Enhypen X Reader - Blog Posts

I’m bwalling I lob this concept

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL

PAIRING idols riki x fem reader

WARNINGS profanity, + more to be added

GENRE fluff, humor, mild angst, workplace romance

SYNOPSIS fans always point out the chemistry between you and riki, and it only continues to grow after you become mc’s together on music bank. but as your feelings rise, so does the tension. and people begin to notice, so you try not to let riki know how you feel. but unbeknownst to you, he feels entirely the same way.

STATUS august 10 2024 - tba

taglist is open <3

PROFILES hypen not hyphen | bunnygirls

TRACK 001 : the left side

TRACK 002 : inconveniently convenient

TRACK 003 : my nervous babies

TRACK 004 : loveyloveyloveydoveydoveydovey

TRACK 005 : big balls and lots of courage

+ more to be added

a/n this smau will be kinda short, maybe only 15-20 episodes. also there will be a lot of written parts

SOMEBODY RESTRAIN MEEEE OMDS THIS FIC WAS ACTUALLY INSANEEEE DURING THE WAREHOUSE SCENE I ACTUALLY FELT SO UNSETTLES WITH LIKE THE WHOLDEXPERIMENTS THING AND I LOVED THE END SCENE IT WAS SO CUTE AND EMOTIONAL GENUINLEY I WAS ABT TO CRY!!!I LOVE THE WHOLE ENEMIES BUT NOT REALLY ENEMIES TO LOVERS IT WAS SO CUTE AHHHHHHHH I LOVED THIS FIC SM

lhs - under the covers.

AN E2L UNDERCOVER COPS FAKE MARRIAGE AU | FULL FIC

"If this is fake, then why are you begging?"

summary: you’ve never liked lee heeseung. he’s cold, unreadable, and way too good at his job—so of course, the captain decides to partner you with him for an undercover op that requires you to be married.

the rules are simple: go undercover. pretend to be in love. don’t actually fall for him.

except now he’s pinning you against a wall, calling you ‘sweetheart’ in that low, amused drawl, and touching you like he means it.

…so, yeah. this might be a problem.

genre: slow burn | enemies to lovers | undercover cops | fake marriage | SUGGESTIVE CONTENT word count: ~around 20K release date: TBA ⚠️ warnings 18+ MDNI: guns, violence, smut, tension, heeseung being annoyingly attractive while pretending not to care, reader being an absolute menace back, dangerous men doing dangerous thingshate sex but it turns into something desperate & messy, heeseung has a gun AND a filthy mouth (both are dangerous), "you need to stay quiet" but he makes it impossible, heeseung likes pushing you against walls (sometimes to protect you, sometimes not), explicit descriptions of tension: prolonged eye contact, teasing touches, and not-so-fake kisses that turn heated way too fast, sex as a distraction? sex as an argument? sex as a mistake? sex as an act? all of the above., one bed trope but make it fully unhinged (heeseung smirking when you wake up wrapped around him), heeseung is smug, teasing, and cocky in the streets but a menace in the sheets, "you said this was just for the mission. so why do you keep touching me when no one’s looking?", breathplay, lets keep it rough, ppl like it that way

The precinct is chaos, like always. Phones ringing, boots scuffing against tile, someone muttering curses over a jammed printer, another officer shoving a box of evidence onto their desk like it personally offended them. The scent of burnt coffee lingers in the air—a tragic crime in itself. Nothing about today should feel different. And yet, something does.Maybe it's the way your phone buzzed with a single-line message from Captain Jung. Maybe it's the fact that he never calls you in without details. "Briefing. My office. Now." You know better than to expect good news.

The elevator doors slide open, and you step inside, pressing the button for the fifth floor—Captain Jung's office. As the doors start to close, a voice cuts through the noise—smooth, measured, annoyingly familiar. 

"Hold it." 

You debate letting the doors shut. But before you can make a decision that would undoubtedly lead to more paperwork, a hand slides between them, forcing them back open. Lee Heeseung steps in.

He barely looks at you as he presses the same button you just did—as if it wasn't already lit up. "Oh, fantastic," you mutter, shifting your weight against the railing. "Just the person I wanted to suffer with."

Heeseung doesn't react immediately, but you see it—the slightest twitch of his jaw, the way his fingers flex before settling against his side. "I'd say the same," he finally says, adjusting the strap of his shoulder holster, voice flat. "But I don't waste my energy lying."

"Right," you say, crossing your arms. "Because you save all your energy for being insufferable instead." 

His lips twitch slightly, but he suppresses it so fast you almost miss it. "And yet, you're still here," he says, shrugging. "Tragic, isn't it?"

The elevator shudders slightly as it begins moving. You glance at the numbers ticking up above the doors, feeling the weight of the silence settle in. Heeseung is annoyingly calm, as always. Hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders squared, face unreadable. He's built his reputation on being calculated, sharp, impossible to crack. But you know him too well. You catch it—the slight clench of his fingers, the way his jaw sets just a little tighter than usual.

"You got the same message?" you ask, watching him from the corner of your eye. "Captain's office. No details."

"Sounds like your fault," you say automatically. He actually exhales a short breath through his nose—almost a laugh, but not quite. "You always assume the worst of me," he muses. "And I'm never wrong," you point out. He doesn't bother denying it.

For a moment, the only sound is the low hum of the elevator. You feel it then—that unspoken shift, the tension settling in a little heavier than before. Not the usual kind, not the sharp-edged annoyance that defined your partnership, but something else. Something uncertain. Neither of you say it, but you're both thinking the same thing. This feels different.

"Whatever this is," Heeseung mutters, glancing at the doors as they begin to slide open, "let's just get it over with." 

"No promises," you reply. 

The hallway stretches out in front of you, the frosted glass of Captain Jung's office glowing dimly under the overhead lights. You step out first, heels clicking against the tile. Heeseung follows. And just like that—everything changes.

The precinct's Briefing Room B is dimly lit, the glow from the projector casting grainy surveillance footage across the whiteboard. Lakeshore Estates looks picturesque—wide streets, manicured lawns, quiet affluence. Too perfect. A neighborhood like this shouldn't have $32 million unaccounted for in wire transfers. But it does. And that's why you're here.

Captain Jung flips the case file open, his voice sharp, clipped. "Two informants inside Lakeshore have already turned up dead in the last six months. One of our undercover agents—Detective Choi—has been missing since January." A photograph slides across the table, face-down. You don't pick it up immediately, but the silence that follows is heavy. You don't have to see it to know what it means.

"This isn't just money laundering anymore," Jung continues. "It's organized, it's layered, and it's operating under complete anonymity. We're out of assets, and we're out of time. The only option left is deep cover."

You inhale slowly, tapping your pen against your notepad. Beside you, Heeseung doesn't move. His posture is too still, his fingers interlaced, his jaw locked. You know that look. He already hates where this is going.

Jung continues, flipping to the next page. "You two will be moving into 345 Willow Crest Lane. Newlywed couple. Standard deep cover ops—new financial records, new employment history, full fabricated background. You're both taking on the last name Park."

You blink. "You're sending us in together?"

"Yes."

Heeseung lets out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders back. "Sir, with all due respect, we can't be the only two detectives available for this assignment." Jung doesn't even look up. "You're not. You're just the best."

You feel a headache creeping in already. The best is one way to put it. Another way to put it would be "the most dysfunctional pairing in the history of law enforcement."

"You're both experienced in financial forensics, undercover ops, and organized crime infiltration," Jung continues. "That makes you the only option for this."

Heeseung exhales sharply through his nose. "This is a mistake." "I agree," you mutter, arms crossed.

Jung ignores both of you, flipping through another file before pushing it across the table. "The target is Chairman Kang," he continues, flipping the case file open. "You already know his reputation—drug trafficking, illegal arms deals, organized crime. What we didn't know until recently was that he operates out of a secure location hidden in plain sight—his family estate, nestled inside an exclusive gated neighborhood where law enforcement hasn't been able to get close.."

Heeseung is scanning the documents as fast as you are. You know he's already building a profile in his head, breaking down entry points, psychological patterns, risk levels. It's what he's good at.

Jung continues. "You'll be expected to integrate into the social structure, establish trust, and secure financial access through internal sources. Your marriage needs to be believable. That means attending community events, country club meetings, PTA fundraisers, and neighborhood get-togethers. You'll play the role, you'll blend in, and you'll do it convincingly."

The moment he says it, Heeseung lets out a short, humorless laugh. "You want us to be convincing?" Heeseung shakes his head, leaning back. "We can't even stand each other for five minutes."

"Then figure it out," Jung says, already done with the argument. "Because for the next few months, you will hold hands, you will smile, and you will act like you love each other."

Your stomach twists violently. Of all the assignments you've been given—undercover drug operations, arms deals, high-risk surveillance—this might actually be the most painful.

Heeseung exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. "And what happens if we get exposed?" "Then you're dead."

Silence.

Jung closes the folder, leaning forward. "Make no mistake—this is dangerous. You're stepping into something where people have already been killed. If you get caught, we won't be able to pull you out in time. This operation is blacklisted outside of this room. Your only protection is your cover. That's it."

The weight of it settles like cement. For the first time since the meeting started, Heeseung looks at you. It's brief—half a second, barely noticeable—but it's enough. You both understand the stakes now. The banter, the irritation, the competitive tension that has fueled your partnership for years—none of it matters when the risk is death.

Captain Jung exhales, sliding the final document across the table. "Your flight leaves at 0600. Your new house is already secured, and your covers are set."

You inhale deeply, pushing down the nausea creeping into your throat. You've worked with Heeseung for years. You've survived operations together. You can do this. Maybe.

"Fine," you say finally, shoving the file into your bag. "But if you call me 'baby' even once, I'm shooting you."

Heeseung smirks, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Looking forward to it, sweetheart."

The house at 345 Willow Crest Lane looks exactly how it did in the surveillance photos—pristine, oversized, and painfully curated. It's the kind of place where the neighborhood watch patrols more aggressively than actual law enforcement and where the biggest crime on record is probably a hedge growing two inches past regulation. It's also your new home.

A deep, uneasy feeling settles in your stomach as you step out of the car, staring up at the two-story house with its perfectly symmetrical windows and fresh coat of off-white paint. It's unsettling, the way everything is already set up, lived-in but not actually lived-in, waiting for you to assume your roles.

From the corner of your eye, you notice Heeseung eyeing the property with the same reluctant scrutiny. His jaw is tight, his hands shoved into his pockets, the subtle weight of reality finally setting in for both of you. "So this is home now," he mutters, his tone flat. Your fingers tighten around the strap of your duffel bag as you exhale slowly, not bothering to look at him. "Unfortunately."

Neither of you move for a moment, standing side by side in silence. The weight of the assignment hangs heavy between you. This isn't like other cases—it's not just an operation, not just surveillance, not just information retrieval. This is long-term infiltration, the kind that requires complete immersion. The kind that demands disappearing into a role so deeply that the lines blur.

You don't let yourself dwell on it. Instead, you push forward, stepping up to the door and unlocking it with the key provided in your briefing file. The lock clicks smoothly, and as you push the door open, the overwhelmingly staged nature of the house hits you all at once.

The living room is immaculate, decorated in neutral colors, accented with expensive but unassuming furniture. The air smells like fresh paint and manufactured warmth, like it's been lived in just enough to seem real, but not enough to actually feel it. But none of that is what makes you stop short. It's the photos. They're everywhere.

Framed pictures are perched along the fireplace mantle, the entryway table, the staircase wall leading to the second floor. You blink, stomach twisting at the sight of you and Heeseung staring back from glossy prints—your arms around each other, smiles bright, a wedding that never happened perfectly captured in high-definition detail.

You step closer, your breath catching as you scan them. One is of you in a white wedding gown, a delicate veil framing your face, standing beside Heeseung in a sharp black tux. He's looking down at you with an expression so soft and intimate that it feels wrong. Another shows his arm around your waist, hand resting a little too low on your back, his head tilted toward yours like he's whispering something.

But the worst one—the crown jewel of this horror show—is mounted directly above the fireplace. A massive canvas print. Foreheads touching. Eyes closed. Two people deeply, irrevocably in love. The kind of picture that doesn't just capture a moment—it tells a story.

The back of your neck prickles. A slow, deep exhale sounds behind you. "Jesus Christ," Heeseung mutters, stepping in behind you. His voice carries the same reluctant horror you feel twisting in your stomach. "That's nauseating."

You swallow down your discomfort and force your expression to remain neutral. "You think I like this any more than you do?" His gaze flickers to the wedding photo again before he exhales sharply, tilting his head slightly. "Could've fooled me. That dress looks expensive. You must've had a great time."

Your fingers flex at your sides as you slowly turn to face him. "I will throw you through that window." A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You'd have to catch me first, sweetheart."

You exhale through your nose, dragging a hand over your face before looking away, gaze sweeping over the carefully constructed life someone had built for you. The furniture, the decorations, the photos—all of it carefully crafted to make this cover airtight. There is no room for error.

From across the room, Heeseung exhales heavily, shifting his stance slightly. "Bedroom's upstairs, right?" You hesitate for half a second before nodding. "Yeah. About that—there's one bed." He stills. The air between you sharpens. His head turns slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. His voice is flat, resigned. "That's a joke." You wish it was. "Check for yourself."

You watch as he stares at you for a beat longer before turning on his heel and heading upstairs. You brace yourself. Exactly three seconds later, a sharp, disbelieving laugh echoes down the hall. "Fucking fantastic."

You sigh, rubbing your temples before following him upstairs. When you reach the bedroom, Heeseung is standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, jaw tight. His gaze is fixed on the king-sized mattress, the pristine white sheets tucked in so perfectly it looks like a hotel ad.

"There's a couch downstairs," you offer, your voice deliberately neutral. He doesn't look away from the bed. "There's a front lawn, too. Should I sleep there instead?" "If you want me to sleep better, I won't stop you."

Heeseung finally turns to face you, his expression blank but the subtle clench of his jaw betraying his irritation. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm not sleeping on the couch for months." "Then I hope you're good at sleeping with one eye open," you say, already moving past him to grab your bag. "You snore, don't you?" His voice is slow, assessing, like he's already regretting his entire existence.

"Only when I'm comfortable," you reply smoothly. "So that won't be a problem with you around." Heeseung huffs out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking his head slightly as he drags a hand through his hair. "This is going to be a disaster."

You don't disagree. But there's nothing either of you can do about it now. "Just stay on your side of the bed," you say as you toss your bag onto the mattress, "and I won't kick you off it." "No promises," he mutters, already walking toward the closet.

You inhale slowly, releasing the breath through your nose as you turn away. This is your life now. Sharing a house. Sleeping in the same room. Pretending to be in love. You can handle criminals, undercover operations, high-stakes investigations. But pretending to be married to Lee Heeseung? That might actually be the thing that kills you.

The neighborhood BBQ is exactly what you expected—too loud, too friendly, and entirely too interested in you and Heeseung. It's hosted at the home of Kim Taesung—the HOA President and primary suspect in the money laundering operation. His house is the biggest on the block, the kind that screams old money but tries to be humble about it.

The cul-de-sac is packed with families, couples, and retirees. The tables are covered in checkered tablecloths, an overwhelming spread of food from every possible cuisine, and an alarming number of matching casserole dishes.The entire neighborhood is here.

You and Heeseung walk up the driveway together, forced into immediate proximity by the number of eyes on you. His arm slides around your waist—a practiced, effortless motion—but you catch the slight hesitation in it. The briefest pause before his palm settles against your hip. To anyone else, it looks completely natural. To you, it feels like a challenge.

"This is my nightmare," Heeseung mutters under his breath. "Welcome to marriage," you reply, keeping your voice light as you plaster on your best 'newlywed glow' smile.

The first neighbor to approach is Mrs. Patel, an older Indian woman in a vibrant floral dress and a no-nonsense expression. She's one of the HOA's longest-standing members, which means she's also one of the most influential. "You must be the newlyweds!" she exclaims, adjusting the gold bangles on her wrist. "We've all been wondering when we'd finally meet you two!"

You grip Heeseung's forearm just a little tighter, just enough to make sure he doesn't say anything stupid. "It's wonderful to finally be here," you say smoothly. Mrs. Patel gives you a long, assessing look before nodding approvingly. "And such a beautiful couple, too! How long have you been married?"

Before you can answer, Heeseung beats you to it. "Two years," he says without hesitation. You blink. Mrs. Patel beams. "Two years! How lovely!"

You don't react immediately, still trying to process the absolute lie that just left Heeseung's mouth. Heeseung catches your delayed response and smirks, clearly entertained by your hesitation. "Yes," you say, smoothing over the moment. "Two wonderful, peaceful, not at all stressful years." You pinch his side discreetly. Heeseung doesn't even flinch.

Mrs. Patel sighs, clasping her hands together. "Young love is such a beautiful thing. How did you two meet?"

You feel Heeseung tense for half a second. You take advantage of it. "Oh, it was love at first sight," you say with a sweetness that is absolutely dripping in venom. "He looked at me like I was the only person in the world."

Heeseung recovers quickly, but you know you caught him off guard. "How could I not?" he murmurs, voice light but dangerously smooth. You hate how easy that sounded.

Mrs. Patel looks utterly delighted. "Oh, I love a good love story! And now look at you—happily settled in! Do you two have children?"

Heeseung freezes. You barely suppress the urge to laugh. From somewhere behind you, there is the unmistakable sound of Sunoo, your intel handler, choking on his drink. You place a gentle, affectionate hand on Heeseung's chest—only to dig your nails in slightly. "We're just enjoying each other for now," you answer smoothly.

Mrs. Patel nods approvingly. "That's very wise. But don't wait too long, dear. Time moves fast, and children are a blessing!" You smile politely, feeling your soul physically exit your body.

Before she can ask any more intrusive questions, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a well-pressed polo shirt approaches with a broad grin. "You must be the Parks!" he says, clapping Heeseung on the shoulder in a way that is just slightly too firm.

You recognize him from the briefing. David Hernandez, a retired FBI agent and Taesung's closest friend. "You're both even better-looking than the photos," he jokes. You keep your smile in place as your mind races. The photos. What photos?

"Thank you," you say, glancing at Heeseung briefly. "We were surprised by how much effort went into preparing everything." David chuckles, sipping his beer. "You'd be amazed how much we know about you two already. You're practically celebrities!"

You don't let the unease show on your face. There's a hint of something beneath his words, something that makes you want to dig deeper, to ask more questions, to find out exactly how much they know about this version of you.Instead, you laugh lightly, leaning into Heeseung just slightly. "Well, I hope we live up to expectations."

David nods approvingly, but his gaze lingers on Heeseung for just a second too long. "We'll be watching," he says, voice too casual. You nod politely, pretending not to read into it. But when he walks away, you feel Heeseung's grip on your waist tighten slightly. "That was interesting," he murmurs.

You don't react immediately, just keep smiling and greeting more neighbors, acting like nothing is wrong. Because if David Hernandez was already watching you this closely, then this mission is going to be even harder than you thought.

The argument starts the moment you step into the house. The second the front door swings shut behind you, you drop the polite neighborhood act, spin on your heel, and glare at Heeseung.

"Two years?" Your voice is low but sharp, edged with disbelief. "Are you insane?"

Heeseung lets out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair as he shrugs off his jacket. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you have a better number?"

"Literally any number other than the one that makes us look suspiciously established!"

Heeseung scoffs, tossing his jacket over the arm of the couch before leaning against it, arms crossed. "What, you wanted me to say six months? Give them a reason to think we're still in the honeymoon phase?"

You grit your teeth, stepping closer as you jab a finger against his chest. "You could've at least consulted me first."

His brows lift slightly, like he's amused by your irritation, which only pisses you off more. "Didn't know I needed permission," he muses, voice slow, calculated.

"You always do," you snap back.

The air between you thickens—not with tension, not with attraction, but with pure, exasperated irritation. Your pulse hammers as you step closer, your glare locking onto his with the force of every argument you've ever had.

Heeseung's jaw tightens, his fingers flexing at his sides. "You know what? Maybe next time, you should lead. Since you clearly have so much faith in your own bullshit."

"Oh, so you admit you're bad at lying?"

"No, sweetheart," he drawls, voice dripping in sarcasm. "I'm just saying you're so much worse."

Your eyes narrow. "Don't call me sweetheart."

"Then stop acting like my wife," he fires back.

"You first," you hiss.

The air crackles. And then—Three sharp knocks on the front door. Your head snaps toward it. So does his. Silence. Then, in perfect unison, you both lunge for each other.

You reach for his shirt, yanking him toward you as he grips your waist, spinning you both until your back is pressed against the door. You barely have time to register the full-body impact, the warmth of him, the way his hand flattens against your lower back before—The door swings open.

And standing there, wide-eyed and utterly delighted, is Mrs. Patel, Mrs. Lee, and Bianca Santiago—the neighborhood's most dedicated suburban gossip queens.

For a split second, the entire world stops. Then—"Oh!" Mrs. Lee gasps, covering her mouth with both hands. Bianca tilts her head, biting back a knowing smirk. "Bad timing?"

You are going to die. Your brain barely has time to process the sheer level of mortification that is about to follow.Because from the outside, this looks bad. Really bad. Heeseung is practically pressed against you, his grip on your waist still firm. Your hand is clutching his shirt like you were in the middle of something completely different.

And of course—of course—this would happen the second you actually get into an argument.

Mrs. Patel bursts into laughter, fanning herself with one hand. "Oh, newlyweds," she sighs dramatically. "Still in the phase where you can't keep your hands off each other!"

"Very healthy," Mrs. Lee nods approvingly. "Very passionate!" "Very inappropriate for the front door," Bianca adds, smirking.

Heeseung recovers before you do. Instead of stepping away like a normal person, he has the audacity to smirk, tilting his head slightly as he looks down at you. "Sweetheart," he murmurs, playing it up, "should we invite them in, or do you want to finish what we started?"

You barely resist the urge to murder him on the spot. Instead, you smile brightly—the kind of fake, saccharine sweet expression that makes his smirk widen. "Darling," you say, voice equally saccharine, "if we're done, then you clearly weren't trying hard enough."

Mrs. Patel laughs again, delighted. Bianca snorts, shaking her head. "Christ, you two are fun." You finally push Heeseung off you, straightening your shirt as you school your expression into something neutral. "What can we do for you, ladies?"

"We just wanted to drop off some welcome gifts!" Mrs. Lee beams, holding up a wicker basket wrapped in cellophane. "Just a few things to make you feel more at home."

You nod politely, glancing at Heeseung, who finally manages to wipe the amusement off his face. "That's very thoughtful," he says smoothly. "Thank you."

Mrs. Patel waves a hand. "Oh, don't thank us yet! We also came to invite you both to the Lakeshore Annual Couple's Dinner!"

You blink. "The what?"

"It's a tradition!" Bianca chimes in. "All the couples in the neighborhood get together for a formal dinner—drinks, conversation, and a few fun activities. You're expected to attend."

Expected. You barely suppress a groan. But before you can politely decline, Heeseung throws an arm around your shoulders and smiles. "We wouldn't miss it for the world."

You stiffen immediately, turning to glare at him. Bianca catches it. She smirks. "Oh, this will be good."

Mrs. Patel claps her hands. "Wonderful! We'll see you both next Saturday!"

And just like that, the three women take their leave, stepping off the porch and disappearing down the street—leaving you and Heeseung standing in the doorway, still reeling.

The second they're out of sight, you spin to face him. "What," you demand, "was that?"

Heeseung shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Fake marriage, sweetheart. Thought you wanted me to play the role."

You exhale sharply, pinching the bridge of your nose. "You are insufferable." "And you married me," he deadpans.

The worst part? You don't actually have a comeback for that.

The second the front door clicks shut, silence falls between you and Heeseung. Not the comfortable kind. Not even the tense, slow-burning kind you've grown accustomed to with him. No, this is the heavy, mortifying kind. The kind that sits in the air, stretching out unbearably long, as you both stand frozen in place, the weight of what just happened crashing down on you in full force.

You barely survived the neighborhood BBQ. And now, not even an hour later, the entire neighborhood thinks you and Heeseung were caught mid-makeout session against your own damn front door.

You can already hear the whispers. The amused speculation, the fake modesty, the 'oh, young love, how exciting!' nonsense that is going to follow you for weeks. Your stomach twists uncomfortably. There's no way to fix this. No way to explain to a group of nosy suburbanites that no, you were actually in the middle of an argument, not about to rip each other's clothes off. No way to undo the delighted expressions on the faces of Mrs. Patel, Mrs. Lee, and Bianca Santiago as they practically gushed over the passionate display of 'newlywed' affection.

A slow exhale sounds behind you. And then—Heeseung laughs. Not just a quiet chuckle. Not just an amused exhale. A full-bodied, unrestrained, genuine laugh.

Your eyes snap toward him, burning with disbelief. "Are you seriously laughing right now?"

Heeseung doesn't even try to hide his amusement. He drags a hand down his face, shaking his head as he leans against the door like his knees are barely holding him up. "You—" he wheezes, catching his breath. "You should have seen your face."

"My face?" you repeat, incredulous. "Do you realize what just happened?"

He grins, bright and shameless. "Yeah. Our nosy-ass neighbors think we're so in love we can't keep our hands off each other. It's hilarious."

"No, Heeseung, it's a disaster," you snap, stepping forward, your pulse still hammering from the sheer embarrassment of it all. You shouldn't have let him pull you toward him. Shouldn't have played into the moment, instinctively pressing closer to make it look real. But you did. And now, the damage is done.

"They're going to talk about this for weeks," you continue, frustration bubbling over. "And you just made it worse by encouraging them!"

His grin doesn't falter. "I didn't encourage them."

"Oh, really?" you scoff, throwing your arms up. "Then what the hell was 'should we invite them in or do you want to finish what we started?'"

Heeseung snickers. "That was me committing to the bit."

You let out a long, suffering breath, pressing your fingers against your temples as you try to compose yourself. Heeseung, meanwhile, looks like he’s enjoying this entire thing way too much.

"Relax," he says, shaking his head. "What’s the worst that can happen? They think we’re passionate newlyweds. That’s kind of the point of all this, isn’t it?"

"Not like that!" you snap, pacing the living room. "We were supposed to ease into this whole picture-perfect marriage thing, not throw ourselves into the deep end of ‘we can’t keep our hands off each other.’"

Heeseung exhales, stepping toward you. "It’s not like we had a choice. You saw their faces. There was no talking our way out of that."

You stop pacing, turning to face him, fully ready to argue more—

But then, you actually look at him.

The way he’s standing—too relaxed, too entertained, too damn smug.

He’s enjoying this.

He thrives off your irritation, drinks it like it’s his personal fuel.

And the realization makes something snap.

"You know what?" you say suddenly, tilting your head as your expression shifts. "You’re right."

Heeseung blinks, surprised. "I am?"

"Yup," you say, walking up to him slowly. "We should lean into this. If they think we’re all over each other, then let’s make sure they really believe it."

You see it happen—the moment the amusement fades just slightly from his face, the moment he realizes he’s about to be on the receiving end of whatever you’re planning.

Heeseung narrows his eyes slightly. "What are you doing?"

You hum innocently. "Oh, nothing."

Then, before he can react, you step onto your toes, grip his collar lightly, and press a slow, lingering kiss to his cheek.

Heeseung freezes.

Completely.

His entire body goes still, his breathing halts for a fraction of a second, and when you pull back, his eyes are locked onto yours with something sharp and unreadable.

You smile sweetly. "Just practicing, babe."

Heeseung exhales slowly, his jaw ticking slightly.

Then—he smirks.

A warning.

A challenge.

You barely have time to react before his hands find your waist, his grip firm but not forceful, and he leans in—just close enough that you feel the heat of him, just close enough that your breath catches in your throat.

"You sure you wanna play this game, baby?" he murmurs, voice low.

Your stomach flips.

But you refuse to back down.

"You started it, husband," you say, tilting your chin up slightly. "I’m just making sure you keep up."

Heeseung chuckles under his breath, his thumb brushing lightly against your side before he finally—finally—lets go and steps back.

"Don’t worry," he murmurs, smirking as he turns toward the stairs. "I always keep up."

You watch as he disappears upstairs, leaving you standing in the middle of the living room, still trying to process whatever the hell just happened.

Your fingers twitch at your sides.

Your pulse is too loud in your ears.

And the worst part?

For the first time since this mission started—

You’re not sure if you won or lost.

-

The  Lakeshore Annual Couple's Dinner  is  practically a neighborhood-wide spectacle —an event where couples gather to  passively flex their marriages , drink expensive wine, and pretend they're  happier than they actually are.  For you and Heeseung? It's an  improvisation nightmare. 

From the moment you enter the candlelit banquet hall, you can  feel the weight of the neighborhood's attention pressing down on you.  Soft lighting. Elegant tables. The hum of polite conversation. And every time you glance around,  there's always someone watching. 

Heeseung, of course,  is eating it up.  His hand lingers on the small of your back as he guides you toward your table— a perfectly executed display of possessiveness that makes your stomach tighten against your will. 

"Relax, babe," he murmurs near your ear, voice laced with amusement.

You grit your teeth.  "Husband, I swear to—" 

"Shh," he interrupts smoothly, squeezing your hip as you sit down. "Wouldn't want to ruin our reputation, would we?"

His smirk is  too smug, too self-satisfied.  You  want to wipe it off his face.  Preferably with your mouth. …Wait. What? You  shake off the thought immediately. 

It starts innocently enough. A few  casual  questions, meant to make the dinner feel more… intimate.  How did you meet? 

"Work," Heeseung answers smoothly. "We were partnered on a case five years ago."

You  nod, forcing a small, pleasant smile.  "And I've regretted it every day since." The table laughs. Someone sighs about  'enemies to lovers' stories.  You  ignore the way Heeseung's fingers tap idly against your thigh under the table. 

"She's lying," he adds, voice low but  measured.  "She was obsessed with me."

Your  head snaps toward him, jaw clenching.  "I—"

"Couldn't stay away," he finishes smoothly. Your nails dig into the  napkin on your lap. 

And then— the questions get worse. What was your first date like?  You  open your mouth.  Heeseung  beats you to it. 

"Our first date?" he repeats, tilting his head like he's  reliving something fond.  "She got sick halfway through." The table  awws.  You  want to scream. 

"Food poisoning," he explains, shaking his head. "Worst seafood of our lives." You  stare at him, stunned.  Where the  hell  is he going with this?

"I had to carry her to the car," he continues, eyes dark with  subtle amusement.  "And she told me—direct quote—'if you ever bring me back here, I will burn this restaurant to the ground.'" Another  round of laughter.  But Heeseung  isn't done.  He exhales, shaking his head. "That was the night I knew."

Your stomach  flutters— No. Twists. It twists. 

"The night you knew what?" you ask dryly,  refusing to let him win this. 

Heeseung turns his head toward you  slowly , lips curling slightly at the edges. "The night I knew I wanted you."

A breath  catches in your throat.  The conversation  moves forward , the moment swallowed by more laughter, more small talk—but you  can't move past it.  The way he  said it.  Like it wasn't a lie. Like it wasn't  just for show.  The air in the room  shifts.  Something  tighter. Heavier. 

David Hernandez—retired FBI agent and Kang's closest friend—steps forward with a microphone, smiling. "Alright, everyone," he announces, "time for the annual Couples' Game." Groans and laughter  ripple through the room.  But you don't react. Because from the far side of the hall, you  see him.  A man in a  dark suit , too polished for this kind of gathering. And he's  watching you. 

You shift, fingers pressing against your napkin. Heeseung  notices.  His hand—casual, easy, practiced—rests on your thigh. A gesture  for the audience.  A warning  for you.  Stay still. Stay focused.

And then  the first question. "What's your spouse's biggest fear?"  Laughter. Playful groans. The couples  around you answer easily.  But when it's your turn, silence. And then, Heeseung says,  "Losing control." 

The air in your lungs  vanishes.  Your head turns. Your eyes meet his. Heeseung doesn't  smirk.  Doesn't tease. He just  watches.  And for the first time all night— you feel exposed.  Like he's  seeing something you didn't mean to show.  Your pulse  hammers. 

And then—David Hernandez  claps his hands together, moving on to the next question.  The moment  snaps.  But your body  doesn't relax.  Because across the room—the man in the dark suit  still hasn't looked away. 

The dinner was supposed to be over. The interrogation, the intrusive questions, the suffocating weight of being watched— you survived all of it.  But now, just as you're about to slip under the radar,  David Hernandez picks up the microphone again. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announces, "a final toast to our wonderful couples. And what's a toast without a little romance?" You freeze. The guests laugh, already  anticipating whatever's coming next. 

"Let's see a real kiss," he continues smoothly. "Show us what young love looks like." Your stomach  drops. No. Absolutely not. 

A slow  ripple of excitement  spreads through the room. People  lean in, whispering, waiting.  And then— every eye turns to you and Heeseung.  Because of course they do. Because after tonight— after every stolen glance, every accidental touch, every slow, lingering moment that made it look like you were the most in-love couple in the room—this is the next step. 

You feel  the weight of their expectations pressing in.  You feel  the tension in the air shift, tighten.  And worst of all— you feel Heeseung looking at you.  Your pulse  skips.  You don't move.  Don't breathe. 

And then—a warm, steady hand  cups your jaw.  Your body  goes completely still.  Your breath  catches.  Heeseung is already leaning in, already  committing to the role before you can even think of a way out.  And suddenly,  you're out of options. 

If you hesitate— if you pull back now—it'll look suspicious.  So you  don't.  You  tilt your chin up.  You  let him close the space.  And then—his lips  meet yours. 

The first thing you notice is that  he's warm.  Soft.  Steady.  Too much of both. It's  slow at first. Careful.  A kiss meant to  sell a story, to satisfy an audience.  But then—then it changes.

Because the second your fingers  tighten in the fabric of his jacket , the second  your lips part just slightly beneath his—it's over.  The  shift is instant.  The kiss  deepens, sharpens, spirals into something dangerous. 

Heeseung's grip on your jaw  tightens.  His other hand  curves around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against him.  Your  stomach twists.  Your pulse  pounds.  You're supposed to be  acting.  But you can't remember how.

Because his fingers  slip just slightly into your hair.  Because he exhales sharply— low, wrecked—against your lips before tilting your head back and kissing you deeper.  Because when you break apart  just enough for air , he doesn't  move away.  His forehead  rests against yours.  His breath  fans across your skin. 

And the worst part? For just a second—for just  one, fleeting second—you forget that it's not real.  You forget that you  hate him.  You forget that the only reason this is happening is because you're being watched.

And then—the room  erupts in applause.  Reality  slams back into you like a train.  You jerk back  so fast it makes your head spin.  Heeseung  lets you go instantly.  Your lips still  burn.  Your skin still  tingles.  And the look in his eyes— dark, unreadable, something you can't name—  is enough to make your stomach  drop. 

Across the room, the man in the dark suit  finally smirks.  Like he  just got the confirmation he needed.  Like he  knows something you don't.  And suddenly— you're not sure who the real target of this mission is anymore. 

-

The second the front door clicks shut, you round on him. "You—" You don't even have the words. Your whole body is buzzing, your breath too shallow, your lips still tingling from that goddamn kiss. "What the fuck was that?"

Heeseung barely reacts. He shrugs off his jacket, loosening the first few buttons of his shirt like he isn't the problem, like he's not the reason your head is spinning and your pulse is in your throat.

"A kiss," he says smoothly, like it's obvious. "Wasn't that what they wanted?"

Your stomach twists. His voice is calm. Too calm. Like that kiss meant nothing to him. Like you're the only one who's still feeling it.

You grit your teeth. "That wasn't a kiss."

His brows lift. "Oh? Then what was it?"

"You—" You step closer, voice sharp, accusing. "You were all over me."

Heeseung tilts his head, lazily, infuriatingly amused. "You're the one who pulled me closer, sweetheart."

Your jaw clenches. "Because I had to sell it."

He smirks. And something inside you snaps. "You enjoyed it," you accuse, stepping even closer. "You fucking enjoyed it."

His smirk doesn't fade. "Don't flatter yourself, babe," he murmurs.

Your fingers twitch. Heeseung sees it, sees the way you're barely holding yourself together, the way your chest is rising and falling a little too fast. And he leans in. Not touching you, not quite, just close enough to make your breath catch. "Why?" he murmurs. "Did you?"

Your throat goes dry. You don't answer. Which is a mistake. Because Heeseung takes that exact moment to reach up, his fingers ghosting over your jaw, his touch just barely there. Your pulse stutters.

"You got quiet," he muses, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, like he's still thinking about the kiss.

You hate it. You hate him. And worst of all? You hate yourself for not pulling away. So you do the next best thing. You grab his wrist. Tight. And then you shove him back against the wall.

The sound echoes. His smirk flickers, just barely. But then, instead of being annoyed, instead of pushing you off, he laughs. Low. Amused. So fucking infuriating.

"That all you got, baby?"

Your whole body burns. And suddenly, you don't know if you want to slap him or kiss him again. Because he's watching you. Like he knows exactly what you're thinking. Like he's waiting for you to cross that line first. Your fingers tighten in his shirt.

"You push me one more time," you warn, voice trembling with something you can't even name, "and I swear to god—"

"What?" Heeseung leans in, voice dropping, his breath hot against your lips. "You gonna hate-fuck me, sweetheart?"

Your lungs stop working. Heat pools in your stomach. And worst of all, he sees it. He fucking sees it. His smirk returns, sharper than ever.

"You can, if you want," he murmurs. "We are married, after all."

Your grip on his shirt tightens. And for a moment, just a moment, you almost do it. You almost give in. Almost. But then you shove him back one last time and step away.

"You're not worth it," you grit out, voice barely steady.

Heeseung laughs again, low and slow, dragging a hand through his hair. "No?" he hums. "Then why do you look like you want to prove me wrong?"

You storm past him. Because if you don't, you might.

-

It was supposed to be temporary. A necessity. Because of appearances, because of the case, because if anyone in the neighborhood suspected that you and Heeseung weren't actually the perfect couple you were pretending to be, it would all fall apart.

So you agreed. Fine. One bed. One room. Just for show.

But now, in the dim glow of the streetlight filtering through the curtains, the reality of it hits you all at once.Heeseung is too close. Not touching, but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough that you can hear his breathing, slow, steady, maddening. Close enough that you should roll over, create distance, shut this down before it turns into something else.

But you don't. You can't. Because your body betrays you. You stay.

And then Heeseung moves.

You should be asleep. Should be facing the other direction, should be pretending none of this is happening. But Heeseung shifts beside you, his body brushing against yours, his warmth sinking into your skin, and suddenly, you can't breathe.

His breath is slow, heavy. You don't know if he's asleep or just waiting. And then he moves again. Rolls over. Turns toward you. And when his hand lands on your hip, you don't stop him.

You should. You don't. Instead, you let him pull you closer. Slow. Measured. Testing.

Your breath catches. Your fingers tighten in the sheets. And then, Heeseung whispers against your skin, "You're awake."

A statement. Not a question.

You swallow. His fingers curl around your waist. "Say it."

Your stomach tightens. "I'm awake," you murmur.

His grip tightens. And then he kisses you.

This time, there's no audience. No reason. No excuse. Just you, pressed against him. His hands gripping your waist. His lips parting against yours. Just your body arching into his, your fingers tangling in his hair, your thighs pressing together because you need more. Because this isn't enough. Because you don't hate him as much as you should.

Heeseung groans softly, deep and low, like he's been waiting for this. Like he's been holding back. His fingers slip under your shirt. His palm presses against your stomach, warm, steady, deliberate. Your hips shift instinctively.

Heeseung notices. His lips curve against yours. "You're desperate," he murmurs.

Your nails dig into his shoulders. "So are you, husband."

His breathing stutters. His next kiss is rougher. Hungrier. His tongue slides against yours, deep and slow, like he wants you to feel every second of it. You whimper—actually whimper—and Heeseung curses under his breath. His hands move, sliding over your bare skin, gripping your thighs, pressing you against him like he can't get enough.

And then you hear it.

A shift of movement outside. A footstep. Someone is standing there. Listening. Watching.

You feel Heeseung tense beside you. His fingers twitch against the sheets, his muscles flexing like he's ready to strike.But then, he turns his head, his lips brushing your ear.

"Don't stop."

Your pulse spikes. "They're listening," you whisper, barely parting your lips.

His fingers tighten on your hip. "I know," he murmurs, his voice so dark and smooth it makes your stomach tighten.He pauses for half a second. Then he shifts, rolling over, pressing his body against yours. His chest is warm, firm, solid against yours, his thigh sliding between yours beneath the sheets.

And then, he speaks. Loud enough for whoever is outside to hear.

"Kiss me, baby. Please."

Your stomach flips. Your breath catches. His fingers press into your hip, just enough for you to feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric. "Kiss me," he breathes again, even louder. His tone dripping with something dangerous.Something that isn't fake at all. The words roll off his tongue like he's begging. Like he wants it. Like he needs it.

You barely have time to react before his lips crash onto yours.

It's not careful. Not slow. Not fake. His hand grips your jaw, his thumb tilting your face up, forcing you to take it. His lips move hungrily, deeply, thoroughly, like he's been starving for this. Like he's craving you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. Your legs shift beneath him, parting slightly, allowing him to slot between them. The kiss is messy. Hot. Desperate.

And outside, there's silence. Then a muttered voice.

"They really are together."

Another pause. "Shit. That's… intense."

The gravel crunches. The presence outside shifts. But Heeseung doesn't stop.

His lips move down your jaw, his breath hot, heavy, controlled. His tongue flicks against your pulse, teasing, testing."You like this," he murmurs, so quiet it's almost just for you.

Your thighs tighten around his waist. His smirk presses against your throat. "Admit it, baby," he whispers. "You love letting them hear how good I make you feel."

Your nails dig into his shoulders. "You're disgusting," you hiss, but it comes out shaky.

His teeth graze your skin. "You're wet," he whispers against your throat. "And I haven't even touched you properly."

You almost bite your lip to stop the sound that threatens to escape. Almost. Because then his hips roll against yours, slow, deep, teasing.

And you moan.

Loud enough for the whole damn street to hear.

The figure outside finally moves. The voices fade. The footsteps retreat. They're gone.

But Heeseung doesn't move. Neither do you.

His lips hover just over yours, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath uneven. His hands are still on you. His body is still pinning you down.

And now, there's no excuse. No reason. No one left to perform for. Nothing stopping you from pushing him away. Nothing stopping him from letting you go. But neither of you do.

Instead, his fingers brush the corner of your mouth. His lips part like he's about to say something, but he doesn't.

Because now, you both know. This wasn't just for them. It wasn't just for the mission. Not really. Not when your body still aches for him. Not when his hands are still lingering. Not when he doesn't pull away first. And definitely not when you don't want him to.

The kitchen is too quiet.

The coffee smells rich and strong, filling the room, but it does nothing to cut through the thick tension that lingers from last night. From the moment you woke up tangled in the sheets with Heeseung's hand still gripping your waist. From the way he refused to be the first one to let go.

Now, as you stir your coffee, pretending everything is normal, pretending your thighs aren't still aching from how tightly they had clenched around his waist last night, pretending you aren't hyper-aware of him standing across from you, it's a losing game.

Heeseung leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching you. You refuse to look at him. The silence stretches.

And then he speaks. "You gonna talk about what happened last night, baby?"

You still. Your fingers tighten around the mug. But you don't answer.

Heeseung tilts his head, studying you. Waiting. And when you still don't say anything, he exhales sharply. "Fine. I'll start."

Your stomach tightens as he sets his cup down and pushes off the counter. "Who the hell were those people watching us?" he says, his voice losing the teasing edge from earlier. "Because that wasn't some nosy old lady peeking through the fence. Those were professionals."

You exhale slowly, finally lifting your gaze. "I don't know yet."

His brows lift. "Yet?"

You roll your shoulders back, forcing yourself into work mode. You need to focus. "Could be rival traffickers," you say evenly, setting your mug down. "Could be clients who don't trust our cover yet."

Heeseung nods slowly, his smirk from earlier finally gone. You almost miss it. Almost.

"So we're being watched," he states.

"Yes."

His jaw tightens. "And we just played right into their hands last night."

You look away. It's not a question. But you still feel obligated to answer. "Yes."

Heeseung sighs, dragging a hand down his face. "Fuck."

You exhale sharply, straightening. "It's not a bad thing," you say. "If they think we're real, they won't question us as much. It gives us credibility."

His eyes flicker over you. "You sure that's what you were thinking last night?" he murmurs.

You freeze. Your pulse spikes.

And the worst part? You don't know the answer.

You clear your throat, ignoring the way his gaze darkens just slightly at your hesitation. "You're deflecting," you say, your voice steadier than you feel. "We need to figure out how much they know."

Heeseung sighs, rolling his shoulders. "They had too much access to our house. That means one of two things—"

You nod, already following his train of thought. "Either they're locals who have the ability to move around unnoticed—"

"—or they've paid off someone in our network to let them get close," he finishes grimly.

Your stomach twists. Because both options are bad.

Heeseung pushes a hand through his hair, his biceps flexing slightly under his t-shirt. It's distracting. You grit your teeth. Focus.

"So what's the move, baby?" he says, casual, easy, like he didn't just call you that on purpose.

Your eye twitches. "We run surveillance on the street," you say tightly. "We watch who's watching us."

Heeseung hums, nodding. "Okay."

"And in the meantime," you continue, voice calm, measured, totally not affected by him at all, "we keep playing the perfect couple."

Heeseung pauses. Then, his lips twitch. "Perfect?"

You regret your word choice immediately. His smirk slowly returns. "You think we're perfect, sweetheart?"

Your teeth clench. "That's not—"

"You said it, baby," he murmurs, stepping closer, his voice warm, teasing.

Your pulse spikes. "You just said," he continues, his fingers brushing the edge of the counter, "that you and I—"

"Heeseung."

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "—are perfect together."

