “He knows better not to kiss me when I have lipstick on.” she said, her tone amused.
Jeonghan let out a quiet laugh beside her, nodding in agreement. “She'll tear my head off if I ruin her lipstick.” he said, his voice light as Luna lifted her hand and gave a small wave toward the camera.
The moment lingered for just a second longer before it naturally faded, the two of them still smiling as the scene came to an end.
comments...
@/caratwonwoo • 17 hours ago ╰ SURPRISE DROP??? HELLO??? I OPENED YOUTUBE HALF ASLEEP AND GOT HIT WITH JEONGNA COUPLES QUIZ I AM NOT OKAY 😭😭 this is their FIRST OFFICIAL INTERVIEW AS A COUPLE and they just sat there in white looking like a wedding photoshoot like what do you MEAN?!
@/hanieloveclub • 17 hours ago ╰ when she said “When do I realized I liked you more than a friend?” and he just looked at her like that… and said ““That's a trick question because you always liked me more than a friend.” i’m actually unwell.
@/seokminsmiles • 16 hours ago ╰ the way he listed EVERYTHING she was wearing the first time he saw her down to the red converses??? sir that is not memory that is DEVOTION 😫 we’re not even a minute in!
@/cheolsversion • 15 hours ago ╰ “Yoon Jeonghan!” PLEASEEE the way he mimicked her and then admitted he likes hearing her say his name like that… i need to lie down
@/junhuicat • 14 hours ago ╰ 05:37 JIYEON’S RANT ABOUT THE DOOR NOT BEING CLOSED AND HIM NODDING AT THE CAMERA LIKE “see” IM CRYING they are literally married behavior already 😭
@/minghaosart • 13 hours ago ╰ not him casually saying she achieved all her dreams and calling her amazing and she just softly goes “I did.” like ??? THE INTIMACY ???
@/vernonfilmz • 10 hours ago ╰ 09:30 WHEN HE SAID HE KISSES HER BEFORE SLEEP AND SHE MISSED THAT STEP… the way she rolled her eyes but smiled?? yeah they’re SICK for this 🫠
@/hoshihoranghae • 10 hours ago ╰ “What's mine is yours. It doesn't matter.” JESUS FUCK YOON JEONGHAN WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!?!
@/dkenergy • 8 hours ago ╰ “My moon… my pretty moon.” i’m done. pack it up. nobody talk to me ever again. he really looked at her like she hung the damn sky.
@/baebylunalover • 7 hours ago ╰ i don’t know who needs to hear this but LUNA IS SO PRETTY IT’S ILLEGAL. the way Jeonghan kept staring at her like she’s the only person in the room… chemistry is felt THROUGH THE SCREEN! i swear i felt like i was intruding on a date! This interview is TOO intimate 😭
@/jeonghanshalo • 6 hours ago ╰ i blinked and suddenly they’re talking about their FIRST KISS IN HIS CAR??? on the drive home??? six years ago??? after Wonwoo’s birthday??? oh they’ve been insane for each other for a long time.
@/mingyusbiceps • 6 hours ago ╰ 00:30 the way she said “Ready? You’ll have to get all of these right or I’ll be very upset.” and he just leaned back like he already KNOWS everything… yeah that man studied her like a textbook
@/nanayaluna • 5 hours ago ╰ YOON JEONGHAN PULLING LUNA’S CHAIR WITH HIS FOOT TO WHISPER IN HER EAR!!! LORD HAVE MERCY 🥵🥵🥵
@/wooahae • 5 hours ago ╰ Jeonghan: “You wore black a lot when we were trainees. That was one of the reasons you stood out to everyone. But you stood out to me because you were really pretty.” HELLOOOO?!!!
@/hoshishamster • 4 hours ago ╰ HER FACE WHEN HE GOT THE TATTOOS RIGHT??? ALL OF THEM??? even the tiny ones??? i’m actually screaming Jeonghan is a human Bae Jiyeon Encyclopedia 😝
@/dinosfuture • 3 hours ago ╰ 10:35 “What did I miss?” “I kiss you before I sleep.” HELLO??? SIR??? THIS IS A PUBLIC PLATFORM
@/scoupsleadernim • 2 hours ago ╰ i love how she kept trying to move on when he got smug like she KNOWS he’s about to say something that’ll embarrass her 😭 their dynamic is everything to me! I miss them soo much 🩷
@/caratdeul • 1 hour ago ╰ the way they both said “It depends.” at the same time about Jiyeon’s jealousy… yeah they’ve had that conversation before LMAO
@/hanieangelcore • 1 hour ago ╰ 11:50 when he mouthed something and pulled her chair closer??? and she smacked him after??? WHAT DID HE SAY I NEED ANSWERS!!!