-

The air-conditioning in the store is a stark contrast to the heat outside, but it does nothing to cool down the tension simmering between you and Heeseung. It's been lingering ever since the conversation this morning. Ever since he pinned you with that smug smirk, acting like he had the upper hand, like you were the one struggling more.

You are not struggling. You refuse to struggle.

So when Heeseung grabs a cart and effortlessly rests one hand on the handle while the other slides into his pocket, looking far too comfortable in this fake domesticity, you ignore him. Instead, you focus on the list in your hands, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck, ignoring the way your pulse still isn't normal.

This is just an errand. Nothing more.

It starts small. A casual "Babe, what do we need?" that earns him a sharp glare. A lazy arm draped over your shoulders as you stand in the produce aisle, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair. A low "Want me to pick the best ones for you, baby?" as he grabs apples, grinning when you glare at him like you want to shove him into the fruit display.

You try to stay neutral. You fail.

By the time you reach the dairy section, Heeseung has pushed the cart so close to you that your hip brushes against it every time you move. And when you reach for a bottle of milk, he leans in—completely unnecessary, completely on purpose—his chest pressing against your back as his arm reaches over yours.

His breath is warm against your ear. "Need help, sweetheart?"

Your entire body locks up.

Heeseung hums, voice lower. "Or do you just like having me this close?"

Your fingers tighten around the milk bottle. You inhale sharply. Then, before you can stop yourself, you turn around too fast. The cart shifts. Your hip bumps into it. And somehow—somehow—you end up pinned between the handle and Heeseung, trapped in a space that is entirely too small for your liking.

His lips curve into a slow, satisfied smirk. "Close quarters," he murmurs, eyes dark and amused. "Feels familiar, doesn't it?"

Your stomach flips. You refuse to react. "Stop playing games," you bite out, your voice lower than intended.

Heeseung tilts his head, pretending to think. "But we're having so much fun."

You narrow your eyes. "You're having fun."

His smirk deepens. "And you're pretending you're not."

Your teeth clench. You're about to shove him away—about to remind him that this is a public place—when someone clears their throat behind you.

You go still. Heeseung's smirk vanishes instantly. Your stomach drops. Because when you turn around, you see him. A man in a dark polo, watching the two of you carefully.

You don't know him. But you know exactly what he is. One of them. And now, he's waiting. Watching. Testing.

Your heart pounds. And then Heeseung moves. So smoothly, so effortlessly, that if you weren't already hyper-aware of his every move, you might not have noticed the subtle shift. He steps closer. Not tense. Not nervous. Just…easy. Like this is normal. Like this is real.

It's different from last night. Worse. Because last night, there had been shadows and secrets and something unspoken.But here? Now? In broad daylight, in front of someone watching, in the middle of a damn grocery store, there's no hiding. There's nothing to mistake this for.

His lips move against yours slowly. Deliberately. Like he's savoring it. Like he's telling this man—telling you—that he's not afraid of being seen like this. His hand slides to your waist, his grip gentle, unhurried. Your fingers fist into his shirt, barely thinking.

Because the worst part? You melt into it. Not because of the act. Not because of the mission. Not because of the audience. But because he feels good. Because he knows exactly how to kiss you.

And when he pulls back, when he lingers for a second too long, when his breath is still warm against your lips, your stomach sinks. Because he's looking at you like he already knows. Like he can see straight through you. Like he knows you want more. And maybe maybe you do.

But then, from behind, the man clears his throat again. And Heeseung? He doesn't even glance back. He just smirks against your mouth. His thumb strokes over your cheek. And then, loud enough for the other man to hear, he murmurs—

"See, baby? I don't mind putting on a show."

Your entire body burns. Your stomach twists. Because for a second, just a second, you forget who this is for. You forget this is fake. You forget everything. And the worst part? You think Heeseung does too.

The car ride is silent. Too silent. The air between you and Heeseung is thick, charged, suffocating. You can still feel the ghost of his lips on yours. You can still hear his voice—low, teasing, smug as hell—whispering against your mouth in that damn grocery store. "See, baby? I don't mind putting on a show."

Your entire body still burns. You should be furious. You should be telling him to keep his damn hands to himself next time. But instead, you're gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. Instead, you can't stop thinking about the way his thumb brushed your cheek, the way he kissed you like he had nothing to prove, like he was just… enjoying it.Like he was just kissing you because he wanted to. Not because someone was watching. Not because the mission required it. Not because he had to. And that, that's the part that's making you lose your mind.

It happens fast. One second, you're keeping your eyes locked on the road, willing yourself not to glance at him. The next, Heeseung exhales sharply and shifts in his seat, tilting his head toward you. And then he speaks.

"So," he starts, too casual, too dangerous. "Are we gonna talk about it?"

Your jaw tightens. You know exactly what he's referring to. But you pretend not to. "Talk about what?" you ask, voice calm, steady. Too steady.

Heeseung sees through it immediately. He shifts again, his smirk audible even before you look at him. "The fact that you liked it," he murmurs.

Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. You refuse to react. "You kissed me," you say simply. "Not the other way around."

Heeseung hums, tapping his fingers against his thigh. "Yeah," he muses. "And you kissed me back."

Your stomach twists. "You were playing your part," you say, forcing nonchalance into your voice.

Heeseung laughs. Low. Dark. Amused. "And you weren't?"

Your breath hitches. You don't answer. Because you don't have an answer. Because he's right. Because you were too into it. Because it felt too good. And now you don't know what to do with that.

The silence stretches again. But this time, it's different. This time, it's thick with something neither of you want to name. And then, Heeseung speaks again. Voice low. Casual. Like he's not about to completely ruin your life.

"So, what if we just lean into it?"

You blink. "What?"

He shrugs, shifting in his seat, like he's not suggesting something completely insane. "Think about it, sweetheart," he says, his voice silk-smooth, dangerous. "We have to keep playing this part, right?"

You don't answer. Because he's right. Because you do. Because whoever was watching you last night, whoever was following you today, they still need to believe it.

Heeseung tilts his head, watching you closely. "We keep up the act. But we make it more… convincing."

Your stomach drops. "And by that, you mean—"

Heeseung smirks, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "Sex, baby."

Your entire body tenses. Your hands clench around the steering wheel. Your heart pounds so violently you swear he can hear it. "You're insane," you say flatly.

He laughs. "Am I?" he muses. "Or am I just thinking ahead?"

You grit your teeth. "This isn't necessary."

Heeseung shrugs. "Maybe not. But it'll help."

"Help?" you echo.

He nods, completely unbothered. "You really think whoever's watching us won't be looking for signs of intimacy?" he says. "We have to sell it."

Your stomach flips. You hate that he has a point. And worse? He knows he does.

"You don't trust yourself," he says suddenly.

Your head snaps toward him. "Excuse me?"

Heeseung just smirks. "You don't trust yourself," he repeats, voice low, knowing. "You think if we start fucking, you'll catch feelings."

Your breath catches. Because that's not it. Is it?

Heeseung leans closer, voice dangerously soft. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he murmurs. "I won't fall in love with you."

Your chest tightens. Your throat feels too dry. You should tell him no. You should shut this down.

But instead, your fingers loosen around the steering wheel. And when you speak, your voice is quiet. "You're so confident," you murmur. "But what if you're the one who falls first?"

The smirk on his lips flickers. Just barely. But you catch it. And that's all it takes. Because now? Now you know. This is going to be a disaster. And you're about to let it happen anyway.

The tension doesn't ease when you get home. It only gets worse. Because now, there's no one watching. No mission excuse. No reason to keep pretending—except for the one you both just created.

The deal was simple. Use each other. Keep the cover. Nothing more. But the moment you step inside, the moment the front door clicks shut, locking you in with him, you realize something. You're not thinking about the mission anymore. And neither is he.

You don't know who moves first. One second, you're standing there, the next, Heeseung is on you. The kiss is a collision.Hard, hot, devastating. His hands grab at your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips crash into yours, all tongue and heat and pure fucking need. There's nothing slow about it. No hesitation. No pretending.

His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you closer, forcing your body to mold against his. You feel every inch of him—hard muscle, sharp edges, the unmistakable heat of him pressing against your stomach. Your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling hard, dragging him deeper.

He groans and suddenly, you're moving. He's walking you backward. Fast. Desperate. You barely register the path through the house, until your back hits the nearest surface. The dining table.

Heeseung's hands are on your thighs instantly, lifting, gripping. "Up," he mutters against your mouth.

You don't hesitate. You hop up onto the table, legs wrapping around his waist, dragging him into you. Heeseung groans, his hands gripping your ass, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise. "You're already making this too easy," he rasps, his teeth grazing your jaw.

You should shove him away for that. Instead, you tilt your head back, baring your throat. His lips are on your neck in an instant. Biting. Sucking. Marking. Your breath shudders.

"Heeseung—"

"Yeah?" he murmurs against your skin, his smirk audible.

You should say something. Tell him to slow down. To stop making this feel like more than it is. But then his fingers slip beneath your shirt. And suddenly, you don't care anymore.

Heeseung rips your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. His lips trail down your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. You shiver, arching into him as his hands slide up your back, unclasping your bra in one smooth motion.

Your stomach clenches. "You've done this before," you mutter.

Heeseung laughs, low and dangerous. "You sound jealous."

Before you can retort, his mouth is on you. You gasp, your head tilting back as his lips close around your nipple, his tongue flicking, sucking, teasing. Your fingers tangle into his hair, holding him there, your back arching as heat pulses through you.

"Fuck," you breathe.

Heeseung hums against your skin. "That's it, baby," he murmurs, his teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm."Knew you'd sound so pretty for me."

Your stomach tightens. You should hate him. But you don't. Not when he finally moves lower, kissing down your stomach, his fingers sliding beneath your waistband.

He glances up at you, his eyes dark, heated. "Tell me to stop," he murmurs.

Your breath catches. You don't. Heeseung smirks. "That's what I thought."

The fabric of your shorts is gone in seconds. Your thighs part instinctively, inviting, desperate. Heeseung groans as he presses forward, grinding against you through his jeans. "Feel that?" he murmurs, voice wrecked. "That's all you, baby."

Your stomach flutters violently. He moves fast—too fast, like he's losing control, like he can't hold back, like he doesn't want to. Your nails dig into his back as he pushes his jeans down just enough, his cock sliding against your soaked entrance.

Your breath shudders. "Heeseung—"

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmurs, his tip teasing your clit. He grins when your hips buck instinctively. "Needy," he muses, pressing a kiss to your throat. "You want it that bad?"

Your fingers tighten around his arms. "Shut up," you mutter.

Heeseung just laughs—before finally pushing in.

Your breath breaks. Your fingers clench, nails raking down his back as he fills you, stretching you, giving you no time to adjust. "Fuck," Heeseung groans, his forehead dropping against yours. "You're so fucking tight."

You pant, shivering. Heeseung's lips brush yours, teasing. "Think you can take it?" he whispers.

You clench around him in response. His smirk drops. "Shit," he breathes.

Then he moves. And it's not slow. It's not soft. It's desperate. Relentless. Rough. His hips snap into yours, deep, punishing thrusts that make your breath catch, your body tighten, your fingers claw at his back.

"Fuck, baby," he mutters, his breath hot against your neck. "You feel so fucking good—so wet for me."

You can't think. You can't do anything except take it. Your back hits the table, legs tightening around his waist, pulling him deeper. Heeseung groans, gripping your hips, holding you there.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice wrecked. "Letting me use you like this."

Your stomach clenches violently. "Shut up," you whisper, barely able to breathe.

Heeseung laughs, deep and dark. "Yeah?" he murmurs, tilting his head. "Make me." His thrusts deepen, slowing, grinding, dragging pleasure through you like fire.

Your breath catches. You're so close. Heeseung notices immediately. He smirks, his hand sliding between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. Your body shakes.

"There we go," he murmurs, voice dripping with satisfaction. "That's my girl."

You snap. The pleasure hits too fast, too hard. Your body tightens around him, your nails raking down his back as you fall apart, trembling, panting, gasping. Heeseung groans, burying himself deep, grinding through your high until he follows. His breath shudders. His hands tighten. And then, he spills into you, shaking, wrecked, completely gone.

The room is quiet. The only sound is both of you breathing. Heeseung doesn't move right away. Neither do you. But eventually, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. And then, he smirks.

"See, baby?" he murmurs, his voice low, teasing. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Your stomach sinks. Because you already know. This was the worst idea of your life. And you want to do it again.

The morning comes too soon. Your body aches in places you don't want to acknowledge, your skin still buzzing from last night, from Heeseung, from the way he had completely ruined you on that table.

It was supposed to be for the mission. It was supposed to be nothing. But then he had kissed you like he meant it.Then he had whispered filthy things against your skin, dragging pleasure through you like it was his only goal in life. And worst of all? Then you had let him.

And now? You're in trouble. Because instead of getting up, getting dressed, and pretending it never happened, you're still in bed with him. Still naked. Still pressed against his warm, solid body, his arm thrown lazily over your waist.

And worse? He's awake. You feel it in the way his fingers start to move slowly, absently, tracing circles against your bare hip. You freeze. Because you already know. You already know exactly where this is going. And you're going to let it happen anyway.

Heeseung doesn't speak at first. He just moves. His hand slides lower, slipping between your thighs, his fingers brushing against where you're already slick and warm. You suck in a sharp breath.

"You still wet from last night, baby?" he murmurs against your ear, his voice husky, slow, teasing. Your thighs clench around his wrist. Heeseung chuckles. "Yeah," he muses, his fingers pressing deeper, finding your clit, stroking slow circles that make your breath catch. "That's what I thought."

Your hips shift instinctively, chasing his touch. His breath shudders against your neck. "So needy for me already," he hums. "I should've known you wouldn't be satisfied with just one round."

You should shove him away. You should stop this before it spirals even more. But then he presses his cock against your ass, already hard, already throbbing, already so fucking desperate for you. And suddenly, you don't care anymore.

You don't know how much time passes. All you know is Heeseung is inside you again. All you know is his hands are gripping your thighs, pulling you apart, his cock dragging deep, hitting all the right spots, making you tremble. All you know is you're gasping his name, your nails raking down his back, your body arching into him, needing more, more, more.

"Fuck, baby," Heeseung groans against your throat. "You feel so fucking good—"

Then the doorbell rings.

You both freeze. Your body locks up. Heeseung stiffens. For a second, silence. Then it rings again. You gasp softly, your breath shaky, still reeling from the pleasure he had been dragging you toward.

Heeseung grits his teeth, lifting his head, glaring at the door like he's debating whether to murder whoever is standing outside. Then a voice.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lee?"

Your blood runs cold. Because you know that voice. Heeseung knows it too. You both whip your heads toward each other. Because standing outside your house, waiting for you to answer, is one of the targets. And you're still naked, sweating, tangled in each other, caught in the middle of something that is definitely not mission-related.

You panic first. Heeseung groans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. "Fucking hell," he mutters. Then another knock.

The knock at the door is too sharp. Too deliberate. Heeseung barely has time to pull on his shirt properly before you're both stumbling toward the front door—faces flushed, breaths still uneven, bodies still humming with the remnants of what just happened in the bedroom.

The last thing you expect when you open it is Park Jae Hoon. Your primary target’s right hand man.

Chairman Kang’s Assistant.

A man whose connections run deep, whose operations are too well-hidden, whose wealth has made him untouchable for years.

Right now? He's standing at your doorstep, looking straight at you with a pleasant smile. And then he says it.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lee?"

Your stomach drops. Your breath catches for half a second—just long enough for it to be a mistake. Behind you, Heeseung doesn't move. You feel his entire body tense, his presence turning sharp, rigid—so fast it makes your skin prickle. But he covers it in an instant.

Heeseung tilts his head, a fraction of a second too slow, like he's calculating. "Park," he says smoothly, his voice dangerously calm.

Jaehoon smiles wider, his gaze flickering between the two of you, watching, assessing. "I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time," he continues, the casual tone doing little to mask the underlying weight of his words.

He knows. Maybe not everything. But something. Your mind races through possibilities. Was it a slip? A baited trap? A misdirect? Was he testing your reaction? Did he say Lee just to see how you'd respond? Your fingers twitch at your side.

Heeseung speaks before you can, so smoothly it makes your head spin. "That's funny," he muses, his lips curling into a smirk.

Jaehoon raises an eyebrow. "What is?"

Heeseung's hand settles on your waist, casual, possessive, like he's done it a million times before. "That's the second time this week someone's called us Lee," he hums, shaking his head with an amused scoff. "Wonder where that's coming from."

Jaehoon laughs lightly, like he's not the one who just said it. "Must be a mix-up," he says smoothly. "I'm terrible with names, my apologies."

Liar. You know it. He knows it. And Heeseung? He knows it, too. His grip on your waist tightens slightly.

"It happens," you interject, finally finding your voice. "We'll have to remind people."

Jaehoon watches you for a second longer than necessary. Then, he changes the subject. "My wife and I would love to invite you to dinner tonight," he says. "A small gathering. Just some neighbors getting to know each other."

Your stomach twists. You force a polite smile. This is a trap. It has to be. It's too soon. You've been in town for less than two weeks. And yet, he's standing at your door, already pulling you closer, already testing you.

And the worst part? You have to say yes. Because if you don't? You're as good as caught.

You and Heeseung arrive at the Park estate precisely at 7:00 PM. The house is massive—all glass windows and dark wood, sleek and modern but old money through and through. The kind of wealth that doesn't flaunt itself but never lets you forget it's there.

The door swings open before you can even knock. Park Jaehoon is already waiting. His smile is pleasant, but his eyes—sharp, assessing, watching every little detail.

Beside him, his wife Minji greets you both warmly, her voice smooth and charming, her demeanor soft where Jaehoon's is all edges. But you're not fooled. She's just as dangerous. She just hides it better.

Dinner is set up outside, under dim garden lights, the table covered in expensive wine and fine-cut dishes. Other couples from the neighborhood are there—people with money, status, power. People who either don't know what Jaehoon does or are too complicit to care.

And throughout the entire meal? You're being watched. Jaehoon is subtle about it. Testing you in small, careful ways. Watching how you and Heeseung interact. The way he pours you a glass of wine before his own. The way your hands brush when you pass him the plate. The way he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. All of it measured, calculated.

A lesser agent wouldn't have noticed. But you do. And so does Heeseung. Which is why you don't react. You just smile. Lean into his touch, laugh at his jokes, touch his thigh beneath the table when no one is looking. You give them what they want to see.

And Heeseung? He plays along like he was made for this. His voice is smooth, his touches natural, his attention never leaving you for long enough to seem disinterested. To anyone else, you're just another married couple—young, rich, successful, maybe a little too in love. But to Jaehoon? This is a test. And you're praying you don't fail it.

It happens when you least expect it. When you're finally settling into the act. When Heeseung has his arm draped lazily over the back of your chair, fingers tracing light circles on your bare shoulder. When Jaehoon smirks suddenly, takes a slow sip of his wine, and speaks.

"You two have been together for how long now?"

Heeseung answers smoothly. "Five years."

Jaehoon hums. "And how did you meet?" A standard question. One you prepared for. One you practiced. You open your mouth to respond—

But Heeseung beats you to it. "She wouldn't leave me alone."

The entire table goes silent. Your breath catches. Jaehoon raises an eyebrow. And Heeseung—the bastard—just smirks, leaning into you. "She practically stalked me, begged me for a date."

A laugh ripples through the table. Jaehoon chuckles, shaking his head. "Is that true?"

Your pulse spikes. You know what he's doing. He's testing your reactions. If you get flustered, if you hesitate, you'll look suspicious. So you adapt. You scoff, turning to Heeseung with a smirk. "I literally saved your ass in law school."

More laughter. The tension eases. You slide a hand to Heeseung's thigh under the table, squeezing hard. A warning. But Heeseung? He just smirks. He's enjoying this too much.

Jaehoon nods approvingly. "You two remind me of my wife and me," he muses. "Good chemistry. I can always tell when a marriage is real."

Your stomach twists violently. Because that? That was the real test. And you still don't know if you passed it.

The ride home is silent. Tense. Charged. You're still reeling from the dinner, from the questions, from the way Jaehoon watched your every move like he was cataloging them, looking for the slightest hint of a lie. But more than that, you're still reeling from Heeseung. From the way he smirked through every question like he was having the time of his life. From the way he ran his fingers over your bare skin at the table, teasing, touching, like he wanted to push you to the edge. From the way he played his part so fucking well that you almost believed him.

And now? You're alone. Back in the house. Back inside the lie that's feeling a little too real.

You step inside first, your heels clicking against the floor, your body buzzing with pent-up frustration. The second the door shuts behind you, you round on him. "What the fuck was that?" you snap, voice sharp, controlled.

Heeseung just smirks. "Which part?"

Your teeth clench. "You know which part."

He shrugs, undoing the top button of his shirt like he's completely unfazed. "Relax, baby," he drawls, voice smooth, teasing. "We didn't get caught."

You step forward. He doesn't move. "You enjoyed that way too much," you say, your voice low, accusing.

Heeseung tilts his head. "And you didn't?"

Your breath catches. Because he's too close now. Because he's looking at you like he already knows the answer.Because he's right. You did enjoy it. Not just the act. Not just the mission. Him. His hands, his voice, the way he touched you. The way he kisses you like he means it. The way he watches you like he wants to ruin you.

You exhale sharply. "This isn't real," you bite out, like you're trying to convince yourself.

Heeseung smiles—slow, devastating. "Yeah?" He steps forward. You step back. Until your back hits the wall. Until he's right in front of you, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough to smell the cologne still lingering on his skin.

His fingers trail up your thigh, slow, teasing, his touch barely there. "You're shaking," he murmurs.

Your throat tightens. "You—"

"You want me to stop?" he asks, low, husky.

Your body betrays you. Your legs part slightly, just enough for him to notice. Heeseung hums, pleased. "That's what I thought."

Before you can process it, he's sinking. Kneeling in front of you. His hands slide up your thighs, parting them effortlessly, his breath hot against your skin. You feel his smirk against your inner thigh. "You look so fucking good like this, baby," he murmurs.

Your head tilts back against the wall. Your heels dig into the floor, your fingers clutching at the surface behind you."Fuck," you whisper.

Heeseung chuckles. He lifts your leg, sliding it over his shoulder, keeping you open for him. "You've been tense all night," he muses. "Let me take care of you."

His fingers hook into your underwear, dragging them down slowly, deliberately, like he's savoring every second. And then his mouth is on you.

You gasp, fingers tangling into his hair, gripping, pulling. Heeseung groans against you, his hands tightening on your thighs, his tongue working slow, deep strokes against your clit. Your hips buck. He grips you harder, pinning you in place.

"Stay still," he murmurs against your skin. "Let me do my job, sweetheart."

Your stomach tightens. Because this isn't pretend. Because this isn't just for the mission. Because he's devouring you like he fucking means it.

Your heels dig into his back, your body trembling as he laps at you, sucking, teasing, fucking you with his tongue until you're panting, until you're so close you can't think. And then he pulls back.

You whimper at the loss. Heeseung looks up at you, his lips slick, his eyes dark, hooded, ravenous. "You taste so fucking sweet," he murmurs.

You can't breathe. "Please," you whisper.

Heeseung smirks. "Please what, baby?"

You grit your teeth. "H-Heeseung—"

"Say it."

Your face burns. "Make me come," you whisper.

His smirk vanishes. His fingers dig into your thighs. Then he dives back in.

And this time? He doesn't stop.

Not until you're shaking, gasping, falling apart against him, your back arching off the wall, your body pulsing with pleasure so intense it feels like drowning. Not until you moan his name so loud that if anyone was outside, they'd know exactly what he's doing to you. Not until he's pulling back, pressing kisses along your thighs, grinning up at you like he just won something.

Like he owns you. And maybe maybe he does.

Because you're ruined now. Because you'll never be able to look at him the same way again. Because this—whatever this is— it's not just for the mission anymore.

And you're in too deep to pretend otherwise.

-

The morning after should have been awkward. Should have been tense, unbearable, suffocating. But instead? It's calm.Too calm. Like neither of you are willing to acknowledge what just happened.

Like if you don't talk about it, if you don't look at each other for too long, if you don't think about the way Heeseung had dropped to his knees and ruined you against the wall, then maybe just maybe you can pretend you're still in control.

So you do what you do best. You compartmentalize. You shove everything into a box, lock it away, and focus. Because you're not here for him. You're not here for whatever this is. You're here to take these people down. And it's time you started acting like it.

You spend the entire morning pouring over files, surveillance reports, and connection maps, trying to untangle the knots of this case. Heeseung sits across from you at the kitchen table, back to his usual self—calm, sharp, focused. For the first time since arriving here, it feels like the job is actually taking priority again.

You take a slow sip of coffee, flipping through one of the files. "We need to start pulling deeper on Kang's network."

Heeseung nods, scrolling through his laptop. "We know he's the link between the local trade and the international markets is Jaehoon, but we still don't have enough to prove it."

Your fingers tap against the page. "Which means we need to figure out where the shipments are coming in."

Heeseung exhales sharply. "That's the problem. These guys don't use the usual channels. No ports, no major transport hubs. Whatever they're moving, it's coming in completely off-grid."

You narrow your eyes at the report in your hands. "Then we need to look at what they do control. Warehouses, private properties, storage facilities—anything that could be used to funnel products in and out without setting off alerts."

Heeseung hums in agreement, his fingers moving quickly over his keyboard. "There's a location that keeps popping up on our surveillance feeds. A warehouse on the west side, owned under a shell company that leads back to Kang."

Your pulse picks up. You lean over the table, studying the map on his screen. "How well-guarded is it?"

"Moderate security. Not enough to be obvious, but enough to make it clear something valuable is there," Heeseung mutters. "Cameras, patrols, rotating staff."

"Which means we can't just walk in."

"Not without drawing attention."

Silence stretches as you both consider the options. Then an idea.

You glance at him. "How many of the staff do we have IDs on?"

Heeseung clicks a few files open. "Not all, but a decent amount. Why?"

You smirk. "Because if we can't walk in as ourselves, we walk in as them."

Heeseung leans back in his chair, eyeing you. "You want to go inside the warehouse as employees?"

You shrug. "It's the best option. Less risk than breaking in, more access than staking out from the outside."

Heeseung rubs his jaw, considering. "We'd have to steal IDs. Learn their routines. Get in without tipping anyone off."

"Exactly," you murmur, your mind already calculating. "We need disguises. Uniforms. A way to get in and out without raising suspicion."

Heeseung sighs, but there's a glint in his eyes. "You're getting too excited about this, sweetheart."

You smirk. "It's the job."

He shakes his head. "No, you just like the thrill."

You don't deny it. Instead, you straighten. "We need to pick a target—someone whose absence won't be noticed immediately. Someone low enough in rank that we can take their spot, but high enough that they have clearance."

Heeseung clicks through the personnel files, narrowing the options. "This guy. Jung Minseok. Mid-level logistics coordinator. His access logs show he's in and out frequently but doesn't stay long. No high-clearance tasks, but enough movement to slip under the radar."

Your eyes narrow. "Perfect."

Heeseung exhales. "You're sure about this?"

You flash him a wicked grin. "Trust me, babe," you murmur. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

The warehouse is colder than expected. Dim lighting, the faint hum of industrial fans, the scent of metal and damp concrete—it's a perfect front. From the outside, it looks like any other storage facility. But on the inside? You know there's something bigger hiding beneath the surface.

You and Heeseung slip in effortlessly. Disguised in stolen uniforms, fake IDs clipped neatly onto your collars, posture sharp but unassuming—just another pair of employees in the sea of warehouse staff. No one looks at you twice. No one asks why you're here. It's almost too easy.

Heeseung adjusts the clipboard in his hand, murmuring under his breath as he falls into step beside you. "We've got maybe thirty minutes before someone notices an extra set of names on the shift list."

You nod subtly, your eyes scanning the stacks of wooden crates, metal containers, and labeled shipments. "Then we work fast," you mutter back.

Heeseung smirks. "My favorite kind of job."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Instead, you split up. Heeseung heads toward the office records, blending seamlessly into the workers checking logs. You go for the storage section. Where the real secrets are buried.

The deeper you go, the quieter it gets. Most of the workers are occupied with the main shipment areas—leaving this section mostly empty. Your steps soften. Your breath slows. You count every turn, every exit, every security camera in sight.

And then you see it. A door. Unmarked. Unassuming. Tucked away at the back of the facility—but with a security lock that's far too advanced for a basic storage room.

Your pulse kicks up. This isn't just a warehouse.

You pull out a small device, hooking it onto the electronic lock, watching as it overrides the security input in under fifteen seconds. With a soft click, the door unlocks. You push it open.

And then your breath catches.

Inside, the room is small, dark, sterile. But the thing that makes your blood run cold? The medical equipment. IV bags. Monitors. A locked steel cabinet filled with vials of something you can't identify.

This isn't just a warehouse. This is a holding facility.

And before you can process what that means, you hear footsteps approaching. Fast. Coming right for you.

Your heart pounds. Footsteps—close, coming fast, heading straight for the room you're in. You have seconds. Not minutes. Not enough time to take photos, not enough time to process what you just saw, not enough time to do anything except get out.

Your body moves before your mind catches up. You press the door shut just before the footsteps round the corner, locking it again with a silent flick of your wrist. The electronic lock clicks back into place. You step away just in timefor two men to stop directly in front of the door.

Holding your breath, you keep walking. Not fast. Not slow. Just normal. Like you were never there. Like you don't have the weight of a game-changing discovery sitting in your chest. Like your stomach isn't twisting at the thought of what kind of people need an unmarked medical room in a warehouse.

You don't look back. The guards don't look at you. But the moment you round the corner and spot Heeseung standing at the other end of the hall, his sharp gaze immediately locks onto yours. And in that second—he knows.

You reach him just as he's tucking his fake employee badge into his pocket. Heeseung doesn't say anything at first.Just tilts his head slightly, waiting. Waiting for you to confirm what he already suspects.

You keep walking. "We need to go. Now."

That's all he needs to hear. Heeseung nods once, slipping into step beside you, keeping his posture loose and unbothered. Like you aren't both walking the fine edge of disaster. Like you aren't milliseconds away from being caught. Like your heart isn't still racing.

You weave through the warehouse, your breathing calm, your fingers twitching at your side. The exit is in sight. Almost there.

And then—"Hey!"

Your stomach drops. You don't freeze. Don't react. But Heeseung? He turns first. Smooth, easy, like he was expecting this.

A man—one of the security supervisors, judging by the badge clipped to his shirt—is watching the two of you. His eyes narrow slightly. "New guys, huh?"

Heeseung laughs easily. "Yeah," he says. "Boss told us to check the perimeter before heading out. All clear."

The man studies him. For a second too long. For a second too dangerous. You stay silent.

Then the man nods. "Good," he mutters. "We can't afford mistakes right now."

Mistakes. Your fingers twitch.

Heeseung hums. "You expecting a shipment?"

The man scoffs. "Something like that," he says vaguely. "Just keep your head down and don't ask questions."

Heeseung smirks. "No problem."

And just like that the man walks off. You exhale slowly. Not too relieved. Not too fast. Just enough to finally step outside. Just enough to not look suspicious. Just enough to know that this was too close.

The second you're in the car, the moment the warehouse is behind you, the second you're safe—you finally breathe.

Heeseung shifts beside you, watching you. "So," he says, too casual. "What did you find?"

You grip the steering wheel. "Not here."

Heeseung tilts his head, smirking. "That bad?"

You don't answer. You don't have to. Because whatever's happening in that warehouse? It's bigger than you thought.And now? Now you need to figure out exactly what the hell you just walked into.

The drive back is silent. Not the kind of silence that comes from comfort. The kind that feels like something is about to snap.

You can still hear your own heartbeat. Still feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins, making everything feel sharper, heavier, too much. The discovery at the warehouse—the medical room, the vials, the unspoken implications— it's still racing through your head, looping over and over, suffocating you.

You don't know what it means yet. You just know it's bad. And now? Now, you're sitting in the passenger seat, your leg bouncing, your fingers clenched into fists, your breath just a little too shallow. You need to calm down. You need to focus. But right now? Right now, you feel like you're about to lose it.

The moment you step into the house, you head straight for the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter, exhaling sharply. Heeseung follows. You don't have to look at him to know he's watching you. He always does. Especially now.

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes dark and unreadable. "You're shaking."

You exhale. "It's nothing."

Heeseung hums. "Liar."

Your fingers tighten around the counter. "You need to let this go for tonight," he murmurs, stepping closer.

You shake your head. "I can't."

"You have to."

Your breath shudders. Because you know he's right. Because your body is still vibrating from everything that just happened. Because your mind is still running in circles. Because you don't know how to make it stop.

But Heeseung does. And before you can argue he's behind you. Warm. Solid. Too close. His hands trail down your arms, slow, steady. Grounding.

"Look at me."

You don't. Heeseung leans in, his lips grazing your ear, his voice softer now. "Let me help you."

Your body clenches. Your fingers loosen against the counter. Your breath catches. Because you know exactly what he's offering. And worse? You want it.

You turn around. Slow. Deliberate. Your back hits the counter, and Heeseung steps in between your legs, his hands bracketing your hips. He's too close now. He's waiting. You could stop this.

But instead you fist your hands into his shirt and pull him in.

The kiss is messy. Desperate. Hot. His hands slip beneath your shirt, dragging up your spine, gripping, holding. You don't even realize you're moving until your ass hits the counter, until Heeseung's hands are spreading your thighs, stepping in closer, deeper.

His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you to the edge, pressing himself against you, grinding slow, teasing. "You needed this, didn't you?" he murmurs against your lips.

You don't answer. You just kiss him harder.

Your shirt is on the floor before you can blink. Heeseung's hands slide under your thighs, gripping, holding. "You gonna let me take care of you, sweetheart?"

Your breath hitches. You nod. And that's all he needs.

Because then he's undoing your pants, dragging them down, his fingers already teasing at your heat, smirking when he feels how wet you are. "Already soaked for me," he murmurs. "You needed this more than you let on."

You whimper when his fingers stroke up your slit, circling your clit, pressing slow, deep. "Let me make you feel good," he whispers against your jaw.

You don't stop him. Because for once you don't want to think. You just want to feel.

Afterwards, you're still on the counter, your legs tangled around his waist, your breathing uneven. Heeseung presses a kiss to your jaw. Soft. Lingering. Like he doesn't want to move. Like he wants to stay here. And for a moment—just a moment—so do you.

But then reality crashes back in. Because whatever's happening in that warehouse? It's not over. And now? Now you have to figure out how much worse it's going to get.

-

The house is too quiet after what just happened. The kitchen still smells like sex, like heat, like the remnants of something neither of you want to name. But now? Now, you're back to business. Because no matter what's happening between you and Heeseung, no matter how tangled this is getting, no matter how good he feels—the mission comes first.

You're seated at the kitchen table, the blueprint of the warehouse laid out between you, files stacked on the side, notes scribbled across every margin. Heeseung leans back in his chair, one hand resting against his jaw, watching you as you go through the details again.

"Let's go over this one more time," you murmur, eyes scanning the blueprint. "What do we know for sure?"

Heeseung exhales, tapping his finger against the table. "Chairman Kang's operation is bigger than we thought," he starts. "We knew he was trafficking, but whatever's in that warehouse—"

"—it's not just product," you finish, voice tight.

Your stomach twists. Because the medical equipment, the IV bags, the locked storage cabinets filled with vials— they weren't transporting drugs. They were doing something else. And whatever it was? It involved people.

You pull out the file on the warehouse employees, flipping through it until you reach Jung Minseok—the logistics coordinator whose ID you stole to get in. You slide the file toward Heeseung. "His logs don't match the shipment records."

Heeseung frowns, scanning the notes. "What do you mean?"

You point at the log timestamps. "Look. According to our intel, this warehouse is supposed to be moving goods in and out weekly. But Minseok? He's logged in and out of that medical room every other night."

Heeseung's jaw tightens. "Which means," you continue, voice steady, "this isn't just a storage facility. They're keeping something in there."

Heeseung looks at you, eyes darkening. "Or someone."

Your breath catches. Because he's right. Because this isn't about trafficking goods anymore. Because people are involved.

You sit back in your chair, heart pounding, the weight of the realization settling deep in your bones. "Fuck," you whisper.

Heeseung's fingers tap against the table, his mind already moving ten steps ahead. "If they're keeping people there, we need to figure out why," he mutters. "What's in those vials? What are they doing to them?"

You exhale sharply. "It's not drugs," you say. "At least, not the kind we were expecting. This is something else."

Heeseung studies you, then tilts his head. "You have a theory."

Your fingers grip the edge of the file. "Organized trafficking rings don't keep people in one place unless there's a reason. Either they're waiting for transport, or—" You pause. Your stomach tightens. Heeseung's gaze sharpens. "Or what?"

Your throat feels too dry. You meet his eyes. "Or they're being experimented on."

Silence. Heavy. Sharp. Unbearable.

Heeseung's fingers curl into a fist against the table. "They're running tests," he murmurs, voice too low.

You nod, exhaling slowly. "And we don't know on who, or why, or for what purpose."

His jaw clenches. "Then we need to find out."

The weight of it presses into your chest, heavy, suffocating, unshakable. People. Not just drugs, not just weapons, not just another smuggling operation. This is something worse. Something bigger. Something you weren't prepared for.

You and Heeseung are still sitting at the kitchen table, files and blueprints scattered between you, the cold dregs of coffee in your mugs long forgotten. Heeseung leans forward, his elbows resting on the wood, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

"This changes everything," he mutters.

You exhale sharply. "No shit."

Heeseung rubs a hand down his face, his fingers curling into a loose fist as he processes. "We need more information," he says. "We go back—"

Knock. Knock.

Your breath catches. The sound is sharp, deliberate. Not frantic. Not casual. Calculated.

You and Heeseung freeze. For a second—just a second—neither of you move. Then, instinct takes over. You're both silent, barely breathing, reaching for the weapons hidden beneath the table, tucking them discreetly behind your backs.

Another knock. Steady. Even. Waiting. And then a voice.

"Mr. and Mrs. Park."

Your stomach drops. Because you know that voice. Chairman Kang himself. From the dinner party. The one who barely spoke, but watched everything. The one who lingered when no one else did. The one who, even then, felt like a problem.

Now, the most dangerous man in the city is standing at your doorstep. And he knows you're home.

Your pulse spikes. Heeseung's jaw tightens. Your eyes meet—a silent exchange, a thousand questions packed into one glance. Heeseung tilts his head slightly, his expression calm, calculating. You understand immediately. Play it cool.

You inhale, steady, controlled. Then you walk to the door. You flick the lock. Pull it open just enough.

And there he is. Chairman Kang. Dressed in an impeccable dark suit. Expression cold and calculating beneath his pleasant facade. But now now he's smiling. And you hate it. Because it's not polite. It's not friendly. It's knowing.

"Forgive me for the late visit," Kang says smoothly, his voice warm, pleasant. "I hope I'm not intruding."

Heeseung appears at your side, casual, relaxed. But you know him well enough to see the tension beneath it. "Of course not," Heeseung says easily, leaning against the doorframe. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Chairman Kang tilts his head slightly, as if considering. Then he steps forward. Into your space. And murmurs, just for you to hear— "Why don't we talk inside?"

The air thickens the moment you step back and let him in. Chairman Kang doesn't hesitate. He walks inside like he belongs here, like he's done this before, like he already knows more than he should.

Heeseung shuts the door behind him. Locks it. Subtle. But not really. Kang notices. He smiles. "How hospitable."

You return the expression, tight-lipped. "We like our privacy."

His eyes flicker between you and Heeseung. Like he's studying, comparing, searching. You don't fidget. You don't move. But your pulse ticks up. Because this this is dangerous. You don't know why he's here yet. But you know it's not good.

Heeseung gestures to the living room. "Sit. Have a drink."

Chairman Kang hums, glancing around the space before lowering himself onto the couch. "You keep a lovely home," he comments.

You tilt your head. "It's temporary."

Kang nods, lacing his fingers together. "Of course," he murmurs. "How long have you two been married again?"

You smile. Heeseung leans forward, pouring whiskey into a glass, sliding it across the table toward him. "Five years," he says smoothly. "I assume you did your research before you came here."

Chairman Kang lifts his brows. "Naturally." But he doesn't touch the drink. Just lets it sit there. Waiting.

Heeseung exhales sharply, leaning back into the chair, stretching out like he's perfectly at ease. You stay standing. Watching.

Kang turns his attention back to you. "I've been meaning to ask—what was it that brought you here again?"

You tilt your head. "Business."

"Ah." A slow nod. Too slow. Too measured. Then he glances at the scattered files on the kitchen table.

Your stomach tightens. Because even though none of those files are directly related to the mission it's still too much. Too many notes. Too many blueprints. Too much evidence that you aren't just a happy, newlywed couple settling into a quiet life.

Chairman Kang smiles. "And what kind of business is that again?"

Your jaw clenches. Before you can answer, Heeseung beats you to it. "Investment," he says smoothly. "Real estate. Properties, stocks. The kind of things that keep your wealth moving."

Kang hums. "The kind of things that keep your name clean."

Your breath catches. Because that wasn't an innocent remark. That was a test. A trap. And you know it.

Heeseung's smirk doesn't falter. "I wouldn't say that," he muses. "A name is only as clean as the person who holds it."

Chairman Kang chuckles. "And yours is spotless?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Silence. The tension pulls tighter. Then Kang tilts his head. And finally, he slips.

"I have to say," he murmurs, "you two are very different from the last couple."

The room goes still. Your pulse stumbles. Heeseung's fingers tighten just slightly where they rest against the chair.But he doesn't move. Doesn't react. Just lets the weight of that statement settle. Then he speaks. "Oh?"

Chairman Kang shrugs. "The previous tenants."

You tilt your head. "We weren't told much about them."

He hums. "No, I imagine not."

Your stomach knots. Because this? This is new information. The mission files never mentioned anyone else staying in this house before you. And if there was a couple here before where are they now?

Heeseung exhales slowly, as if bored. "And why does that matter to you?"

Kang smiles. "The same reason I came here tonight," he says lightly. "Curiosity."

You watch him. He watches you back. And then he stands. Straightens his suit. Looks between the two of you one last time. Then he nods.

"Enjoy your evening," he says, turning toward the door. "I was quite pleased to meet you both at dinner. I'm looking forward to seeing you again soon."

The casual threat beneath his words is unmistakable. This wasn't a social visit. Chairman Kang himself came to assess you, to study you, to let you know he was watching.

You don't move. Don't speak. Just watch as he walks away. As he lets himself out. As the lock clicks behind him.

And when you finally turn to Heeseung his expression is unreadable. But his words are deadly serious. "We need to find out what happened to that couple."

Because now? Now you know this mission is bigger than you ever imagined. And if you aren't careful? You might be next.

The house feels different after Chairman Kang leaves. Like it's not just a house anymore. Like it's a crime scene. Like there are shadows in every corner, waiting for you to find them.

You and Heeseung stand in silence, the weight of what just happened pressing between you. The files on the table feel heavier now. Everything feels heavier now. Because now? Now you know this house wasn't meant for you. It was meant for them. And whatever happened to the last couple it wasn't good.

You don't speak as you move. You don't tell Heeseung what you're looking for because you don't know. You just know it's here. Somewhere. The truth is somewhere in this house.

So you start in the obvious places. The bedroom. The office. The storage spaces. You check for anything out of place, anything that doesn't belong, anything that looks like a message someone didn't want found. But there's nothing.

And then you stand in the middle of the living room, frowning. Thinking. And then you look down. At the floorboards.At the slight misalignment of one near the fireplace.

Your breath catches. And then you kneel. Your fingers skim over the edge of the wood, pressing lightly. And then it moves. Not much. Just enough. And that's all you need.

You pull it up. And then you find it. A small metal box, tucked away beneath the floorboards. Hidden. Buried. Waiting.

Your fingers tremble just slightly as you lift it out. It's light. Not heavy enough to hold a weapon. But heavy enough to hold something dangerous.

You place it on the table, Heeseung standing beside you now, watching. You glance at him. Heeseung nods. "Open it."

You take a slow breath. And then you do. The latch clicks. The lid lifts. And inside is a phone. And a small, folded piece of paper.

Your pulse jumps. You pick up the paper first, your breath catching at the words scrawled in desperate, jagged handwriting.

"If you're reading this, you need to run."

Your stomach drops.

"They aren't who they say they are."

Your breath shudders.

"And they know you're here."

Silence. Heavy. Thick. Suffocating.

You turn the paper over. There's one last sentence. Scrawled hastily, like whoever wrote it was running out of time.

"They took my wife first."

You and Heeseung stare at the note. Neither of you speak. Neither of you move. And then you pick up the phone. It's old. Dead. The battery long drained. But you know you just know whatever's on it? It's not meant to be seen.

You swallow hard, looking at Heeseung. "We need to power this up."

His jaw tightens. He nods once. "Let's go."

You grab the box, the note, the phone—everything. You turn—

And then the lights go out. The house plunges into darkness.

The moment the lights cut out, you don't hesitate. You react on instinct. Your hand goes to your weapon immediately, muscles tightening, senses flaring. Beside you, Heeseung moves just as fast. His breath is steady. His presence is solid.And yet something feels wrong.

This isn't just a power outage. This isn't just a coincidence. And then a crash. From the front door. Your pulse jumps.Footsteps too heavy, too fast. Coming straight for you.

Your mind races. How did they get here so fast? How did they know? And then Heeseung is moving. Gun raised, body shifting in front of you and you realize. They're coming for him.

"Move!" Heeseung hisses.

But you don't. Because you can't. Because everything is happening too fast. Because this is all wrong. They're not supposed to know who you are. They're not supposed to know where you live. They're not supposed to be coming for him. And yet they are.

You see the shadowed figures moving in the darkness, too many of them, closing in, aiming for him— and your decision is made before you even think it through. You move first. Fast. Too fast. You grab him, shove him toward the back of the house. "Go!"

Heeseung grits his teeth, stumbling slightly, cursing as he reaches for you. "Are you insane?!" he snaps.

"They're after you," you hiss. "I can handle this—"

You don't get to finish. Because in that half-second of hesitation you feel it. The needle. The sharp sting at your neck.And then your body locks up.

You barely register what happens next. You hear your own breath catch, your pulse stumbling, the way your fingers try to reach for your gun— but they don't move. Because your limbs aren't working anymore. Because your vision is tilting, blurring, slipping. Because you were wrong.

They weren't after Heeseung. They were after you. And you just delivered yourself straight into their hands.

Heeseung's voice breaks through the haze, sharp, panicked— "Shit—" He's grabbing you, catching you before you hit the floor, shaking you— but it's too late. Your body is already shutting down. Your muscles go limp, your breathing slows, your eyelids grow too heavy. Heeseung's grip tightens. "No, no, no—stay awake—"

You try. You really try. But then the last thing you hear is the sound of him fighting. The last thing you feel is the way his fingers dig into your arms, holding onto you like he can stop this from happening. The last thing you see is the sheer terror in his eyes. And then everything fades.

The first thing you notice is the smell. Not blood. Not chemicals. Something sterile. Like a hospital. Like a place where people don't leave.

Your head pounds. Your body feels heavy, like it isn't yours, like you're floating just beneath the surface of consciousness. But then a voice. Soft. Weak.

"You shouldn't have come here."

Your breath catches. Because you're not alone.

Your eyelids flutter. Your vision is blurry, foggy, distorted. But you see them. Across the room. A woman. Slumped against the wall, her skin pale, her eyes hollow, her breath slow and uneven. She looks barely alive.

Your pulse kicks up. You try to move but you can't. Your wrists are bound. Your ankles are strapped down. And that's when the panic sets in.

You're in the medical room from the warehouse. You're in Chairman Kang's facility. And now you understand why he personally came to your home—you weren't just targets, you were his next subjects.

Your breathing sharpens. Your head spins. You yank against your restraints—but they don't budge. The woman watches you, her expression unreadable.

"You should stop that," she murmurs. "It won't help."

Your voice comes out hoarse. "Where—" Your throat feels raw. "Where are we?"

The woman tilts her head. And then she smiles. But there's no joy in it. Only pity.

"You're in their hands now," she whispers. "Just like me."

Your stomach twists. "No," you breathe. "That's not—"

"You thought you were safe," she interrupts, her voice still eerily soft. "But they were watching you the whole time."

The first thing Heeseung does when you disappear is destroy something. It's instinct. A chair, a glass, a wall—it doesn't matter. Because none of it matters. Because you're gone. And the only thing that matters now is getting you back.

Sunoo doesn't stop him. Not at first. Not when he slams his fist into the nearest hard surface, not when his breath comes ragged and sharp, not when his hands shake so badly he looks like he might rip the entire house apart with his bare hands.

Because Sunoo knows. Heeseung needs a second. A second to break. A second to fall apart before he becomes something lethal.

But after that second? Sunoo speaks.

And his voice is dead calm. The words land like a sharp slap. Not hard. Not cruel. Just enough. Enough to cut through the noise. Enough to pull Heeseung back from the edge before he steps too far.

"This is why I was always in your ear," Sunoo says, tapping the surveillance equipment spread across the table. "This is why I was watching. I've got her last coordinates. I've got the pattern of their movements. And I can get you to her."

Heeseung exhales. Shaky. Then he straightens. His expression locks down. His hands stop shaking.

Because Sunoo is right. Because this isn't about him. Because every second he wastes being angry is another second you spend in the hands of people who shouldn't have you. And he's not going to let that happen.

Sunoo is already moving. His fingers fly over the keyboard, multiple screens lighting up in front of him. CCTV footage, satellite feeds, last-known locations. He was always the eyes of this operation, the voice in your earpieces, monitoring from a distance, ensuring you both stayed alive. Now he's the only chance Heeseung has of getting you back.

Heeseung doesn't speak. He just watches. Waits. Burns.

Sunoo doesn't bother with small talk. Heeseung doesn't need it. Instead, he mutters, "They took her out of the city."

Heeseung's jaw tightens. "How do you know?"

Sunoo tilts the screen. "There's a twenty-minute gap between the power outage here and the city's surveillance picking up again. I checked every street camera within a five-mile radius. They didn't use the main roads. No cars leaving the area that shouldn't be."

Heeseung processes. "And?"

Sunoo's fingers move faster. "And that means they took a route with no traffic cams, which means back roads, which means—"

Heeseung catches it first. "Warehouses."

Sunoo nods. "Industrial district, abandoned lots, private holdings—we've already seen them use off-grid locations for storage. It makes sense they'd use one for this, too."

Heeseung leans in. "Give me a list."

Sunoo pulls up four locations. "Top two are too high profile," he mutters. "Security teams rotate there frequently. If they're keeping her somewhere discreet, they wouldn't risk a place with eyes on it."

Heeseung taps the third. A warehouse near the docks. Privately owned. Minimal records. Not enough information for something that should be easily explainable.

Heeseung knows that feeling well. It's a front. It has to be. And if it's not—he'll burn through every other location until he finds the right one.

Sunoo exhales, leaning back slightly. "So what's the plan?"

Heeseung's jaw flexes. "I go in."

Sunoo stares at him. "…Alone?"

"Yes."

Sunoo scoffs. "Heeseung, do you have any idea how fucking stupid that is? You've always had me watching your back through the earpiece. You've always had her as your partner. Going in alone is suicide."

Heeseung doesn't answer. Because he does. Because it doesn't matter. Because nothing matters except getting you back.

Sunoo sees it in his face. And suddenly, his voice drops lower. Serious. Unyielding. "She's not dead."

Heeseung's stomach tightens. Sunoo holds his gaze. "She's not dead. But she will be if you rush in there without thinking."

Silence. Tense. Thick. Then Heeseung speaks.

"Find me a back way in. And I want you in my ear the whole time. Like before."

Sunoo exhales sharply. Mutters, "You're fucking impossible." And then—he does it. Because Heeseung isn't waiting.Because Heeseung isn't leaving this house without a plan. Because the moment he walks out that door— he's not coming back until you're with him.

Sunoo grabs the small earpiece, pressing it into Heeseung's palm. "I'll see everything you see. I'll warn you about any movement. Just don't turn this damn thing off like you usually do."

The moment Heeseung steps out of the car, he isn't human anymore. He's a ghost. A shadow moving through the night, silent, unseen, deadly. The kind of thing people fear in stories but never truly believe exists. Until they meet him. Until it's too late.

"Three guards at the perimeter," Sunoo's voice crackles through the earpiece. "Two more by the south entrance. Security systems active but operating on a standard loop. You've got a blind spot on the east side."

The warehouse is exactly what Sunoo predicted. A private facility, tucked away near the docks, barely guarded—because no one expects trouble. Big mistake.

Heeseung moves without hesitation. He weaves through the darkness, hugging blind spots, slipping past security cameras.

"Guard approaching on your left," Sunoo warns in his ear. "He's alone."

He takes out the first guard before the man even sees him coming. One silent cut to the throat. No sound. No warning. Just darkness swallowing the body as it drops.

"Two more coming around the corner in fifteen seconds," Sunoo's voice is clinical, detached. It has to be. "Take the path to your right."

Then the next. Then the next. Each movement is efficient. Ruthless. Because Heeseung doesn't fight to entertain. He fights to eliminate. And tonight? No one gets out alive.

The moment he steps inside, he knows he's in the right place. The smell is wrong. Sterile. Like a hospital—but colder. More manufactured. Like this place was never meant to be seen.

His fists tighten. Because he already knows. You're here. And they're going to wish you weren't.

"I've got heat signatures," Sunoo says through the earpiece. "Fourth floor, east wing. Multiple bodies. One matches her profile."

Guard by the entrance? Taken out with a knife to the ribs—silent, quick, nothing but a gurgle before he's gone.

Two men at the security desk? Their heads slam against the control panel, the sound swallowed by the low hum of the machines.

The one who almost saw him? Heeseung twists his neck until it snaps. Not even a grunt. Not even a second to react. Because Heeseung isn't giving them a chance. Not when they took you. Not when he still doesn't know what they've done to you. Not when you could be dead already.

That thought makes him move faster. More brutal. More dangerous.

"Heeseung, your heart rate is spiking," Sunoo warns. "Don't lose control. Not yet."

And then he finds the back rooms. And then he hears your voice. Weak. Shaky. But still there. And that's when he stops being quiet. That's when he stops giving them mercy.

"Heeseung, I'm picking up significant electronic activity in that room," Sunoo's voice cuts through. "Something's wrong. These readings... they've done something to her."

For the first time since stepping into this warehouse, Heeseung hesitates. For the first time since this mission started, he doesn't know what to do. Because he was prepared to find you hurt. He was prepared to find you bleeding, unconscious, on the brink of something unfixable. But this? This is worse.

Because you're here. Because you're looking right at him. Because you're alive. And you don't even know who he is.

The earpiece crackles. "Heeseung, what's happening? What do you see?" Sunoo's voice is tense, urgent—but Heeseung can't answer. Can't speak. Can barely breathe.

"Baby."

The word comes out soft, desperate, wrecked. Heeseung is already moving before he realizes it, crossing the space between you in seconds, dropping to his knees. His hands find your face, trembling as his fingers brush over your skin, like he needs to make sure you're really here.

You don't pull away. But you don't react either. You just blink at him. Your expression is vague, confused, distant.

"Who are you?"

The question lands like a gunshot. His breath catches. His chest tightens, burns, aches in a way he didn't know was possible. Because he doesn't know how to fix this. Because he doesn't know how to fix you. And Heeseung—Heeseung always has a plan. Except now. Now he just has you. And you don't even remember him.

"Shit," he breathes, his hands gripping the sides of your face, his thumbs tracing the ridge of your cheekbones.

In his ear, Sunoo's sharp intake of breath is audible. "Memory manipulation. The readings make sense now. Heeseung, you need to get her out. Now. Before they realize you're there."

Heeseung swallows hard, trying to steady his voice, trying to pull himself together when all he wants to do is lose it completely. "It's me," he murmurs. "It's Heeseung."

Your brows pull together slightly. Like you're trying. Like you want to understand. But then your expression wavers.And when you speak, your voice is small.

"Where's my husband?"

Something in Heeseung's chest cracks. Because it's him. He's your husband. Even if it's not real, even if it's just the cover, even if neither of you have ever said the words like you meant them—it's still him. And you don't even remember.

"Heeseung," Sunoo's voice is gentler now. Understanding. "The chemical compounds they've been using... this isn't permanent. But you have to move. Now."

Heeseung's grip on you tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt. Not enough to scare you. Just enough to keep himself together. Just enough to keep from falling apart completely.

"It's me," he whispers again, his forehead dropping against yours. "I'm your husband, baby. I'm right here."

Your eyes flicker. Your breath shudders. And then you shake your head.

"No," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, my husband—he was supposed to find me. He said he'd find me."

Heeseung closes his eyes. Because he did. He did. But you don't know that. You don't know him. Not anymore.

And that's when he knows. That's when he understands. He didn't get here too late to save you. He got here too late to save the part of you that remembered him.

"Guards incoming," Sunoo's urgent voice cuts through. "You have less than thirty seconds. Get her and get out."

Heeseung doesn't waste another second. He slips an arm beneath your legs, the other around your back, lifting you effortlessly. You don't fight him. You don't pull away. You just go completely still. Too still. Like you don't care what happens to you anymore. Like you don't know if you should.

And that? That might be worse than anything else. Because if you don't believe you can be saved, how is he supposed to convince you? How is he supposed to bring you back? How is he supposed to make you remember him again?

Heeseung exhales slowly, pressing his lips to your temple, closing his eyes for just a second. And then he moves. He gets you the hell out of there. Because whatever happened to you here? It's over. And whatever happens next? It's going to be him and you. Even if you don't remember him. Even if you never do.

"Exit route clear," Sunoo's voice steadies him, guides him. "I've got eyes on you both. Bring her home, Heeseung. We'll fix this. I promise."

But even as Sunoo's voice offers reassurance in his ear, Heeseung can't shake the hollow feeling in his chest. The look in your eyes—blank, unrecognizing—might be the thing that finally breaks him. Not the mission. Not the danger. But the fact that the one person who knew him better than anyone now looks at him like he's a stranger.

And as he carries you through the darkness, your body limp in his arms, he makes a silent vow. He'll make them pay. Every single person who took your memories. Every person who put that emptiness in your eyes. They won't just die.

They'll suffer.

-

The underground garage exploded with gunfire, bullets ricocheting off concrete pillars as Chairman Kang's security detail formed a human shield around him. Blood pooled beneath bodies that had fallen seconds earlier, the air thick with cordite and desperation.

Sunoo's voice crackled through the comms, urgent and sharp. "He's heading for the helicopter. Rooftop exit. Two minutes." A pause, then—his voice dropped, suddenly tense. "Heeseung, we've got another player. My systems just detected a security breach. Someone else is in the building."

Through the smoke and chaos, a single figure moved with deadly purpose. Not Heeseung—he was elsewhere, fighting his way to you, his only focus getting you out alive. This was someone else. Someone different. The movements were too precise, too calculated. Too lethal.

"What the hell?" Sunoo's voice was barely audible over the gunfire. "They just bypassed every security protocol like it wasn't even there. Whoever this is—they're good. Too good."

The figure moved like a shadow, dressed entirely in black, face obscured by a sleek tactical mask with glowing blue interface points. On their sleeve—a subtle insignia. A ghostly "S" that seemed to shimmer and fade depending on the light.

Specter.

The elite assassination unit that wasn't supposed to exist. The ghosts that governments denied knowledge of. The solution to problems that couldn't be solved through official channels.

Chairman Kang had made it to the stairwell, flanked by his three remaining guards, their weapons raised as they pushed him toward the roof access. His face was slick with sweat, eyes wild with the realization that his empire was crumbling around him.

"I have a plane waiting," he barked into his phone. "Tell them to be ready. I don't care about the flight restrictions. Money isn't a problem. Just get me—"

The door to the stairwell opened.

The guards fired instantly—a barrage of bullets that would have torn apart any normal attacker.

But the Specter agent wasn't normal.

They moved like water, impossibly fast, bullets seemingly curving around them. One guard dropped, throat sliced before he could even register the movement. The second fell immediately after, the assassin's blade finding the precise point between armor plates. The third emptied his magazine in desperate bursts that hit nothing but concrete.

Kang scrambled backward, fumbling for his own weapon. "Wait—" His voice cracked. "I can pay. Whatever they're offering you, I'll double it."

The Specter agent paused. Tilted their head slightly.

For a moment, the stairwell was silent.

For a moment, Kang believed he had a chance.

Then the assassin spoke, voice distorted through the mask. "Some debts can't be paid with money."

A single shot echoed in the enclosed space. Clean. Precise. Final.

Chairman Kang is dead. Assassinated before he could disappear for good.

It wasn't supposed to happen like that. The mission was supposed to be an infiltration, a takedown, an arrest that would put an end to his entire operation. But Kang was too powerful. Too many people in his pocket. Too many ways to slip through the cracks.

And in the end? The only way to stop him was to eliminate him.

Sunoo's voice had been tense over the comms, relaying information in real time. "Kang's trying to run—fuck, he's got an entire fleet of private security. If he gets out of the country, we lose him forever."

Heeseung had been mid-firefight, barely dodging bullets, his mind still split between the mission and getting back to you. "Can you get me a location?" he had demanded.

Sunoo's voice had been sharp. "The only way this ends is if someone puts a bullet in his head, and guess what, Heeseung? That someone isn't you. You need to get her the fuck out of there."

And Heeseung had hated it. Hated that he wasn't the one to finish it. Hated that while he was carrying you out of that warehouse, too weak to even recognize him, someone else had put an end to Kang's empire.

But in the end? It didn't matter. Because Kang was gone. The operation was over. And now? Now Heeseung had to deal with what was left of you.

The first thing Heeseung notices when they bring you back to the precinct is how silent everything is. Not the usual kind of silence—the kind that lingers after a long mission, the kind that settles when adrenaline fades and exhaustion creeps in.

This is different. This is deafening. This is the kind of quiet that feels like mourning. Because even though you're alive—Even though you're here, wrapped in too-thin hospital sheets, an IV drip in your arm, nurses and doctors hovering over you—you're not really here at all.

And Heeseung? He doesn't know how to bring you back.

Chairman Kang is dead. Heeseung should feel victory. Should feel relief. Should feel something other than this gaping, hollow ache sitting in his chest. But he doesn't.

Because this mission wasn't supposed to cost you. Because Heeseung had gotten to you in time. Because he was supposed to be too late for everything except saving you.

But now, sitting here in this fucking hospital ward, watching you lay there, breathing but gone, awake but empty—he knows the truth. He knows he was too late in every way that mattered.

"You should go home."

Sunoo's voice is quiet, careful, treading that thin line between concern and something else. Something closer to pity.

Heeseung doesn't answer. Doesn't even look at him. He just sits there, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together, gaze fixed on you as you stare at the ceiling. Not moving. Not speaking. Not anything.

Sunoo exhales slowly. "You haven't slept in three days."

Heeseung still doesn't answer.

Sunoo shifts beside him, arms crossed. "You know she's being monitored 24/7. She's safe now."

Safe. The word tastes like ash in his mouth. Because you're not safe. Because you might never be safe again. Because even if no one is coming for you now—Even if Kang is gone, even if the organization is dismantled, even if the case is over—it doesn't matter.

Because you still don't know who he is. Because you're still looking through him like he's a stranger.

And for the first time, Heeseung lets himself say it. Lets himself acknowledge it out loud. "I lost her."

Sunoo goes completely still. For a long moment, neither of them speak. Then a sigh. Slow, measured. "I don't think you did," Sunoo murmurs.

But Heeseung just shakes his head. Because it doesn't feel like that. Because it feels like you're right there in front of him, and he still can't reach you. And that? That feels worse than losing you completely.

It happens too suddenly. One second, you're staring at the ceiling, unfocused, thoughts slipping through your fingers like sand. The next? Everything crashes back at once. The mission. The warehouse. The drugs. The way your body felt like it wasn't yours. The way Heeseung looked at you when you said you didn't know who he was.

Your breath catches. Your fingers twitch against the sheets. And then the sound of his voice. "I lost her."

Your stomach drops. Your throat tightens. Because you know that voice. Because you know that tone. Because you know him.

And the second you finally understand what those words mean—the second you realize what he thinks, what he's feeling, what he's convinced himself of—you react on instinct. You turn your head. Your lips part. And for the first time since the mission ended, since the rescue, since you woke up in this fucking hospital bed—you say his name.

"Heeseung."

Heeseung stiffens. Like he's not sure if he imagined it. Like he's not sure if he should believe it. But then he looks at you. And your eyes are different. No more emptiness. No more confusion. Just you. Just you, looking at him, remembering him, saying his name like you never forgot it in the first place.

And Heeseung—he just sits there. Frozen. Barely breathing. Because he doesn't know if he's dreaming. Because for the first time in weeks, he lets himself hope. "Say it again," he murmurs.

And you do. "Heeseung." Stronger this time. More certain. More you. And that? That's when he finally—finally—lets himself breathe again.

The moment your voice cuts through the silence, everything stops. Everything that's happened—the mission, the warehouse, the days of emptiness, the unbearable weight of losing you while you were right in front of him— it all hits Heeseung at once. Because you're here. Because you remember. Because you're saying his name again.

And for the first time since this entire nightmare started—he breaks. One second, he's frozen in place, too afraid to move, too afraid to believe this is real. The next? He's on his feet, crossing the space between you in seconds, dropping to his knees beside your bed.

And then his arms are around you. Tight. Unyielding. Desperate. Like he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. Like he's trying to make up for every second he thought he lost you. Like he's never going to let this happen again.

His breath is ragged against your neck, his entire body shaking, his fingers digging into your hospital gown like he's anchoring himself to you. And then—then, you feel it. The warmth against your skin. The way his shoulders tremble. The way his breath shudders. Heeseung is crying. And for the first time, he's not trying to stop himself.

You blink, still groggy, still adjusting to the weight of the memories crashing back into you. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your skin, the way his arms tighten around you, the way his entire body is trembling against yours.

And suddenly, even though your heart is still racing—even though you should probably be overwhelmed—you feel something else instead. Something warm. Something so undeniably real. And for the first time in what feels like forever—you laugh. Soft. Breathless.

And Heeseung goes completely still. Slowly, he pulls back, his eyes red, glassy, disbelief written across his face. His voice is hoarse, wrecked, raw from everything he's been holding in. "Are you seriously laughing right now?"

And that? That makes you laugh again. Because of course Heeseung—the man who just burned through an entire warehouse to save you, the man who went feral the second you were taken, the man who has never looked so undone in his life— of course he would say that.

You smile, tilting your head, reaching up to wipe away one of the tears on his cheek. "Heeseung," you murmur, soft, fond, teasing. "Did you cry for me?"

He scoffs, sniffing, shaking his head. "Shut the fuck up."

And then he kisses you. The moment his lips meet yours, everything else fades. The hospital. The mission. The fear. Everything that's happened dissolves into nothing. Because this is real. Because this is you. Because this is what he's been waiting for.

The kiss is desperate, deep, a thousand unspoken words packed into every movement. His hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your jaw, like he's trying to memorize every inch of you all over again. Like he's trying to pull you back into him completely. And you let him. Because you're back now. Because you know him again.Because he never really lost you at all.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breath still uneven, his hands still holding onto you like you might disappear if he lets go— you take a deep breath. And then you smirk. "So," you murmur. "Did we win?"

Heeseung pulls back fully, eyes narrowing, staring at you like he's never been more offended in his life. "Are you—"he exhales sharply, shaking his head. "Are you fucking serious right now?"

You grin. "I mean, I'm assuming the mission is over, but—"

He groans, pressing his fingers against his temples, like you are single-handedly going to be the death of him. "You wake up from a fucking near-death experience, remember who I am for five goddamn minutes, and the first thing you want to know is whether or not we won?"

You shrug, laughing again, your body finally feeling lighter for the first time in weeks. "Well, did we?"

Heeseung stares at you. And then, after a long moment, he exhales. His lips twitch. And finally—finally—he smiles."Yeah," he murmurs, brushing his fingers through your hair, voice softer now. "We won."

Heeseung still hasn't let go. He can't. His forehead is pressed against yours, his hands cradling your face, his breath shaky against your lips. And when he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. Raw. Wrecked. "I thought I lost you."

Your fingers curl against the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric like an anchor. "You didn't."

He lets out a breathless, bitter laugh. "I did." He swallows hard, his shoulders shaking slightly. "You looked at me," he murmurs, "and you didn't know me. You didn't even flinch when I held you. You didn't trust me."

His hands tighten around you, like he's trying to make up for every second he couldn't touch you like this. "You asked me where your husband was," he whispers. "And I was right fucking there."

Your chest tightens painfully. Because you remember now. Because you remember the look on his face, the sheer devastation in his eyes, the way he still held you like he was protecting something precious, even when you didn't trust him. "I'm sorry," you whisper.

Heeseung shakes his head. "Don't." His thumb traces your cheekbone, gentle, reverent, like he's still afraid you'll disappear. "Just don't."

His throat bobs, his breath coming faster, and then— he laughs. Quiet. Shaky. But there's nothing happy about it. "I can't do this again," he murmurs, his voice breaking completely.

Your fingers tighten around him. "Heeseung—"

"I mean it." His hands move to cup the sides of your neck, his touch warm, solid. "I can't fucking do this again. I can't lose you again. I can't—"

His voice catches. His head drops slightly, pressing against yours, his fingers trembling against your skin. "I love you."

Your heart stumbles. Because it's the first time he's said it. Because it's not part of the mission anymore. Because this is real. And Heeseung? He looks terrified. Like he's never said anything this important before. Like he's afraid of what comes next. Like he means it so much it's killing him.

"I love you," he whispers again, his breath uneven, his lashes wet. "And I don't want to live without you. Not ever again."

Your fingers move up to his face, your thumbs brushing against the curve of his jaw. Heeseung leans into your touch instinctively. And for the first time since this entire nightmare started, he lets himself feel everything. The fear. The relief. The love that's been sitting there, waiting, drowning him completely.

And you? You just pull him closer. You press your forehead against his, your breath mingling with his, your fingers threading through his hair as you whisper, "I love you too."

Heeseung freezes. His breath hitches. Like he didn't expect you to say it back. Like he didn't think he deserved it.And then—he's kissing you. Desperate. Rough. Messy.

Like he's trying to pour everything into you at once, like he's trying to show you all the ways he loves you, all the ways he's never going to let you go again. You kiss him back just as hard. Because this is real. Because this has always been real. Because you were always going to end up here—together. And for the first time, neither of you are running from it.

"If you two are done—"

You jerk away from Heeseung immediately, eyes wide. Heeseung groans loudly, tilting his head back, exhaling sharply. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, beyond unimpressed, is the captain.

Heeseung lets out a sharp, sarcastic laugh. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

The captain raises a brow. "Glad to see you're both in good spirits."

You clear your throat, still slightly breathless, trying to make yourself look less— less like you were just making out in a hospital bed while Heeseung poured his heart out to you.

The captain sighs. "Well, too bad. Because I'm officially putting an end to whatever the hell this mission was."

Your brows pull together. You're still piecing things together, memories slotting into place like broken fragments reforming into something whole. The mission. The undercover op. Chairman Kang. Everything. "What happened?"you ask.

The captain takes a step closer, looking between you and Heeseung before finally sighing. "The short version?" he mutters. "It's done. Kang is dead. The remnants of his operation have been taken care of, and the international task force has picked up whatever's left. You two did your jobs."

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, unimpressed. "We know all that already," he says. "What's the real version?"

The captain exhales, running a hand down his face. "Chairman Kang's operation was never just about trafficking," he starts.

Your stomach tightens. You already know this. You saw it with your own eyes. "The medical room," you murmur. "The vials. The experiments."

The captain nods. "He wasn't moving product—he was developing it," he explains. "Experimental compounds. Something stronger than any narcotic we've seen, but with enhanced neurological effects. Something that could manipulate memory, suppress emotions, alter cognitive function at will."

Your pulse kicks up. Because you felt that. Because you lived that. Because you were one of his test subjects.

"He was using live trials," Heeseung mutters darkly, his voice deadly quiet.

The captain's jaw tightens. "Yeah. And you two walked straight into it." He pauses, glancing at the door as if checking that no one else is listening. "There's something else. Something that didn't make the official reports."

Heeseung's posture shifts subtly—more alert now.

"Kang wasn't killed by local law enforcement," the captain says, voice lowered. "Or by any of our people. The ballistics don't match any standard issue weapons."

"Then who?" you ask, leaning forward slightly.

The captain's expression darkens. "Specter."

The word lands like a stone in still water. Heeseung tenses beside you.

"Bullshit," he says, but there's uncertainty in his tone. "Specter is a myth. A ghost story intelligence agencies tell each other."

The captain pulls a small tablet from his jacket, slides his finger across the screen, and turns it toward you both. The security footage is grainy but clear enough—a figure in tactical gear with that unmistakable insignia. The ghostly "S" that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

"This was pulled from Kang's security system minutes before his death," the captain says. "We're talking about a black ops unit so classified that most governments deny its existence. They operate beyond jurisdiction, beyond oversight."

"Why would they target Kang?" you ask.

The captain shakes his head. "That's the million-dollar question. What was Kang working on that attracted attention at that level? What makes a ghost decide to step out of the shadows?"

He tucks the tablet away. "Whatever it was, it's above our pay grade. Way above. And that's exactly why you two are being pulled."

You swallow hard. Your body still feels the effects. The blankness. The confusion. The way you looked Heeseung in the eye and didn't recognize him. The way it took days before everything came back. Your fingers curl into the hospital blanket, your chest tightening.

"So what happens now?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

The captain doesn't hesitate. "Now?" he says. "Now, you're both off the case. Permanently."

Your head snaps up. "What?"

The captain crosses his arms, leveling you both with a look. "Your cover was blown the second you got taken," he states. "There's no way to justify keeping you two in the field—not after everything that's happened. And with Specter involved? I'm not risking either of you getting caught in whatever crossfire might be coming."

Heeseung doesn't move. Doesn't blink. Doesn't react. "You're benching us," he mutters.

"No," the captain says flatly. "I'm giving you both a fucking break."

Silence. And then he tosses something onto the hospital bed. Two files. Reassignment orders. One for you. One for Heeseung. "You're both being transferred to different departments. Low-risk assignments. Desk work. Non-negotiable."

You stare at him. "Are you fucking kidding?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

You glance at Heeseung. He's silent, his fingers drumming against his thigh, eyes locked on the files but not moving to pick them up. Then—"That's not all, is it?"

The captain exhales heavily. "No," he mutters. "You're both being granted a sabbatical before reassignment. Three months. Paid leave. Get your heads on straight."

You blink. "We don't need—"

"Shut up." The captain raises a brow. "Both of you. You're taking the damn break. End of discussion."

Your lips press into a thin line. Beside you, Heeseung still hasn't moved. Then—"And after?" he asks.

"After," the captain says, "you decide what you want to do. If you want out, I'll sign your papers. If you want back in, I'll find a way to make it work. But right now?" He looks between you both. And for the first time, his expression softens. "You need time."

For the longest time, Heeseung has never known anything but this life. The mission. The objective. The next target, the next fight, the next time he has to put everything on the line. But now? Now, for the first time, he doesn't have to think about any of that. Now, the only thing he has to think about is you. And what comes next.

Heeseung looks at you. And for the first time in weeks—he smiles. "Guess we're going on vacation, baby."

You scoff. "You cried over me, and now you want to joke?"

He groans, covering his face with one hand. "Jesus Christ—" And this time? This time, he laughs too. Because it's over. Because he has you. Because for once—for once, he doesn't have to worry about anything except the two of you. And that? That's something worth living for.

The second the captain leaves, the room is silent. For exactly ten seconds. Then—"So, where are we going?"

You blink at Heeseung. "Going where?"

Heeseung grins. "Vacation, baby."

You groan. "You just confessed your undying love to me, and now you're calling me 'baby' like a jackass?"

His grin doesn't falter. "I call it affectionate growth."

You roll your eyes. "Okay, fine. Where do you want to go?"

Heeseung leans back, hands behind his head. "Somewhere quiet. A private villa, maybe. A beach. Minimal clothing. Just me, you, and the ocean."

You snort. "So you want to lay around half-naked all day and pretend you're a billionaire playboy?"

Heeseung smirks. "I don't need to pretend, sweetheart."

You stare at him. Then—"We're not going to the beach."

Heeseung frowns. "Excuse me?"

"You hate the heat," you deadpan. *"You get cranky after two minutes of direct sunlight. You'll be miserable the whole time and take it out on me."

Heeseung looks personally offended. "That is not true."

"You literally threatened to stab a vending machine last summer because it was too hot to function."

"Okay, first of all, that machine stole my money."

"It was broken, Heeseung."

"I was suffering."

You scoff. "Right. So no beach."

Heeseung tilts his head. "Then where do you want to go?"

You hum, thinking. "Somewhere colder. Mountains, maybe. A cabin. Snow. Hot chocolate. A fireplace."

Heeseung pulls a face. "I love you, but I refuse to spend my vacation freezing my ass off."

"You just said minimal clothing."

"Yes. Because of the heat. Not because I want to be an icicle."

"You can wear a sweater."

"You want me to look like a fucking lumberjack?"

"You already do."

"Take that back."

You smirk. "Make me."

Heeseung groans, dragging a hand down his face. "This is our first vacation together, and we can't even agree on a destination."

"Sounds like a problem for you, babe."

"You're literally impossible."

"And yet, you love me."

Heeseung looks at you, tilts his head, then— "Debatable."

You shove him. He laughs. And even though the argument continues—even though neither of you agree on anything, even though you'll probably be bickering all the way to the airport— for the first time in what feels like forever—everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be. Just you and him. Right where you belong.

fin.

Taglist: @naurwayyyyy @ziiao @ddolleri @ijustwannareadstuff20 @somuchdard @beariegyu @zzhengyu @annybah @luciavrseblog-com @aehrizone @ayyonoona @lamin143 @heeseunggotrizz @elairah @firstclassjaylee @peppycho @kukkurookkoo @petalsofink @bussolares @wolfhardbby @flawlessapollo6 @strayy-kidz @jwywife @heelovesmeknot @gaytron3000 @motherscrustytoenailclippings @starniras @ash-engen @fancypeacepersona @sunhyeswife @simj4k3 @tender-is-the-moon @yunjica @m3wkledreamy @clandestineself @lightxo @ddolleri @beeboobeebss @augustloaf

"i hate finding out when everyone else does" oh chenle you little diva

୨♡୧ choose you: you hired a what?

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a/n: a little soft moment with jay because he really is the best cousin.

⋆˙⟡🪶─ .✦📜⊹₊ ݁. @en-dream @sugarikiz @jwonistic @wensurr @theothernads @sh0dor1 @vveebee @ardentsnowfall @tasnemluvs @meloncreamysoda @heeheesang @cherrybeomm @jiiyen @iheartshopping @rikidaze @ribbioniki @bee-the-loser @hahaechans @httpenhoon @rairaiblog @r1kification @swanyvess @right-person-wrong-time @xiaoquanquans @firstclassjaylee @petralovesbonedo

(bold means i couldn't tag (• ᴖ • ｡)

IK ACTUSKLLY CACKING SO HARD RN. NO JIKE THERE ARE TEARS COMING OUT MY EYES IM BEING SO FR "why is this fully korean man singing 'country roads take me home'" PLS IM FONNA PISS MYSELF "i think thats just lsd" GET OUT

YOU GUYS HAVE GOT TO READ THIS SMAU ITS SO FUNNY

୨♡୧ choose you: karaoke bus

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a/n: this fic really is a comfort fic for me to write... i hope you guys are okay with the direction it's going. if not, gomenasorry ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

⋆˙⟡🪶─ .✦📜⊹₊ ݁. @en-dream @sugarikiz @jwonistic @wensurr @theothernads @sh0dor1 @vveebee @ardentsnowfall @tasnemluvs

(bold means i couldn't tag (• ᴖ • ｡)

Dating Sunoo Headcannon

Author Note: Leave a comment or suggestion on who y'all want me to write and let me know what I can or need to improve on.

{Word Count: 108}

• Doing each other's skincare routine in the morning/at night.

• Stealing each other's clothes.

• Matching couples' outfits and pajamas (half of your closet is already filled with the matching pajamas he buys).

• Sunoo getting sulky when you all go shopping together at the mall and pass by the ice cream shop without getting any mint chocolate chip ice cream.

• Making up with him by giving him a lot of hugs and kisses, along with a movie night while eating mint chocolate chip ice cream.

• He basically became your hairstylist when you're getting ready for work/going out with friends/or he's just playing with your hair in general.

Please remember to contribute to my Ko-fi. Every donation makes a real difference! If y'all can't donate to the husky pup fundraiser then just reblog to widen the reach or consider buying e a coffee. Don't forget to Like, Comment, or reblog if you enjoyed reading this.

All rights go to ©Lelestarmy, Don't copy, translate, or repost any of my works onto other sites without my permission.

Masterlist

All rights reserved © lelestarmy. All pieces are works of fiction and do not represent the members in real life. Do not copy, translate, or repost.

Ateez

BTS

Enhypen

Seventeen

Straykids

A/n: Leave a comment or suggestion on who y'all want me to write. Like, comment, and reblog if y'all like any of my works, and don't hesitate to let me know if I can/need to improve on anything please and thank you.

Angst - (a), Fluff - (f)

Heesung

Jay

Jake

Sunghoon

Sunoo

Headcannons:

Dating Sunoo Headcannon {f}

Jungwon

Ni-ki

Author Note: Leave a comment or suggestion on who y'all want me to write. Please remember to contribute to my Ko-fi. Every donation makes a real difference! If y'all can't donate to the husky pup fundraiser then just reblog to widen the reach or consider buying me a coffee.

kinktober — day 16 | mirror sex

devilish • [lee heeseung]

settle down, you don’t wanna see me drag the devil out

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader genre: smut, dancers!au, dom!idol, sub!reader synopsis: in which heeseung shows you the best way to relax after an exhausting rehearsal before your big performance word count: 1770 warnings: sex in front of a mirror, kinda striptease (?), riding, unprotected sex (no glove, no love y’all)

i'm so excited to finally post this ahhhhhh

»Okay guys«, your dance teacher clapped his hand twice as he looked from your face to Heeseung’s and gave you a motivating smile. »One more time and then we’ll finish for today, you need to save up your energy.«

The fringe of his dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead as he stretched his neck again, the soreness already spreading in his muscles from the past few hours of rehearsal.

Heeseung sighed, getting up from the floor and reaching his hand out to help you stand back up on your feet too.

»Fighting!«

You had a performance coming up that weekend and since your dance teacher spontaneously decided to make you dance a part of the routine as a duet, both of you needed some extra lessons to learn the new steps and practice them together.

During the last repetition, your eyes were stuck on Heeseung’s reflection in the mirror, his body gently moved against yours when he twirled you in before you wrapped your arms around his neck and he rested his hands on your hips.

His eyes locked with yours as he bit his lip, swaying to the beat of the song you had been dancing to for what felt like an eternity. You noticed how his bottom lip got stuck between his teeth at some point, the gleam in his eyes proving he enjoyed this moment a little more than he usually did. You winked at him before he twirled you out again, only four more eight-counts left for your piece to finish.

»Alright, that’s a wrap!«

Your dance teacher started applauding and Heeseung and you joined in, your giggles of relief filling the room as you went to get your water bottle. The corners of the mirror had already started to fog up, reducing the rectangular glass to an oval.

After receiving the instruction to clean everything up and go rest early, your partner and you were left alone, looking at each other in satisfaction.

»Wanna do another round?«

Heeseung shrugged, walking towards the computer to turn the music back on, the intro of the song quickly killing the silence that reigned as you just watched his actions.

You raised an eyebrow at his question, all your clothes sticking to your body and your muscles tensing up more and more with every second you didn’t move.

»Don’t you think we did enough?«

»Oh c’mon, we were just getting started.«

He wiggled his eyebrows at you before he paused the song and looked at the chair on the floor next to you. The look he gave you showed a sign of ›please?‹, suddenly enough to make you pick up the chair and give in to his question without any further convincing needed.

While you danced your part of the intro, he carefully observed your movements through the mirror as he strolled towards his position to be in time for when your solo transitioned into his.

You turned the chair around, the backrest now facing the front as you winked at him; his sign to start. Stepping on the chair, he rested one of his feet on the edge of the backrest, leaning forward to make the chair fall over as a way of underlining the change of dance style.

His moves were a lot quicker than yours, the way he kept switching between sharp hits and smooth body waves got you flustered, especially when he noticed your eyes on his in the reflection. Running his hand through his hair, he let his tongue trail over his bottom lip before he bit it, shamelessly flirting with you before he reached his hand out to introduce the third and final part of the choreography; the duet.

He spun you around, ground against you, and checked you out in the mirror like he did about a hundred times before that day, the only thing that was different was the shift in the atmosphere that you now started to realize. It all felt a lot more intimate now; his moves, his touches, and the way he quickly glanced from your eyes to your lips and back whenever you were facing each other.

Raising your leg for the end pose, he held you a good few seconds longer than he was supposed to as told by the dance teacher, slowly coming closer as if he leaned in for a kiss.

You closed your eyes, ready to feel his lips on yours when he pulled away, embarrassment tinting his face in a subtle shade of pink that got almost drowned by his already reddened cheeks. Heeseung scratched his neck, aiming for his water bottle before he threw yours over to you.

Thanking him with a nod, you took a sip and let out a deep sigh, your eyes following him as he went back to the computer again.

»How about another round?«

You cocked your head to the side, shooting him a killer stare as you bit the inside of his cheek. How in the hell was he so convincing when all he did was look at you with those dark eyes?

Agreeing over and over again, you repeated the exact same thing multiple times, the sexual tension growing more and more before you once more finally reached the end pose.

His glance went back down on your lips, he was still pondering what to do, not noticing you rolling your eyes at the way he got shy all of a sudden when just seconds ago he was practically undressing you with his eyes.

»Listen up, sweetheart«, you purred, bringing Heeseung’s attention back to your eyes. »This time you either fucking kiss me or I’m going home. We were supposed to leave two hours ago.«

Heeseung’s lips curled up in a smirk before he pressed them onto yours, sighing into the kiss as he let go of your leg on his hip, allowing him to pull you closer to his sweaty body.

He latched his hands onto your hips as he does in the choreography, while you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the pearls of his sweat on your fingertips as you tangled a hand in his hair.

Roughly moving his lips against yours, he guided you towards the chair before he broke off the kiss, inhaling sharply as he picked it up from the floor and positioned it in front of the mirror.

Reaching out for your hand, he invited you to stand next to him, so you reached back, being pulled to his side as both of took a look at your reflections.

Heeseung moved behind you, leaning into your neck as he placed a kiss on the sensitive skin.

»Look at yourself, babygirl.«

The hot breath accompanying his faint voice fanned against your skin, chasing goosebumps down your spine when he slipped his hands under your shirt, caressing your skin with gentle touches of his fingertips.

He suckled on your skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses and love bites on either side of your neck as you closed your eyes, knees going weak when he licked a strip up from the nape of your neck to right underneath your earlobe.

You gasped, clenching your jaw at his feathery touches on your burning skin as he guided both of you towards the chair in front of the mirror. Sliding down on it, he broke off the kiss, a breathless sigh rolling off his lips when he ran his hand through his tangled hair.

Heeseung spread his legs as he patted his thigh for you to sit on while you eyed him up and down, taking in all of his beauty; the fringe of hair stuck to his forehead, the gentle movement of his chest whenever he took a breath, the curves of his abs showing through his shirt and the obvious erection in his pants.

»Do it again, this time with me right here.«

His voice broke the silence only for a few seconds when he gazed back at you, tongue trailing over his bottom lip in anticipation of your reaction. Your lips curled up in a cocky smile as you bit the inside of your cheek before you rid yourself of your shirt.

»Keep your hands to yourself«, you purred.

Sliding onto his lap, you started dancing your solo routine without music, only your heavy breaths and Heeseung’s silent whimpers filling the room as you moved on and around him, stroking his chest and undressing both of you piece by piece.

Once you reached Heeseung’s sweatpants, you untied them, palming his dick through the thin material, which allowed you to feel it pulsing under your hand. You gently slipped underneath the waistband, taking his cock out, and pumping him a few times, using the pre-cum that leaked from his tip as lube.

A raspy moan left his lips as you worked him up, before you slid onto his lap again, aligning him with your entrance before you sank down, burying his dick between your folds.

His chest was flush against yours when you rode him, eyes stuck to your reflection as you watched his dick gliding in and out of you with the pace he helped you keep by guiding you by your hips.

Rolling back his head, he scrunched up his nose in pleasure while a soft sigh escaped you. He filled you out so well, stretching your walls every time he bottomed out, it felt like heaven.

»You feel so good, kitten.«

His low voice tickled your eardrums as he raised his head again and placed kisses all over your shoulder blades and neck.

»And you look so beautiful bouncing on my cock like that.«

You moaned at his comment, clenching around him as you sank down again, bringing yourself closer to the edge. Heeseung noticed you shifting on his lap, trying to make him hit your sweet spot over and over again.

He chuckled at your desperate sounds before he attached his finger to your clit, drawing figure eights on it to push you over the edge.

Drawing in a sharp breath, you came on his dick, spilling your essence around his dick as he helped you ride out your orgasm with sloppy thrusts. You noticed he was close himself, given the way his dick twitched inside you, so you clenched around him again, making him shoot his seed into you.

A deep moan accompanied his climax as you felt him fuck his juice back into you, preventing it from spilling out of your sore cunt.

»How about another round?«

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

dear heeseung anon, thank you so much for the request and please forgive me for making you wait so long :(

taglist:

@faeriecobie, @scuzmunkie, @multistan30

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

kinktober setlist

kinktober — day 10 | squirting

church • [sim jaeyun]

you’re wearing nothing but my t-shirt

pairing: sim jaeyun x fem!reader genre: ons between best friends!au, college!au, sub!idol, dom!reader synopsis: in which jake and you are something between best friends and lovers with no actual relationship status, so when you meet him with other people at a party he said he wouldn’t attend shit gets real between you . . . word count: 2571 warnings: curse words ig, unprotected sex (don’t be a spunky, cover your monkey), fingering, a lil orgasm denial and thigh riding, jake kinda gets tortured a bit, squirting

yeah, jake is giving me fuckboy vibes asf and i ain’t even sorry for putting that out there like this lol (ly jake <;3)

oh and, this got so damn long because i kinda had 3 daydreams about jake and they all merged in my head to create this, so i hope you like it hehe

Taking a sip of your cocktail, you let your eyes wander through the room, avoiding eye contact as best as you could since it was uncommon for girls your age to show up to parties alone. Only when you heard chatter and a strangely familiar voice coming closer, you risked a look upwards, resulting in meeting the eyes of a known but unexpected face.

»Jake?«

He was standing almost directly in front of you, surrounded by three other guys you recognised as Jay, Sunghoon and Heeseung, who had his arm wrapped around a girl‘s waist. Incredulously looking from face to face, you bit the inside of your cheek, a small wave of anger making you clench your hand around the glass you just drank out of.

»What a surprise to see you here.«

His voice almost dripped with sarcasm, the raised eyebrow and the cocky smile only underlining how much of a fuckboy he had become. You remembered the beginning of the school year, when he noticed how lost you were during Physics and he kindly offered to help you study for the exams.

You took his offer with great appreciation, maybe also because his eyes glistened in excitement and the sweet smile that curled on his lips woke up the butterflies in your stomach. Back then, even his outer appearance was a lot different.