@/moonlightbaeby • 30 minutes ago ╰ the lego room reveal??? SIX THOUSAND PIECE HOGWARTS SET??? they really built a whole life together brick by brick i’m crying
@/ot14forever • 52 minutes ago ╰ the way they both got perfect scores like of course they did… they’ve been orbiting each other for YEARS this was light work for them 😭
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Synopsis ❧ Idol!reader and Ushijima secret relationship faces a viral "soft launch" when he accidentally wanders shirtless into her live vlog.
It was supposed to be a simple "Get Ready With Me" vlog for the group’s official channel. You had your ring light set up on the vanity of your shared apartment, the camera angled perfectly to show your skincare routine while keeping the rest of the room a blur.
"And then, for the final step, I use this rosewater mist," you chirped at the lens, holding the bottle up. "It’s super refreshing after a long dance practice—"
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The rhythmic, heavy sound of footsteps approached. You froze. You had forgotten that today was Ushijima’s "active recovery" day.
The door swung open. Ushijima strode into the frame, shirtless, with a towel draped around his neck and a gallon-sized water bottle in one hand. He didn't look at the camera. He didn't even look at you. He walked straight to the closet behind you, reached for a fresh training shirt on the top shelf revealing every rippling muscle in his back to your 5 million subscribers and then paused.
He finally noticed the glowing ring light.
The silence lasted for five very long, very high-definition seconds.
Ushijima turned his head slowly, squinting at the camera lens as if it were a particularly difficult blocker at the net. You sat there, misting bottle paralyzed in mid-air.
"Are you recording a video?" he asked, his voice a deep, morning gravel.
"Toshi," you whispered, your face turning a shade of red that matched your group’s official fandom color. "I'm live-recording. To the internet. Right now."
He looked at the camera again. Most people would have ducked or dived out of the way. Ushijima Wakatoshi simply adjusted his posture.
"I see," he said. He stepped closer, his massive shoulder completely obscuring your face from the frame. He leaned down until his nose was inches from the lens. "Hello. Please ensure she eats the breakfast I left on the counter. She often forgets when she is focused on her choreography."
"Toshi! Get out!" you squealed, pushing his solid bicep. It was like trying to move a redwood tree.
"I am leaving," he said, unfazed. He looked back at the lens one last time. "Also, our next home game is on Saturday. Tickets are available on the V-League website. Goodbye."
He walked out, shutting the door with a firm, decisive click.
You sat in stunned silence for a moment before looking at the recording monitor. The comments section of the "preview" clip was already moving so fast it was a blur of gibberish.
Y/Nbunny: IS THAT SCHWEIDEN ADLERS USHIJIMA?!
hugs4Y/N: DID HE JUST PLUG HIS VOLLEYBALL GAME ON A BEAUTY VLOG??
foreverY/N: THE BACK MUSCLES. I AM GOING FERAL.
loveY/N: 'Please ensure she eats’ I'm crine he's so blunt but so sweet??
You sighed, burying your face in your hands. Your manager was going to have a heart attack, but your engagement metrics were about to hit an all time high.
enha when idol s/o covers their song, bf!enha x idol!reader, gn, shoutout to the anon that requested this bc i was so excited to write it!! 1.1k words
HEESEUNG
• he’s your number one fan and thinks you’re the coolest person ever so OBVIOUSLY he’s going to be in the crowd when your group performs a special stage at kcon!!!
• he promised the managers that he could be so cool and nonchalant and not get in a dating scandal
• until the first few notes of Moonstruck start playing
• “there’s no way” 😃
• the camera shows the boys ofc so they’re all giving thumbs up and such but hee is just STARING SO HARD 🫠
• completely ruined bc how are you so majestic????
• when you do his vocal runs towards the end???
• you killed him, he literally has chills
• tells you that you’re the most talented person he’s ever met
• accidentally likes a fancam the next day and has to blame it on a glitch 💔
JAY
• supportive boyfriend to his core, he’s watching you and your members get on stage like it’s his kids soccer game
• probably gets smacked for pointing at you while whispering to whatever guy is next to him
• “that one’s mine” 😭
• you perform your current song and he’s ofc smiling and dancing along
• but then the song changes ????
• IS THAT BLESSED CURSED???????