His smile was honest and his eyes warm, the oversized sweaters and plaid shirts he wore making him look like the absolute boyfriend. You could feel the effect all that had on you throughout your tutoring sessions, when you had gotten a lot closer and flirty-sounding jokes became more common.

He loved to make you giggle when he pretended not to know an answer, just to make you explain the whole exercise again, which often resulted in you understanding your mistakes and doing better on the tests. Still, you felt like there could have been more between you if both of you had allowed it to be.

Gazing up and down his slim body, you tried to uncover the nice young boy he was while letting his current appearance have his influence on you. The leather jackets and dark colours he seemed to have gotten into really matched his cold gaze and the false smile he carried on his face now.

You didn’t know what happened to him during winter break after you hugged him goodbye when lessons ended on the last day of school and couldn’t stop blushing on your way home because of the way he booped your nose with his after his gaze kept jumping from your eyes to your lips and back over while he chewed on his bottom lip as if he was pondering whether or not to kiss you.

On the first day after vacation, you couldn’t even recognise him by the way he talked and acted, unable to say hello out of surprise when you saw him again. He had the same arrogant grin plastered on his lips when he came up to you and pulled you into a half-hearted hug, all the warmth you connected to his body replaced by ice as you looked at his face, too astonished to process his behaviour.

Now you felt the bass of the roaring music in your stomach, Jake’s bitter eyes piercing yours as he clenched his jaw while straightening up his posture.

»It’s unusual for you to go to parties without me.«

The reference to the first and last party you went to in his company felt like a punch in the face as it brought up memories you thought you had digested since then. Your tummy felt uneasy at the wave of emotions that crashed over you as you pressed your lips together at the phantom kiss ghosting over them.

You could still feel his tongue in your mouth, his lips moving against yours in a feverish tempo as the liquid courage rushed through your veins. His hands rested on your hips as you moved onto his lap, clinging to him impossibly closer while you clasped your hands in his hair.

When you arrived at your place, Jake’s hands were restless roaming your body as he carried you to the bedroom and let you down on the bed. He was gentle with you, the icy facade he created crumbling under the soft touches you exchanged when his lips ghosted over you and he carefully helped you fall over the edge with the tender movements of his hips.

The next morning you woke up, still smelling his perfume on your pillow and feeling his touches and kisses but Jake was nowhere to be found. Looking down your body you noticed yourself wearing one of his oversized shirts, the one you secretly always liked and still kept in the back of your closet because there was no way you could just go up to him and give it back.

Snapping out of your trance, you realised Jake still stood in front of you with his stupidly attractive face; his doe eyes still stuck on yours, his tongue still poking the inside of his cheek and his lips ever looking so soft.

You pushed yourself off the armchair, standing face to face on eye-level with him now as you eyed him up and down.

»You’re such an arrogant asshole, Sim Jaeyun«.

With a flick of your wrist, your cocktail ended up on his white shirt, seeping through the fabric and leaving a bright pink spot on his chest. You turned around on your heels, clutching the glass tightly as you felt the eyes of everyone close enough to have witnessed the situation turning to you.

Yet, you didn’t care as you stormed out of the room, Jake’s shouts of your name mere whispers in the mass of noises that filled the whole apartment when he ran after you.

»Fucking hell, stop already!«

His voice was loud in the hallway, echoing off the walls as he stood behind you, heavily breathing when he reached out to grab your wrist and spin you around to have you face him again.

»Leave me alone«, you hissed, pulling your arm out of his hold. »Wasn’t that hard after you woke up at my place either, remember?«

»Fuck that was a mistake, okay?«

»The whole thing or just you leaving me all alone with your shirt?«

»Wait, you still have it, don’t you?«

»That was not my question, Jaeyun.«

His silence was loud as his eyes focused on the floor, remorse painting his face as he struggled to find words to explain his situation. You shook your head, scoffing at how quiet he got once he was confronted with a situation he couldn’t escape with jokes, money or his dumb smile.

You turned your back on him, reaching for the door knob as he grabbed hold of your shoulders, putting an arm around you as he pulled you into a room next to the apartment door.

»What the fuck is in here? A dungeon in which y’all keep girls as slaves or something?«, you hissed into the darkness.

Jake chuckled, turning around the key and switching on the light before he leaned his back against the door and crossed his arms in front of his body.

»We’re all weird but trust me, none of us is that sick.«

»Then what are we doing here?«

»Were gonna talk this out now.«

A loud laugh escaped your throat as you arched an eyebrow at him, not being able to comprehend his intention.

»Shut up, Jake. I don’t want to talk about anything with you.«

You aimed for the door, only to find yourself pinned against it in the break of a second, Jake’s body pressing you against it as he bit the inside of his cheek again.

»You’re younger than me, show some respect and stop running away when I’m speaking to you.«

His voice sounded strict, unlike the teasing tone his voice carried in the living room when he reminded you of your last night together.

You rolled your eyes, not in the mood for a discussion as you tried getting him off of you.

»Yeah, I’m younger than you, but trust me when I say my dick is bigger than yours.«

You imitated his earlier facial expression, the greasy smile and the eyebrow move he did when he came talking to you. Fighting him with his own weapons seemed like a good idea to you, so you leaned your forehead against his, one of your hands tangling in his hair.

»What is that supposed to mean?«

He pulled away in confusion, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to decipher your actions, your lips dangerously close to touching.

»You, Jake Sim, are a cockthinker, which makes me the smarter one.«

A satisfied grin crept on your lips as you stuck out your tongue to him and mocked the way his confusion grew with each passing second.

»I am a what?«

»A cockthinker. You thought I wouldn’t spread my legs for you anymore because we both know I can’t do this whole „no strings attached“ crap, so you came here with the hope of finding someone else to shove your dick inside.«

»And that is why your dick is bigger than mine?«

You shrugged, the answer to his question more than obvious in your opinion.

»Yup.«

Jake stepped back, running a hand through his hair as he gazed at your legs and back at your face, a concentrated smirk on his lips.

»Pants down and prove it.«

»What?«

»Proof or it’s not true.«

»You’re so pathetic«, you scoffed, unbuttoning your pants and pulling the zipper down. You pulled the belt out of the hoops and kicked the pants off your legs as you stepped closer to him, one of your hands on his chest as you pulled him to you by his collar. »I’m not scared of you.«

»Oh baby, you should be«, he purred. His jacket and shirt ended up on the floor next to your pants, your top following suit as his typical smirk crept back onto his lips.

»Why? Scared I’m better than you?«

He took off his pants, stripping his underwear off with them as you dropped your panties and bra right next to you and guided him towards what seemed to be the guest bed.

»No, just convinced you’re gonna cum first.«

You clicked your tongue, pushing him on the bed as you slipped onto his lap, clutching the belt you still had in your other hand tighter as you forced him to lie down on his back.

»You can’t always win, Jaeyun«

Using your free hand, you pumped his throbbing cock before aligning him with your entrance and sinking down on him as you pinned his hands above his head. Fixating them on the bedframe with your belt, you sighed at how deliciously he stretched out your walls.

»You look amazing like this, Jakey«, you purred, placing a kiss on his lips as you rocked your hips against his. Breaking off the kiss, you threw your head back with a moan, setting a pace with your movements while Jake just watched his dick disappearing inside of you.

You rested your hands on his chest to support yourself as you repeatedly lifted yourself and sank back down on him, burying his dick between your folds accompanied by sighs and moans of his name.

His eyes were screwed shut as you felt him tensing up underneath you, groans and whimpers occasionally leaving his lips as you sensed his approaching orgasm by the way his dick twitched inside of you.

A dirty grin flitted across your lips as you raised your body once more, this time without sinking back down. Jake’s eyes snapped open and he furrowed his eyebrows, caught by surprise at the sudden loss of friction.

»What the fuck?«

»You’re so desperate, how sweet«, you cooed, slipping off his lap and kneeling on the bed next to him with spread legs, your wet cunt on full display for him to marvel at.

»Fuck you.«

He tried freeing his hands from the belt as you stuck out your tongue, licking two of your fingers before gently pushing them inside you to replace the missing feeling of his dick between your folds. You smiled in satisfaction at his frustrated sigh, his eyes glued to your digits moving in and out of you.

»Can’t you at least sit on my face or something?«

You moaned out his name, followed by a string of curse words as you enhanced the speed between your thighs, lewd noises filling the room along with your heavy breathing and Jake’s sounds of annoyance.

»Oh, come on«, he whined, tugging at the belt again but failing miserably.

You shrugged, bottom lip held hostage between your teeth as you sighed his name again.

»You should try begging for it.«

»I’m not gonna fucking beg you.«

You pulled your fingers out of your cunt, licking them clean as you moved back onto his lap, sitting down on his thigh and rubbing your soaking wet pussy against his skin once.

His thigh tensed underneath you as he took a deep breath, whispering »Okay, okay. Please just . . . do something«, with a brittle voice as you drew small circles on his abs and chest.

»You should hear yourself, baby boy«, you chuckled at his fucked out state, pearls of sweat forming on his forehead as he tried to keep up his facade even with you torturing him like that. »So desperate to cum but too shy to work for it.«

»Just fucking let me, okay?«

Raising an eyebrow at him, you signalled he knew what he had to do for you to allow him to cum, before you went back to riding his thigh with the same unbothered pace you had set when you first sank onto his dick.

Another sigh of Jake‘s name rolled off your tongue, finally breaking his facade and pushing him all the way into submission.

»Babe, please let me finish«, he whined, his voice cracking and tears pooling in his eyes.

»What a good boy you are«, you purred and locked lips with him as you let him push his dick back into your throbbing cunt.

A few thrusts upwards helped Jake reach his orgasm as you untied his hands and let him place them on your hips to guide you towards oblivion. His sloppy thrusts along with his lips all over your upper body soon made you catch your high as you squirted onto his hips and thighs with a loud moan.

He carefully thrusted up a few more times, riding out both your orgasms as he felt your juice running over his skin. His chest moved quickly, heavy breaths filling the room as you got off his lap, hissing at how empty your core felt all of a sudden.

»You should take the lead more often«, Jake sighed, rubbing his sore wrists as a low chuckle echoed in his throat.

»Sure thing, baby boy.« You kissed his lips again, stroking the sweaty hair out of his face and placing a kiss on his forehead too. »But we still have a discussion ahead of us first.«

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ik i suck at properly timing stuff ,,, and this os got so long geeeeeeeez ,,,, anyways, ik i’m almost a week late and i promise i‘ll try catching up with the other stories asap

taglist:

@faeriecobie, @scuzmunkie, @multistan30

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

kinktober setlist

kinktober — day 4 | spit kink

swim • [park sunghoon]

i’ve been drowning for a minute, your body keeps pulling me in

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader genre: smut, established relationship, dom!idol, sub!reader synopsis: in which watching tv with your boyfriend sunghoon doesn‘t last long word count: 435 warnings: fingering, spitting

park sunghoon with a spit kink <\\\\\3

Sitting down next to you on the sofa of your shared apartment, Sunghoon trailed his hand up your thigh and under your skirt, playing with the rim of your panties. He gently stroked your sex through the fabric, two fingers massaging it while he kept his eyes on the TV screen on the wall across from where you were seated.

You bit back a moan, shifting on your place as he removed his hand with a mischievous grin on his lips and leaned closer to you. You could feel his breath on your neck; it chased goosebumps down your spine and you bit the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from giving in.

»Baby~«, he asked in his baby voice, trying to gain your attention. »Mind laying down for me, so I can make your pretty pussy feel good?«

Swallowing hard, you turned to look at him, instantly getting tackled by his lips on your own and turned off the TV, your full attention now going into the way he made you lie down on the sofa and slid the panties off your legs without removing your skirt first.

He licked his lips, when you spread your legs for him, eyes hungrily fixed on your cunt as he leaned closer and spat on it, using his own saliva as lube to push two fingers inside of you.

Moaning out his name, you arched your back off the sofa to roll your hips against his hand, desperately trying to get some more friction. He chuckled at your already fucked out state, eyes closed from the pleasure he gave you and lips twitching as you tried to suppress more moans.

»You’re so pretty like this«, he purred, peppering your face with kisses before reaching your lips and lingering there for a short moment. You broke the kiss with a moan, wrapping your legs around his body in the need of catching your release.

»Open your mouth again«, he breathed, enhancing the speed of his fingers and drawing circles on your clit with his thumb.

You did as he told him, parting your lips and allowing him to spit into your mouth as well, the pool between your legs now close to overflowing as he demanded you to swallow his saliva while pressing his lips back onto yours.

Once again, you obeyed and swallowed, a high pitched moan of his name escaping your lips as you screwed your eyes shut, the orgasm that rippled through your body making your clench around his fingers.

»Good girl«, Sunghoon whispered and pulled his fingers out of you, licking them clean before unbuttoning your blouse. »Now get up and help me, because we’re far from being done.«

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hope you like it, sunghoon anon :3

taglist:

@faeriecobie, @scuzmunkie, @multistan30

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

kinktober setlist

kinktober — day 3 | orgasm denial/crying

into it • [park jongseong]

she don’t really like it but she needs me

pairing: park jongseong x fem!reader genre: smut, established relationship, hard dom!idol, sub!reader synopsis: in which you‘re supposed to learn your lesson after acting up (let’s be real, you don‘t) word count: 597 warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it, before u tap it, kiddos), crying, orgasm dental

this feels so weird idk, it’s kinda rushed and bad, i sincerely apologize, jay anon :(

Draping your leg over his shoulder, Jay harshly snapped his hips against yours as his dick caressed your sweet spot.

»How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to act up like that in front of the others?«, he hissed, rough thrust accompanying his words to fuck the attitude out of you. »Yet you either don’t listen or don’t fucking care.«

Tears pooled in your eyes at his words, you knew he didn’t meant it as rude as it sounded and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on but the friction on your pussy started to get unbearable and you were well aware you weren’t allowed to cum until you learned your lesson.

»But let me tell you, baby girl, that whatever the fuck it is that makes you not listen to me«, he halted for a moment, dark eyes fixing yours before he roughly picked up his pace again, »I don’t mind fucking that attitude out of you over and over again, you got me?«

You nodded, too breathless to reply and even if you tried it wouldn’t be more than a whisper.

»Use your words to reply to me, got it?«

»I’m . . . I’m sorry.«

»Oh, are you?«

A small tear drop rolled down your check because of his rough pace and movements and you tried pressing your legs together to make him stop but his muscular arms held them in place, his cold stare piercing your eyes as he clenched his jaw.

»Jay, please slow down«, you whined. More tears ran over your face while he continued to pound into you with the same pace as before. »I‘m getting sensitive . . . «

He chuckled, breathless but still going, and leaned forward to gently kiss your lips, his hair sticking to his forehead and pearls of sweat coating his neck

»Is someone close?«

His whisper tickled your senses and you clenched around him, too scared to cum but barely able to suppress it much longer. You nodded, a high moan escaping your lips as you turned your head sideways to escape his gaze.

»Eyes on me, baby girl«, he scolded, turning your head to meet your eyes with his again. »Do you want to cum?«

You were unable to reply, sniffles taking over as you started crying in pleasure, your pussy hurting too good for you to concentrate and a hushed whimper accompanied your nod when you dug your nails into the bedsheets.

»Then beg for it.«

You sobbed at his command, tears flowing like there was no tomorrow, and your legs began to tremble while he kept his animalistic pace with his thrusts.

You screamed his name in a moan, the knot in your stomach tightening as you pleaded for him to let you finish.

He chuckled at your pathetic whimpers, mocking the way your voice trembled with every word you spoke as he stroked your hair out of your face.

»Jay, please let me finish«, you snuffled and bit your lip to suppress another sob, your back arching off the bed and your silent crying filling the room. »I promise I will be good.«

Jay scoffed, pulling out of you and clicked his tongue before kissing your lips and wiping away your tears.

»Let this be a lesson, clean yourself up and meet me in the living room«, he whispered and got up from the bed, collecting his clothes on the way to the bathroom. »We still have a lot to talk about.«

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

after re-reading it, i honestly don’t hate it as much as before, so i hope you like it jay anon :3

taglist:

@faeriecobie, @ahgasearmyfan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

kinktober setlist

[06:30 AM] 심재윤

Carefully, you tried to wiggle out of Jake's warm embrace. He had his face buried in your shoulder and his arms held you tight against his body. How was he able to continue sleeping so peacefully while the alarm was literally screaming in the background?

You attempted rolling over and out from underneath the covers, but when you sat up instead you heard Jake's voice silently mumbling while he stretched out his arm to grab your wrist.

»Don't leave me«, he whispered half-asleep, a ghost of fear in his voice while he tried to pull you back into bed.

»I'm not going anywhere, Jake. Please let me turn off the alarm, hm?«

»Promise you will come right back?«

He was always scared of losing you after having to deal with his father's job-indebted absence a lot during his childhood, but after his nightmare of not being able to save you during an accident, he was even more worried, although he knew you would always stay with him.

»I promise.«

With that, he let go of your wrist, and you got up to turn off the alarm before slipping back underneath the blanket.

»Just five more minutes, alright?«

Jake gently kissed your forehead and contently smiled to himself. You were his, and he was yours, and neither of you would ever leave the other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist:

@ahgasearmyfan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

full masterlist

THANK YOU ALL FOR VOTING! As promised, here are the results of what I’ll be posting for my Halloween Event based on this poll! Thank you for all the help!

CHOOSE WHAT YOU WANT TO READ!

HEY GUYS! I’m thinking of doing some kind of event for October since I really want to try my hand at writing horror stories, some of them might contain some smut but it probably won’t be the main focus of the stories.

My question is, which groups would you guys like to see me write for? I’ll let the poll go on for a week, and then I’ll post the results for what I’ll be writing for soon after!

Want to see more than just one group? Want to see a specific member? Have any good ideas you’d like to share? Let me know in the comments!

PLEASE REBLOG TO SPREAD THE WORD!

2O24 HALLOWEEN EVENT

Thank you to all 467 people who voted! As promised, here are the results of your votes — all of the groups that ended up having 10% or more votes will have bigger/longer pieces that will be posted throughout the month of October! The other groups that had lower votes will maybe have some shorter, more simple pieces posted (feel free to make some spooky requests for them!). Please give this lots of love!

STRAY KIDS ──── THE OTHER HIM

SUMMARY: After a mysterious fire destroys your husband Minho's dance studio, you bring him home from the hospital, hoping for a fresh start. However, you soon begin to notice small but unsettling changes in his behavior. Initially, you dismiss these as signs of his recovery from the traumatic event or perhaps just your mind playing tricks on you. Yet, with each passing day, the feeling grows stronger that the man you brought back from the hospital isn’t truly your husband—even though he wears his face.

RELEASE DATE: O1 OCTOBER

PAIRING: Lee Minho + Female Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: Non-Idol AU, imposter horror, psychological horror, fire, mild burn injuries, gaslighting and manipulation, trauma, violence, injury, mild gore, more to be added.

TAGLIST: OPEN

TEASER COMING SOON

ATEEZ ──── THE NIGHT SHIFT

SUMMARY: During a night shift at an understaffed morgue, you encounter the eerie and inexplicable movements of a corpse bound by a failed ritual, unraveling a dark mystery of death and supernatural forces while alone with the unsettling remains of Kim Hongjoong.

RELEASE DATE: O8 OCTOBER

PAIRING: Choi Jongho + Female Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: MDNI, Non-Idol AU, explicit sexual content, friends with benefits trope, mutual pining, semi-public sex, protected sex, piv, light spanking, mirror kink, mentions of having one drink, supernatural horror elements, death and corpse imagery, violence, dark themes, psychological horror, disturbing sounds and visuals, mild gore, more to be added.

TAGLIST: OPEN

TEASER COMING SOON

NEWJEANS ──── THE DEVIL’S BARGAIN

SUMMARY: At a Halloween party, you and your friends decided to use an old Ouija board for fun, not expecting anything serious. However, things took a terrifying turn when Hanni, one of your friends, began convulsing and speaking in a deep, guttural voice. Possessed, Hanni started revealing unsettling secrets about each of you, exposing your deepest fears and hidden betrayals. As the night unfolded, you realized you had accidentally summoned a demon that thrived on your guilt and despair, turning your playful game into a night of fear and revelation.

RELEASE DATE: 15 OCTOBER

PAIRING: Kim Minji + Female Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: Non-Idol AU, supernatural possession, disturbing themes, descriptions of fear and anxiety, guilt and betrayal, violence, more to be added.

TAGLIST: OPEN

TEASER COMING SOON

ENHYPEN ──── THE GAME MASTER

SUMMARY: You and your group of friends receive an anonymous invitation to play an immersive escape room game in an abandoned mansion. The host, calling himself “The Game Master,” promises a grand reward for the winner. However, once inside, the challenges quickly turn sinister, exploiting each of your deepest fears and darkest secrets.

RELEASE DATE: 22 OCTOBER

PAIRING: Sim Jake + Female Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: Non-Idol AU, psychological horror, mentions of past death, trauma, gore, violence, dark themes, more to be added.

TAGLIST: OPEN

TEASER COMING SOON

P1HARMONY ──── KNOCK KNOCK

SUMMARY: On Halloween night, while you’re hosting a party with your boyfriend and friends, a group of children in strange, vintage masks knock on the door of your home. They ask to come in, claiming they are “the original owners.” You dismiss it as a prank until the children return every hour, each time more insistent and increasingly disturbing.

RELEASE DATE: 29 OCTOBER

PAIRING: Hwang Intak + Female Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: MDNI, Non-Idol AU, established relationship, explicit sexual content, protected sex, piv, light choking, dirty talk, disturbing imagery, paranormal elements, psychological horror, demonic horror, more to be added.

TAGLIST: OPEN

TEASER COMING SOON

CHOOSE WHAT YOU WANT TO READ!

HEY GUYS! I’m thinking of doing some kind of event for October since I really want to try my hand at writing horror stories, some of them might contain some smut but it probably won’t be the main focus of the stories.

My question is, which groups would you guys like to see me write for? I’ll let the poll go on for a week, and then I’ll post the results for what I’ll be writing for soon after!

Want to see more than just one group? Want to see a specific member? Have any good ideas you’d like to share? Let me know in the comments!

PLEASE REBLOG TO SPREAD THE WORD!

Thank you so much 😭💕 I was lowkey running out of ideas by the time I got to Riki, so I’m actually happy it came out pretty decent 🙂‍↕️

──★ 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( enhypen )

❛ In which you’re the idol who somehow snatched the members of Enhypen’s heart at first sight.

𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 8.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! All of the members are found below the cut! Enjoy! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Love at first sight trope, Idol Y/N AU, inconsistent POV, whether Y/N is a solo artist or a member of a group varies from member to member, lots of mentions of being stressed with work, Y/N in Jake’s piece has some negative opinions on the HYBE company (which doesn’t reflect my own personal opinions), Y/N and Sunghoon are drunk together but it’s all pretty mild, meet-cutes for all members except for Jake — his is more of a one-sided enemies-to-lovers trope, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

이희승 ── LEE HEESEUNG.

An exhausted sigh brushed past Heeseung's lips as he trudged into the empty elevator of his company building. With his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, he leaned heavily against the cold, metallic railing at the back of the enclosed space. The hum of the elevator's ascent seemed to echo his own weary thoughts, a turbulent mix of pride and anxiety swirling in his mind. Images of the countless posters featuring his face, alongside those of his members, plastered all over town flashed before his eyes. Despite the pride he felt in the fanbase Enhypen had garnered since their debut, a gnawing fear tugged at his heart — a fear that after all the sacrifices made for this new comeback, it might still fall short of expectations.

Lost in his own tumultuous sea of thoughts, Heeseung was jolted back to reality by the sudden chime of the elevator, signaling its stop. The sound snapped him from his reverie, and as the doors opened, he stumbled out onto the wrong floor, colliding gently with someone exiting the opposite way. His face flushed with embarrassment as he muttered a hasty apology, realizing he had disembarked prematurely. Flustered, he shoved his arm between the closing doors to force them open again, avoiding eye contact with the stranger who had witnessed his blunder. The mortification deepened as he heard the soft, amused chuckle from the person he’d bumped into.

In the brief moment of awkward silence that followed, your melodic voice broke through, catching Heeseung’s attention. “Aren’t you one of the members of Enhypen? Heeseung, right?”

His gaze, which had been fixed on the floor in embarrassment, hesitantly lifted to meet your bright eyes. The connection felt electric, as if a spotlight had suddenly focused on you, illuminating the exquisite details of your face. Heeseung was struck by an overwhelming sense of awe, his heart racing as he tried to gather his thoughts. Unfortunately, his voice seemed to have abandoned him completely, leaving him with no words other than a timid nod.

The smile that graced your lips was like a burst of sunshine, sending Heeseung’s heart into a whirl. Your eyes sparkled with genuine excitement, and he could almost feel the warmth of your enthusiasm radiating towards him. It was a small yet endearing display of your excitement that tugged at his heartstrings.

“I honestly can’t believe I’m meeting you,” you said, your voice bubbling with unfiltered joy. “I’ve already listened to every song on your new album, Romance: Untold, and it’s truly amazing. My favorite is definitely ‘Moonstruck’ — I’ve had it on repeat so much that it might be considered a bit of an obsession.”

Heeseung managed to curl the corners of his lips into a shy grin, chuckling softly at the sight of your unrestrained praise. Though his mind was still blank and his ability to articulate a response seemed impaired, the sight of you raving about his work was heartening. You didn’t seem to mind, as you turned your attention back to the slowly descending elevator, which gave Heeseung a clear view of your slightly flushed cheeks.

Suddenly, a realization seemed to hit you, causing your eyes to widen in a mixture of panic and embarrassment. “Oh no, I hope you don’t think I’m just a weird fan who snuck in here! I’m actually one of the members of a new group that debuted a few months ago. I’m the eldest member, actually. Um, I’m Y/N.” Your once bold and outgoing demeanor gave way to a nervous, stammering apology as you quickly rattled off your introduction. Heeseung couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the sight of your flustered state easing his own tension.

As if sensing your discomfort, the elevator doors slid open with a familiar chime, allowing you to bow hurriedly before slipping out of the confined space. Heeseung, feeling a sudden surge of determination, followed you into the lobby. His hand reached out, gently grabbing your wrist and bringing you to a stop. The startled look on your face, accompanied by your crimson cheeks, made Heeseung’s heart race. The way your eyes gleamed with curiosity and surprise left him breathless, and he felt a rush of courage to keep you from walking away.

“I – I really appreciate you enjoying our album,” he blurted out, his voice trembling slightly. His eyes darted around, searching for the right words to extend the fleeting moment. “I’ll admit that I haven’t heard your music yet, but... um, if you’re free now, maybe we could grab a coffee? I’d love to hear more about your group and listen to your stuff.”

The transformation in your expression was instantaneous. The soft gasp that escaped your lips, combined with your shy nod of agreement, filled Heeseung with an exhilarating sense of relief and excitement. If the thread of his life had been cut at that moment, he would have died the happiest man on earth. Your smile, so bright and genuine, breathed new life into his day, turning a simple encounter into something extraordinary.

박종성 ── PARK JONGSEONG.

As the award show neared its conclusion, the atmosphere of genuine enjoyment gradually gave way to a palpable restlessness. Idols, exhausted from hours of watching performances and listening to repetitive acceptance speeches, were eager to leave.

Jay, seated among the sea of idols, found himself particularly conscious of the numerous cameras stationed around the venue. Each lens seemed to capture his every movement, broadcasting it to the fans watching from the comfort of their homes. Normally, he was accustomed to this constant scrutiny, but tonight felt different. The hours seemed to stretch interminably, and he watched as a parade of performers and winners he barely recognized took the stage.

His body ached from the relentless dance and vocal rehearsals leading up to their next comeback, the dull pain in his muscles a constant reminder of his exhaustion. Despite his best efforts to maintain a stoic expression for the sake of Engenes, Jay felt the strain, his neck twinging painfully with every attempt to relieve it.

The host, a familiar figure in a sharp suit, made his way to the center of the stage for the final time. Adjusting his tie with a practiced charm, he flashed a bright grin that could be seen even from the back rows. Jay barely registered the words as the emcee began his closing speech, his mind focused on the discomfort in his neck.

“What a night, what a night,” the host began, his voice tinged with rehearsed sentiment. “I can comfortably say that this will be an unforgettable evening for many — myself included.”

He paused, glancing around the audience with a knowing smile. “I know I’m supposed to end the night with a heartfelt speech, but we have one final surprise that I’m sure you’ll all enjoy — a special performance.”

Confusion rippled through the audience as murmurs filled the room. Jay furrowed his brows, intrigued yet weary.

“As you all know, there is a nationally beloved solo artist who has been on hiatus for seven months.” The anticipation in the room grew palpable. “Yes, you know exactly who I’m talking about! Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back our one and only — Y/N!”

The moment you stepped onto the stage, the audience erupted in applause and cheers. Your emotional grin barely concealed the tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming support. For Jay, the world seemed to collapse in on itself, leaving only the ethereal vision of you. The simple act of walking and smiling was enough to leave him breathless.

As you took your place at the center of the stage, the music began, and the cheers gradually quieted. Every discomfort Jay had felt moments ago vanished as he watched you raise the microphone to your lips, your eyes turning into crescent moons with your unwavering smile.

Your voice was enchanting, filling every corner of the stadium and striking the hearts of everyone present with its raw emotion. Jay was no exception. He was captivated by the intensity and beauty of your performance, feeling every note resonate deeply within him. As the final gentle notes faded, tears you had held back began to roll down your cheeks, ruining your makeup but enhancing your vulnerability.

The audience's applause was deafening, a testament to their love and admiration. Despite the chaos, your heart swelled with gratitude at the sight of so many people celebrating your return.

The award show faded into a distant memory as you found yourself surrounded by people offering heartfelt praise and excitement. Your cheeks ached from smiling, but the bliss of the moment was worth every second. Faces blurred together as you moved from one conversation to the next, each interaction a reminder of how much you were loved and missed.

Throughout it all, Jay watched you from a distance, his group members having long since left. He desperately wanted to approach you but felt intimidated by the constant stream of admirers. Eventually, he resigned himself to the idea that he might not get the chance to express how profoundly your performance had affected him. With a heavy heart, he signaled to his bodyguard that he was ready to leave.

Outside the stadium, the noise of the city offered a reprieve from the weight of his celebrity persona. Jay enjoyed the simple act of watching cars pass by, lost in thought. He didn’t notice you until you sighed contentedly and took the empty spot beside him.

“Pretty night,” you said softly, your voice tender and soothing. Jay turned to you, stunned into silence by your presence. The fluttering in his stomach intensified.

In an effort to compose himself, he looked back at the road. “You must be tired,” he said, trying to sound casual. “After so long away from the spotlight, I mean.”

You giggled, a sound that squeezed his heart. “Blissfully drained.”

Jay chuckled, stealing a quick glance at you before returning his gaze forward. The comfortable silence between you was enough, each moment charged with unspoken emotions.

“You know,” you began, “I watched your performance from the dressing room. I really enjoyed it.”

The blush that crept up Jay’s ears was immediate, followed by a shy smile. Your compliment left him feeling both flustered and elated. You turned away slightly, your own cheeks flushed.

Before Jay could respond, a black Cadillac pulled up in front of him, signaling it was time to leave. Panic set in as he realized he hadn’t said everything he wanted to. You, however, seemed unfazed, your confident smirk never wavering.

“May our paths cross once more,” you said with a warm smile, taking a step back and waving.

Jay watched you disappear into the night, your words echoing in his mind. He hoped fervently that this wouldn't be the last time he saw you.

심재윤 ── SIM JAEYUN.

Amidst the cacophony of angry voices clashing like a storm, your blood boiled at the pure entitlement of the people standing before you. You'd barely managed to set your bag down on the leather couch of the recording studio you had waited weeks to finally use when the door burst open, revealing the breathless mess of a manager responsible for some boy group you couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge. He claimed that there had been an error in the schedule for the room, that it was supposedly meant to be occupied by his group—never mind the fact that your name had been very clearly stated in the timesheet for weeks.

The sour taste on your tongue intensified as soon as you noticed a group of six boys hesitantly approaching the tense situation, led by a younger-looking boy with almost cartoonishly big doe eyes. His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher the not-so-clean words being exchanged between both teams. Letting your own manager handle the mess, you remained seated on the couch with your arms folded over your chest, hoping you'd be compensated for the reserved time you'd lost to this fiasco, though you were almost certain you wouldn't be.

Somehow maneuvering themselves around the strife, the newcomers entered the recording room, only to awkwardly stand before you as if expecting you to explain the situation. Despite your clear distaste, you let your hands fall limply onto your lap with a frustrated sigh.

"I reserved this room for today weeks ago," you said, the acidity in your tone unmistakable. None of the boys seemed too bothered by it as they continued to watch you intently. "Your manager, however, decided it would be a good idea to waste everyone's time by claiming there must have been some kind of oversight since apparently he also reserved this exact time for you guys."

"Uh, I think there might have really been a misunderstanding since we were also set to record here," Doe-Eyes responded quickly, glancing back towards his manager anxiously as if unsure of his own words. You couldn't help but scoff and roll your eyes.

Pulling your phone out of your back pocket, you didn't try to hide the incredulous shake of your head. Once you found the confirmation email you’d received upon booking the studio, you turned your screen so that all six boys could read. “Unless you also have an email similar to this— which, by the way, your manager has failed to show us instead of calling his boss—then I don’t think there’s really any room to call this a ‘misunderstanding’.”

Almost immediately, Doe-Eyes pulled his own phone out of the pocket of his hoodie, hurriedly scrolling through it while taking a seat a little further down the same couch you'd been glued to for the past twenty minutes. The rest of the members didn’t seem to have anything else to say as they either pursed their lips awkwardly or whispered amongst themselves, their furrowed brows signaling their own concerns about what it would mean for them if you were to keep the studio. And although you were confident that you and your team had done everything right, you were barely able to suppress your own fear of being left high and dry. It wasn’t uncommon for solo artists such as yourself to have no other alternative than to fight tooth and nail for fair treatment in an industry with a clear preference for boy groups like the ones present at the moment—and the company you were currently working for was really no different, as evidenced by the infuriating stories shared by the painfully sparse number of solo artists you’d met in this very building.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Doe-Eyes whipped his head around as though looking for someone. “Where’s Jake?”

The other members uselessly copied their friend’s action, shrugging silently. “I think he was talking with his mom on the phone when we left, but he said he wouldn’t be too long.”

Almost as if the act of voicing his name could summon him, a very disheveled seventh boy skidded to a halt behind the ongoing commotion taking place right outside the studio. His eyes widened in bewilderment as he processed the admittedly rare scene unfolding before him. His attention quickly shifted to the group of idols crowding the already confined space as one of the members waved at him to join them, a silent command that didn’t need to be repeated as he squeezed his way inside. Once he made it past the door, he hunched over breathlessly, a string of gibberish pouring out of his mouth as he tried to explain his tardiness—not a single word of it being even remotely comprehensible to you.

Ultimately, the boy’s excuses didn’t matter as everyone’s attention was drawn to the familiar authoritative figure who finally made his appearance (as requested by the boys’ manager) to solve the ridiculous dilemma, the typical severe expression etched onto his face. You tried to brush aside your rising anxiety to no avail, your leg subconsciously bouncing up and down.

While your mind raced with worst-case scenarios, Jake—the boy who’d just arrived—found himself stilled by the mere sight of you. Encircled by a heavenly bubble that seemed to drown out his surroundings, he found himself captivated by the worry tainting what he was positive would otherwise be the most heart-mangling pair of eyes he’d ever seen. Even with your entire essence emanating a mixture of irritation and anxiety, Jake was sure his eyes would never find anything or anyone that could compare to the profoundness of your beauty. He almost questioned if you were real, or if he had lost his sanity to a sweet hallucination, though he quickly pushed the idea out of his mind for fear of losing sight of you.

“Hi.” It was all that Jake could muster, hoping his heart wouldn’t suddenly stop when your weary eyes landed on him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

Several conflicting emotions passed through your face as you tried to make sense of the unexpected contrast between the serious situation and his dazed expression. In the end, all you could do was scoff nastily at his lack of ability to read the room, a reaction that still made Jake feel as though he could levitate since your simple acknowledgment of his existence was enough for him to obsess over for the rest of his lifetime.

The sight of the newcomer was almost ridiculous as you shifted in your seat almost uncomfortably, unable to understand what could possibly be going through his mind.

“Okay, let’s do this.” The authoritarian voice of your superior was enough to drag your attention away from the oddity of this boy. “Since Enhypen’s comeback is set at a sooner date, I suggest Y/N allow them to use the room first. I’ll be sure to postpone the reservations of the people meant to come here today or tomorrow. That is my final say on the matter.”

He raised his hand in a stern manner the moment he noticed you quickly jumping to your feet to argue, immediately shutting you up as your lips curled into a disgruntled snarl. Even though a part of you had predicted this outcome, you still couldn’t believe it as your eyes found the familiar pair belonging to your exhausted manager.

Since it was clear that you and your team had no other option but to pack up what little had been set up before this whole fiasco began, you begrudgingly snatched your bag to sling over your shoulder—though not before scowling in the boys’ direction, causing them to wince back. Except for Jake, who annoyingly remained in his spot, smiling stupidly at you.

Hours after being kicked out of your own appointment, you found yourself sitting alone under the shade of a large tree at a nearby park. Bitterness still possessed your heart despite coming here to calm yourself in the comforting alternative universe that only seemed to exist in this very spot, usually waiting for your return whenever life took a rough turn. Every other time, the gentle kisses of the wind against your skin, the delicious warmth that dwelled just under the surface of the ground, or the simple serenity that washed over your troubled mind as you listened to the natural melody of small animals and children playing would immediately comfort you. However, your little piece of paradise did not spare any mercy for you today. The chilly wind nipped at your reddened cheeks and nose, the ground beneath you was still moist from the light rain of the previous day, and all you could hear were the exhaustive sounds of distant traffic and the robotic voices of business people on their phones. Your little piece of paradise, your alternative universe hidden in plain sight, had become distressingly bleak.

You were just about to abandon your spot, the disappointment becoming overwhelming to the point of blurring your vision with unshed tears, when the sound of cautious footsteps from behind alerted you. Breath catching in your throat at the thought of what could possibly happen, you hoped whoever was approaching would just walk past and prove you to be foolishly paranoid.

“You hide well, Y/N.”

The sinister words unmistakably belonging to a man hung in the air, making you consider breaking into a run—or perhaps attempting to kick him in the knees to temporarily incapacitate him and give you more time to escape. A million thoughts stormed through your head as your heartbeat picked up.

“I’m sorry about what happened with the studio.” The specificity of the man’s apology made you pause. You noted that he had stopped moving, evidently standing just a foot or two away from you. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. “After you and your team left, I was finally told what went down, and I felt guilty. Obviously, you have every right to be upset considering your name was the only one that appeared to be scheduled.”

Only a moment passed before the owner of the mysterious voice stood before you, sporting a shy smile while holding a brown paper bag close to his chest. It was the boy who had arrived late to the recording session, the one with the dazed look in his eyes — the same one still present as he looked down at your sitting figure. His presence reignited the smoldering anger you’d managed to suppress over the past few hours. You didn't bother holding back the immediate glare directed at him, a glare that would have made anyone else shrink back. But he seemed unfazed, his smile only growing into a full, boyish grin that vaguely reminded you of a Golden Retriever, with an infectious warmth that was hard to ignore.

He stood there, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the bag crinkling slightly in his grip. His tousled hair caught the last rays of the setting sun, creating a halo effect around his head that softened his features. Despite your irritation, you couldn't help but notice the genuine innocence in his eyes, as if he truly had no intention of causing any harm — deep down, you were well aware that your anger was misdirected, though your pride didn’t let you back down.

“Anyway, I'm really sorry about earlier," he repeated, his voice gentle and sincere. "I know things got messed up, and it wasn’t fair to you."

The softness of his tone momentarily disarmed you, but you quickly remembered the frustration of being pushed aside. You folded your arms across your chest, maintaining your steely gaze. "It's not your fault, but that doesn't make it any less infuriating," you replied curtly, though a part of you felt a pang of guilt for being so harsh.

He nodded, understanding. "I get that. I really do. That's why I wanted to apologize properly." He held out the bag towards you, his eyes pleading for you to accept his peace offering.

You hesitated, your curiosity piqued despite yourself. Slowly, you reached for the bag, feeling the crinkle of the paper beneath your fingers. Peeking inside, you were met with a colorful assortment of convenience store sweets and chips. The sight was so unexpected that it momentarily broke through your anger, leaving you both surprised and amused.

“Hold on, what is this?” you asked, incredulous, pulling out a pack of sour candies and a bag of your favorite potato chips.

He lifted a shoulder into a half shrug, the motion causing his tousled hair to fall slightly over his forehead. A dark blush tinted the tips of his ears, standing out starkly against his pale skin. “I wasn’t really sure what you might like, so I got everything.”

You couldn't help but let out a disbelieving chuckle. The gesture was absurdly extravagant, almost comical, but undeniably thoughtful. Your gaze shifted from the bag to his face, taking in the earnestness in his eyes. The softness of his brown eyes, filled with a mix of anxiety and hope, caught you off guard. Despite the frustration and anger still simmering within you, the sincerity of his actions tugged at your heartstrings.

The gesture was ridiculous, you decided. But as your eyes finally locked with the softness of his brown ones, you couldn’t seem to ignore the swelling in your chest. The warmth of his gaze, combined with the blush that refused to leave his ears, chipped away at your resolve. A smile forced its way onto your lips despite your desire to maintain the angry mask.

“Well, I guess it’s a start,” you conceded, the corners of your mouth curling up despite your best efforts to remain stern.

He exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing over his features. “I’m really sorry about today. It wasn’t fair to you, and I wanted to make it right, even if just a little.”

You sighed, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders. “It’s not your fault. It’s just... this industry, you know?”

He nodded, understanding evident in his eyes. “Yeah, I get it. It can be tough. But hey, at least you’ve got some snacks now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound lightening the oppressive atmosphere that had settled around you. “True. Thanks for that.”

He grinned, the boyish smile returning and making him look even more endearing as he took a seat in front of you. “Anytime.”

As the two of you continued to talk, the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the park. The earlier tension seemed to dissipate, replaced by a tentative camaraderie that hinted at the possibility of something more. For the first time that day, you felt a glimmer of hope that things might just turn out okay.

박성훈 ── PARK SUNGHOON.

Under the soft glow of city lights and the gentle hum of midnight traffic, Sunghoon stood apprehensively at the entrance of a seemingly lavish apartment complex. The crumpled invitation from Jake was like a heavy weight in his pocket. An internal turmoil raged within him — whether to keep his promise to his friend and attend the gathering or to retreat to the comforting solitude of his bedroom. The flurry of potential outcomes made his head spin, leaving him frozen in place. He couldn’t help but notice the curious glances from the woman behind the front desk, her occasional head tilt suggesting she was trying to figure out what he was doing there, even as she returned her focus to her laptop.

Social gatherings had stopped being Sunghoon’s forte somewhere along the transition from his teenage years to his recent adulthood. Normally, he would have turned down Jake’s invitation without a second thought. But his mother’s worried voice echoed in his mind from their recent phone call, her concern palpable. “You used to have me worried sick every single night when you would go out to all these parties, and now you have me worried sick every night you tell me you’d rather isolate yourself in your room, love.”

Taking a deep breath, Sunghoon willed himself to move forward. The memory of his mother’s concern pushed him to break free from his self-imposed isolation. He finally pressed the buzzer, his heart racing. When the door clicked open, he stepped inside, feeling the unexpected warmth of the building wrap around him in a soothing manner. He sent Jake a quick text, letting him know he would be up in a minute or two.

The elevator ride to the top floor felt interminable, each second stretching out with mounting anxiety. When the doors slid open, he was met with Jake’s bright smile and slightly unfocused eyes. “You made it!” Jake exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug. Sunghoon managed a smile, the familiar comfort of his currently tipsy friend easing some of his nerves.

As they walked down the corridor towards your apartment, Jake’s enthusiastic chatter filled the air. He rattled on about everyone who’d made it, the music, the food, and all the games he’d missed. Sunghoon tried to absorb some of his friend’s excitement, though part of him still longed to retreat to the safety of his room. The door to your apartment was slightly ajar, and lively music and intoxicated laughter spilled out into the hallway.

Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting, with a soft, ambient glow from various lamps and candles. Sunghoon scanned the room, taking in the mix of vaguely familiar and unfamiliar faces. He was pleased to find only a small group present, just as Jake had promised. His eyes finally landed on you, who effortlessly commanded the room’s attention with a level of self-assurance Sunghoon could only yearn to achieve. As if sensing his eyes, you glanced in his direction, finally taking notice of their arrival before making your way over, a welcoming smile on your face that had Sunghoon’s stomach performing pirouettes.

“Jake, you’re back!” You cheered tipsily before focusing on the visibly anxious new guest, bowing as a polite greeting — an action immediately returned. “Is this the friend you told me about? Park Sunghoon?”

The way Sunghoon’s name rolled off your tongue with such sweetness had him reeling. Jake responded for him with an animated nod, slinging his arm around his friend’s shoulder despite being shorter.

“I’m very happy you were able to make it, Sunghoon!” You giggled lightly — a heavenly melody that tugged at Sunghoon’s erratic heart. “Please make yourself at home. There’s food and drinks over there,” you added, gesturing to a table laden with various treats.

As the evening progressed, Sunghoon found himself slowly relaxing, the initial tension easing away. Although he’d made the conscious decision not to consume any alcohol so that he would still be able to bring Jake and himself back home safely, he joined in the laughter, engaged in conversations with other idols, and sampled some of the food. Despite his initial reluctance, Sunghoon was beginning to enjoy himself.

During a lull in the conversations, Sunghoon found himself standing alone on the balcony, looking out over the city lights. The cool night air was a welcome respite from the warmth inside, and he took a moment to breathe deeply, savoring the tranquility. However, his head was tormented by thoughts of you as he almost obsessively replayed a mental film he’d recorded of you throughout the night, capturing candid scenes of you leaning against the wall while talking to one of your guests, sipping your drink between bursts of laughter, engaging in an impromptu dance competition with Jake, and the times he’d catch you watching him from the opposite side of the room with an unreadable expression before looking away timidly. These were memories he hoped to hold close to his heart even if the two of you never crossed paths again after this night. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear you approach until you stood beside him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” You spoke softly, eyes fixed on the glittering skyline. Sunghoon nodded, feeling an electrifying jolt rush through his veins at the unexpectedness of your company, followed by a strange sense of calm that soothed the fresh spike of his anxiety. The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a while — you simply enjoying the view, and him almost hearing the soft whirring of his mental camera as it recorded the moment for him to save.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” you eventually said, turning to face Sunghoon. There was something in your twinkling gaze that made Sunghoon’s heart skip a beat, an unspoken connection passing between you both.

“Me too,” Sunghoon replied, surprised to realize he meant it. As the two of you continued to talk, an unexpected warmth blossomed in his chest, sensing the creation of an unbreakable red thread that linked you to him. It was both thrilling and terrifying. For the first time in a long while, Sunghoon felt as though he was exactly where he was meant to be.

As the night wore on, the two of you found yourselves drifting away from the main party, your conversation deepening with each passing minute. You discovered shared interests and experiences, revealing parts of yourselves neither were usually eager to share with others. Sunghoon was captivated by the stories of your early days in the industry, the struggles and triumphs that mirrored his own journey.

There was a moment when the laughter died down, and the air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken words that neither of you was brave enough to voice out loud but both seemed to understand. Sunghoon looked into your eyes and felt a magnetic pull, an undeniable connection that made his heart race. He wondered if you felt it too, this strange and exhilarating sensation that was both new and familiar.

You broke the silence, voice soft and sincere. “You know, I’ve been where you are now. The isolation, the doubt…it can be overwhelming. But sometimes reaching out, even if it’s just for a night, can make all the difference. So I’m really glad you’re here tonight.”

Sunghoon nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “I didn’t expect to feel this way tonight,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, a warm and understanding expression that made Sunghoon’s heart flutter. “Neither did I,” you replied. “But I’m glad we both took the chance.”

The city lights continued to sparkle below you both, a silent witness to the beginning of something new. As the night drew to a close, Sunghoon knew that this had been more than just an ordinary gathering. It was the start of a bond that held the promise of something deeper, something that could change both of your lives forever.

김선우 ── KIM SEONWOO.

As the limousine pulled up to the grand entrance of the high-fashion show, Sunoo took a deep breath, steeling himself for the evening ahead. Being a part of a rapidly rising KPOP group, he was accustomed to the spotlight, but attending this event alone felt different. The opulent venue buzzed with the energy of the fashion elite, cameras flashing and voices blending into a hum of anticipation. 

Stepping out onto the red carpet, Sunoo was immediately enveloped by the dazzling lights and the flurry of activity. He straightened his impeccably tailored suit, aware of every eye on him. Yet, despite the familiar pressure, there was a unique thrill in the air tonight. As he prepared himself to move forward, his eyes were immediately drawn to a striking figure across from him — another idol, unknown to him, yet governing everyone’s attention with an effortless grace.

You strolled down the velvet red carpet, pausing every few steps to allow the photographers to capture the stunning design adorning your figure, which had been made especially for you. Your movements were fluid, each step exuding confidence and natural charm. As the ambassador for a rival brand, an impeccable aura of sophistication rolled off your skin with an ease that captivated Sunoo in an instant. The way the rays of the setting sun seemed to favor you, casting a perfect golden glow on your flawless features, made it impossible to look away.

Sunoo’s trance was disrupted by the heavy hand of the security guard who had kindly opened the limousine door a moment prior, silently urging him to make haste before the next celebrity arrived. He quickly gathered himself, offering a polite nod to the guard before making his way down the carpet. By the time Sunoo returned his gaze to where your mysterious essence had stood, he was surprised to find you already inside, leaving behind an air of secrecy that lingered in Sunoo’s mind.

Entering the grand hall, Sunoo was greeted by a sea of fashion icons, designers, and celebrities from all around the world mingling under the shimmering chandeliers. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the buzz of conversations and the clinking of champagne glasses. Yet, amidst the glamorous chaos, Sunoo’s thoughts kept drifting back to the enigmatic memory of you.

He navigated through the crowd, exchanging polite greetings and smiles, but his mind was elsewhere. The brief glimpse he had caught of you had sparked a curiosity he couldn’t shake as he found himself subconsciously searching for you. Who are you? What is your story? The questions swirled in Sunoo’s mind, adding a layer of intrigue to the already dazzling event.

As Sunoo settled into his seat, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. The runway came to life with models showcasing the latest collections, each piece more stunning than the last. But even as the fashion show unfolded before him, Sunoo found his eyes wandering to the rows opposite him, searching for that familiar face.

And then, there you were. You were seated just a few rows away, attention fixed on the runway. Sunoo took the opportunity to observe you more closely, noting the confident way you carried yourself, the subtle elegance in your every movement. There was something magnetic about you, a presence that drew Sunoo in and refused to let go.

The fashion show progressed, each segment more captivating than the last, but for Sunoo, the true highlight was the possibility of a single minute with you. As the final model strutted down the runway and the audience erupted into applause, Sunoo knew he had to find a way to introduce himself. This night, under the dazzling lights of the fashion elite, gave him the unmistakable sensation that it might mark the beginning of something extraordinary — such a thing being yourself.

Following the fashion show, Sunoo took a moment to collect himself. The applause gradually subsided, and the room buzzed with excited chatter as attendees began to mingle and move toward the reception area. Sunoo’s heart raced with a mix of anticipation and nerves as he scanned the crowd, seeking another glimpse of you.

The hall was now a swirl of elegant gowns, tailored suits, and sparkling jewelry, with everyone engaged in animated conversations regarding the slew of unique designs they’d just witnessed. Sunoo made his way through the throng, offering polite smiles and hasty bows while his thoughts remained fixated on you. He couldn’t shake the sense of urgency, the need to introduce himself and learn about you who had so effortlessly stolen his sanity.

As he approached the bar, Sunoo finally spotted you standing near a cluster of fashion executives and designers. You were engrossed in conversation, your laughter echoing like a melody above the hum of the crowd. Sunoo hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage before making his way toward you.

Just as he was about to reach you, a voice called out his name. He turned to see his brand’s creative director, a smile on her face as she beckoned him over. Sunoo’s heart sank slightly, but he knew that ignoring her was not an option. With a polite bow, he approached her, engaging in a brief yet lively discussion about the evening’s show and their brand’s latest collection.

As soon as the conversation reached its natural end, Sunoo didn’t waste a second to glance back to where you had been, only to find you had moved on. Panic set in, though he took a deep breath, determined not to let the opportunity slip away. He began to weave through the crowd once more, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

Finally, he spotted you near the entrance to a quieter lounge area, a serene space with plush seating and soft lighting. Sunoo made his way over, his steps quickening as he neared you. He paused just a few feet away, taking yet another deep breath to steady his nerves.

“Excuse me,” Sunoo said, his voice somehow calm yet tinged with an anticipation you didn’t miss. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his with a curious, welcoming gaze that weakened his knees. “I couldn’t help but notice you during the show. I’m Sunoo, from Enhypen. It is a true honor to meet you.”

A smile spread across your face, genuine and warm. “Hello, Sunoo. I am Y/N from SM Entertainment. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

The conversation flowed easily from there, a mix of introductions, shared experiences, and mutual admiration for the evening’s fashion showcase. As the night wore on, the initial spark of intense curiosity between you grew into a deeper attachment. The surrounding chatter and movement seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of conversation and laughter.

By the time the evening came to an end, Sunoo knew that the unignorable sense of tonight marking a thrilling new beginning had been correct. As you exchanged contact information and made plans to meet again, there was an unspoken understanding that this thread that linked the two of you, born under the dazzling lights of the fashion elite, held the promise of something truly special.

양정원 ── YANG JUNGWON.

It had been an excruciatingly long time since Jungwon had danced purely for the joy of it, even if he kept this yearning to himself. He was well-aware of the sacrifices demanded by his career when he first started as a trainee, and he would make that commitment again without hesitation. Yet, the craving for dance, like a dormant ember, flared up intermittently, refusing to be extinguished by the relentless demands of his life.

At the moment, Jungwon felt an urgent need to escape, a desperate desire to retreat into solitude where he could breathe without the relentless pressure of work bearing down on him. The large headphones that had pressed into his ears for the duration of the recording session now hung around his neck, heavy with the weight of his mounting frustration. As he watched the producing team, whom he had come to know through each Enhypen album, huddled in private discussion, he felt increasingly isolated. The mics were off, their muted voices blending into an unwelcoming silence that amplified his sense of failure. He had repeated the same lines over and over since he first entered, unable to capture the performance they sought. It was baffling why something that should be simple had become so exasperatingly complex.

After what felt like an eternity, the producers nodded curtly at each other, signaling their agreement. They turned to Jungwon through the subtly tinted glass, their faces betraying a hint of resignation.

“Jungwon,” one of them sighed into the microphone, the voice slightly distorted as it came through the speakers. “I think we should try again next Monday. Please take this time to rest.”

Disappointment pierced through him like a cold, sharp blade. He slumped his shoulders, his gaze dropping to the floor as he gave a solemn nod. Swiftly, he removed his headphones and gathered his belongings. The room was filled with pitiful smiles from the team, but Jungwon was too eager to escape to notice. The confined space was stifling, and he was desperate for freedom. As he trudged down the nearly vacant corridors of the company building, his frustration simmered, bubbling up like molten lava, searing through him with each step.

He searched his mind for a place where he could be alone. Going home was not an option with half his members there, their typical boisterousness far from the sanctuary he craved. Restaurants and coffee shops were possibilities, but he lacked the appetite for anything. And then, as if the universe had taken pity on him, memories of hours spent dancing alone in the company’s dance rooms flooded his mind. It was enough to redirect his aimless wanderings. He made a beeline for the elevator, his steps quickening as excitement surged through him, a welcome escape from the stifling environment. He reveled in the knowledge that no one would question his whereabouts, believing him to still be at the recording booth.

With his heart pounding a rhythm of genuine elation, everything around him blurred into insignificance as he focused solely on his destination. The seconds stretched painfully as he awaited the elevator doors to open. The tip of his tongue seemed to taste the sweet promise of freedom as he finally reached the end of the hall, where the rarely used dance room stood, its door a familiar friend in his moment of need.

Had Jungwon not been so absorbed in his whirlwind of emotions, he might have noticed the soft strains of music emanating from within. Instead, he burst into the room, breathless, only to find himself frozen by the sight before him. There, bathed in the warm, gentle light, was you—dancing with a grace that seemed to defy the ordinary.

You were lost in your world, every movement flowing effortlessly with the tender rhythm of the music. There were no goals to reach, no steps to follow—just a pure expression of emotion that dripped from your every move. You danced as if the weight of the world had melted away, a blissful freedom that Jungwon hadn’t felt in ages. Your dance was a vivid reminder of what it was meant to be before fame had ever touched his life.

To Jungwon, who stood silently by the door, watching in awe, you were completely absorbed in your own realm. The peaceful, contented look on your face made it clear that you were in a moment of serene solitude. He tried to retreat quietly, but stumbled over his own feet, causing you to stop abruptly and turn toward him with wide, startled eyes.

In that instant, the world seemed to collapse around you both, leaving only the connection between your eyes and his. The silence stretched, laden with awkwardness, and you were the first to look away. Jungwon’s heart sank, wishing he could lose himself in your eyes forever.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice tentative. “I was just finishing up. I’ll get my stuff and leave.”

The last thing Jungwon wanted was for you to leave in such a rush. He was overwhelmed by conflicting emotions—entranced, confused, dazed, distressed—but the most powerful feeling was the undeniable pull toward you. You, who had suddenly appeared in his world, who moved with effortless grace like a bird in flight, and who had given him the briefest of smiles that seemed to halt his heartbeat. You were an enigma he felt destined to connect with, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Before you could slip past him, Jungwon found himself instinctively reaching out, his hand landing gently on your shoulder. The contact elicited soft gasps of surprise from both of you. His eyes locked onto yours, desperately trying to savor every detail of your features. He realized there might never be enough time to fully appreciate your beauty, but all he wanted was a single minute to bask in your presence. He was acutely aware of his own vulnerability as the desire to remain near you replaced his previous yearning for solitude.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen someone dance the way you just did,” he said, his voice barely audible. The blush that colored your cheeks was all the confirmation he needed that you heard him.

“Oh,” you blinked, caught off guard. “Thank you.”

“If you’re not busy,” Jungwon continued, though he was unsure of where his words would lead, “please stay.”

You studied his face, searching for sincerity and intent. Perhaps it was the raw desperation in his brown eyes or the electric tingle of his touch that convinced you. Whatever it was, you decided to stay, offering him a shy but genuine smile. Your heart raced as you noticed the dimples that appeared on his cheeks, a sign of his radiant smile.

And so you stayed. What began as a moment stretched into hours, then weeks, and eventually a lifetime. In that dance room, amidst the echoing melodies and fleeting moments, something truly extraordinary was born.

西村 力 ── NISHIMURA RIKI.

In the bustling expanse of the airport lounge, the soft hum of conversations mingled with the distant announcements of flight departures provided a backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts in Ni-ki’s mind. Seated amongst  his fellow members, sought a fleeting moment of tranquility before their flight to Tokyo, the next stop on their concert tour. From such a young age, normalcy had been a distant concept, eclipsed by the relentless rush of performances and public appearances that left little room for peaceful introspection. The early morning departure had left them all groggy, their energy sapped by the unforgiving schedule that defined their lives.

Ni-ki leaned back in his seat, his eyes closing as he sought to capture a fleeting sense of peace amidst the chaos. The lounge, a hive of activity, was populated with travelers—some dozing off in their seats, others engrossed in their devices, and a few engaged in low murmurs of conversation. The atmosphere was a curious blend of anticipation and exhaustion, a microcosm of the frenetic life Ni-ki had come to know so well.

When Ni-ki opened his eyes, his gaze drifted across the room, taking in the varied faces of fellow travelers. His eyes settled on a vaguely recognizable group of young idols seated across the lounge, their presence unmistakable even amid the sea of people. Your group, though from a different agency, radiated a camaraderie and vibrant energy that felt oddly familiar. Among them, you stood out—a figure of serene poise amidst the lively chatter of your companions.

Ni-ki’s attention was drawn to you, his curiosity piqued by the quiet aura you exuded. There was a subtle grace in your demeanor that captivated him. You sat with large headphones covering your ears, occasionally glancing around the lounge as if seeking a moment of solitude amidst the bustling environment. Your hair fell gently over your eyes as you absentmindedly adjusted your oversized hoodie, a small, seemingly insignificant action that made you appear both approachable and endearingly shy.

Minutes stretched into an hour as you and Ni-ki waited for your respective flights. While his group members were absorbed in their own activities—some napping, others lost in games or music—Ni-ki found himself increasingly drawn to you. There was something magnetic about your presence, an unspoken allure that made his heart race each time your eyes briefly met. The pull he felt was inexplicable yet undeniable.

You possessed an effortless charm, a quiet confidence that set you apart from the crowd. Ni-ki found himself imagining what your voice might sound like, wondering what thoughts occupied your mind, and what music you might be listening to—all while grappling with his own doubts and shyness that held him back from approaching you. The mystery surrounding you only deepened Ni-ki’s fascination, turning mere curiosity into a profound longing to know more.

Across the lounge, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. At first, you thought it was a trick of your imagination, but the sensation persisted. Your sensitivity to the energy around you made Ni-ki’s gaze feel like a gentle but persistent tug. Despite your attempts to focus on your group’s animated conversation, your thoughts kept drifting back to the boy who seemed so captivated by you. You wondered what had caught his attention—was it your appearance? Clad in an oversized hoodie and leggings, with minimal makeup, you certainly didn't stand out in the traditional sense. Or was it your demeanor? You had done little more than sit quietly, attempting to conserve your energy and maintain a reserved presence. Though outwardly calm, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, adding to the enigma Ni-ki seemed drawn to.

Finally, a boarding announcement for a flight to Osaka broke Ni-ki’s reverie. He watched as your group began to gather their belongings, preparing to leave. A pang of disappointment struck him, realizing that his chance to approach you and strike up a conversation was slipping away. Just as he was about to redirect his attention back to his own group in a silent acceptance of defeat, he noticed you had lingered behind, your eyes meeting his for a brief, charged moment.

In that fleeting exchange, there was an unspoken connection, a shared understanding that transcended the chaos surrounding you both. You offered a small, almost shy smile before rejoining your group, leaving Ni-ki with a lingering sense of anticipation and curiosity. The way your eyes had held his, as if conveying a silent message, made his heart flutter with a strange, exhilarating hope.

As you followed your group to the boarding gate, you couldn't shake the feeling of Ni-ki’s eyes lingering on you. It was both thrilling and unnerving, sparking a curiosity of your own. In the subtlest way possible, you stole one last glance over your shoulder, finding Ni-ki still watching with an intensity that made your heart race. You smiled to yourself, wondering if fate might bring the two of you together again in the near future.

As you and your group disappeared through the boarding gate, Ni-ki was left contemplating the possibility of your paths crossing again—perhaps amidst the vibrant streets of Tokyo or in the backstage corridors of a concert venue. The brief interaction had left an indelible mark on him, a spark that refused to be extinguished by the routine of his life. Settling back into his seat, Ni-ki’s thoughts drifted back to you, imagining potential conversations, shared laughter, and the possibility of a burgeoning friendship—or hopefully something more—that could blossom in the most unexpected of places.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ My permanent taglist is open!

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @llvrhee @d-dilemma

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🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

Since I’ve been getting a lot of requests lately, I thought I should remind everyone of the guidelines! Thank you all for the amazing support! 🫶

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FEEL FREE TO SEND ME REQUESTS, BLURBS, ONE-SHOTS, MOST TO LEAST, REACTION ASKS OR SUGGESTIONS! HOWEVER, HERE ARE SOME GUIDELINES TO KEEP IN MIND BEFORE SUBMITTING!

📨 REQUESTS ARE OPEN 📨

《📪》 WILL NOT WRITE!

OO1. Full smut requests for any idols born after 2003 will not be accepted and will immediately be deleted. Anyone born after this year will strictly have either platonic or non-sexual romantic relationships with the reader. Check the next section for more on this. NOTE: This is subject to change each year since birthdays are a thing.

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《📫》 WILL WRITE!

OO1. ATEEZ, BTS, ENHYPEN, (G)I-DLE, ITZY, MAMAMOO, NEWJEANS, P1HARMONY, STRAY KIDS & XDINARY HEROES.

OO2. Suggestive content is okay for idols born on or before 2004! Anyone born after this year will strictly have either platonic or non-sexual romantic relationships with the reader. NOTE: This is subject to change each year since birthdays are a thing.

OO3. Smut is always welcomed! Sex holds a special meaning for me so my writing will reflect that. However, that doesn’t mean that I’m not down to try new kinks so feel free to request whatever! (P.S. I love pegging and shibari — do with that what you will!)

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OO5. Any genres and tropes are okay as long as they’re not too sci-fi or toxic! NOTE: This is subject to change since I’m indecisive as hell.

OO6. Song-inspired suggestions are always so much fun! This basically means that you can send me a song along with an idol of your preference and I’ll write something inspired by it.

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OO1. Medical conditions and/or illnesses will mostly depend on my existing knowledge on it and whether I have the time to research it or not. If you want me to write about a reader that uses a wheelchair because you use a wheelchair, I would be honored to try!

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hi! i love how you write so much!!! especially emotions and how you describe things! i’m here to request enhypen getting jealous? i need to see how you write jealousy!!

Thank you so much, Anon! I hope I was able to do it justice because I don’t think I’ve written jealousy like that before? Either way, it was honestly so much fun for me to write so thank you for the request! 🫶 ── ( 𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 )

🖤 JEALOUS TIDES 🖤

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ) 4.8k

🖤 JEALOUS TIDES ( enhypen )

❛ These stories explore the subtle interplay of love, jealousy, and intimacy, capturing moments of tender connection and emotional depth between partners.

𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 4.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This was so much fun to write, I don’t think I’ve ever really written jealousy so I hope this was okay! This piece was requested by a lovely Anon! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! Please enjoy! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: All of the members get jealous, mentions of ex boyfriends, suspicions of infidelity (that aren’t true), Y/N is drunk in Sunghoon’s piece, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

All of the members are found below the cut!

이희승 ── LEE HEESEUNG.

It has become a cherished ritual for you and Heeseung, this daily stop at the coffee shop on your way to work. The comforting routine of warm brews and shared smiles, the gentle exchange of who would pay each time. This morning, however, the delicate balance shifted, with Heeseung weighed down by the fatigue of a sleepless night. His best friend, caught in the throes of heartbreak after discovering his girlfriend’s infidelity, had needed Heeseung's support through the dark hours, stealing away precious moments of rest. Though he was grateful to be there for his friend, the toll was evident in the heavy lids that barely managed to stay open.

As you stepped into the familiar warmth of the coffee shop, the scent of freshly ground beans filling the air, you noticed the weariness etched into his handsome features. With a soft smile, you nudged him toward one of the small, wooden tables nestled by the window, urging him to catch up on sleep while you took care of the order. Heeseung, too tired to protest, surrendered to your suggestion, his long frame slumping into the chair as his eyelids fluttered shut.

Yet, the bustling clatter of the morning rush proved too persistent, the cacophony of conversation and clinking cups refusing to let him drift away. Resigned, Heeseung allowed his gaze to follow you instead, taking in the way you absentmindedly played with your phone while waiting in line. Even through his exhaustion, a warmth spread through him, a tender affection that softened the edges of his fatigue. You were his comfort, his constant, the one who made even the most mundane moments feel special.

But then, a shift in the atmosphere caught his attention. He noticed the slight hesitation in your step, the subtle change in your demeanor as you approached the counter. His gaze sharpened, following the line of your sight until it landed on the new cashier—a man Heeseung hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t until you threw a nervous glance in his direction that recognition dawned on him, realizing this was someone from your past, a man you had once been close to before Heeseung had come into your life.

Heeseung tensed, his posture straightening as he tried to convince himself that you could handle the situation. After all, you had always been clear about your distaste for unnecessary interference, especially when you were more than capable of managing on your own. But as he watched the cashier’s smirk stretch across his face, the arrogant tilt of his head as he spoke to you, Heeseung felt a flicker of something darker ignite within him. His blood began to simmer, each second stretching longer as the interaction dragged on. The sound of your ex’s laughter, though distant, seemed to grate against his nerves, the sight of him chuckling at something you said only fanning the flames of jealousy.

Finally, when you moved off to the side to wait for the drinks, Heeseung couldn’t remain seated any longer. With a deliberate, casual stride, he made his way over to you, sliding an arm around your shoulders with practiced ease. His lips found your cheek, lingering there in a kiss that was firmer than usual, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. It was a claim, a subtle declaration that needed no words.

You tilted your head to look at him, amusement dancing in your eyes as you chuckled softly, understanding the silent message. Heeseung didn’t need to say anything for you to know what he was feeling, the familiar pulse of his jealousy a comfort rather than a concern. You leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the way his presence enveloped you, a silent promise that no matter who came into your life, Heeseung was the one who would stay.

박종성 ── PARK JONGSEONG.

Jay had spent the evening crafting a perfect dinner, each detail a testament to his love for you. The table was adorned with your favorite flowers, their petals a soft blush against the polished wood. Candlelight flickered gently, casting a warm glow over the dishes he had carefully prepared—your favorite meal, made with precision and affection. He had envisioned this moment, the two of you sharing a quiet evening, the stresses of the day melting away with each bite and every shared glance.

But as the minutes ticked by, anticipation gave way to disappointment. The hands of the clock moved steadily past the agreed-upon time, and with each passing second, Jay’s heart grew heavier. This wasn’t the first time you had been late, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of foolishness for having hoped that tonight might be different. He had allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that you might arrive on time, that the evening he had so carefully planned would unfold as he had imagined.

You had been spending more and more time away from home since starting at the new location, your dedication to your work both admirable and disheartening. Jay understood the pressures you faced, the need to prove yourself in this new role, especially after your previous boss had spoken so highly of you. Yet, understanding didn’t ease the loneliness that had crept into the corners of your shared home, filling the space where your presence used to be. And then there was the matter of the coworker you often mentioned—a man Jay had never met, yet one who seemed to occupy your thoughts even during the rare moments you spent together.

Jay knew he should trust you, that there was no reason to doubt your loyalty. But the emptiness of the house, the silence that had settled between you, made it difficult to quell the flickers of jealousy that sparked in his chest. The knowledge that this man saw you daily, worked alongside you, shared moments that Jay could no longer claim, gnawed at him, feeding the insecurities he had tried so hard to suppress.

By the time you finally walked through the door, the meal Jay had prepared was cold, the remnants of his own portion long since cleared away. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight before you—the table set so beautifully, the candles now dimmed, the flowers beginning to wilt. The realization of what you had missed, of what Jay had been hoping for, hit you all at once, and guilt washed over you in waves. You hadn’t known why Jay had confirmed the time earlier, hadn’t understood the importance he had placed on it. But now, seeing the effort he had put into making the evening special, it was clear why he would be so hurt.

Jay, despite the disappointment that still lingered, found it impossible to remain angry with you. He knew your intentions hadn’t been to neglect him, that your absence wasn’t meant to hurt. With a soft sigh, he pushed aside his feelings, choosing instead to sit with you as you ate. He asked you about your day, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy, but when you mentioned your male coworker again, the one who seemed to occupy more of your time than Jay did, he couldn’t hide the way his expression twisted into a sulk.

You didn’t miss the change in his demeanor, the way his eyes darkened slightly, his voice losing its warmth. The realization dawned slowly, the pieces falling into place as you finally understood the depth of Jay’s feelings. He wasn’t just disappointed in your lateness—he felt neglected, pushed aside by the demands of your work and the presence of this man who had become a fixture in your life.

Without hesitation, you reached across the table, taking Jay’s hand in yours. You offered him a sincere apology, your voice soft and full of regret. You explained that the coworker you had been spending so much time with was an older man, closer to your father’s age, with a family of his own—a man who was set to retire soon, planning to spend his remaining years traveling with his wife. There had never been anything to worry about, nothing that should have made Jay feel threatened or overlooked.

Hearing your words, Jay felt a wave of relief wash over him, followed by a sense of foolishness for having allowed his jealousy to fester. He looked at you, really looked at you, and saw the love and sincerity in your eyes, the way your hand held his so tightly, as if grounding him in the truth of your relationship. Without another word, he leaned across the table, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, a silent promise to do better by you as you had promised to do better by him.

심재윤 ── SIM JAEYUN.

You and Jake found yourselves navigating the crowded aisles of a bustling toy store, the colorful shelves lined with endless possibilities for your niece’s birthday gift. The weekend rush was in full swing, the noise and chaos of excited children and stressed parents a bit overwhelming for you. But Jake, ever attuned to your feelings, stayed close by your side, his presence a steady anchor in the sea of commotion. His gentle touches and reassuring words kept you grounded as the two of you deliberated over the perfect present.

After what felt like an eternity of sifting through options, you finally settled on a toy that you knew your niece would love—a bright, cheerful dollhouse complete with tiny, intricate furniture. A sense of relief washed over you as you turned to share your choice with Jake, only to find yourself face-to-face with a familiar figure from your past.

There, standing just a few feet away, was your old high school crush, the one who had once been the center of your daydreams and whispered confessions. Memories flooded back—the shy smiles, the secret glances, the promises of a future that never materialized. Jake knew all about him, of course. You’d told him about the mutual crush that had fizzled out before it had the chance to truly begin.

As you greeted your former crush and introduced him to Jake, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in Jake’s demeanor. Though his smile remained polite, there was an unmistakable tension in his posture, a quiet but palpable possessiveness that hadn’t been there moments before. Jake’s hand found its place on your waist, his fingers gently but firmly gripping you, as if to silently stake his claim. Even as he exchanged pleasantries with your old friend, there was a steely coolness in his gaze, a protective edge that made his thoughts as clear as day.

The conversation, though brief, carried a weight that wasn’t lost on you. You could feel Jake’s gaze on you, the way his hold tightened just slightly whenever your former crush smiled at you or mentioned something from the past. There was no mistaking the jealousy simmering beneath Jake’s calm exterior, a jealousy that spoke not of insecurity, but of his deep, unwavering affection for you.

Eventually, the interaction came to an end, and you and Jake made your way toward the checkout, the toy now safely in hand. The tension from earlier still lingered in the air between you, a quiet, unspoken thing that seemed to cling to Jake like a shadow. As you waited in line, you couldn’t resist teasing him, your fingers playfully poking his cheek.

“You’re so jealous,” you murmured, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you watched Jake’s expression shift into a pout. His lower lip jutted out slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging downward in a way that was both endearing and unmistakably pouty.

Jake’s eyes met yours, and despite his best efforts to maintain his sulk, you could see the flicker of warmth there, the way his love for you melted away any remnants of his earlier possessiveness. He huffed softly, his pout deepening as if to insist on his innocence, but you both knew the truth.

With a tender smile, you leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek—a silent reassurance that you were his, and always would be. Jake’s pout softened, his lips curving into a small, reluctant smile as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a brief but comforting embrace. The momentary jealousy faded away, leaving behind only the warmth of your shared connection, stronger and more secure than ever.

박성훈 ── PARK SUNGHOON.

The bar was alive with a pulse of its own, the thumping bass reverberating through the packed space, and the air thick with the mingled scents of sweat, alcohol, and excitement. Sunghoon’s gaze never strayed far from you, his eyes following your every move as you danced with unbridled joy among your friends. Your laughter rang out above the music, and the way you swayed to the rhythm, lost in the moment, brought a soft smile to his lips. He had promised to keep an eye on you tonight, and even as he stepped away to fetch another drink at your request, his thoughts remained with you, ensuring your safety while you enjoyed yourself.

As Sunghoon waited at the bar, watching the bartender craft your drink, a flicker of unease settled in his chest. His attention was drawn to a man who had sidled up to you on the dance floor, his eyes filled with an intention that Sunghoon didn’t like one bit. At first, the conversation between you and this stranger seemed harmless, but it quickly became apparent that you were far too intoxicated to notice the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he inched closer and closer until he was practically invading your personal space.

Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed as he observed the man, his protective instincts flaring to life. The crowd pressed in around you, making it hard to discern where the dance ended, and where the unwelcome intrusion began. The man’s body language grew bolder, his movements suggestive as he began to grind against you, all while you remained blissfully unaware, your laughter bubbling over as you continued to chat, oblivious to the stranger’s intentions.

Without a second thought, Sunghoon abandoned his place at the bar, anger surging through him as he pushed his way through the throng of people. His only focus was on reaching you, each step fueled by the urgency to protect you from the man who had crossed an unspoken line. He shoved past countless bodies, ignoring the irritated glances and muttered complaints, until he finally wedged himself between you and the stranger, his tall frame casting a shadow over the man.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sunghoon’s voice was cold, his words laced with a dangerous edge as he fixed the man with a glare that could cut through steel. The stranger raised his hands in a gesture of mock innocence, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips that only served to further ignite Sunghoon’s anger.

“Relax, man, we were just talking,” the man slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol. The scent hit Sunghoon like a wall, and he recoiled inwardly, a look of disgust crossing his features.

Behind him, you seemed to finally catch on to the tension, peeking around Sunghoon’s broad shoulders to see what was going on. Your fingers clutched at the hem of his shirt, seeking balance in your unsteady state, and the moment your eyes met his, Sunghoon felt a rush of protectiveness overwhelm him. The stranger’s gaze flicked between you and Sunghoon, and for a brief moment, a silent battle played out between the two men, communicated through nothing but a clash of determined stares. Eventually, the stranger relented, turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd with a dismissive shrug.

As Sunghoon turned back to you, he was met with your drunken giggles, a sound that, despite the situation, brought a smile to his face. You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, and though your words were playful, there was a glimmer of awareness behind them. “He was such a nice guy!” you exclaimed, though your tone betrayed that you knew better, that you were fully aware the man was anything but.

Sunghoon couldn’t help the soft scoff that escaped him, rolling his eyes in amusement at your feigned innocence. “Yeah, sure,” he muttered, his hands finding their place on your hips, a protective gesture as he pulled you closer, grounding you in his presence.

You pouted up at him, poking his chest with your index finger as if trying to make a point. “You,” you accused, your voice light with teasing, “were just being jealous.”

A chuckle rumbled low in Sunghoon’s throat, his eyes softening as he looked down at you. “Yes, I was,” he admitted without hesitation, a small, tender smile playing on his lips. “I don’t like these men anywhere near my pretty baby.”

The possessiveness in his voice was tempered by the warmth of his affection, and as he held you close, the noise of the bar seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little world. With Sunghoon by your side, the night felt safer, more secure, and you knew, without a doubt, that you were cherished beyond measure.

김선우 ── KIM SEONWOO.

The restaurant was winding down, the chatter of other patrons fading as the hour grew late, yet the table filled with Seonwoo's friends remained vibrant with laughter and easy conversation. It was your first time meeting them, and the warmth of their welcome had eased the tension that had been bubbling within you all evening. As the night unfolded, you felt yourself seamlessly slipping into their tight-knit circle, a sense of belonging washing over you with every shared joke and smile. Seonwoo, ever attuned to your emotions, seemed just as pleased with how the night had turned out. He glanced at you often, his eyes brimming with affection, his hand a comforting presence on your knee beneath the table.

But there was one among them who didn’t quite fit. A newcomer, recently integrated into the group through his relationship with one of Seonwoo’s close friends, who had an air of arrogance that Seonwoo had warned you about on the way to the restaurant. Seonwoo had expressed his reservations about this guy, mentioning how he found him to be a bit too self-assured, as if he didn’t truly appreciate the incredible person he was dating. After spending most of the evening sitting directly across from him, you began to understand the source of Seonwoo’s disdain. The guy’s jokes were dull, lacking in humor, and yet, in an effort to make a good impression, you forced out a laugh, pretending to be more entertained than you actually were.

Each time you laughed, you caught Seonwoo’s reaction out of the corner of your eye. His smile would falter, his gaze sliding toward you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief that nearly made you laugh for real. The subtle squeeze of his hand on your knee, followed by a quick glance of distaste directed at the guy, only added to your amusement. Seonwoo’s unspoken commentary was as clear as day to you, and you found it difficult to suppress your growing desire to tease him just a little more.

However, your amusement quickly turned to surprise when, after you let out another forced chuckle at one of the guy’s uninspired jokes, Seonwoo suddenly turned to you, his expression now serious, his eyes narrowed with a hint of jealousy. “It wasn’t that funny,” he remarked, his tone laced with a quiet intensity that made you pause. The seriousness in his gaze deepened as he added, almost in a pout, “Please don’t feed his ego. If you want to laugh that bad, then I’ll make you laugh.”

The sudden shift in Seonwoo’s demeanor caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped you, your amusement bubbling over at the sight of your normally composed boyfriend acting so possessive. Realizing that Seonwoo wasn’t joking, you felt a surge of affection for him, and you couldn’t resist the urge to close the distance between you. Pressing your hand to his cheek, you gently turned his face toward you and planted a playful, lingering kiss on his other cheek, your lips brushing against his skin with deliberate tenderness.

“You’re my only funny guy, don’t worry,” you whispered reassuringly, your voice light and teasing, as if to soothe the jealousy simmering beneath Seonwoo’s exterior. You could feel the eyes of the group on you, and though you knew the guy across the table was likely feeling flustered, you didn’t care. Your focus was solely on Seonwoo, the warmth of your kiss lingering on his cheek, a silent promise that no one could ever take his place in your heart.

양정원 ── YANG JUNGWON.

With your car out of commission for the past few days, Jungwon had eagerly taken on the role of your chauffeur, driving you to work in the mornings and picking you up in the evenings while your car was being repaired. It was a small favor that he was more than happy to do, especially since it meant a few extra moments spent in your company, moments he cherished more than he let on.

Today, however, was different. Jungwon had taken extra care with his appearance, freshly showered and dressed in his best, because today was your birthday, and he had meticulously planned an evening filled with fun activities to celebrate you. Instead of taking you straight to your apartment, he had something special in mind—his place, where he had a dress waiting for you, one he had carefully chosen for the surprise party he had arranged at your apartment. The thought of the surprise sent a thrill through him, anticipation bubbling beneath his calm exterior.

As he pulled up in front of your office building, Jungwon was surprised to see you already waiting for him, though what truly caught his attention was the oversized basket you were struggling to hold. It was overflowing with flowers, stuffed animals, balloons, and smaller gifts, a colorful and slightly ridiculous assortment that looked more cumbersome than anything. Despite the awkward load, you managed a bright smile and a small wave before making your way over to the car.

Jungwon wasted no time, quickly getting out to help you. He gently took the basket from your arms, his lips brushing against your cheek in a quick kiss before he shoved the basket into the backseat. He then opened the passenger door for you, waiting until you were safely seated before closing it and returning to his own side.

As he drove off, the curiosity got the better of him. He glanced at you, his voice carrying a hint of suspicion as he asked, "Who gave you that?" Even before you answered, he had a sinking feeling he knew the source of the grand gesture. There was a particular coworker of yours who had been blatantly infatuated with you for ages. No matter how often Jungwon made his presence known at your work events, clearly marking his territory as your boyfriend, this guy remained undeterred in his pursuit.

When you pursed your lips, a telltale sign that you were confirming his suspicions, Jungwon sighed, a wave of irritation washing over him. For a moment, he considered turning the car around and confronting the guy, but he held back, knowing it wouldn’t help matters and would only upset you. The gift was extravagant, an obvious attempt to outshine him, and all Jungwon wanted to do was toss the whole basket out the window. But he refrained, biting back his frustration.

“It’s lovely,” Jungwon said, though his voice betrayed the irritation he was trying to mask. You, ever perceptive, couldn’t resist mimicking his deeper tone, lowering your voice to mock his words. Your playful humor elicited a laugh from him, though the jealousy still simmered beneath the surface, not easily quelled.

Sensing his lingering unease, you reached over, threading your fingers through his hair in a gesture of affection. “You look so handsome today,” you complimented him, your voice warm and genuine, “and you smell amazing.”

The corners of Jungwon’s lips lifted into a genuine smile, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “You’re my beautiful, handsome lover,” you continued, your tone softening as you leaned closer, “the only one I think of returning to throughout my long days at work. I promise.”

Your words worked like a balm, soothing the last remnants of his jealousy. Jungwon glanced at you, his eyes softening as the truth of your affection settled in his heart. The grand gestures of others paled in comparison to the connection you shared, a bond that was far deeper and more meaningful than any extravagant gift.

西村 力 ── NISHIMURA RIKI.

The soft glow of the TV illuminated your bedroom, casting gentle shadows as the faint dialogues of a clichéd rom-com filled the air. You and Riki, however, were far too engrossed in your own little world, huddled together with his arms wrapped snugly around you as you scrolled through TikToks on your phone. His head rested comfortably atop yours, your back pressed firmly against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.

Riki's thumbs traced idle patterns on your stomach, a subtle gesture that made you feel impossibly close to him. Every time a funny video popped up, his laughter rumbled through his chest, sending soft vibrations through you that were too contagious to resist. You found yourself smiling and chuckling along, not just at the videos but at the simple joy of being wrapped up in his warmth.

After a while, though, a notification from Instagram broke through your shared bubble of contentment — a message request from someone you didn’t know. At first, you intended to ignore it, dismissing it as just another random message. But Riki, ever the curious one, leaned over and tapped on the notification to open the chat.

The message was as tacky as they come: 'Hey beautiful, I see you’ve got a boyfriend but I promise you that I can take you places he couldn’t even dream of.' You snorted at the sheer audacity of it all, finding the entire situation laughable. But Riki wasn’t as amused. His disbelief was palpable as he scoffed, his arms tightening slightly around you.

“Who the hell is this guy?” Riki muttered, more to himself than to you, his eyes narrowing at the bold words on the screen.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, trying to downplay the situation, though you couldn’t help but be a little entertained by his reaction. “He must’ve followed me at some point.”

Riki scoffed again, clearly unimpressed, as he began to scroll through the guy’s profile with an intensity that made you stifle a laugh. His fingers moved with a purpose, inspecting every detail as if he could somehow glean the stranger’s intentions from the curated images on his feed.

“Do you always get messages like these?” Riki asked, incredulity lacing his voice as he zoomed in on the guy’s profile picture. “The fucking audacity of this guy.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how seriously he was taking the whole thing. “I mean, sometimes,” you admitted, a smile tugging at your lips. “They usually happen shortly after I make a post, honestly.”

Riki’s expression darkened as he navigated back to your profile, zeroing in on your most recent post — a photo dump of your summer adventures, half of which were filled with couple photos of you and him. It was clear that you were taken, yet here was this guy, brazen enough to think he could swoop in.

“Well, I don’t like that at all,” Riki huffed, his annoyance evident as he stared at the photos. “What made that guy think he can ‘take you places I could only dream of’? What the hell, honestly?”

His irritation was both endearing and amusing, and you couldn’t help but giggle again, shifting slightly so that your chin rested on his chest. You glanced up, finally catching the full extent of the jealousy etched onto his handsome features. His brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, and there was a glint in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t taking this lightly.

Riki eventually dropped your phone onto the bed with a dismissive huff before leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss that was anything but casual. It was firm, almost possessive, as if he needed to remind you — and himself — that you were his and his alone.

When he finally pulled away, you couldn’t help but laugh softly at the seriousness in his expression. “Please don’t forget you’re mine and only mine,” he said, his voice low and earnest.

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection as you reached up to cup his face. “How could I ever forget?” you whispered back, sealing your words with another kiss that left no room for doubt.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @d-dilemma (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

Gosh 🥹🥹 you’re so kind thank you so much for reading 💕

💻 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( enhypen )

❛ In which you’re the idol and they’re your fanboys.

𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 12.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ You guys should know that I am a firm believer that these boys would be so dorky if they weren't idols — well, dorkier than they already are, honestly. This piece was requested by a lovely Anon! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! Please enjoy! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Y/N is an idol, the members of Enhypen are your fanboys finally getting you to acknowledge their existence one way or another, it's all just very cute honestly, Jungwon and Riki don't meet you in person but they still lose their minds over it, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

All of the members are found below the cut!

이희승 ── LEE HEESEUNG.

Heeseung sat at the edge of his bed, the dim light casting a gentle glow upon his contemplative figure. His fingers, delicate yet reverent, traced the edges of the well-worn scrapbook that lay open before him. This cherished volume, a tapestry of memories meticulously compiled over the years, held within its pages a mosaic of his unwavering admiration. It brimmed with a kaleidoscope of photographs, clippings, and handwritten notes, each piece meticulously documenting the journey of his favorite idol—none other than you.

He recalled the precise moment when his world had been irrevocably altered. It was on the eve of your debut, and there, amid the swirling anticipation and the haze of his youthful excitement, your voice had first reached his ears. It was a sound both ethereal and powerful, a melody that wove itself into the very fabric of his being. From that instant, Heeseung was ensnared by the magnetism of your presence. He had watched, spellbound, as you evolved from a burgeoning talent into a celebrated artist, each phase of your journey captured and immortalized within the pages of his scrapbook.

Tonight was imbued with a sense of magic and anticipation that seemed almost palpable. Heeseung, a dreamer in the truest sense, had finally managed to secure a coveted ticket to your fan meeting—a wish he had harbored fervently since the inception of his admiration for you. The moment was the culmination of countless hopes and whispered promises to himself.

As he navigated his way through the bustling streets toward the venue, his heart danced with a symphony of excitement and nervous energy. Each step felt like a step toward a long-awaited destiny, a convergence of past dreams and present reality. The evening air was crisp, carrying with it the faint murmur of fellow fans, their voices mingling in a harmonious chorus of shared anticipation.

Clutching his treasured scrapbook tightly, as though it were a talisman of his devotion, Heeseung took a steadying breath. The pages within were a testament to his journey alongside yours, a journey now culminating in this singular, momentous occasion. He joined the serpentine line of eager fans, each person a reflection of his own fervent longing, all awaiting the cherished moment when they would come face-to-face with you.

The room vibrated with a palpable energy, a living, breathing entity fueled by the collective enthusiasm of the gathered fans. Conversations swirled like a vibrant tapestry of shared experiences and heartfelt recollections, each voice contributing to the rich symphony of admiration that filled the air.

In this dynamic atmosphere, Heeseung, a seasoned devotee whose affection for you had long been unwavering, naturally assumed the role of storyteller. His presence was a comforting beacon for the newer fans, a guide through the labyrinth of your artistic journey. With an air of gentle authority, he began weaving tales of your early days, his voice imbued with a warmth that spoke of deep, personal connection.

He unfolded his beloved scrapbook with reverent care, revealing its pages one by one. Each page was a canvas of nostalgia, adorned with a mosaic of photos capturing the essence of your first performance, the raw, unguarded moments during concerts, and the newspaper clippings that chronicled your ascent to stardom. The images told a story of transformation and triumph, each snapshot a frozen moment of time that illustrated your remarkable rise. As Heeseung shared these treasures, his eyes sparkled with the joy of reminiscing, his words painting a vivid portrait of your evolution that captivated the newer fans, drawing them into the rich tapestry of your shared history.

When the moment arrived for Heeseung to finally meet you, his heart pounded with a fervent rhythm, echoing the excitement that surged through his veins. As he stepped forward, the world seemed to narrow down to the singular focus of your radiant presence.