• he’s never seen you dance so powerful and intense bro is shaking in his boots
• yn center 4ever please, you do the ‘and i walk like a lion’ the first time and stare into the cameras soul OH MY WORD SAVE HIM
• literally cheers like you just single-handedly wind the superbowl or something, i’m talking clapping far too long, hands up to his mouth like a megaphone to yell
• your cool ending fairy is ruined bc you can hear him from the stage and end up laughing
• he gives you a water and a hug when he sees you backstage and tells you how proud he is 🥹
• goes “those enhypen guys need to watch their backs”
JAKE
• he is so feral, he had to be warned
• “They’re performing one of your songs, so the camera will be on you a lot. DONT YOU DARE SIMP IN 5K”
• he begged you to tell him which song but you refused
• so when FEVER STARTED PLAYING!?? 😛
• he’s trying SO HARD to be chill, but WHY ARE YOU BITING YOUR LIP LIKE THAT
• you are literally copying him, winking when he did, biting your lip, all of it
• he’s too foggy headed to even realize you’re literally performing as him, move for move (he doesn’t need to know how many times you watched his fancam)
• when you’re all on the floor and they zoom on you when you get up 😁
• i think he literally stops breathing
• let’s out the most feral screech you’ve ever heard at the end of the performance 😭
• bro is NAWT slick
• but it’s okay bc he fawns over you for the next week
SUNGHOON
• he’s so professional and cool, he’s gonna watch his partner perform quietly and politely and totally normally
• and then PAUSE bc IS THAT NO DOUBT????
• WHY IS YOUR HAIR WET, WHYD THEY PUT A CUT ON YOUR FACE, HE CANT HANDLE IT
• when you do his part in the center his jaw tightens so hard, he’s fighting for his life to look normal 😭
• one of the guys leans over and goes ‘their footwork is so cool’ and he just goes ‘i know’ 😁 he’s definition proud bf
• he lowkey can’t look at you immediately after, he’s a little flustered
• but he makes sure to tell you ‘you looked really good out there’
• and then makes it up to you by taking you out to get a sweet treat bc you deserve it!!!
SUNOO
• he specially bought tickets just to watch you, okay? he is masked up, lightstick in his hand, and jungwon who he dragged along READY
• bopping around, dancing along while you perform and then the lights dim and he sees some outfit rearranging… cue Bad Desire
• SQUEALS SO LOUD
• he and jungwon are just sitting there smacking each other bc THATS THEIR SONG
• you specifically requested him to come, and now he knows why 🤪
• when you sing the ‘to the world you’re just an angel’ DIRECT EYE CONTACT
• bro is smiling SO BIG that’s his angel!!!! and he’s your angel!!!
• lowkey forgets to dance or anything because he’s just so transfixed
• makes everyone in his section chant your name during your ending fairy 🥰
• literally has tears in his eyes when he sees you backstage, picks you up in a hug, he’s so excited
JUNGWON
• you told him that you had a surprise during your groups performance and made him pinky promise to be there
• when you walk out with BRIGHT RED HAIR!??! (stan twt is divided on if it’s a wig)
• he thinks that’s it, you knew he would be sitting there stuttering like a fool as soon as he saw your new hair
• but the PARADOXX INVASION STARTS PLAYING!??!
• LOSES his mind im sorry
• you’re dancing HIS part, in HIS song, with HIS hair from the comeback
• heart palpitations, face is red, cannot breathe
• you have SO much energy and stage presence he feels like he’s drooling but he can’t help it 😭
• ATTACKS you when you get off stage, full on picking you up, fixing your hair, kisses you lightning speed when he thinks no one will see 🤩
• will literally talk about it on live for the next three weeks
• “that group did a really good job, i especially liked yns part!! do you think we look alike? we look good right? maybe we should do a challenge together!”
RIKI
• he knew you were doing a cover, you’d been talking about trying to do really well with the new style and talking about how cool the choreography was even though it wasn’t what you’re used to
• so he’s got high hopes and is ready to be super supportive even if you feel nervous about it
• appreciated how cool your outfits are when you get on stage, hee gives him a little nudge bc he knows how much riki has been talking about it
• and then Bite Me comes on and they all freeze
• it’s the version without other dancers, although you and one of your members do a paired part that he thinks looks SO COOL
• oh my, oh my god is CORRECT bc he chokes when you start dancing 😆
• seeing you being so cool singing his groups song and doing choreography that he helped with????
• he is A GONER
• tries to keep it so cool, dancing and singing along
• he gets sooooo smug when you do his part and the crowd goes crazy 😏
• afterwards he’s like ‘yeah you looked pretty cool, whoever did that song must be super cool’ like he didn’t save your fancam to his phone and like all of the videos comparing you and him side by side