You looked up from behind the table, your eyes brightening with a warm, welcoming smile that seemed to illuminate the room. The recognition in your gaze was immediate and profound, as your eyes fell upon the familiar scrapbook cradled in his hands. The tender acknowledgment in your expression conveyed an unspoken connection, bridging the gap between your storied past and this intimate, cherished encounter.

"Hello," Heeseung began, his voice carrying a steady confidence that belied the fluttering butterflies in his stomach. The words emerged with a sincere warmth, as if each syllable was carefully crafted to convey the depth of his feelings.

"I’m Heeseung," he continued, offering a small, genuine smile. "I’ve been a devoted fan since your very debut." His gaze lingered on you, revealing in his eyes the unwavering admiration and respect that had grown with each passing year.

Your eyes traveled over the scrapbook, a look of genuine awe and recognition crossing your face. The corners of your mouth lifted in an appreciative smile as you took the cherished book from Heeseung’s hands.

"Wow, Heeseung, this is truly incredible," you remarked, your voice infused with admiration. You began to gently turn the pages, each delicate motion revealing the meticulously curated moments of your journey. "You've captured every detail with such care," you continued, your fingers brushing over the images and notes. The sincerity in your tone spoke volumes, reflecting not only your gratitude but also the profound impact of his devotion.

Heeseung nodded, a proud and heartfelt smile unfolding across his face. The expression was a testament to his deep appreciation and respect for you, his admiration evident in every line of his features.

"You’ve been an immense source of inspiration to me," he began, his voice rich with emotion. "Witnessing your growth and the way you've triumphed over challenges has been a beacon of hope during my own difficult times. I wanted to ensure that other fans could share in that journey as well." His words carried the weight of genuine gratitude, reflecting the profound impact your perseverance and success had on his life.

You lifted your gaze from the scrapbook, your eyes meeting his with a depth of sincerity that spoke volumes. The warmth in your expression was a gentle reflection of the gratitude swelling within you.

"Thank you, Heeseung," you said softly, your voice imbued with heartfelt emotion. "Your support means more to me than words can express. It's dedicated fans like you who make all the effort and hard work truly worthwhile." The weight of your words hung in the air, a testament to the profound connection between an artist and the cherished individuals who help sustain their passion.

As you delicately signed your name on the scrapbook, Heeseung felt a surge of gratitude and profound fulfillment wash over him. The ink of your signature seemed to crystallize the moment, transforming his dreams into a tangible reality.

Meeting you and hearing those heartfelt words had surpassed even his most cherished aspirations. The realization that his steadfast support had made a meaningful impact on your journey was a treasure he would hold close to his heart. It was a moment of deep resonance, one that would linger with him as a cherished memory, a testament to the power of unwavering devotion and connection.

As Heeseung exited the venue, a radiant smile stretched across his face, one that seemed to capture the essence of his joy. The thrill of the evening lingered like a warm embrace, and he found himself buoyed by a sense of deep contentment.

He knew that his commitment to supporting you would remain steadfast, unwavering through every trial and triumph. The thought of sharing your story with new fans and enriching his cherished scrapbook with fresh memories filled him with a profound sense of purpose. The acknowledgment of his dedication had bestowed upon him a moment of rare significance—one that he would hold dear, a luminous beacon of inspiration to treasure for a lifetime.

박종성 ── PARK JONGSEONG.

Jay fidgeted with his earbuds, delicately positioning them as he allowed your music to wash over him, a soothing cascade of sound that enveloped his senses. The anticipation in the cool night air was palpable, a faint electric hum that seemed to dance through the crowd gathered outside the concert venue. Each note, each lyric was a comforting balm as he stood in line, his excitement palpable and nearly tangible.

He had waited for this night with bated breath, the days leading up to it marked with eager anticipation and a fervent excitement that had grown since he first secured his ticket. The prospect of witnessing your live performance was a thrill that had consumed him for months. Jay was not the kind of fan to lose himself in fervent adoration; rather, he embraced a more laid-back dedication. His passion manifested in the quiet diligence of streaming your songs and videos, ensuring that your place atop the charts remained steadfast.

His dedication went beyond mere listening; it extended to the art of maximizing streaming efforts. Jay found a certain joy in sharing his knowledge, guiding fellow fans on how to elevate their own streaming practices. For him, each play and each view was a small, yet significant tribute to your artistry, a testament to the role he played in the symphony of your success.

The anticipation in the crowd was almost electric, a current that seemed to weave through the throngs of eager fans, sparking whispers and hushed conversations. Jay, however, exuded an aura of tranquility, his outward calm a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that rippled around him. Beneath his serene exterior, his excitement simmered, a deep well of anticipation that kept him composed.

As the doors to the concert venue finally swung open, it was as if a collective breath was held, only to be released in a surge of movement. Jay stepped forward with purposeful strides, navigating the sea of enthusiastic fans until he reached his seat. It was perfectly positioned, offering an unobstructed view of the stage where the night’s magic would soon unfold.

The atmosphere inside was a palpable buzz of exhilaration, a harmonious blend of voices and laughter that filled the space with a symphony of excitement. Fans exchanged gleeful glances and shared snippets of their own anticipation, their voices blending into a crescendo of collective joy. The air was thick with the promise of the performance to come, and Jay, nestled in his prime spot, allowed himself to bask in the electric ambiance, savoring the moment before the music began.

As the lights in the arena dimmed, a hushed reverence fell over the crowd, a moment suspended in breathless anticipation. The first ethereal notes of your opening song began to ripple through the space, a delicate wave of sound that immediately swept Jay into its embrace. The thrill of excitement surged through him like a living pulse, a vibrant crescendo that was both exhilarating and profound.

Experiencing you live was a revelation, an intoxicating contrast to the solitary pleasure of streaming your videos at home. The raw energy of the performance, the sheer magnetism of your presence on stage, transformed the music into a living, breathing entity that resonated deep within him. Jay was no longer just a spectator; he was an integral part of the spectacle.

He became fully immersed in the experience, his voice blending seamlessly with the chorus of fellow fans, each note of the song drawing him further into the enchanting world you created. His lightstick, a beacon of glowing color, moved rhythmically in tandem with the sea of lights around him, a pulsating testament to the collective euphoria that enveloped the arena. The moment was a symphony of sight and sound, a vivid tapestry of emotions that made every second of the performance a cherished memory in the making.

Halfway through the concert, the rhythm of the performance paused, giving way to a moment of intimate connection between you and your audience. As you took a breath and glanced out across the sea of faces, your eyes shimmered with a depth of gratitude that seemed to light up the entire arena. The energy of the crowd seemed to pulse in response, a living, breathing testament to the bond you had forged with your fans.

You spoke to them with heartfelt sincerity, your voice imbued with warmth as you thanked everyone for their unwavering support. Each word you uttered was like a gentle caress, weaving through the crowd and touching each individual. Jay, standing amidst the throng, felt a profound swell of pride well up within him. It was a quiet but powerful emotion, knowing that his contributions, however modest, had played a role in this vibrant celebration of your success.

The moment was a delicate dance of appreciation and connection, a fleeting yet timeless exchange that made Jay's heart swell with a deep sense of fulfillment. In that instant, amidst the shared joy and collective euphoria, he felt an unspoken bond with you and the thousands of other fans who had gathered to share in the magic of the night.

As the concert approached its final moments, the air thickened with anticipation. You began to perform Jay’s favorite song, the one that had become the soundtrack to his own personal journey. As the first notes floated into the air, Jay closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the music. Each melody and lyric seemed to envelop him like a familiar embrace, resonating with the countless hours he had dedicated to streaming this very track.

The music wove through him, a rich tapestry of sound that stirred deep within his soul. It was as though every chord and rhythm had been crafted specifically for him, echoing the joy and dedication he had invested in following your career. The experience was transcendent, a moment of perfect harmony where time seemed to stand still.

When the song reached its crescendo and the final notes gently faded into silence, the crowd erupted in a fervent burst of applause, a collective roar of appreciation that reverberated through the arena. Jay's hands instinctively joined the chorus of clapping, his heart swelling with a profound sense of fulfillment and connection. In that shared moment of jubilation, surrounded by the vibrant energy of fellow fans, Jay felt an overwhelming surge of happiness, a bittersweet reminder of the magical night he had been fortunate to experience.

As the final encore drew to a close and the last notes of the evening faded into the night, the concert hall began to empty, a gradual exodus of reluctant fans leaving behind the echoes of an unforgettable performance. Jay, however, chose to linger, his steps slow and deliberate as he remained in his seat, unwilling to let the magic of the night slip away just yet. The atmosphere, still tinged with the residual glow of stage lights and the faint scent of excitement, seemed to pulse with a gentle reverence.

He took a deep breath, allowing the serenity of the moment to wash over him. For Jay, the night had been more than just an event; it was the culmination of countless hours of support, a testament to his unwavering dedication from afar. Seeing you live had transformed his abstract admiration into a vivid, tangible experience, a realization of the dreams he had quietly nurtured.

The concert had been a symphony of emotions, each moment a brushstroke on the canvas of his devotion. As he looked around at the now-emptying hall, the memories of the evening replayed in his mind like a cherished melody. Jay savored the lingering warmth of the night, a profound satisfaction settling in his heart as he reflected on the incredible journey that had brought him to this perfect, fleeting moment of connection.

As Jay made his way toward the exit, he cast a casual glance toward the stage door, where he noticed a small cluster of fans gathered with hopeful anticipation. Their presence was a quiet testament to the lingering magic of the night. Intrigued, he decided to join them, even though he held no grand expectations. The concert had already fulfilled him in ways he hadn’t imagined, and he was content to leave with the memories of the evening still fresh in his heart.

To his astonishment, the quiet buzz of conversation among the remaining fans was soon interrupted by a burst of excitement. You emerged from behind the stage door, a vision of warmth and grace amidst the dimly lit backdrop. Your face was illuminated by a radiant smile that seemed to capture the essence of the night’s enchantment. You waved at the gathered fans, your gesture a gentle acknowledgment of their unwavering support.

The scene was bathed in a soft, lingering light as you made your way towards the crowd, and Jay's heart skipped a beat. Seeing you in person, so close and so genuine, added a new layer of magic to the evening. The brief encounter, filled with your sincere appreciation and the shared joy of the fans, became a cherished epilogue to the night’s spectacular performance.

Jay's heart fluttered with a sudden surge of excitement as you made your way toward the group, each step drawing you closer in a cascade of anticipation. Your approach was deliberate and gracious, as you took the time to engage with each fan, your presence a radiant blend of warmth and genuine appreciation.

When you finally reached him, the moment seemed to stretch into a beautiful eternity. Jay fought to maintain his composure, though his nerves danced with barely contained enthusiasm. He managed a calm, albeit slightly tremulous, smile as he introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Jay,” he said, his voice steady but infused with an unmistakable hint of awe. “I’m—uh, I’m always streaming your songs and videos. Tonight was incredible.”

His words, though simple, were a heartfelt tribute to the night’s splendor. The sincerity in his tone mirrored the admiration he had carried for so long, and in that fleeting exchange, the distance between fan and artist dissolved into a shared moment of connection and reverence.

You beamed with a radiant smile that seemed to illuminate the space around you, your eyes sparkling with genuine warmth and gratitude. “Thank you, Jay,” you said, your voice soft yet filled with heartfelt sincerity. The words flowed effortlessly, each syllable a testament to the deep appreciation you felt.

Your gaze held a tender, almost ethereal quality as you continued, “I’m truly grateful for all the support. It means so much to know that you enjoy the music and that you’re willing to contribute in such a meaningful way.” The sincerity in your tone and the genuine light in your eyes conveyed a deep, personal connection, making Jay feel as though his dedication had not only been acknowledged but cherished. In that moment, the bond between artist and fan was beautifully reaffirmed, a shared appreciation that transcended words.

Jay felt a profound surge of warmth at your words, a gentle rush of emotion that enveloped him in a cocoon of happiness. The sincerity of your appreciation struck a deep chord within him, igniting a sense of fulfillment that radiated from his core.

“I’ll keep doing it,” he said, his voice imbued with a quiet but resolute determination. “Your music is honestly the best thing to ever happen.” Each word was carefully chosen, a heartfelt declaration of the impact your artistry had made on his life. His statement was not merely a tribute but a promise, a reflection of the deep connection he felt with your work and the unwavering commitment to continue supporting it with all his heart.

You nodded with a graceful, appreciative smile, the gesture accompanied by a soft, melodic giggle that seemed to carry the warmth of the evening. The sound was a delicate, playful note that danced in the air, a reflection of the genuine gratitude you felt.

“Thank you for everything, Jay,” you said, your voice imbued with a tender sincerity. The words flowed with a natural ease, each syllable a heartfelt acknowledgment of his unwavering support. In that moment, the exchange between you was a beautiful blend of appreciation and connection, a shared understanding that transcended the boundaries of the stage and reached into the heart of the evening’s magic.

As you gracefully moved on to greet the other fans, Jay was enveloped by a deep and resonant sense of fulfillment. The concert had been a spectacular crescendo, and the brief, heartfelt interaction with you had imbued the evening with an added dimension of personal significance. It was a reaffirmation of his unwavering commitment to supporting your music, a promise of loyalty and admiration that had been solidified in the warmth of your gratitude.

As he began his journey home, a contented smile lingered on his lips. He slipped his earbuds back in, the familiar comfort of the soft cushion against his ears a prelude to the solace he sought. With a gentle tap, he played your latest song, letting the melodies cascade through him. The music, already a cherished part of his life, now carried an even deeper resonance, enriched by the vivid memories of the night. Each note seemed to echo with the joy and connection he had experienced, weaving the evening’s magic into the very fabric of the music he held so dear.

심재윤 ── SIM JAEYUN.

Jake's phone erupted with a relentless flurry of notifications, its screen a tapestry of flashing icons and vibrating alerts. Each buzz was a herald of the burgeoning frenzy surrounding your latest release, a wildfire of excitement that spread across the digital expanse. His fan account, a veritable beacon of devotion, crackled with activity as the news of your new work ignited the fervor of your admirers.

In the realm of social media, Jake was a maestro, orchestrating a symphony of online enthusiasm with meticulous precision. His virtual domain was a haven of vibrant promotion, where he crafted elaborate posts to celebrate your artistry and engaged in fervent discussions to elevate your presence. He was a tireless guardian of your reputation, deftly defending you against any shadow of criticism that dared to cast itself upon your name.

Hours blurred into days as Jake immersed himself in the art of digital advocacy. He meticulously arranged streaming parties that thrummed with collective excitement and mobilized legions of supporters to cast their votes in your favor. Each moment spent was a testament to his unwavering commitment, as he channeled his energy into ensuring that your achievements resonated far and wide.

One serene afternoon, as Jake meandered through his social media feed with a sense of routine calm, a new notification flickered to life on his screen. It was an announcement for an exclusive contest, offering a coveted prize: a chance for fans to meet you in person and partake in a thrilling game during an upcoming interview. The message was a sparkling beacon amidst the digital noise, and Jake's heart leapt in his chest, racing with an exhilarating burst of anticipation.

With a sense of urgency and determination, Jake plunged into action. His fingers danced across the screen as he entered the contest, his movements fueled by a fervent hope and a deep-seated desire. The stakes were high, and he could almost envision the opportunity as if it were a tangible, glittering prize just within reach.

Not content to keep this golden chance to himself, Jake set about rallying his fellow fans with a fervent zeal. He shared the contest announcement across his fan accounts, crafting messages that bristled with enthusiasm and encouragement. His call to action was a clarion cry for participation, urging others to join in and seize the chance to connect with you, as he had. The air was electric with shared excitement, each notification a testament to the collective dream of meeting you in person.

A week later, Jake's phone rang with an unfamiliar number, its jarring ring cutting through the quietude of his day. With a flutter of nervous anticipation, he answered, his hand trembling slightly as he lifted the phone to his ear. On the other end, a voice, vibrant with uncontainable enthusiasm, greeted him with words that sent a shiver of disbelief and elation down his spine: he had won the contest.

The news was a cascade of joy that surged through Jake's veins, electrifying every fiber of his being. His heart pounded in a rhythm of pure exhilaration, and he struggled to hold back the flood of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. As he expressed his heartfelt gratitude to the caller, his mind raced with the thrilling possibilities that lay ahead.

Without a moment's hesitation, Jake rushed to share the incredible news with his online friends. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he crafted messages that crackled with infectious excitement, eager to spread the joy and invite them to revel in his triumph. The virtual space was soon abuzz with celebratory fervor, each message a ripple in the sea of shared elation, as Jake's news became a beacon of collective joy among his fellow fans.

On the day of the interview, Jake approached the studio with a heart that danced between nerves and exhilaration. Each step felt like a journey through a landscape of anticipation, the gravity of the moment settling over him like a shroud of shimmering possibility. Years of dedicated promotion and fervent support had led him to this threshold, and the weight of it all made his pulse quicken with a heady mix of excitement and trepidation.

As he entered the studio, the bustling environment greeted him with a warmth that was both soothing and energizing. The staff, their smiles genuine and eyes twinkling with camaraderie, enveloped him in a welcoming embrace. They guided him through the labyrinth of the studio, their voices imbued with the promise of an unforgettable experience.

Jake listened intently as they outlined the details of the segment, each word painting a vivid picture of what was to come. The centerpiece of the evening was a live game, an interactive moment where he would finally connect with you face-to-face. The thought of sharing this experience with you, after so many years of virtual connection, ignited a thrill within him, and he found himself eagerly anticipating the chance to step into this shared moment of excitement and connection.

As the interview commenced, Jake lingered on the sidelines, his heart thudding with the rhythmic urgency of a drum. Each beat seemed to echo the anticipation that hung palpably in the air. The studio's vibrant energy enveloped him, a whirlwind of lights and sounds that intensified his sense of expectation.

When the moment arrived and the host’s voice rang out, introducing him with a flourish, Jake drew a deep, steadying breath. With a resolve that masked his inner tumult, he stepped onto the set. The audience’s applause greeted him like a warm embrace, their clapping a chorus of encouragement that surged around him, amplifying the thrill of the moment. As he walked forward, the atmosphere crackled with an electric blend of excitement and nervous anticipation, each step bringing him closer to the realization of a long-held dream.

You turned towards him, your face illuminated by a radiant smile that seemed to light up the entire studio. The warmth and sincerity in your eyes made the moment feel suspended in time.

"Hi, Jake!" you greeted him with a cheerful exuberance, your voice carrying a melodic lilt that wrapped around him like a comforting embrace. "It's great to meet you," you continued, your words flowing effortlessly and imbued with genuine delight. The connection in that instant was electric, as if the years of virtual admiration had culminated in this shared, unforgettable moment.

Jake's smile, though brimming with excitement, was tempered with a careful composure. He met your gaze with a mixture of awe and admiration. "Hi," he said, his voice steady despite the flutter of nerves. "I’m a huge fan."

Your response was immediate and heartfelt, a genuine delight shining in your eyes. "Thank you so much for your support," you replied, your voice warm and sincere. "It means a lot." The simplicity of your words was underscored by the depth of emotion conveyed, and Jake felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and joy. In that exchange, the connection between fan and idol transcended the boundaries of screen and stage, becoming a shared moment of authentic appreciation.

The host's voice rang out, rich with enthusiasm as they outlined the rules of the game. It was a lively trivia challenge centered around your illustrious career, a test of knowledge designed to celebrate your achievements. Jake felt a surge of confidence, his pulse quickening with the thrill of the impending challenge. He had immersed himself in every detail of your journey, his knowledge deep and comprehensive.

As the game commenced, Jake's well-honed expertise began to shine through. Each answer he provided was delivered with the assurance of someone who had followed your career with unwavering devotion. Your laughter, bright and infectious, filled the air as you cheered him on. The joy and admiration in your eyes were unmistakable, and it was clear that his dedication and passion had left a lasting impression on you.

As the game drew to a close, Jake emerged victorious by a commanding margin, his triumph a testament to his fervent admiration and meticulous knowledge. The host’s voice rang out with genuine congratulations, the applause from the audience swelling like a wave of collective appreciation.

You stepped forward with a smile that radiated warmth and gratitude. In your hands, you held a signed album, its cover gleaming under the studio lights. As you presented it to Jake, your words flowed with heartfelt sincerity. "You're amazing, Jake," you said, your tone infused with genuine admiration. "Thank you for everything you do." The album, a tangible symbol of your appreciation, was a fitting end to a moment that celebrated both his dedication and your mutual connection.

Jake was overcome by a swell of emotion, his voice trembling slightly with sincerity. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his words imbued with a heartfelt promise. "I'll keep supporting you no matter what." The depth of his commitment was clear, a testament to his unwavering admiration.

As the interview concluded, a brief window of private time opened up between you. The studio, now quieter and more intimate, felt like a cocoon of shared experience. You turned to him with a radiant smile, your eyes sparkling with genuine delight. "I had a lot of fun playing with you, Jake," you said, your voice warm and infused with a touch of playful admiration. "I’m so impressed you beat me." Your words, spoken with genuine appreciation, underscored the camaraderie and connection that had blossomed between you during the game.

Jake’s laughter bubbled up with a sense of deep satisfaction, his heart swelling with fulfillment. "I may or may not run an account or two dedicated to you," he confessed, his voice tinged with playful secrecy. "You’re just such an inspiration for me." His cheeks flushed with a warm blush, a vivid testament to the joy and pride he felt in that moment.

Your smile broadened, radiating a glow of genuine warmth and appreciation. “I really appreciate you, Jake. So much,” you replied, your words like a soothing balm to his eager heart. The sincerity in your voice resonated deeply, making the moment even more memorable.

As Jake exited the studio, his heart brimmed with a sense of completeness. Meeting you had surpassed even his loftiest dreams, and the encounter had only fueled his devotion. With a renewed fervor, he prepared to champion your cause with even greater zeal. On his journey home, he crafted a heartfelt message for his fan accounts, pouring out his gratitude and enthusiasm. He shared the transformative experience with his fellow fans, encouraging them to support you with the same passion and dedication that had driven him all along.

박성훈 ── PARK SUNGHOON.

Sunghoon adjusted his jacket one last time, meticulously smoothing the fabric as he scrutinized his reflection in the mirror. The jacket, a masterpiece of sleek black with intricate embroidery, was a testament to your signature style from a recent performance that had left a lasting impression on him. Each stitch seemed to echo the haunting melodies of your music, weaving a connection between fashion and art that he found mesmerizing.

He had spent weeks scouring boutiques and online shops, determined to find a jacket that mirrored yours with precise accuracy. The search had been relentless, driven by a deep admiration for both your music and your fashion sense. To Sunghoon, this jacket was more than just an article of clothing; it was a symbol of his dedication and a tribute to the artistry he so deeply respected.

As he fastened the buttons, memories of countless nights spent streaming your songs and watching your performances flooded his mind. The rhythms and lyrics had become a part of him, ingrained in his soul after hours of listening on repeat. Each beat, each note, resonated within him until he could replay them perfectly in his head, as if your voice had become his own inner soundtrack.

The mirror reflected not just his image, but also the transformation he had undergone. In that moment, he wasn’t just Sunghoon; he was a reflection of the music and style that had inspired him, a living homage to the artist he revered. With a final, confident glance, he stepped out of his apartment, ready to carry the essence of your art into the world.

Today was a day unlike any other, a day that held the promise of a dream coming true. Sunghoon clutched the precious ticket to your fan meeting, the golden key to an encounter he had longed for. This rare opportunity to meet you in person set his heart racing with a thrilling blend of excitement and nervous anticipation.

As he made his way to the venue, each step felt charged with electricity. The cityscape blurred around him, the usual hum of life fading into the background as his mind focused solely on the upcoming moment. The fan meeting was more than an event; it was a chance to connect with the artist who had profoundly influenced his world.

In preparation for this special occasion, Sunghoon had meticulously crafted his appearance, choosing an outfit that echoed your style while reflecting his own dedication. Every detail, from the crisp lines of his tailored jacket to the subtle accessories, was selected with the hope of catching your eye. He had spent countless hours perfecting his look, ensuring that it embodied the essence of your artistic vision.

As he approached the venue, the reality of the moment began to sink in. The crowd of fans gathered outside shared his enthusiasm, their voices a chorus of shared admiration. But for Sunghoon, this experience was intensely personal. He felt a connection to you through your music and fashion, and today, he hoped to express that bond in person.

With each passing moment, the anticipation built, his heart pounding in rhythm with the excitement that filled the air. Sunghoon took a deep breath, ready to step into a world where his dreams and reality would collide, where the admiration he held in his heart would finally find its voice.

The venue buzzed with anticipation, a symphony of eager murmurs and shared excitement filling the air. Fans poured into the room, their faces alight with anticipation and joy. Sunghoon navigated through the sea of people, finally finding his seat amidst the throng. He glanced around, recognizing a few familiar faces from social media, their expressions mirroring his own eager anticipation. Yet, despite the familiar faces, his focus remained unwaveringly on the stage, where you would soon make your grand entrance.

The room seemed to pulse with collective energy, the excitement almost tangible as fans shared stories, laughter, and their mutual admiration for you. Sunghoon's heart beat in time with the buzz of the crowd, a rhythm that underscored his own fervent anticipation. He adjusted his jacket, a symbol of his dedication, feeling the fabric against his skin as a reminder of the momentous occasion.

As the lights dimmed and a hush fell over the crowd, the atmosphere thickened with anticipation. Every eye was trained on the stage, every breath held in unison. Then, the curtains parted, and you walked out, a vision of grace and warmth. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sound rising like a tidal wave, enveloping the room in a cascade of adoration.

Sunghoon felt his heart race, the thrill of the moment washing over him. He watched intently as you greeted the audience, your smile radiant and welcoming. The way you moved, the way you carried yourself, it was as if the essence of your music and persona had materialized before his eyes. Every gesture, every word, seemed to resonate deeply with the audience, binding them together in a shared moment of pure connection.

In that instant, as you stood on the stage, Sunghoon felt a profound sense of awe. This was the culmination of his admiration and dedication, a fleeting yet unforgettable moment where the distance between fan and artist dissolved, leaving only the magic of shared experience.

The fan meeting commenced with a lively Q&A session, the air brimming with curiosity and excitement as fans eagerly posed their questions. The room buzzed with the hum of conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter and applause. Following the Q&A, the atmosphere shifted into a more playful tone with interactive games, drawing the crowd even closer together in their shared joy.

As the event unfolded, Sunghoon's anticipation grew with each passing moment. The rhythm of activities seemed to accelerate, and before he knew it, his turn to meet you arrived, catching him off guard with its swiftness. Rising from his seat, he felt a wave of nervous energy course through him, his hands growing slightly clammy as he approached the stage.

With each step closer, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of excitement and nerves intertwining. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself, determined to make the most of this fleeting, yet precious moment. As he ascended the steps to the stage, the world around him seemed to blur, his focus narrowing solely on you.

When he finally stood before you, a breathless anticipation hung in the air. Your eyes lifted to meet his, and a spark of recognition danced within them. The moment your gaze settled on his jacket, your eyes lit up, a warm and genuine smile spreading across your face. The intricate embroidery and sleek design had not gone unnoticed, and the recognition in your eyes sent a thrill through Sunghoon.

The connection was instantaneous, a silent acknowledgment of his dedication and admiration. For Sunghoon, that single moment of recognition felt like a dream realized, a testament to the countless hours spent immersing himself in your music and style. The clammy hands and racing heart were now a backdrop to the profound sense of fulfillment and joy that filled him as he stood before you, basking in the shared glow of a moment that transcended the ordinary.

"Hi, I'm Sunghoon," he introduced himself, his voice carrying a blend of shyness and sincerity. A gentle smile played on his lips as he spoke, the culmination of his admiration and anticipation distilled into this single moment. "I've been a fan for a long time."

Your smile widened, radiating warmth and genuine delight as you leaned in, your eyes twinkling with interest. The closeness allowed you to take in the details of his meticulously chosen jacket. "Wow, Sunghoon," you exclaimed, admiration evident in your tone. "You look so handsome in that jacket! It looks exactly like the one I wore."

Your words were a balm to his nerves, each syllable like a note in a melody he had longed to hear. The recognition and praise in your eyes made his heart swell with a mixture of pride and elation. The jacket, which had become a symbol of his dedication, now served as a bridge between you, connecting his admiration to your artistry in a tangible way.

In that moment, the bustling room seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in a shared bubble of recognition and mutual appreciation. Sunghoon felt a surge of confidence, his earlier nervousness dissipating in the face of your kind words and warm demeanor. The shy smile on his lips grew, reflecting the joy that now filled his heart.

The exchange, though brief, was imbued with a depth of meaning that words alone could scarcely convey. It was a moment of connection, where fan and artist transcended their roles and met as individuals, each acknowledging the other's presence in a world where art and admiration intertwined.

Sunghoon felt a surge of pride swell within him, his earlier nervousness now replaced by a deep sense of connection. “Thank you. Your style is such an inspiration to me. And your music… I listen to it all the time,” he confessed, his voice brimming with genuine admiration.

You chuckled softly, a sound that resonated with warmth and sincerity. “I’m glad you enjoy it. Just make sure to take breaks so you don’t get sick of it, okay?” The gentle teasing in your tone was both comforting and endearing, bridging the gap between artist and admirer.

Sunghoon nodded, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. In that moment, he felt truly seen and understood. “I’ll try. It’s just that your music and style mean so much to me,” he said, his words carrying the weight of countless hours spent immersed in your art.

Reaching out, you patted his shoulder, a gesture of both kindness and acknowledgment. “I appreciate your dedication, Sunghoon. It really means a lot,” you said, your voice imbued with sincerity. The touch was light yet grounding, a tangible connection that left a lasting impression on his heart.

The exchange lingered in the air, a delicate interplay of words and emotions that transcended the ordinary. Sunghoon felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and fulfillment, knowing that his admiration had not only been recognized but also reciprocated. In this brief, beautifully profound moment, the lines between fan and artist blurred, leaving only the pure, unspoken understanding that art, in all its forms, had the power to connect souls.

As you took the photograph and began signing it, Sunghoon felt his nerves gradually settle, the initial flutter of anxiety giving way to a profound sense of calm. The interaction was unfolding in a way that felt far more personal and genuine than he had ever dared to imagine. Each stroke of your pen seemed to bridge the gap between your world and his, transforming a simple autograph into a cherished memory.

When you handed the photo back to him, your smile was radiant and reassuring. “Keep being awesome, Sunghoon,” you said warmly, your voice a soothing balm that enveloped him in a sense of belonging. “And keep sharing your outfits. I love seeing how fans interpret my style.”

The words resonated deeply within him, each syllable a testament to the bond that art and admiration had woven between you. Sunghoon’s heart swelled with a mix of pride and joy, knowing that his dedication and efforts had not only been acknowledged but celebrated. The photograph in his hands was now a symbol of this extraordinary moment, a tangible reminder of the connection that had blossomed between artist and fan.

In that fleeting yet profound exchange, Sunghoon felt seen, appreciated, and understood. Your encouragement was more than just a compliment; it was an affirmation of his own creative expression and a beacon of inspiration that would continue to guide him. As he looked into your eyes, he saw not just an idol, but a kindred spirit who valued and nurtured the shared love of art and fashion.

The room around them seemed to blur, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as the significance of the moment crystallized in his heart. Sunghoon knew that this encounter would remain etched in his memory, a beacon of light and inspiration that he would carry with him always. The photo, now imbued with your words and warmth, became a cherished memento of an experience that transcended the ordinary, leaving an indelible mark on his soul.

Sunghoon’s heart soared as he expressed his gratitude to you, his voice carrying the heartfelt sincerity of the moment. With a lingering glance back at the stage, he made his way down, feeling as though he were floating on a cloud. The rest of the fan meeting passed in a blur, a whirlwind of activities and emotions, yet the memory of your kind words and warm smile remained vivid and bright, etched into his mind like a cherished painting.

Leaving the venue, the night air felt crisp and refreshing, a perfect counterpoint to the warmth that still radiated within him. Sunghoon knew that his dedication had paid off in ways he had never imagined. The acknowledgment and connection he had felt were more profound than any fan could hope for, a true testament to the bond between artist and admirer.

That evening, with his heart still brimming with excitement, Sunghoon carefully composed a post for his social media. He shared a picture of his meticulously crafted outfit, capturing the essence of the jacket that had sparked your recognition. In his post, he recounted the experience, describing the magic of the fan meeting and encouraging other fans to keep supporting you with the same passion and dedication.

As he scrolled through the responses, he felt a renewed sense of connection, not only to your music and style but to you as a person. The fan meeting had given him a deeper appreciation for everything you did, a glimpse into the heart and soul behind the art he so admired. The comments from fellow fans created a tapestry of shared love and admiration, weaving a community bound by a mutual appreciation for your artistry.

Later, as he prepared for bed, Sunghoon queued up your latest song, a soft smile spreading across his face as the familiar melody filled the room. Each note seemed to shimmer with new meaning, each lyric resonating with the experiences of the day. Meeting you had infused everything with a fresh sense of wonder and excitement, rekindling his enthusiasm and deepening his connection to your work.

With the music playing softly in the background, he closed his eyes, feeling a profound sense of contentment. He knew he would never truly tire of your songs; each listen was a journey, a renewal of his unwavering dedication. As he drifted off to sleep, his dreams were filled with anticipation and curiosity, eager to see what you would create next. The fan meeting had not only been a moment of personal fulfillment but also a promise of continued inspiration and support, a testament to the enduring power of art and connection.

김선우 ── KIM SEONWOO.

Seonwoo sat at his desk, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest as he fixated on the countdown timer ticking away on his computer screen. Each passing second brought him closer to a moment he had long fantasized about: a fan call with you, his cherished idol. The anticipation was almost palpable, making the air in his room feel electric with excitement and nervous energy.

His room was a vivid testament to his unwavering devotion. The walls were adorned with an array of your posters, each one capturing a different facet of your career and beauty. Shelves brimming with signed and limited edition merchandise showcased his dedication; every item was a precious relic, carefully preserved and displayed. Even his computer bore evidence of his admiration, filled with meticulously organized folders of your photos, videos, and achievements. Each file represented countless hours spent curating a digital shrine to the person who inspired him most.

As the seconds dwindled, Seonwoo took a deep breath, his eyes wandering over the familiar, comforting chaos of his sanctuary. The posters seemed to smile down at him, offering silent encouragement. The room, once a mere collection of his interests, now felt like a sacred space where his dreams were about to intertwine with reality. His hands trembled slightly, the excitement almost too much to contain, but his spirit soared with the thought that in just a few moments, he would finally get to speak to you, the idol who had unknowingly shaped so much of his world.

When the timer finally struck zero, the screen shimmered to life, and there you were, as if emerging from a dream. Seonwoo's breath hitched in his throat, an almost palpable sensation of wonder coursing through him. Your face, illuminated by a soft, ethereal glow, appeared on the screen, your features radiating warmth and charm.

The sight of you—so vividly present in his world—was almost too incredible to fathom. Your smile, a gentle curve of happiness, seemed to bridge the gap between reality and his wildest fantasies. For a moment, Seonwoo was lost in the magic of it all, struggling to grasp that the person who had inspired his dreams was now smiling directly at him from the other side of the screen.

"Hi, Seonwoo!" you greeted him, your voice ringing with a vibrant cheerfulness that seemed to brighten the room. Your words, imbued with genuine warmth, carried a melodic lilt that made Seonwoo’s heart skip a beat. "It’s wonderful to finally meet you," you continued, your smile expanding to showcase a glimmer of sincerity that made the moment feel all the more magical.

Your presence, though mediated by the screen, was imbued with an inviting aura. The way you spoke, with a natural grace and enthusiasm, created an intimate connection that transcended the digital divide. For Seonwoo, it was as if the space between them had vanished, leaving only the heartfelt exchange and the thrill of meeting the person who had been a beacon of inspiration in his life.

Seonwoo took a deep breath, the weight of his nerves pressing heavily on his chest. He forced a smile, trying to steady the fluttering excitement within him. "Hi!" he managed, his voice a mix of awe and nervousness. "I can hardly believe this is actually happening."

His words tumbled out, tinged with a sincerity that matched the intensity of his feelings. "I'm such a huge fan," he continued, his gaze locked on you, as if trying to memorize every detail of the moment. The sheer enormity of the experience overwhelmed him, but the thrill of finally speaking with you, the person he had admired from afar, was an unforgettable rush that made every anxious flutter worth it.

Your smile broadened, becoming a radiant expression of genuine gratitude. "Thank you!" you said, your voice rich with warmth and sincerity. "I truly appreciate your support."

Your eyes sparkled with a sincere interest as you continued, "How are you doing?" The question was delivered with a gentle kindness that made Seonwoo feel as if your concern extended beyond the confines of the screen. The ease in your tone and the genuine curiosity in your gaze created an atmosphere of intimacy, making the moment feel remarkably personal and heartfelt.

"I'm great now," Seonwoo replied, his voice growing steadier as he began to relax. The initial tremor in his tone gave way to a more composed delivery, his excitement still palpable but softened by a newfound calm. 

"I've immersed myself in every detail of your career and your achievements," he continued, a trace of awe lingering in his words. "I’ve followed you since your debut, watching your journey unfold with a sense of wonder." The depth of his admiration was evident in his gaze, as if each memory of your milestones had woven itself into the fabric of his own life.

"Wow, that's truly amazing!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with heartfelt surprise. A look of genuine emotion softened your features, revealing just how deeply your fan’s dedication resonated with you. Your eyes shone with appreciation, as if the weight of Seonwoo’s unwavering support had touched something profoundly personal within you.

"Your dedication means so much to me," you continued, your tone brimming with warmth and gratitude. With a bright, curious glint in your eye, you leaned slightly forward, eager to engage. "So, what's your favorite song from my newest album?" The question was posed with an earnest interest, inviting Seonwoo to share in the joy of your latest work, and further deepening the bond between you.

Seonwoo's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, his expression lighting up as he spoke. "That's a tough choice," he admitted, his voice reflecting the depth of his admiration. "But if I had to choose, I think my favorite would have to be 'Eternal Echoes.'"

He paused for a moment, choosing his words with care, as if savoring the memories the song evoked. "The lyrics are so profoundly meaningful, each line woven with a resonance that touches the soul," he continued, his tone filled with reverence. "And the melody—it’s simply beautiful. It captivated me completely and struck a chord deep within, making it a song that I find myself returning to time and again."

You nodded with a radiant smile, your eyes alight with genuine pleasure. "I’m so glad to hear that you like 'Eternal Echoes,'" you said, your voice softening with a touch of nostalgia. "It’s actually one of my favorites as well."

A hint of emotion colored your tone as you continued, "I poured a lot of my heart into that song." Your words carried a sense of deep personal connection, as if sharing a piece of your soul through the melody and lyrics. The sincerity in your voice conveyed the dedication and passion you had invested, making the moment feel all the more intimate and special.

Seonwoo cast a thoughtful glance around his room, the vibrant tapestry of his admiration for you spread out before him. Each corner of the space held a cherished piece of memorabilia, a testament to his devotion. He carefully selected a signed album from a neatly organized shelf, its cover shimmering softly in the ambient light.

With a mixture of reverence and excitement, he held it up, his eyes gleaming with pride. "This," he said, his voice tinged with affection, "is one of my most prized possessions." He paused, his gaze lingering on the autograph, a tangible connection to the moment of joy when he had received it. "I was absolutely over the moon when I got your autograph. It felt like a dream come true."

You smiled warmly, a soft glow of genuine affection illuminating your features. "I’m truly glad that it means so much to you," you said, your voice imbued with heartfelt sincerity. The warmth of your smile seemed to envelop the space between you, bridging the gap with an emotional connection.

"It’s fans like you," you continued, your eyes reflecting deep appreciation, "who make everything worthwhile." Your words were a tender acknowledgment, as if you were sharing a secret about the profound impact that loyal supporters have on your journey. The sincerity in your tone and the genuine sparkle in your gaze conveyed just how much you valued the support, making the moment feel exceptionally personal and meaningful.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, like a gentle stream weaving through a lush, verdant landscape. Seonwoo, his initial nervousness now a distant memory, eagerly asked about your creative process, the spark of inspiration behind your work, and the favorite moments that had defined your career.

You listened with genuine interest, your eyes reflecting the depth of your engagement. Each question was met with thoughtful consideration, your answers weaving a tapestry of insights and stories. You spoke of the quiet moments when inspiration struck, the late nights spent perfecting lyrics, and the joyous occasions that had marked your journey. Your voice carried a melodic rhythm, drawing Seonwoo further into the enchanting world of your artistry.

As Seonwoo hung on to every word, his admiration grew even deeper. The exchange was more than just a conversation; it was a heartfelt connection. You expressed your gratitude for his unwavering support, acknowledging how fans like him fueled your passion and drive. The sincerity in your tone made each expression of thanks feel like a precious gift, further cementing the bond between artist and admirer.

As the call neared its end, Seonwoo felt a bittersweet blend of happiness and sadness wash over him. The joy of having spoken to you, his idol, was tempered by the wistful realization that this cherished moment was drawing to a close. His heart swelled with gratitude for the precious opportunity, yet he couldn't help but wish for just a bit more time.

"Thank you so much for this," Seonwoo said, his voice carrying a depth of emotion. "It means the world to me."

Your smile softened, imbued with a gentle warmth that seemed to reach through the screen. "Thank you, Seonwoo," you replied, your words sincere and heartfelt. "Your support and dedication are truly inspiring. Keep being awesome, and I'll keep doing my best for fans like you."

The sentiment lingered in the air, wrapping Seonwoo in a comforting embrace. As the screen dimmed and the call ended, he was left with a lasting impression of your kindness and authenticity, a memory he would treasure forever.

The screen slowly faded to black, and Seonwoo leaned back in his chair, a profound sense of fulfillment washing over him. The virtual meeting with you, even through a screen, had surpassed all his hopes and dreams. He felt a warm glow of contentment, knowing that his dedication had been recognized and appreciated. This acknowledgment fueled his passion, igniting a desire to continue supporting you in every way possible.

With his heart still brimming with emotion, Seonwoo turned to his fan accounts, his fingers dancing over the keyboard. He composed a heartfelt message, pouring out his gratitude and excitement. He shared the experience in vivid detail, recounting the precious moments and expressing his appreciation for the opportunity. The response from fellow fans was immediate and enthusiastic, their shared joy amplifying his own.

양정원 ── YANG JUNGWON.

Jungwon sat anxiously in his living room, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm against the arm of the couch. The soft glow of the television cast flickering shadows on the walls, heightening the anticipation that pulsed through him. Tonight was the night. His heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nerves as he kept his eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for the moment that could change everything.

The variety show, known for its lively and unpredictable content, was airing tonight's episode, and you were the guest star. For weeks, Jungwon had poured his heart and soul into creating the perfect video, meticulously crafting a fun and unique challenge for you to perform. He had spent countless hours brainstorming, filming, and editing, ensuring every detail was flawless. This wasn't just any video; it was a labor of love, a tribute to his admiration for you.

As one of your biggest fans, Jungwon knew every nuance of your career, every highlight and milestone. He admired your talent, your charisma, and the way you brought joy to your audience. This was his chance to connect with you in a way that went beyond the screen, to share a piece of himself and maybe, just maybe, catch your attention.

The minutes felt like hours as he waited, each passing second intensifying the knot of anticipation in his stomach. He imagined your reaction, the possibility of seeing you smile or laugh because of something he had created. The thought filled him with a warmth that chased away some of the nerves, replacing them with a hopeful excitement.

Finally, the moment arrived. The host announced the next segment, and Jungwon's video began to play. His breath caught in his throat as he watched, his heart racing with a blend of fear and exhilaration. This was it—the culmination of his efforts, his passion, and his dreams.

The show began with a burst of vibrant colors and lively music, the kind that set hearts racing with excitement. Jungwon's pulse quickened, each beat echoing the rhythm of the show's energetic theme. As the charismatic host took the stage, Jungwon's grip on the remote tightened, his knuckles turning white.

The host's voice, warm and enthusiastic, filled the room as he introduced the much-anticipated segment where fans could send in challenges for their favorite idols. This was the moment Jungwon had been waiting for, the culmination of weeks of effort and countless hours of perfecting his video. The possibility of his challenge being featured on the show was a dream he had nurtured with care and dedication.

Jungwon's eyes were glued to the screen, his breath coming in shallow, anxious bursts. The room seemed to shrink around him, narrowing his focus to the television as the first fan-submitted video played. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a palpable tension that thrummed through his veins. He could feel the weight of the moment, the delicate balance between hope and uncertainty.

As each video played, Jungwon's heart raced faster, a tumultuous mix of excitement and nervousness swirling within him. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of his own rapid heartbeat. The seconds stretched into what felt like hours, each one a step closer to the possibility of seeing his creation on the screen.

Finally, the host announced the next submission, and the screen flickered to life with a familiar scene. Jungwon's heart leaped into his throat as he recognized his own video, the one he had crafted with such care and passion. A wave of emotions crashed over him—relief, joy, and a renewed sense of anticipation. This was his moment, a chance to connect with his idol in a way he had always dreamed of.

"And now, we have a special challenge sent in by a dedicated fan named Jungwon," the host announced with a flourish, his voice resonating with enthusiasm. Jungwon's heart leaped at the sound of his name, a jolt of exhilaration electrifying his entire being. The moment he had been dreaming of was finally unfolding before his eyes.

The screen transitioned smoothly to his video, the familiar sight filling the room with a vibrant energy. Jungwon watched as his own face appeared on the screen, a mixture of excitement and nervousness visible in his eyes. He began to explain the challenge he had painstakingly crafted: a fun and quirky dance routine, a fusion of creativity and admiration. 

In the video, Jungwon's passion was palpable. His voice, steady yet brimming with enthusiasm, described the dance he had choreographed himself. He had meticulously blended some of your signature moves, the ones that had always captivated him, with innovative new steps he hoped you would enjoy. Each move was chosen with care, designed to showcase your unique style while adding a fresh twist that was distinctly his own.

The camera captured his fluid movements as he demonstrated the routine, each step a testament to his dedication and love for your art. He twirled and leaped with a grace that belied the hours of practice and refinement that had gone into perfecting the choreography. The music pulsed through the speakers, its rhythm aligning with the beat of his heart as he danced with abandon.

Jungwon's hope was that this dance, a heartfelt tribute to you, would not only bring a smile to your face but also forge a connection that transcended the screen. He had poured his soul into every movement, every transition, infusing the routine with his admiration and respect for your talent. As the video played on, he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and anticipation, knowing that his creation was now in your hands.

As the video began to play, Jungwon's gaze was locked on your reaction. Every subtle change in your expression was a new chapter in the unfolding narrative of his dreams. You leaned forward, eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and amusement that sent a thrill down his spine. "This looks interesting," you said, your smile radiant and infectious. The warmth in your voice was like a melody, and Jungwon's heart swelled with joy.

The camera captured your every move as you rose gracefully from your seat, your demeanor radiating excitement. You positioned yourself with an air of readiness, your body poised to dance. Jungwon could hardly contain his breath, his excitement mounting with each passing second. The anticipation was palpable, a living, breathing entity that filled the room.

As the music began, you mirrored the moves from his video, your movements a blend of elegance and playful energy. Laughter bubbled from your lips as you navigated the steps, your joy evident in every misstep and triumph. The way you tried to get the steps right, each attempt imbued with determination and delight, made the moment even more enchanting.

The audience erupted into cheers, their enthusiasm a resounding chorus that filled the studio. The host, ever supportive, joined in the encouragement, his voice adding to the lively atmosphere. Jungwon felt a surge of pride swell within him, a tidal wave of emotions that washed over him with an almost overwhelming force. 

He watched as you immersed yourself in the dance, your laughter and smiles a testament to the connection he had hoped to forge. Each move you made, every joyous exclamation, was a validation of his efforts and dreams. In that moment, Jungwon's world seemed to align perfectly, his passion and dedication shining through in the shared experience of his carefully crafted dance routine.

"This is really fun! Jungwon, you did a fantastic job with this choreography," you exclaimed, your voice slightly breathless but filled with genuine admiration. A rosy flush colored your cheeks, and a radiant smile spread across your face as you caught your breath. "I absolutely love it!"

Your words echoed in Jungwon's mind, each syllable a note in a symphony of validation and joy. He could feel his heart swell with pride, the sheer ecstasy of hearing you praise his work enveloping him like a warm embrace. The admiration in your eyes was a shimmering reflection of the effort and passion he had poured into creating the dance routine.

The host, beaming with delight, turned to address the audience. "Looks like Jungwon has a promising future in choreography!" he declared, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Thank you for sending in such a creative and entertaining challenge."

The applause that followed was thunderous, a wave of appreciation that seemed to lift Jungwon's spirits even higher. He could hardly believe that his creation had not only reached you but had also brought you joy and laughter. The host's words, echoing the sentiment of the moment, felt like a prophecy, a glimpse into a future where his passion for dance could lead to something extraordinary.

Jungwon's mind raced with possibilities, his imagination painting vivid pictures of what could come next. The dream he had nurtured in the quiet moments of practice and creation was now blossoming into reality, each cheer and clap a testament to his talent and hard work. The connection he felt in that instant, not just with you but with everyone who had witnessed the dance, was a beautiful tapestry woven from threads of admiration, creativity, and shared joy.

Jungwon couldn't contain his joy. The sight of you enjoying his challenge and hearing your praise felt like a dream come true. His heart swelled with an indescribable elation, and he quickly grabbed his phone, his fingers trembling with excitement. He posted a clip of the segment on his fan accounts, eager to share this incredible moment with his fellow fans. The response was immediate and overwhelming, a cascade of congratulatory messages and expressions of delight flooding his notifications.

The comments were a chorus of shared joy and admiration. Friends and fans alike marveled at the creativity of his challenge and celebrated the fact that it had been featured on the show. Jungwon felt a profound sense of connection, a bond strengthened by the collective excitement of the fandom. Each notification was a reminder that he was not alone in his admiration for you; he was part of a vibrant community that shared his passion.

As the show continued, his phone buzzed incessantly with messages from friends and fellow fans. The outpouring of support and shared enthusiasm was heartwarming, filling him with a deep sense of pride. Not only had his challenge been showcased, but it had also brought joy to you, making the moment all the more special. The realization that his creation had made an impact on you was a source of immense satisfaction and fulfillment.

Later that night, Jungwon found himself replaying the segment over and over. Each viewing brought a fresh wave of happiness, the smile on his face growing wider with every replay. The experience had exceeded his wildest hopes, igniting a newfound sense of inspiration within him. He felt a burning desire to continue creating, to keep pushing the boundaries of his passion and supporting you in any way he could.

The memory of watching you perform his challenge was a highlight of his journey as a fan, a luminous moment that he knew he would treasure forever. It was a testament to the power of dedication, creativity, and the unbreakable bond between an artist and their admirers. As he drifted off to sleep that night, the smile never left his face, and his heart was full of dreams for what the future might hold.

西村 力 ── NISHIMURA RIKI.

Riki sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor, the soft glow of his phone illuminating his eager face. His fingers trembled slightly as he clutched the device, heart pounding with a mix of disbelief and excitement. Just moments ago, a notification had appeared on the screen: you had reacted to the dance cover he had posted on TikTok. The realization felt almost surreal.

For weeks, Riki had dedicated countless hours to perfecting the choreography to one of your latest songs. Each movement had been carefully honed, every step imbued with his boundless energy and unwavering passion. The process had been a labor of love, a testament to his admiration for you and your artistry. 

Now, in the quiet sanctity of his room, he found himself confronted with the astonishing truth: his idol had seen his work. The walls around him seemed to pulse with the same rhythm that had driven his practice, as if sharing in his triumph. The air was thick with the echoes of his dedication, a tangible reminder of the countless nights spent rehearsing, perfecting, and dreaming.

As he sat there, the magnitude of the moment washed over him. It was as if the universe had conspired to align his efforts with a dream come true, a beacon of recognition shining brightly in his life. The world outside might have remained unchanged, but within the confines of his room, everything felt different—charged with possibility and the promise of what could be.

With a swift, almost reverent motion, he opened the app, his fingers dancing with a blend of urgency and anticipation. He navigated to your profile, each tap of the screen a deliberate step towards the moment he had been waiting for. There it was—a duet video that had emerged from the digital ether, a striking juxtaposition of his dance cover alongside your reaction.

As he tapped on the video, his heart quickened, a rhythmic drumbeat echoing his mounting excitement. The screen came alive with the vivid, familiar tableau of his own room, now transformed into a stage of personal significance. The opening notes of the song filled the space, the melody unfurling like a delicate ribbon, weaving through the air as he began the intricate routine he had labored over.

The choreography that had once been a solitary endeavor now pulsated with new life, accompanied by the visual testament of your response. Each movement he had practiced with meticulous care unfolded in harmony with your reactions, creating a seamless blend of artistry and acknowledgment. The scene was a breathtaking testament to his dedication, captured in the intimate setting of his room yet resonating with the grand significance of a dream realized.

As the video unfolded, you emerged on the split screen, your gaze fixed with a blend of concentration and admiration. The moment your eyes fell upon the opening moves, they widened in astonishment, and a radiant smile blossomed across your face. "Wow, Riki, you’re really good!" you exclaimed, your voice bubbling with genuine enthusiasm as you clapped your hands in appreciation.

Riki's heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of pride and joy. He watched, spellbound, as you attempted to mirror his moves, your own energetic efforts weaving through the choreography. The sincerity of your reaction was palpable, your infectious energy casting a warm glow over the video. As you struggled to keep pace with some of the more intricate steps, your laughter rang out, a melodious testament to your enjoyment.

"This is amazing!" you declared, your voice tinged with exhilaration. Your attempts to keep up with the more complicated segments were endearing, each misstep only adding to the charm of the moment. "You’ve got some serious skills," you added, the admiration in your tone leaving no doubt about the impact Riki’s performance had made.

As the video continued to play, your voice wove a tapestry of praise and encouragement, each word resonating with warmth and sincerity. Your genuine enthusiasm was evident in every comment you made, and the way you cheered him on with heartfelt fervor only heightened Riki's sense of disbelief. 

To see his idol reacting so positively, to hear you express admiration for his dance cover, was a dream realized beyond anything he had ever imagined. Each of your encouraging words was like a golden thread, stitching together the fabric of his hopes and aspirations. 

Riki felt a euphoric surge of joy and excitement, a bubbling elation that seemed to illuminate every corner of his being. It was as if every ounce of effort, every painstaking moment of practice had been acknowledged and celebrated by the very person he admired. The sense of validation that enveloped him was profound, a poignant reminder that his relentless dedication had truly borne fruit.

As the final frames of the video faded, Riki remained seated in a state of stunned reverence, his mind still reeling from the extraordinary moment. The room seemed to hold its breath as he absorbed the magnitude of what had just unfolded. It felt as though time itself had paused, allowing him to savor the profound significance of your reaction.

With a rush of excitement, he swiftly shared the duet on his own TikTok account. His fingers moved with a blend of urgency and care as he crafted a caption imbued with heartfelt gratitude, a testament to the overwhelming joy and appreciation he felt. 

Almost instantly, his phone began to buzz with a flurry of activity. Notifications erupted like a cascade of shooting stars, each one a glowing testament to the support and admiration pouring in from friends and fellow fans. Likes, comments, and messages flooded his screen, each one a vibrant expression of shared excitement and encouragement. The once-quiet room was now alive with the digital applause of those who celebrated his achievement alongside him.

Riki dedicated the remainder of the evening to a whirlwind of joy and celebration, his fingers dancing across the keyboard as he replied to the influx of comments and messages. Each notification was a burst of radiant support from the community, a testament to the genuine connection he felt with those who shared his excitement. His friends joined in the festivities, their enthusiasm mirroring his own, creating an atmosphere brimming with shared triumph.

The acknowledgment from you, his idol, filled him with an exhilarating sense of accomplishment. It was as though he had reached the pinnacle of a long-cherished dream, and the warmth of your appreciation deepened his admiration. He had always marveled at your talent and dedication from afar, but now, that admiration had evolved into something profoundly personal. The recognition you offered was a bridge between his passion and your artistry, and it made him feel as if he was floating on a cloud of euphoria.

Before retiring for the night, Riki watched the duet one final time. He immersed himself in the vivid moments of your reaction, savoring the way your eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and how your laughter seemed to dance along with the music. Each replay was a precious moment, a reminder of the incredible connection they had forged. This experience, etched into his memory like a cherished photograph, would be a beacon guiding his journey forward. The encounter with his idol had been a dream manifested into reality, and he eagerly anticipated the next chapter of his path, driven by the renewed vigor and passion it had ignited within him.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @d-dilemma (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @levi-09 @itjengirl @engentiny @clampclover @neos127 @jwonistic @mimisxs

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

hello, are requests still open? if so could i request how enhypen would be like as fanboys for idol reader? and if they somehow got noticed by reader like during a concert, fansign, etc

or is this request too similar to your recent enha x idol reader fic? (which was amazing btw!) if it is, i can send in a different one!

Hi! Yes, requests are still open! Please don’t ask me how the hell this one managed to reach 12.8K words — I honestly have no idea. I was just writing, minding my own business and then when I was finished I checked the word count and literally shocked myself, so sorry about that! I still hope you enjoy it!

I kinda had to take out the romance and leave it as Enhypen being the reader’s adorably dorky fanboys instead because otherwise it would’ve been a bit too similar to the request you were talking about, and anyway I felt like this version represented our experience as a fandom a lot better. BUT if you want something that's a bit more romantic and more well thought-out, you can pick a specific member of Enhypen to be the fanboy and I can delve a bit deeper into the whole Fanboy x Idol trope (please do, I have so many ideas but don't know which member to pick).

Also, thank you for enjoying my first Enhypen request, MADE FOR LOVING YOU! I’m still somewhat a bit of a baby Engene (I've really been following them on-and-off for about a year though they've consistently had me on a chokehold for the past few months) so I was nervous I wouldn’t be able to capture them well. You can request all you like, by the way! ── ( 𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 )

💻 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 💻

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ) 12.8k

💻 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( enhypen )

❛ In which you’re the idol and they’re your fanboys.

𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 12.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ You guys should know that I am a firm believer that these boys would be so dorky if they weren't idols — well, dorkier than they already are, honestly. This piece was requested by a lovely Anon! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! Please enjoy! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Y/N is an idol, the members of Enhypen are your fanboys finally getting you to acknowledge their existence one way or another, it's all just very cute honestly, Jungwon and Riki don't meet you in person but they still lose their minds over it, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

All of the members are found below the cut!

이희승 ── LEE HEESEUNG.

Heeseung sat at the edge of his bed, the dim light casting a gentle glow upon his contemplative figure. His fingers, delicate yet reverent, traced the edges of the well-worn scrapbook that lay open before him. This cherished volume, a tapestry of memories meticulously compiled over the years, held within its pages a mosaic of his unwavering admiration. It brimmed with a kaleidoscope of photographs, clippings, and handwritten notes, each piece meticulously documenting the journey of his favorite idol—none other than you.

He recalled the precise moment when his world had been irrevocably altered. It was on the eve of your debut, and there, amid the swirling anticipation and the haze of his youthful excitement, your voice had first reached his ears. It was a sound both ethereal and powerful, a melody that wove itself into the very fabric of his being. From that instant, Heeseung was ensnared by the magnetism of your presence. He had watched, spellbound, as you evolved from a burgeoning talent into a celebrated artist, each phase of your journey captured and immortalized within the pages of his scrapbook.

Tonight was imbued with a sense of magic and anticipation that seemed almost palpable. Heeseung, a dreamer in the truest sense, had finally managed to secure a coveted ticket to your fan meeting—a wish he had harbored fervently since the inception of his admiration for you. The moment was the culmination of countless hopes and whispered promises to himself.

As he navigated his way through the bustling streets toward the venue, his heart danced with a symphony of excitement and nervous energy. Each step felt like a step toward a long-awaited destiny, a convergence of past dreams and present reality. The evening air was crisp, carrying with it the faint murmur of fellow fans, their voices mingling in a harmonious chorus of shared anticipation.

Clutching his treasured scrapbook tightly, as though it were a talisman of his devotion, Heeseung took a steadying breath. The pages within were a testament to his journey alongside yours, a journey now culminating in this singular, momentous occasion. He joined the serpentine line of eager fans, each person a reflection of his own fervent longing, all awaiting the cherished moment when they would come face-to-face with you.

The room vibrated with a palpable energy, a living, breathing entity fueled by the collective enthusiasm of the gathered fans. Conversations swirled like a vibrant tapestry of shared experiences and heartfelt recollections, each voice contributing to the rich symphony of admiration that filled the air.

In this dynamic atmosphere, Heeseung, a seasoned devotee whose affection for you had long been unwavering, naturally assumed the role of storyteller. His presence was a comforting beacon for the newer fans, a guide through the labyrinth of your artistic journey. With an air of gentle authority, he began weaving tales of your early days, his voice imbued with a warmth that spoke of deep, personal connection.

He unfolded his beloved scrapbook with reverent care, revealing its pages one by one. Each page was a canvas of nostalgia, adorned with a mosaic of photos capturing the essence of your first performance, the raw, unguarded moments during concerts, and the newspaper clippings that chronicled your ascent to stardom. The images told a story of transformation and triumph, each snapshot a frozen moment of time that illustrated your remarkable rise. As Heeseung shared these treasures, his eyes sparkled with the joy of reminiscing, his words painting a vivid portrait of your evolution that captivated the newer fans, drawing them into the rich tapestry of your shared history.

When the moment arrived for Heeseung to finally meet you, his heart pounded with a fervent rhythm, echoing the excitement that surged through his veins. As he stepped forward, the world seemed to narrow down to the singular focus of your radiant presence.

You looked up from behind the table, your eyes brightening with a warm, welcoming smile that seemed to illuminate the room. The recognition in your gaze was immediate and profound, as your eyes fell upon the familiar scrapbook cradled in his hands. The tender acknowledgment in your expression conveyed an unspoken connection, bridging the gap between your storied past and this intimate, cherished encounter.

"Hello," Heeseung began, his voice carrying a steady confidence that belied the fluttering butterflies in his stomach. The words emerged with a sincere warmth, as if each syllable was carefully crafted to convey the depth of his feelings.

"I’m Heeseung," he continued, offering a small, genuine smile. "I’ve been a devoted fan since your very debut." His gaze lingered on you, revealing in his eyes the unwavering admiration and respect that had grown with each passing year.

Your eyes traveled over the scrapbook, a look of genuine awe and recognition crossing your face. The corners of your mouth lifted in an appreciative smile as you took the cherished book from Heeseung’s hands.

"Wow, Heeseung, this is truly incredible," you remarked, your voice infused with admiration. You began to gently turn the pages, each delicate motion revealing the meticulously curated moments of your journey. "You've captured every detail with such care," you continued, your fingers brushing over the images and notes. The sincerity in your tone spoke volumes, reflecting not only your gratitude but also the profound impact of his devotion.

Heeseung nodded, a proud and heartfelt smile unfolding across his face. The expression was a testament to his deep appreciation and respect for you, his admiration evident in every line of his features.

"You’ve been an immense source of inspiration to me," he began, his voice rich with emotion. "Witnessing your growth and the way you've triumphed over challenges has been a beacon of hope during my own difficult times. I wanted to ensure that other fans could share in that journey as well." His words carried the weight of genuine gratitude, reflecting the profound impact your perseverance and success had on his life.

You lifted your gaze from the scrapbook, your eyes meeting his with a depth of sincerity that spoke volumes. The warmth in your expression was a gentle reflection of the gratitude swelling within you.

"Thank you, Heeseung," you said softly, your voice imbued with heartfelt emotion. "Your support means more to me than words can express. It's dedicated fans like you who make all the effort and hard work truly worthwhile." The weight of your words hung in the air, a testament to the profound connection between an artist and the cherished individuals who help sustain their passion.

As you delicately signed your name on the scrapbook, Heeseung felt a surge of gratitude and profound fulfillment wash over him. The ink of your signature seemed to crystallize the moment, transforming his dreams into a tangible reality.

Meeting you and hearing those heartfelt words had surpassed even his most cherished aspirations. The realization that his steadfast support had made a meaningful impact on your journey was a treasure he would hold close to his heart. It was a moment of deep resonance, one that would linger with him as a cherished memory, a testament to the power of unwavering devotion and connection.

As Heeseung exited the venue, a radiant smile stretched across his face, one that seemed to capture the essence of his joy. The thrill of the evening lingered like a warm embrace, and he found himself buoyed by a sense of deep contentment.

He knew that his commitment to supporting you would remain steadfast, unwavering through every trial and triumph. The thought of sharing your story with new fans and enriching his cherished scrapbook with fresh memories filled him with a profound sense of purpose. The acknowledgment of his dedication had bestowed upon him a moment of rare significance—one that he would hold dear, a luminous beacon of inspiration to treasure for a lifetime.

박종성 ── PARK JONGSEONG.

Jay fidgeted with his earbuds, delicately positioning them as he allowed your music to wash over him, a soothing cascade of sound that enveloped his senses. The anticipation in the cool night air was palpable, a faint electric hum that seemed to dance through the crowd gathered outside the concert venue. Each note, each lyric was a comforting balm as he stood in line, his excitement palpable and nearly tangible.

He had waited for this night with bated breath, the days leading up to it marked with eager anticipation and a fervent excitement that had grown since he first secured his ticket. The prospect of witnessing your live performance was a thrill that had consumed him for months. Jay was not the kind of fan to lose himself in fervent adoration; rather, he embraced a more laid-back dedication. His passion manifested in the quiet diligence of streaming your songs and videos, ensuring that your place atop the charts remained steadfast.

His dedication went beyond mere listening; it extended to the art of maximizing streaming efforts. Jay found a certain joy in sharing his knowledge, guiding fellow fans on how to elevate their own streaming practices. For him, each play and each view was a small, yet significant tribute to your artistry, a testament to the role he played in the symphony of your success.

The anticipation in the crowd was almost electric, a current that seemed to weave through the throngs of eager fans, sparking whispers and hushed conversations. Jay, however, exuded an aura of tranquility, his outward calm a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that rippled around him. Beneath his serene exterior, his excitement simmered, a deep well of anticipation that kept him composed.

As the doors to the concert venue finally swung open, it was as if a collective breath was held, only to be released in a surge of movement. Jay stepped forward with purposeful strides, navigating the sea of enthusiastic fans until he reached his seat. It was perfectly positioned, offering an unobstructed view of the stage where the night’s magic would soon unfold.

The atmosphere inside was a palpable buzz of exhilaration, a harmonious blend of voices and laughter that filled the space with a symphony of excitement. Fans exchanged gleeful glances and shared snippets of their own anticipation, their voices blending into a crescendo of collective joy. The air was thick with the promise of the performance to come, and Jay, nestled in his prime spot, allowed himself to bask in the electric ambiance, savoring the moment before the music began.

As the lights in the arena dimmed, a hushed reverence fell over the crowd, a moment suspended in breathless anticipation. The first ethereal notes of your opening song began to ripple through the space, a delicate wave of sound that immediately swept Jay into its embrace. The thrill of excitement surged through him like a living pulse, a vibrant crescendo that was both exhilarating and profound.

Experiencing you live was a revelation, an intoxicating contrast to the solitary pleasure of streaming your videos at home. The raw energy of the performance, the sheer magnetism of your presence on stage, transformed the music into a living, breathing entity that resonated deep within him. Jay was no longer just a spectator; he was an integral part of the spectacle.

He became fully immersed in the experience, his voice blending seamlessly with the chorus of fellow fans, each note of the song drawing him further into the enchanting world you created. His lightstick, a beacon of glowing color, moved rhythmically in tandem with the sea of lights around him, a pulsating testament to the collective euphoria that enveloped the arena. The moment was a symphony of sight and sound, a vivid tapestry of emotions that made every second of the performance a cherished memory in the making.

Halfway through the concert, the rhythm of the performance paused, giving way to a moment of intimate connection between you and your audience. As you took a breath and glanced out across the sea of faces, your eyes shimmered with a depth of gratitude that seemed to light up the entire arena. The energy of the crowd seemed to pulse in response, a living, breathing testament to the bond you had forged with your fans.

You spoke to them with heartfelt sincerity, your voice imbued with warmth as you thanked everyone for their unwavering support. Each word you uttered was like a gentle caress, weaving through the crowd and touching each individual. Jay, standing amidst the throng, felt a profound swell of pride well up within him. It was a quiet but powerful emotion, knowing that his contributions, however modest, had played a role in this vibrant celebration of your success.

The moment was a delicate dance of appreciation and connection, a fleeting yet timeless exchange that made Jay's heart swell with a deep sense of fulfillment. In that instant, amidst the shared joy and collective euphoria, he felt an unspoken bond with you and the thousands of other fans who had gathered to share in the magic of the night.

As the concert approached its final moments, the air thickened with anticipation. You began to perform Jay’s favorite song, the one that had become the soundtrack to his own personal journey. As the first notes floated into the air, Jay closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the music. Each melody and lyric seemed to envelop him like a familiar embrace, resonating with the countless hours he had dedicated to streaming this very track.

The music wove through him, a rich tapestry of sound that stirred deep within his soul. It was as though every chord and rhythm had been crafted specifically for him, echoing the joy and dedication he had invested in following your career. The experience was transcendent, a moment of perfect harmony where time seemed to stand still.

When the song reached its crescendo and the final notes gently faded into silence, the crowd erupted in a fervent burst of applause, a collective roar of appreciation that reverberated through the arena. Jay's hands instinctively joined the chorus of clapping, his heart swelling with a profound sense of fulfillment and connection. In that shared moment of jubilation, surrounded by the vibrant energy of fellow fans, Jay felt an overwhelming surge of happiness, a bittersweet reminder of the magical night he had been fortunate to experience.

As the final encore drew to a close and the last notes of the evening faded into the night, the concert hall began to empty, a gradual exodus of reluctant fans leaving behind the echoes of an unforgettable performance. Jay, however, chose to linger, his steps slow and deliberate as he remained in his seat, unwilling to let the magic of the night slip away just yet. The atmosphere, still tinged with the residual glow of stage lights and the faint scent of excitement, seemed to pulse with a gentle reverence.

He took a deep breath, allowing the serenity of the moment to wash over him. For Jay, the night had been more than just an event; it was the culmination of countless hours of support, a testament to his unwavering dedication from afar. Seeing you live had transformed his abstract admiration into a vivid, tangible experience, a realization of the dreams he had quietly nurtured.

The concert had been a symphony of emotions, each moment a brushstroke on the canvas of his devotion. As he looked around at the now-emptying hall, the memories of the evening replayed in his mind like a cherished melody. Jay savored the lingering warmth of the night, a profound satisfaction settling in his heart as he reflected on the incredible journey that had brought him to this perfect, fleeting moment of connection.

As Jay made his way toward the exit, he cast a casual glance toward the stage door, where he noticed a small cluster of fans gathered with hopeful anticipation. Their presence was a quiet testament to the lingering magic of the night. Intrigued, he decided to join them, even though he held no grand expectations. The concert had already fulfilled him in ways he hadn’t imagined, and he was content to leave with the memories of the evening still fresh in his heart.

To his astonishment, the quiet buzz of conversation among the remaining fans was soon interrupted by a burst of excitement. You emerged from behind the stage door, a vision of warmth and grace amidst the dimly lit backdrop. Your face was illuminated by a radiant smile that seemed to capture the essence of the night’s enchantment. You waved at the gathered fans, your gesture a gentle acknowledgment of their unwavering support.

The scene was bathed in a soft, lingering light as you made your way towards the crowd, and Jay's heart skipped a beat. Seeing you in person, so close and so genuine, added a new layer of magic to the evening. The brief encounter, filled with your sincere appreciation and the shared joy of the fans, became a cherished epilogue to the night’s spectacular performance.

Jay's heart fluttered with a sudden surge of excitement as you made your way toward the group, each step drawing you closer in a cascade of anticipation. Your approach was deliberate and gracious, as you took the time to engage with each fan, your presence a radiant blend of warmth and genuine appreciation.

When you finally reached him, the moment seemed to stretch into a beautiful eternity. Jay fought to maintain his composure, though his nerves danced with barely contained enthusiasm. He managed a calm, albeit slightly tremulous, smile as he introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Jay,” he said, his voice steady but infused with an unmistakable hint of awe. “I’m—uh, I’m always streaming your songs and videos. Tonight was incredible.”

His words, though simple, were a heartfelt tribute to the night’s splendor. The sincerity in his tone mirrored the admiration he had carried for so long, and in that fleeting exchange, the distance between fan and artist dissolved into a shared moment of connection and reverence.

You beamed with a radiant smile that seemed to illuminate the space around you, your eyes sparkling with genuine warmth and gratitude. “Thank you, Jay,” you said, your voice soft yet filled with heartfelt sincerity. The words flowed effortlessly, each syllable a testament to the deep appreciation you felt.

Your gaze held a tender, almost ethereal quality as you continued, “I’m truly grateful for all the support. It means so much to know that you enjoy the music and that you’re willing to contribute in such a meaningful way.” The sincerity in your tone and the genuine light in your eyes conveyed a deep, personal connection, making Jay feel as though his dedication had not only been acknowledged but cherished. In that moment, the bond between artist and fan was beautifully reaffirmed, a shared appreciation that transcended words.

Jay felt a profound surge of warmth at your words, a gentle rush of emotion that enveloped him in a cocoon of happiness. The sincerity of your appreciation struck a deep chord within him, igniting a sense of fulfillment that radiated from his core.

“I’ll keep doing it,” he said, his voice imbued with a quiet but resolute determination. “Your music is honestly the best thing to ever happen.” Each word was carefully chosen, a heartfelt declaration of the impact your artistry had made on his life. His statement was not merely a tribute but a promise, a reflection of the deep connection he felt with your work and the unwavering commitment to continue supporting it with all his heart.

You nodded with a graceful, appreciative smile, the gesture accompanied by a soft, melodic giggle that seemed to carry the warmth of the evening. The sound was a delicate, playful note that danced in the air, a reflection of the genuine gratitude you felt.

“Thank you for everything, Jay,” you said, your voice imbued with a tender sincerity. The words flowed with a natural ease, each syllable a heartfelt acknowledgment of his unwavering support. In that moment, the exchange between you was a beautiful blend of appreciation and connection, a shared understanding that transcended the boundaries of the stage and reached into the heart of the evening’s magic.

As you gracefully moved on to greet the other fans, Jay was enveloped by a deep and resonant sense of fulfillment. The concert had been a spectacular crescendo, and the brief, heartfelt interaction with you had imbued the evening with an added dimension of personal significance. It was a reaffirmation of his unwavering commitment to supporting your music, a promise of loyalty and admiration that had been solidified in the warmth of your gratitude.

As he began his journey home, a contented smile lingered on his lips. He slipped his earbuds back in, the familiar comfort of the soft cushion against his ears a prelude to the solace he sought. With a gentle tap, he played your latest song, letting the melodies cascade through him. The music, already a cherished part of his life, now carried an even deeper resonance, enriched by the vivid memories of the night. Each note seemed to echo with the joy and connection he had experienced, weaving the evening’s magic into the very fabric of the music he held so dear.

심재윤 ── SIM JAEYUN.

Jake's phone erupted with a relentless flurry of notifications, its screen a tapestry of flashing icons and vibrating alerts. Each buzz was a herald of the burgeoning frenzy surrounding your latest release, a wildfire of excitement that spread across the digital expanse. His fan account, a veritable beacon of devotion, crackled with activity as the news of your new work ignited the fervor of your admirers.

In the realm of social media, Jake was a maestro, orchestrating a symphony of online enthusiasm with meticulous precision. His virtual domain was a haven of vibrant promotion, where he crafted elaborate posts to celebrate your artistry and engaged in fervent discussions to elevate your presence. He was a tireless guardian of your reputation, deftly defending you against any shadow of criticism that dared to cast itself upon your name.

Hours blurred into days as Jake immersed himself in the art of digital advocacy. He meticulously arranged streaming parties that thrummed with collective excitement and mobilized legions of supporters to cast their votes in your favor. Each moment spent was a testament to his unwavering commitment, as he channeled his energy into ensuring that your achievements resonated far and wide.

One serene afternoon, as Jake meandered through his social media feed with a sense of routine calm, a new notification flickered to life on his screen. It was an announcement for an exclusive contest, offering a coveted prize: a chance for fans to meet you in person and partake in a thrilling game during an upcoming interview. The message was a sparkling beacon amidst the digital noise, and Jake's heart leapt in his chest, racing with an exhilarating burst of anticipation.

With a sense of urgency and determination, Jake plunged into action. His fingers danced across the screen as he entered the contest, his movements fueled by a fervent hope and a deep-seated desire. The stakes were high, and he could almost envision the opportunity as if it were a tangible, glittering prize just within reach.

Not content to keep this golden chance to himself, Jake set about rallying his fellow fans with a fervent zeal. He shared the contest announcement across his fan accounts, crafting messages that bristled with enthusiasm and encouragement. His call to action was a clarion cry for participation, urging others to join in and seize the chance to connect with you, as he had. The air was electric with shared excitement, each notification a testament to the collective dream of meeting you in person.

A week later, Jake's phone rang with an unfamiliar number, its jarring ring cutting through the quietude of his day. With a flutter of nervous anticipation, he answered, his hand trembling slightly as he lifted the phone to his ear. On the other end, a voice, vibrant with uncontainable enthusiasm, greeted him with words that sent a shiver of disbelief and elation down his spine: he had won the contest.

The news was a cascade of joy that surged through Jake's veins, electrifying every fiber of his being. His heart pounded in a rhythm of pure exhilaration, and he struggled to hold back the flood of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. As he expressed his heartfelt gratitude to the caller, his mind raced with the thrilling possibilities that lay ahead.

Without a moment's hesitation, Jake rushed to share the incredible news with his online friends. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he crafted messages that crackled with infectious excitement, eager to spread the joy and invite them to revel in his triumph. The virtual space was soon abuzz with celebratory fervor, each message a ripple in the sea of shared elation, as Jake's news became a beacon of collective joy among his fellow fans.

On the day of the interview, Jake approached the studio with a heart that danced between nerves and exhilaration. Each step felt like a journey through a landscape of anticipation, the gravity of the moment settling over him like a shroud of shimmering possibility. Years of dedicated promotion and fervent support had led him to this threshold, and the weight of it all made his pulse quicken with a heady mix of excitement and trepidation.

As he entered the studio, the bustling environment greeted him with a warmth that was both soothing and energizing. The staff, their smiles genuine and eyes twinkling with camaraderie, enveloped him in a welcoming embrace. They guided him through the labyrinth of the studio, their voices imbued with the promise of an unforgettable experience.

Jake listened intently as they outlined the details of the segment, each word painting a vivid picture of what was to come. The centerpiece of the evening was a live game, an interactive moment where he would finally connect with you face-to-face. The thought of sharing this experience with you, after so many years of virtual connection, ignited a thrill within him, and he found himself eagerly anticipating the chance to step into this shared moment of excitement and connection.

As the interview commenced, Jake lingered on the sidelines, his heart thudding with the rhythmic urgency of a drum. Each beat seemed to echo the anticipation that hung palpably in the air. The studio's vibrant energy enveloped him, a whirlwind of lights and sounds that intensified his sense of expectation.

When the moment arrived and the host’s voice rang out, introducing him with a flourish, Jake drew a deep, steadying breath. With a resolve that masked his inner tumult, he stepped onto the set. The audience’s applause greeted him like a warm embrace, their clapping a chorus of encouragement that surged around him, amplifying the thrill of the moment. As he walked forward, the atmosphere crackled with an electric blend of excitement and nervous anticipation, each step bringing him closer to the realization of a long-held dream.

You turned towards him, your face illuminated by a radiant smile that seemed to light up the entire studio. The warmth and sincerity in your eyes made the moment feel suspended in time.

"Hi, Jake!" you greeted him with a cheerful exuberance, your voice carrying a melodic lilt that wrapped around him like a comforting embrace. "It's great to meet you," you continued, your words flowing effortlessly and imbued with genuine delight. The connection in that instant was electric, as if the years of virtual admiration had culminated in this shared, unforgettable moment.

Jake's smile, though brimming with excitement, was tempered with a careful composure. He met your gaze with a mixture of awe and admiration. "Hi," he said, his voice steady despite the flutter of nerves. "I’m a huge fan."

Your response was immediate and heartfelt, a genuine delight shining in your eyes. "Thank you so much for your support," you replied, your voice warm and sincere. "It means a lot." The simplicity of your words was underscored by the depth of emotion conveyed, and Jake felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and joy. In that exchange, the connection between fan and idol transcended the boundaries of screen and stage, becoming a shared moment of authentic appreciation.

The host's voice rang out, rich with enthusiasm as they outlined the rules of the game. It was a lively trivia challenge centered around your illustrious career, a test of knowledge designed to celebrate your achievements. Jake felt a surge of confidence, his pulse quickening with the thrill of the impending challenge. He had immersed himself in every detail of your journey, his knowledge deep and comprehensive.

As the game commenced, Jake's well-honed expertise began to shine through. Each answer he provided was delivered with the assurance of someone who had followed your career with unwavering devotion. Your laughter, bright and infectious, filled the air as you cheered him on. The joy and admiration in your eyes were unmistakable, and it was clear that his dedication and passion had left a lasting impression on you.

As the game drew to a close, Jake emerged victorious by a commanding margin, his triumph a testament to his fervent admiration and meticulous knowledge. The host’s voice rang out with genuine congratulations, the applause from the audience swelling like a wave of collective appreciation.

You stepped forward with a smile that radiated warmth and gratitude. In your hands, you held a signed album, its cover gleaming under the studio lights. As you presented it to Jake, your words flowed with heartfelt sincerity. "You're amazing, Jake," you said, your tone infused with genuine admiration. "Thank you for everything you do." The album, a tangible symbol of your appreciation, was a fitting end to a moment that celebrated both his dedication and your mutual connection.

Jake was overcome by a swell of emotion, his voice trembling slightly with sincerity. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his words imbued with a heartfelt promise. "I'll keep supporting you no matter what." The depth of his commitment was clear, a testament to his unwavering admiration.

As the interview concluded, a brief window of private time opened up between you. The studio, now quieter and more intimate, felt like a cocoon of shared experience. You turned to him with a radiant smile, your eyes sparkling with genuine delight. "I had a lot of fun playing with you, Jake," you said, your voice warm and infused with a touch of playful admiration. "I’m so impressed you beat me." Your words, spoken with genuine appreciation, underscored the camaraderie and connection that had blossomed between you during the game.

Jake’s laughter bubbled up with a sense of deep satisfaction, his heart swelling with fulfillment. "I may or may not run an account or two dedicated to you," he confessed, his voice tinged with playful secrecy. "You’re just such an inspiration for me." His cheeks flushed with a warm blush, a vivid testament to the joy and pride he felt in that moment.

Your smile broadened, radiating a glow of genuine warmth and appreciation. “I really appreciate you, Jake. So much,” you replied, your words like a soothing balm to his eager heart. The sincerity in your voice resonated deeply, making the moment even more memorable.

As Jake exited the studio, his heart brimmed with a sense of completeness. Meeting you had surpassed even his loftiest dreams, and the encounter had only fueled his devotion. With a renewed fervor, he prepared to champion your cause with even greater zeal. On his journey home, he crafted a heartfelt message for his fan accounts, pouring out his gratitude and enthusiasm. He shared the transformative experience with his fellow fans, encouraging them to support you with the same passion and dedication that had driven him all along.

박성훈 ── PARK SUNGHOON.

Sunghoon adjusted his jacket one last time, meticulously smoothing the fabric as he scrutinized his reflection in the mirror. The jacket, a masterpiece of sleek black with intricate embroidery, was a testament to your signature style from a recent performance that had left a lasting impression on him. Each stitch seemed to echo the haunting melodies of your music, weaving a connection between fashion and art that he found mesmerizing.

He had spent weeks scouring boutiques and online shops, determined to find a jacket that mirrored yours with precise accuracy. The search had been relentless, driven by a deep admiration for both your music and your fashion sense. To Sunghoon, this jacket was more than just an article of clothing; it was a symbol of his dedication and a tribute to the artistry he so deeply respected.

As he fastened the buttons, memories of countless nights spent streaming your songs and watching your performances flooded his mind. The rhythms and lyrics had become a part of him, ingrained in his soul after hours of listening on repeat. Each beat, each note, resonated within him until he could replay them perfectly in his head, as if your voice had become his own inner soundtrack.

The mirror reflected not just his image, but also the transformation he had undergone. In that moment, he wasn’t just Sunghoon; he was a reflection of the music and style that had inspired him, a living homage to the artist he revered. With a final, confident glance, he stepped out of his apartment, ready to carry the essence of your art into the world.

Today was a day unlike any other, a day that held the promise of a dream coming true. Sunghoon clutched the precious ticket to your fan meeting, the golden key to an encounter he had longed for. This rare opportunity to meet you in person set his heart racing with a thrilling blend of excitement and nervous anticipation.

As he made his way to the venue, each step felt charged with electricity. The cityscape blurred around him, the usual hum of life fading into the background as his mind focused solely on the upcoming moment. The fan meeting was more than an event; it was a chance to connect with the artist who had profoundly influenced his world.

In preparation for this special occasion, Sunghoon had meticulously crafted his appearance, choosing an outfit that echoed your style while reflecting his own dedication. Every detail, from the crisp lines of his tailored jacket to the subtle accessories, was selected with the hope of catching your eye. He had spent countless hours perfecting his look, ensuring that it embodied the essence of your artistic vision.

As he approached the venue, the reality of the moment began to sink in. The crowd of fans gathered outside shared his enthusiasm, their voices a chorus of shared admiration. But for Sunghoon, this experience was intensely personal. He felt a connection to you through your music and fashion, and today, he hoped to express that bond in person.

With each passing moment, the anticipation built, his heart pounding in rhythm with the excitement that filled the air. Sunghoon took a deep breath, ready to step into a world where his dreams and reality would collide, where the admiration he held in his heart would finally find its voice.

The venue buzzed with anticipation, a symphony of eager murmurs and shared excitement filling the air. Fans poured into the room, their faces alight with anticipation and joy. Sunghoon navigated through the sea of people, finally finding his seat amidst the throng. He glanced around, recognizing a few familiar faces from social media, their expressions mirroring his own eager anticipation. Yet, despite the familiar faces, his focus remained unwaveringly on the stage, where you would soon make your grand entrance.

The room seemed to pulse with collective energy, the excitement almost tangible as fans shared stories, laughter, and their mutual admiration for you. Sunghoon's heart beat in time with the buzz of the crowd, a rhythm that underscored his own fervent anticipation. He adjusted his jacket, a symbol of his dedication, feeling the fabric against his skin as a reminder of the momentous occasion.

As the lights dimmed and a hush fell over the crowd, the atmosphere thickened with anticipation. Every eye was trained on the stage, every breath held in unison. Then, the curtains parted, and you walked out, a vision of grace and warmth. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sound rising like a tidal wave, enveloping the room in a cascade of adoration.

Sunghoon felt his heart race, the thrill of the moment washing over him. He watched intently as you greeted the audience, your smile radiant and welcoming. The way you moved, the way you carried yourself, it was as if the essence of your music and persona had materialized before his eyes. Every gesture, every word, seemed to resonate deeply with the audience, binding them together in a shared moment of pure connection.

In that instant, as you stood on the stage, Sunghoon felt a profound sense of awe. This was the culmination of his admiration and dedication, a fleeting yet unforgettable moment where the distance between fan and artist dissolved, leaving only the magic of shared experience.

The fan meeting commenced with a lively Q&A session, the air brimming with curiosity and excitement as fans eagerly posed their questions. The room buzzed with the hum of conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter and applause. Following the Q&A, the atmosphere shifted into a more playful tone with interactive games, drawing the crowd even closer together in their shared joy.

As the event unfolded, Sunghoon's anticipation grew with each passing moment. The rhythm of activities seemed to accelerate, and before he knew it, his turn to meet you arrived, catching him off guard with its swiftness. Rising from his seat, he felt a wave of nervous energy course through him, his hands growing slightly clammy as he approached the stage.

With each step closer, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of excitement and nerves intertwining. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself, determined to make the most of this fleeting, yet precious moment. As he ascended the steps to the stage, the world around him seemed to blur, his focus narrowing solely on you.

When he finally stood before you, a breathless anticipation hung in the air. Your eyes lifted to meet his, and a spark of recognition danced within them. The moment your gaze settled on his jacket, your eyes lit up, a warm and genuine smile spreading across your face. The intricate embroidery and sleek design had not gone unnoticed, and the recognition in your eyes sent a thrill through Sunghoon.

The connection was instantaneous, a silent acknowledgment of his dedication and admiration. For Sunghoon, that single moment of recognition felt like a dream realized, a testament to the countless hours spent immersing himself in your music and style. The clammy hands and racing heart were now a backdrop to the profound sense of fulfillment and joy that filled him as he stood before you, basking in the shared glow of a moment that transcended the ordinary.

"Hi, I'm Sunghoon," he introduced himself, his voice carrying a blend of shyness and sincerity. A gentle smile played on his lips as he spoke, the culmination of his admiration and anticipation distilled into this single moment. "I've been a fan for a long time."

Your smile widened, radiating warmth and genuine delight as you leaned in, your eyes twinkling with interest. The closeness allowed you to take in the details of his meticulously chosen jacket. "Wow, Sunghoon," you exclaimed, admiration evident in your tone. "You look so handsome in that jacket! It looks exactly like the one I wore."

Your words were a balm to his nerves, each syllable like a note in a melody he had longed to hear. The recognition and praise in your eyes made his heart swell with a mixture of pride and elation. The jacket, which had become a symbol of his dedication, now served as a bridge between you, connecting his admiration to your artistry in a tangible way.

In that moment, the bustling room seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in a shared bubble of recognition and mutual appreciation. Sunghoon felt a surge of confidence, his earlier nervousness dissipating in the face of your kind words and warm demeanor. The shy smile on his lips grew, reflecting the joy that now filled his heart.

The exchange, though brief, was imbued with a depth of meaning that words alone could scarcely convey. It was a moment of connection, where fan and artist transcended their roles and met as individuals, each acknowledging the other's presence in a world where art and admiration intertwined.

Sunghoon felt a surge of pride swell within him, his earlier nervousness now replaced by a deep sense of connection. “Thank you. Your style is such an inspiration to me. And your music… I listen to it all the time,” he confessed, his voice brimming with genuine admiration.

You chuckled softly, a sound that resonated with warmth and sincerity. “I’m glad you enjoy it. Just make sure to take breaks so you don’t get sick of it, okay?” The gentle teasing in your tone was both comforting and endearing, bridging the gap between artist and admirer.

Sunghoon nodded, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. In that moment, he felt truly seen and understood. “I’ll try. It’s just that your music and style mean so much to me,” he said, his words carrying the weight of countless hours spent immersed in your art.

Reaching out, you patted his shoulder, a gesture of both kindness and acknowledgment. “I appreciate your dedication, Sunghoon. It really means a lot,” you said, your voice imbued with sincerity. The touch was light yet grounding, a tangible connection that left a lasting impression on his heart.

The exchange lingered in the air, a delicate interplay of words and emotions that transcended the ordinary. Sunghoon felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and fulfillment, knowing that his admiration had not only been recognized but also reciprocated. In this brief, beautifully profound moment, the lines between fan and artist blurred, leaving only the pure, unspoken understanding that art, in all its forms, had the power to connect souls.

As you took the photograph and began signing it, Sunghoon felt his nerves gradually settle, the initial flutter of anxiety giving way to a profound sense of calm. The interaction was unfolding in a way that felt far more personal and genuine than he had ever dared to imagine. Each stroke of your pen seemed to bridge the gap between your world and his, transforming a simple autograph into a cherished memory.

When you handed the photo back to him, your smile was radiant and reassuring. “Keep being awesome, Sunghoon,” you said warmly, your voice a soothing balm that enveloped him in a sense of belonging. “And keep sharing your outfits. I love seeing how fans interpret my style.”

The words resonated deeply within him, each syllable a testament to the bond that art and admiration had woven between you. Sunghoon’s heart swelled with a mix of pride and joy, knowing that his dedication and efforts had not only been acknowledged but celebrated. The photograph in his hands was now a symbol of this extraordinary moment, a tangible reminder of the connection that had blossomed between artist and fan.

In that fleeting yet profound exchange, Sunghoon felt seen, appreciated, and understood. Your encouragement was more than just a compliment; it was an affirmation of his own creative expression and a beacon of inspiration that would continue to guide him. As he looked into your eyes, he saw not just an idol, but a kindred spirit who valued and nurtured the shared love of art and fashion.

The room around them seemed to blur, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as the significance of the moment crystallized in his heart. Sunghoon knew that this encounter would remain etched in his memory, a beacon of light and inspiration that he would carry with him always. The photo, now imbued with your words and warmth, became a cherished memento of an experience that transcended the ordinary, leaving an indelible mark on his soul.

Sunghoon’s heart soared as he expressed his gratitude to you, his voice carrying the heartfelt sincerity of the moment. With a lingering glance back at the stage, he made his way down, feeling as though he were floating on a cloud. The rest of the fan meeting passed in a blur, a whirlwind of activities and emotions, yet the memory of your kind words and warm smile remained vivid and bright, etched into his mind like a cherished painting.

Leaving the venue, the night air felt crisp and refreshing, a perfect counterpoint to the warmth that still radiated within him. Sunghoon knew that his dedication had paid off in ways he had never imagined. The acknowledgment and connection he had felt were more profound than any fan could hope for, a true testament to the bond between artist and admirer.

That evening, with his heart still brimming with excitement, Sunghoon carefully composed a post for his social media. He shared a picture of his meticulously crafted outfit, capturing the essence of the jacket that had sparked your recognition. In his post, he recounted the experience, describing the magic of the fan meeting and encouraging other fans to keep supporting you with the same passion and dedication.

As he scrolled through the responses, he felt a renewed sense of connection, not only to your music and style but to you as a person. The fan meeting had given him a deeper appreciation for everything you did, a glimpse into the heart and soul behind the art he so admired. The comments from fellow fans created a tapestry of shared love and admiration, weaving a community bound by a mutual appreciation for your artistry.

Later, as he prepared for bed, Sunghoon queued up your latest song, a soft smile spreading across his face as the familiar melody filled the room. Each note seemed to shimmer with new meaning, each lyric resonating with the experiences of the day. Meeting you had infused everything with a fresh sense of wonder and excitement, rekindling his enthusiasm and deepening his connection to your work.

With the music playing softly in the background, he closed his eyes, feeling a profound sense of contentment. He knew he would never truly tire of your songs; each listen was a journey, a renewal of his unwavering dedication. As he drifted off to sleep, his dreams were filled with anticipation and curiosity, eager to see what you would create next. The fan meeting had not only been a moment of personal fulfillment but also a promise of continued inspiration and support, a testament to the enduring power of art and connection.

김선우 ── KIM SEONWOO.

Seonwoo sat at his desk, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest as he fixated on the countdown timer ticking away on his computer screen. Each passing second brought him closer to a moment he had long fantasized about: a fan call with you, his cherished idol. The anticipation was almost palpable, making the air in his room feel electric with excitement and nervous energy.

His room was a vivid testament to his unwavering devotion. The walls were adorned with an array of your posters, each one capturing a different facet of your career and beauty. Shelves brimming with signed and limited edition merchandise showcased his dedication; every item was a precious relic, carefully preserved and displayed. Even his computer bore evidence of his admiration, filled with meticulously organized folders of your photos, videos, and achievements. Each file represented countless hours spent curating a digital shrine to the person who inspired him most.

As the seconds dwindled, Seonwoo took a deep breath, his eyes wandering over the familiar, comforting chaos of his sanctuary. The posters seemed to smile down at him, offering silent encouragement. The room, once a mere collection of his interests, now felt like a sacred space where his dreams were about to intertwine with reality. His hands trembled slightly, the excitement almost too much to contain, but his spirit soared with the thought that in just a few moments, he would finally get to speak to you, the idol who had unknowingly shaped so much of his world.

When the timer finally struck zero, the screen shimmered to life, and there you were, as if emerging from a dream. Seonwoo's breath hitched in his throat, an almost palpable sensation of wonder coursing through him. Your face, illuminated by a soft, ethereal glow, appeared on the screen, your features radiating warmth and charm.

The sight of you—so vividly present in his world—was almost too incredible to fathom. Your smile, a gentle curve of happiness, seemed to bridge the gap between reality and his wildest fantasies. For a moment, Seonwoo was lost in the magic of it all, struggling to grasp that the person who had inspired his dreams was now smiling directly at him from the other side of the screen.

"Hi, Seonwoo!" you greeted him, your voice ringing with a vibrant cheerfulness that seemed to brighten the room. Your words, imbued with genuine warmth, carried a melodic lilt that made Seonwoo’s heart skip a beat. "It’s wonderful to finally meet you," you continued, your smile expanding to showcase a glimmer of sincerity that made the moment feel all the more magical.

Your presence, though mediated by the screen, was imbued with an inviting aura. The way you spoke, with a natural grace and enthusiasm, created an intimate connection that transcended the digital divide. For Seonwoo, it was as if the space between them had vanished, leaving only the heartfelt exchange and the thrill of meeting the person who had been a beacon of inspiration in his life.

Seonwoo took a deep breath, the weight of his nerves pressing heavily on his chest. He forced a smile, trying to steady the fluttering excitement within him. "Hi!" he managed, his voice a mix of awe and nervousness. "I can hardly believe this is actually happening."

His words tumbled out, tinged with a sincerity that matched the intensity of his feelings. "I'm such a huge fan," he continued, his gaze locked on you, as if trying to memorize every detail of the moment. The sheer enormity of the experience overwhelmed him, but the thrill of finally speaking with you, the person he had admired from afar, was an unforgettable rush that made every anxious flutter worth it.

Your smile broadened, becoming a radiant expression of genuine gratitude. "Thank you!" you said, your voice rich with warmth and sincerity. "I truly appreciate your support."

Your eyes sparkled with a sincere interest as you continued, "How are you doing?" The question was delivered with a gentle kindness that made Seonwoo feel as if your concern extended beyond the confines of the screen. The ease in your tone and the genuine curiosity in your gaze created an atmosphere of intimacy, making the moment feel remarkably personal and heartfelt.

"I'm great now," Seonwoo replied, his voice growing steadier as he began to relax. The initial tremor in his tone gave way to a more composed delivery, his excitement still palpable but softened by a newfound calm. 

"I've immersed myself in every detail of your career and your achievements," he continued, a trace of awe lingering in his words. "I’ve followed you since your debut, watching your journey unfold with a sense of wonder." The depth of his admiration was evident in his gaze, as if each memory of your milestones had woven itself into the fabric of his own life.

"Wow, that's truly amazing!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with heartfelt surprise. A look of genuine emotion softened your features, revealing just how deeply your fan’s dedication resonated with you. Your eyes shone with appreciation, as if the weight of Seonwoo’s unwavering support had touched something profoundly personal within you.

"Your dedication means so much to me," you continued, your tone brimming with warmth and gratitude. With a bright, curious glint in your eye, you leaned slightly forward, eager to engage. "So, what's your favorite song from my newest album?" The question was posed with an earnest interest, inviting Seonwoo to share in the joy of your latest work, and further deepening the bond between you.

Seonwoo's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, his expression lighting up as he spoke. "That's a tough choice," he admitted, his voice reflecting the depth of his admiration. "But if I had to choose, I think my favorite would have to be 'Eternal Echoes.'"

He paused for a moment, choosing his words with care, as if savoring the memories the song evoked. "The lyrics are so profoundly meaningful, each line woven with a resonance that touches the soul," he continued, his tone filled with reverence. "And the melody—it’s simply beautiful. It captivated me completely and struck a chord deep within, making it a song that I find myself returning to time and again."

You nodded with a radiant smile, your eyes alight with genuine pleasure. "I’m so glad to hear that you like 'Eternal Echoes,'" you said, your voice softening with a touch of nostalgia. "It’s actually one of my favorites as well."

A hint of emotion colored your tone as you continued, "I poured a lot of my heart into that song." Your words carried a sense of deep personal connection, as if sharing a piece of your soul through the melody and lyrics. The sincerity in your voice conveyed the dedication and passion you had invested, making the moment feel all the more intimate and special.

Seonwoo cast a thoughtful glance around his room, the vibrant tapestry of his admiration for you spread out before him. Each corner of the space held a cherished piece of memorabilia, a testament to his devotion. He carefully selected a signed album from a neatly organized shelf, its cover shimmering softly in the ambient light.

With a mixture of reverence and excitement, he held it up, his eyes gleaming with pride. "This," he said, his voice tinged with affection, "is one of my most prized possessions." He paused, his gaze lingering on the autograph, a tangible connection to the moment of joy when he had received it. "I was absolutely over the moon when I got your autograph. It felt like a dream come true."

You smiled warmly, a soft glow of genuine affection illuminating your features. "I’m truly glad that it means so much to you," you said, your voice imbued with heartfelt sincerity. The warmth of your smile seemed to envelop the space between you, bridging the gap with an emotional connection.

"It’s fans like you," you continued, your eyes reflecting deep appreciation, "who make everything worthwhile." Your words were a tender acknowledgment, as if you were sharing a secret about the profound impact that loyal supporters have on your journey. The sincerity in your tone and the genuine sparkle in your gaze conveyed just how much you valued the support, making the moment feel exceptionally personal and meaningful.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, like a gentle stream weaving through a lush, verdant landscape. Seonwoo, his initial nervousness now a distant memory, eagerly asked about your creative process, the spark of inspiration behind your work, and the favorite moments that had defined your career.

You listened with genuine interest, your eyes reflecting the depth of your engagement. Each question was met with thoughtful consideration, your answers weaving a tapestry of insights and stories. You spoke of the quiet moments when inspiration struck, the late nights spent perfecting lyrics, and the joyous occasions that had marked your journey. Your voice carried a melodic rhythm, drawing Seonwoo further into the enchanting world of your artistry.

As Seonwoo hung on to every word, his admiration grew even deeper. The exchange was more than just a conversation; it was a heartfelt connection. You expressed your gratitude for his unwavering support, acknowledging how fans like him fueled your passion and drive. The sincerity in your tone made each expression of thanks feel like a precious gift, further cementing the bond between artist and admirer.

As the call neared its end, Seonwoo felt a bittersweet blend of happiness and sadness wash over him. The joy of having spoken to you, his idol, was tempered by the wistful realization that this cherished moment was drawing to a close. His heart swelled with gratitude for the precious opportunity, yet he couldn't help but wish for just a bit more time.

"Thank you so much for this," Seonwoo said, his voice carrying a depth of emotion. "It means the world to me."

Your smile softened, imbued with a gentle warmth that seemed to reach through the screen. "Thank you, Seonwoo," you replied, your words sincere and heartfelt. "Your support and dedication are truly inspiring. Keep being awesome, and I'll keep doing my best for fans like you."

The sentiment lingered in the air, wrapping Seonwoo in a comforting embrace. As the screen dimmed and the call ended, he was left with a lasting impression of your kindness and authenticity, a memory he would treasure forever.

The screen slowly faded to black, and Seonwoo leaned back in his chair, a profound sense of fulfillment washing over him. The virtual meeting with you, even through a screen, had surpassed all his hopes and dreams. He felt a warm glow of contentment, knowing that his dedication had been recognized and appreciated. This acknowledgment fueled his passion, igniting a desire to continue supporting you in every way possible.

With his heart still brimming with emotion, Seonwoo turned to his fan accounts, his fingers dancing over the keyboard. He composed a heartfelt message, pouring out his gratitude and excitement. He shared the experience in vivid detail, recounting the precious moments and expressing his appreciation for the opportunity. The response from fellow fans was immediate and enthusiastic, their shared joy amplifying his own.

양정원 ── YANG JUNGWON.

Jungwon sat anxiously in his living room, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm against the arm of the couch. The soft glow of the television cast flickering shadows on the walls, heightening the anticipation that pulsed through him. Tonight was the night. His heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nerves as he kept his eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for the moment that could change everything.

The variety show, known for its lively and unpredictable content, was airing tonight's episode, and you were the guest star. For weeks, Jungwon had poured his heart and soul into creating the perfect video, meticulously crafting a fun and unique challenge for you to perform. He had spent countless hours brainstorming, filming, and editing, ensuring every detail was flawless. This wasn't just any video; it was a labor of love, a tribute to his admiration for you.

As one of your biggest fans, Jungwon knew every nuance of your career, every highlight and milestone. He admired your talent, your charisma, and the way you brought joy to your audience. This was his chance to connect with you in a way that went beyond the screen, to share a piece of himself and maybe, just maybe, catch your attention.

The minutes felt like hours as he waited, each passing second intensifying the knot of anticipation in his stomach. He imagined your reaction, the possibility of seeing you smile or laugh because of something he had created. The thought filled him with a warmth that chased away some of the nerves, replacing them with a hopeful excitement.

Finally, the moment arrived. The host announced the next segment, and Jungwon's video began to play. His breath caught in his throat as he watched, his heart racing with a blend of fear and exhilaration. This was it—the culmination of his efforts, his passion, and his dreams.

The show began with a burst of vibrant colors and lively music, the kind that set hearts racing with excitement. Jungwon's pulse quickened, each beat echoing the rhythm of the show's energetic theme. As the charismatic host took the stage, Jungwon's grip on the remote tightened, his knuckles turning white.

The host's voice, warm and enthusiastic, filled the room as he introduced the much-anticipated segment where fans could send in challenges for their favorite idols. This was the moment Jungwon had been waiting for, the culmination of weeks of effort and countless hours of perfecting his video. The possibility of his challenge being featured on the show was a dream he had nurtured with care and dedication.

Jungwon's eyes were glued to the screen, his breath coming in shallow, anxious bursts. The room seemed to shrink around him, narrowing his focus to the television as the first fan-submitted video played. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a palpable tension that thrummed through his veins. He could feel the weight of the moment, the delicate balance between hope and uncertainty.

As each video played, Jungwon's heart raced faster, a tumultuous mix of excitement and nervousness swirling within him. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of his own rapid heartbeat. The seconds stretched into what felt like hours, each one a step closer to the possibility of seeing his creation on the screen.

Finally, the host announced the next submission, and the screen flickered to life with a familiar scene. Jungwon's heart leaped into his throat as he recognized his own video, the one he had crafted with such care and passion. A wave of emotions crashed over him—relief, joy, and a renewed sense of anticipation. This was his moment, a chance to connect with his idol in a way he had always dreamed of.

"And now, we have a special challenge sent in by a dedicated fan named Jungwon," the host announced with a flourish, his voice resonating with enthusiasm. Jungwon's heart leaped at the sound of his name, a jolt of exhilaration electrifying his entire being. The moment he had been dreaming of was finally unfolding before his eyes.

The screen transitioned smoothly to his video, the familiar sight filling the room with a vibrant energy. Jungwon watched as his own face appeared on the screen, a mixture of excitement and nervousness visible in his eyes. He began to explain the challenge he had painstakingly crafted: a fun and quirky dance routine, a fusion of creativity and admiration. 

In the video, Jungwon's passion was palpable. His voice, steady yet brimming with enthusiasm, described the dance he had choreographed himself. He had meticulously blended some of your signature moves, the ones that had always captivated him, with innovative new steps he hoped you would enjoy. Each move was chosen with care, designed to showcase your unique style while adding a fresh twist that was distinctly his own.

The camera captured his fluid movements as he demonstrated the routine, each step a testament to his dedication and love for your art. He twirled and leaped with a grace that belied the hours of practice and refinement that had gone into perfecting the choreography. The music pulsed through the speakers, its rhythm aligning with the beat of his heart as he danced with abandon.

Jungwon's hope was that this dance, a heartfelt tribute to you, would not only bring a smile to your face but also forge a connection that transcended the screen. He had poured his soul into every movement, every transition, infusing the routine with his admiration and respect for your talent. As the video played on, he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and anticipation, knowing that his creation was now in your hands.

As the video began to play, Jungwon's gaze was locked on your reaction. Every subtle change in your expression was a new chapter in the unfolding narrative of his dreams. You leaned forward, eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and amusement that sent a thrill down his spine. "This looks interesting," you said, your smile radiant and infectious. The warmth in your voice was like a melody, and Jungwon's heart swelled with joy.

The camera captured your every move as you rose gracefully from your seat, your demeanor radiating excitement. You positioned yourself with an air of readiness, your body poised to dance. Jungwon could hardly contain his breath, his excitement mounting with each passing second. The anticipation was palpable, a living, breathing entity that filled the room.

As the music began, you mirrored the moves from his video, your movements a blend of elegance and playful energy. Laughter bubbled from your lips as you navigated the steps, your joy evident in every misstep and triumph. The way you tried to get the steps right, each attempt imbued with determination and delight, made the moment even more enchanting.

The audience erupted into cheers, their enthusiasm a resounding chorus that filled the studio. The host, ever supportive, joined in the encouragement, his voice adding to the lively atmosphere. Jungwon felt a surge of pride swell within him, a tidal wave of emotions that washed over him with an almost overwhelming force. 

He watched as you immersed yourself in the dance, your laughter and smiles a testament to the connection he had hoped to forge. Each move you made, every joyous exclamation, was a validation of his efforts and dreams. In that moment, Jungwon's world seemed to align perfectly, his passion and dedication shining through in the shared experience of his carefully crafted dance routine.

"This is really fun! Jungwon, you did a fantastic job with this choreography," you exclaimed, your voice slightly breathless but filled with genuine admiration. A rosy flush colored your cheeks, and a radiant smile spread across your face as you caught your breath. "I absolutely love it!"

Your words echoed in Jungwon's mind, each syllable a note in a symphony of validation and joy. He could feel his heart swell with pride, the sheer ecstasy of hearing you praise his work enveloping him like a warm embrace. The admiration in your eyes was a shimmering reflection of the effort and passion he had poured into creating the dance routine.

The host, beaming with delight, turned to address the audience. "Looks like Jungwon has a promising future in choreography!" he declared, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Thank you for sending in such a creative and entertaining challenge."

The applause that followed was thunderous, a wave of appreciation that seemed to lift Jungwon's spirits even higher. He could hardly believe that his creation had not only reached you but had also brought you joy and laughter. The host's words, echoing the sentiment of the moment, felt like a prophecy, a glimpse into a future where his passion for dance could lead to something extraordinary.

Jungwon's mind raced with possibilities, his imagination painting vivid pictures of what could come next. The dream he had nurtured in the quiet moments of practice and creation was now blossoming into reality, each cheer and clap a testament to his talent and hard work. The connection he felt in that instant, not just with you but with everyone who had witnessed the dance, was a beautiful tapestry woven from threads of admiration, creativity, and shared joy.

Jungwon couldn't contain his joy. The sight of you enjoying his challenge and hearing your praise felt like a dream come true. His heart swelled with an indescribable elation, and he quickly grabbed his phone, his fingers trembling with excitement. He posted a clip of the segment on his fan accounts, eager to share this incredible moment with his fellow fans. The response was immediate and overwhelming, a cascade of congratulatory messages and expressions of delight flooding his notifications.

The comments were a chorus of shared joy and admiration. Friends and fans alike marveled at the creativity of his challenge and celebrated the fact that it had been featured on the show. Jungwon felt a profound sense of connection, a bond strengthened by the collective excitement of the fandom. Each notification was a reminder that he was not alone in his admiration for you; he was part of a vibrant community that shared his passion.

As the show continued, his phone buzzed incessantly with messages from friends and fellow fans. The outpouring of support and shared enthusiasm was heartwarming, filling him with a deep sense of pride. Not only had his challenge been showcased, but it had also brought joy to you, making the moment all the more special. The realization that his creation had made an impact on you was a source of immense satisfaction and fulfillment.

Later that night, Jungwon found himself replaying the segment over and over. Each viewing brought a fresh wave of happiness, the smile on his face growing wider with every replay. The experience had exceeded his wildest hopes, igniting a newfound sense of inspiration within him. He felt a burning desire to continue creating, to keep pushing the boundaries of his passion and supporting you in any way he could.

The memory of watching you perform his challenge was a highlight of his journey as a fan, a luminous moment that he knew he would treasure forever. It was a testament to the power of dedication, creativity, and the unbreakable bond between an artist and their admirers. As he drifted off to sleep that night, the smile never left his face, and his heart was full of dreams for what the future might hold.

西村 力 ── NISHIMURA RIKI.

Riki sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor, the soft glow of his phone illuminating his eager face. His fingers trembled slightly as he clutched the device, heart pounding with a mix of disbelief and excitement. Just moments ago, a notification had appeared on the screen: you had reacted to the dance cover he had posted on TikTok. The realization felt almost surreal.

For weeks, Riki had dedicated countless hours to perfecting the choreography to one of your latest songs. Each movement had been carefully honed, every step imbued with his boundless energy and unwavering passion. The process had been a labor of love, a testament to his admiration for you and your artistry. 

Now, in the quiet sanctity of his room, he found himself confronted with the astonishing truth: his idol had seen his work. The walls around him seemed to pulse with the same rhythm that had driven his practice, as if sharing in his triumph. The air was thick with the echoes of his dedication, a tangible reminder of the countless nights spent rehearsing, perfecting, and dreaming.

As he sat there, the magnitude of the moment washed over him. It was as if the universe had conspired to align his efforts with a dream come true, a beacon of recognition shining brightly in his life. The world outside might have remained unchanged, but within the confines of his room, everything felt different—charged with possibility and the promise of what could be.

With a swift, almost reverent motion, he opened the app, his fingers dancing with a blend of urgency and anticipation. He navigated to your profile, each tap of the screen a deliberate step towards the moment he had been waiting for. There it was—a duet video that had emerged from the digital ether, a striking juxtaposition of his dance cover alongside your reaction.

As he tapped on the video, his heart quickened, a rhythmic drumbeat echoing his mounting excitement. The screen came alive with the vivid, familiar tableau of his own room, now transformed into a stage of personal significance. The opening notes of the song filled the space, the melody unfurling like a delicate ribbon, weaving through the air as he began the intricate routine he had labored over.

The choreography that had once been a solitary endeavor now pulsated with new life, accompanied by the visual testament of your response. Each movement he had practiced with meticulous care unfolded in harmony with your reactions, creating a seamless blend of artistry and acknowledgment. The scene was a breathtaking testament to his dedication, captured in the intimate setting of his room yet resonating with the grand significance of a dream realized.

As the video unfolded, you emerged on the split screen, your gaze fixed with a blend of concentration and admiration. The moment your eyes fell upon the opening moves, they widened in astonishment, and a radiant smile blossomed across your face. "Wow, Riki, you’re really good!" you exclaimed, your voice bubbling with genuine enthusiasm as you clapped your hands in appreciation.

Riki's heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of pride and joy. He watched, spellbound, as you attempted to mirror his moves, your own energetic efforts weaving through the choreography. The sincerity of your reaction was palpable, your infectious energy casting a warm glow over the video. As you struggled to keep pace with some of the more intricate steps, your laughter rang out, a melodious testament to your enjoyment.

"This is amazing!" you declared, your voice tinged with exhilaration. Your attempts to keep up with the more complicated segments were endearing, each misstep only adding to the charm of the moment. "You’ve got some serious skills," you added, the admiration in your tone leaving no doubt about the impact Riki’s performance had made.

As the video continued to play, your voice wove a tapestry of praise and encouragement, each word resonating with warmth and sincerity. Your genuine enthusiasm was evident in every comment you made, and the way you cheered him on with heartfelt fervor only heightened Riki's sense of disbelief. 

To see his idol reacting so positively, to hear you express admiration for his dance cover, was a dream realized beyond anything he had ever imagined. Each of your encouraging words was like a golden thread, stitching together the fabric of his hopes and aspirations. 

Riki felt a euphoric surge of joy and excitement, a bubbling elation that seemed to illuminate every corner of his being. It was as if every ounce of effort, every painstaking moment of practice had been acknowledged and celebrated by the very person he admired. The sense of validation that enveloped him was profound, a poignant reminder that his relentless dedication had truly borne fruit.

As the final frames of the video faded, Riki remained seated in a state of stunned reverence, his mind still reeling from the extraordinary moment. The room seemed to hold its breath as he absorbed the magnitude of what had just unfolded. It felt as though time itself had paused, allowing him to savor the profound significance of your reaction.

With a rush of excitement, he swiftly shared the duet on his own TikTok account. His fingers moved with a blend of urgency and care as he crafted a caption imbued with heartfelt gratitude, a testament to the overwhelming joy and appreciation he felt. 

Almost instantly, his phone began to buzz with a flurry of activity. Notifications erupted like a cascade of shooting stars, each one a glowing testament to the support and admiration pouring in from friends and fellow fans. Likes, comments, and messages flooded his screen, each one a vibrant expression of shared excitement and encouragement. The once-quiet room was now alive with the digital applause of those who celebrated his achievement alongside him.

Riki dedicated the remainder of the evening to a whirlwind of joy and celebration, his fingers dancing across the keyboard as he replied to the influx of comments and messages. Each notification was a burst of radiant support from the community, a testament to the genuine connection he felt with those who shared his excitement. His friends joined in the festivities, their enthusiasm mirroring his own, creating an atmosphere brimming with shared triumph.

The acknowledgment from you, his idol, filled him with an exhilarating sense of accomplishment. It was as though he had reached the pinnacle of a long-cherished dream, and the warmth of your appreciation deepened his admiration. He had always marveled at your talent and dedication from afar, but now, that admiration had evolved into something profoundly personal. The recognition you offered was a bridge between his passion and your artistry, and it made him feel as if he was floating on a cloud of euphoria.

Before retiring for the night, Riki watched the duet one final time. He immersed himself in the vivid moments of your reaction, savoring the way your eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and how your laughter seemed to dance along with the music. Each replay was a precious moment, a reminder of the incredible connection they had forged. This experience, etched into his memory like a cherished photograph, would be a beacon guiding his journey forward. The encounter with his idol had been a dream manifested into reality, and he eagerly anticipated the next chapter of his path, driven by the renewed vigor and passion it had ignited within him.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @d-dilemma (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @levi-09 @itjengirl @engentiny @clampclover @neos127 @jwonistic @mimisxs

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

The amount of love the teaser has received is insane! Thank you all so much! I’m so excited for this to be posted this Thursday, so stay tuned! The taglist for this post is still open by the way!

( 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 ): Release Date: August 8th

💻 LOOK UP TO YOU ( enhypen )

❛ In which you’re the idol and they’re your fanboys.

𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 12.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This was anonymously requested! Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Y/N is an idol, the members of Enhypen are not idols but they are your adorably dorky fanboys.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

Want to be alerted when I post this? Let me know in the comments so I can tag you!

You guys are insane (affectionate)! Thank you so much for all the love you’ve given this piece 🫶

──★ 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( enhypen )

❛ In which you’re the idol who somehow snatched the members of Enhypen’s heart at first sight.

𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 8.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! All of the members are found below the cut! Enjoy! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Love at first sight trope, Idol Y/N AU, inconsistent POV, whether Y/N is a solo artist or a member of a group varies from member to member, lots of mentions of being stressed with work, Y/N in Jake’s piece has some negative opinions on the HYBE company (which doesn’t reflect my own personal opinions), Y/N and Sunghoon are drunk together but it’s all pretty mild, meet-cutes for all members except for Jake — his is more of a one-sided enemies-to-lovers trope, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

이희승 ── LEE HEESEUNG.

An exhausted sigh brushed past Heeseung's lips as he trudged into the empty elevator of his company building. With his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, he leaned heavily against the cold, metallic railing at the back of the enclosed space. The hum of the elevator's ascent seemed to echo his own weary thoughts, a turbulent mix of pride and anxiety swirling in his mind. Images of the countless posters featuring his face, alongside those of his members, plastered all over town flashed before his eyes. Despite the pride he felt in the fanbase Enhypen had garnered since their debut, a gnawing fear tugged at his heart — a fear that after all the sacrifices made for this new comeback, it might still fall short of expectations.

Lost in his own tumultuous sea of thoughts, Heeseung was jolted back to reality by the sudden chime of the elevator, signaling its stop. The sound snapped him from his reverie, and as the doors opened, he stumbled out onto the wrong floor, colliding gently with someone exiting the opposite way. His face flushed with embarrassment as he muttered a hasty apology, realizing he had disembarked prematurely. Flustered, he shoved his arm between the closing doors to force them open again, avoiding eye contact with the stranger who had witnessed his blunder. The mortification deepened as he heard the soft, amused chuckle from the person he’d bumped into.

In the brief moment of awkward silence that followed, your melodic voice broke through, catching Heeseung’s attention. “Aren’t you one of the members of Enhypen? Heeseung, right?”

His gaze, which had been fixed on the floor in embarrassment, hesitantly lifted to meet your bright eyes. The connection felt electric, as if a spotlight had suddenly focused on you, illuminating the exquisite details of your face. Heeseung was struck by an overwhelming sense of awe, his heart racing as he tried to gather his thoughts. Unfortunately, his voice seemed to have abandoned him completely, leaving him with no words other than a timid nod.

The smile that graced your lips was like a burst of sunshine, sending Heeseung’s heart into a whirl. Your eyes sparkled with genuine excitement, and he could almost feel the warmth of your enthusiasm radiating towards him. It was a small yet endearing display of your excitement that tugged at his heartstrings.

“I honestly can’t believe I’m meeting you,” you said, your voice bubbling with unfiltered joy. “I’ve already listened to every song on your new album, Romance: Untold, and it’s truly amazing. My favorite is definitely ‘Moonstruck’ — I’ve had it on repeat so much that it might be considered a bit of an obsession.”

Heeseung managed to curl the corners of his lips into a shy grin, chuckling softly at the sight of your unrestrained praise. Though his mind was still blank and his ability to articulate a response seemed impaired, the sight of you raving about his work was heartening. You didn’t seem to mind, as you turned your attention back to the slowly descending elevator, which gave Heeseung a clear view of your slightly flushed cheeks.

Suddenly, a realization seemed to hit you, causing your eyes to widen in a mixture of panic and embarrassment. “Oh no, I hope you don’t think I’m just a weird fan who snuck in here! I’m actually one of the members of a new group that debuted a few months ago. I’m the eldest member, actually. Um, I’m Y/N.” Your once bold and outgoing demeanor gave way to a nervous, stammering apology as you quickly rattled off your introduction. Heeseung couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the sight of your flustered state easing his own tension.

As if sensing your discomfort, the elevator doors slid open with a familiar chime, allowing you to bow hurriedly before slipping out of the confined space. Heeseung, feeling a sudden surge of determination, followed you into the lobby. His hand reached out, gently grabbing your wrist and bringing you to a stop. The startled look on your face, accompanied by your crimson cheeks, made Heeseung’s heart race. The way your eyes gleamed with curiosity and surprise left him breathless, and he felt a rush of courage to keep you from walking away.

“I – I really appreciate you enjoying our album,” he blurted out, his voice trembling slightly. His eyes darted around, searching for the right words to extend the fleeting moment. “I’ll admit that I haven’t heard your music yet, but... um, if you’re free now, maybe we could grab a coffee? I’d love to hear more about your group and listen to your stuff.”

The transformation in your expression was instantaneous. The soft gasp that escaped your lips, combined with your shy nod of agreement, filled Heeseung with an exhilarating sense of relief and excitement. If the thread of his life had been cut at that moment, he would have died the happiest man on earth. Your smile, so bright and genuine, breathed new life into his day, turning a simple encounter into something extraordinary.

박종성 ── PARK JONGSEONG.

As the award show neared its conclusion, the atmosphere of genuine enjoyment gradually gave way to a palpable restlessness. Idols, exhausted from hours of watching performances and listening to repetitive acceptance speeches, were eager to leave.

Jay, seated among the sea of idols, found himself particularly conscious of the numerous cameras stationed around the venue. Each lens seemed to capture his every movement, broadcasting it to the fans watching from the comfort of their homes. Normally, he was accustomed to this constant scrutiny, but tonight felt different. The hours seemed to stretch interminably, and he watched as a parade of performers and winners he barely recognized took the stage.

His body ached from the relentless dance and vocal rehearsals leading up to their next comeback, the dull pain in his muscles a constant reminder of his exhaustion. Despite his best efforts to maintain a stoic expression for the sake of Engenes, Jay felt the strain, his neck twinging painfully with every attempt to relieve it.

The host, a familiar figure in a sharp suit, made his way to the center of the stage for the final time. Adjusting his tie with a practiced charm, he flashed a bright grin that could be seen even from the back rows. Jay barely registered the words as the emcee began his closing speech, his mind focused on the discomfort in his neck.

“What a night, what a night,” the host began, his voice tinged with rehearsed sentiment. “I can comfortably say that this will be an unforgettable evening for many — myself included.”

He paused, glancing around the audience with a knowing smile. “I know I’m supposed to end the night with a heartfelt speech, but we have one final surprise that I’m sure you’ll all enjoy — a special performance.”

Confusion rippled through the audience as murmurs filled the room. Jay furrowed his brows, intrigued yet weary.

“As you all know, there is a nationally beloved solo artist who has been on hiatus for seven months.” The anticipation in the room grew palpable. “Yes, you know exactly who I’m talking about! Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back our one and only — Y/N!”

The moment you stepped onto the stage, the audience erupted in applause and cheers. Your emotional grin barely concealed the tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming support. For Jay, the world seemed to collapse in on itself, leaving only the ethereal vision of you. The simple act of walking and smiling was enough to leave him breathless.

As you took your place at the center of the stage, the music began, and the cheers gradually quieted. Every discomfort Jay had felt moments ago vanished as he watched you raise the microphone to your lips, your eyes turning into crescent moons with your unwavering smile.

Your voice was enchanting, filling every corner of the stadium and striking the hearts of everyone present with its raw emotion. Jay was no exception. He was captivated by the intensity and beauty of your performance, feeling every note resonate deeply within him. As the final gentle notes faded, tears you had held back began to roll down your cheeks, ruining your makeup but enhancing your vulnerability.

The audience's applause was deafening, a testament to their love and admiration. Despite the chaos, your heart swelled with gratitude at the sight of so many people celebrating your return.

The award show faded into a distant memory as you found yourself surrounded by people offering heartfelt praise and excitement. Your cheeks ached from smiling, but the bliss of the moment was worth every second. Faces blurred together as you moved from one conversation to the next, each interaction a reminder of how much you were loved and missed.

Throughout it all, Jay watched you from a distance, his group members having long since left. He desperately wanted to approach you but felt intimidated by the constant stream of admirers. Eventually, he resigned himself to the idea that he might not get the chance to express how profoundly your performance had affected him. With a heavy heart, he signaled to his bodyguard that he was ready to leave.

Outside the stadium, the noise of the city offered a reprieve from the weight of his celebrity persona. Jay enjoyed the simple act of watching cars pass by, lost in thought. He didn’t notice you until you sighed contentedly and took the empty spot beside him.

“Pretty night,” you said softly, your voice tender and soothing. Jay turned to you, stunned into silence by your presence. The fluttering in his stomach intensified.

In an effort to compose himself, he looked back at the road. “You must be tired,” he said, trying to sound casual. “After so long away from the spotlight, I mean.”

You giggled, a sound that squeezed his heart. “Blissfully drained.”

Jay chuckled, stealing a quick glance at you before returning his gaze forward. The comfortable silence between you was enough, each moment charged with unspoken emotions.

“You know,” you began, “I watched your performance from the dressing room. I really enjoyed it.”

The blush that crept up Jay’s ears was immediate, followed by a shy smile. Your compliment left him feeling both flustered and elated. You turned away slightly, your own cheeks flushed.

Before Jay could respond, a black Cadillac pulled up in front of him, signaling it was time to leave. Panic set in as he realized he hadn’t said everything he wanted to. You, however, seemed unfazed, your confident smirk never wavering.

“May our paths cross once more,” you said with a warm smile, taking a step back and waving.

Jay watched you disappear into the night, your words echoing in his mind. He hoped fervently that this wouldn't be the last time he saw you.

심재윤 ── SIM JAEYUN.

Amidst the cacophony of angry voices clashing like a storm, your blood boiled at the pure entitlement of the people standing before you. You'd barely managed to set your bag down on the leather couch of the recording studio you had waited weeks to finally use when the door burst open, revealing the breathless mess of a manager responsible for some boy group you couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge. He claimed that there had been an error in the schedule for the room, that it was supposedly meant to be occupied by his group—never mind the fact that your name had been very clearly stated in the timesheet for weeks.

The sour taste on your tongue intensified as soon as you noticed a group of six boys hesitantly approaching the tense situation, led by a younger-looking boy with almost cartoonishly big doe eyes. His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher the not-so-clean words being exchanged between both teams. Letting your own manager handle the mess, you remained seated on the couch with your arms folded over your chest, hoping you'd be compensated for the reserved time you'd lost to this fiasco, though you were almost certain you wouldn't be.

Somehow maneuvering themselves around the strife, the newcomers entered the recording room, only to awkwardly stand before you as if expecting you to explain the situation. Despite your clear distaste, you let your hands fall limply onto your lap with a frustrated sigh.

"I reserved this room for today weeks ago," you said, the acidity in your tone unmistakable. None of the boys seemed too bothered by it as they continued to watch you intently. "Your manager, however, decided it would be a good idea to waste everyone's time by claiming there must have been some kind of oversight since apparently he also reserved this exact time for you guys."

"Uh, I think there might have really been a misunderstanding since we were also set to record here," Doe-Eyes responded quickly, glancing back towards his manager anxiously as if unsure of his own words. You couldn't help but scoff and roll your eyes.

Pulling your phone out of your back pocket, you didn't try to hide the incredulous shake of your head. Once you found the confirmation email you’d received upon booking the studio, you turned your screen so that all six boys could read. “Unless you also have an email similar to this— which, by the way, your manager has failed to show us instead of calling his boss—then I don’t think there’s really any room to call this a ‘misunderstanding’.”

Almost immediately, Doe-Eyes pulled his own phone out of the pocket of his hoodie, hurriedly scrolling through it while taking a seat a little further down the same couch you'd been glued to for the past twenty minutes. The rest of the members didn’t seem to have anything else to say as they either pursed their lips awkwardly or whispered amongst themselves, their furrowed brows signaling their own concerns about what it would mean for them if you were to keep the studio. And although you were confident that you and your team had done everything right, you were barely able to suppress your own fear of being left high and dry. It wasn’t uncommon for solo artists such as yourself to have no other alternative than to fight tooth and nail for fair treatment in an industry with a clear preference for boy groups like the ones present at the moment—and the company you were currently working for was really no different, as evidenced by the infuriating stories shared by the painfully sparse number of solo artists you’d met in this very building.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Doe-Eyes whipped his head around as though looking for someone. “Where’s Jake?”

The other members uselessly copied their friend’s action, shrugging silently. “I think he was talking with his mom on the phone when we left, but he said he wouldn’t be too long.”

Almost as if the act of voicing his name could summon him, a very disheveled seventh boy skidded to a halt behind the ongoing commotion taking place right outside the studio. His eyes widened in bewilderment as he processed the admittedly rare scene unfolding before him. His attention quickly shifted to the group of idols crowding the already confined space as one of the members waved at him to join them, a silent command that didn’t need to be repeated as he squeezed his way inside. Once he made it past the door, he hunched over breathlessly, a string of gibberish pouring out of his mouth as he tried to explain his tardiness—not a single word of it being even remotely comprehensible to you.

Ultimately, the boy’s excuses didn’t matter as everyone’s attention was drawn to the familiar authoritative figure who finally made his appearance (as requested by the boys’ manager) to solve the ridiculous dilemma, the typical severe expression etched onto his face. You tried to brush aside your rising anxiety to no avail, your leg subconsciously bouncing up and down.

While your mind raced with worst-case scenarios, Jake—the boy who’d just arrived—found himself stilled by the mere sight of you. Encircled by a heavenly bubble that seemed to drown out his surroundings, he found himself captivated by the worry tainting what he was positive would otherwise be the most heart-mangling pair of eyes he’d ever seen. Even with your entire essence emanating a mixture of irritation and anxiety, Jake was sure his eyes would never find anything or anyone that could compare to the profoundness of your beauty. He almost questioned if you were real, or if he had lost his sanity to a sweet hallucination, though he quickly pushed the idea out of his mind for fear of losing sight of you.

“Hi.” It was all that Jake could muster, hoping his heart wouldn’t suddenly stop when your weary eyes landed on him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

Several conflicting emotions passed through your face as you tried to make sense of the unexpected contrast between the serious situation and his dazed expression. In the end, all you could do was scoff nastily at his lack of ability to read the room, a reaction that still made Jake feel as though he could levitate since your simple acknowledgment of his existence was enough for him to obsess over for the rest of his lifetime.

The sight of the newcomer was almost ridiculous as you shifted in your seat almost uncomfortably, unable to understand what could possibly be going through his mind.

“Okay, let’s do this.” The authoritarian voice of your superior was enough to drag your attention away from the oddity of this boy. “Since Enhypen’s comeback is set at a sooner date, I suggest Y/N allow them to use the room first. I’ll be sure to postpone the reservations of the people meant to come here today or tomorrow. That is my final say on the matter.”

He raised his hand in a stern manner the moment he noticed you quickly jumping to your feet to argue, immediately shutting you up as your lips curled into a disgruntled snarl. Even though a part of you had predicted this outcome, you still couldn’t believe it as your eyes found the familiar pair belonging to your exhausted manager.

Since it was clear that you and your team had no other option but to pack up what little had been set up before this whole fiasco began, you begrudgingly snatched your bag to sling over your shoulder—though not before scowling in the boys’ direction, causing them to wince back. Except for Jake, who annoyingly remained in his spot, smiling stupidly at you.

Hours after being kicked out of your own appointment, you found yourself sitting alone under the shade of a large tree at a nearby park. Bitterness still possessed your heart despite coming here to calm yourself in the comforting alternative universe that only seemed to exist in this very spot, usually waiting for your return whenever life took a rough turn. Every other time, the gentle kisses of the wind against your skin, the delicious warmth that dwelled just under the surface of the ground, or the simple serenity that washed over your troubled mind as you listened to the natural melody of small animals and children playing would immediately comfort you. However, your little piece of paradise did not spare any mercy for you today. The chilly wind nipped at your reddened cheeks and nose, the ground beneath you was still moist from the light rain of the previous day, and all you could hear were the exhaustive sounds of distant traffic and the robotic voices of business people on their phones. Your little piece of paradise, your alternative universe hidden in plain sight, had become distressingly bleak.

You were just about to abandon your spot, the disappointment becoming overwhelming to the point of blurring your vision with unshed tears, when the sound of cautious footsteps from behind alerted you. Breath catching in your throat at the thought of what could possibly happen, you hoped whoever was approaching would just walk past and prove you to be foolishly paranoid.

“You hide well, Y/N.”

The sinister words unmistakably belonging to a man hung in the air, making you consider breaking into a run—or perhaps attempting to kick him in the knees to temporarily incapacitate him and give you more time to escape. A million thoughts stormed through your head as your heartbeat picked up.

“I’m sorry about what happened with the studio.” The specificity of the man’s apology made you pause. You noted that he had stopped moving, evidently standing just a foot or two away from you. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. “After you and your team left, I was finally told what went down, and I felt guilty. Obviously, you have every right to be upset considering your name was the only one that appeared to be scheduled.”

Only a moment passed before the owner of the mysterious voice stood before you, sporting a shy smile while holding a brown paper bag close to his chest. It was the boy who had arrived late to the recording session, the one with the dazed look in his eyes — the same one still present as he looked down at your sitting figure. His presence reignited the smoldering anger you’d managed to suppress over the past few hours. You didn't bother holding back the immediate glare directed at him, a glare that would have made anyone else shrink back. But he seemed unfazed, his smile only growing into a full, boyish grin that vaguely reminded you of a Golden Retriever, with an infectious warmth that was hard to ignore.

He stood there, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the bag crinkling slightly in his grip. His tousled hair caught the last rays of the setting sun, creating a halo effect around his head that softened his features. Despite your irritation, you couldn't help but notice the genuine innocence in his eyes, as if he truly had no intention of causing any harm — deep down, you were well aware that your anger was misdirected, though your pride didn’t let you back down.

“Anyway, I'm really sorry about earlier," he repeated, his voice gentle and sincere. "I know things got messed up, and it wasn’t fair to you."

The softness of his tone momentarily disarmed you, but you quickly remembered the frustration of being pushed aside. You folded your arms across your chest, maintaining your steely gaze. "It's not your fault, but that doesn't make it any less infuriating," you replied curtly, though a part of you felt a pang of guilt for being so harsh.

He nodded, understanding. "I get that. I really do. That's why I wanted to apologize properly." He held out the bag towards you, his eyes pleading for you to accept his peace offering.

You hesitated, your curiosity piqued despite yourself. Slowly, you reached for the bag, feeling the crinkle of the paper beneath your fingers. Peeking inside, you were met with a colorful assortment of convenience store sweets and chips. The sight was so unexpected that it momentarily broke through your anger, leaving you both surprised and amused.

“Hold on, what is this?” you asked, incredulous, pulling out a pack of sour candies and a bag of your favorite potato chips.

He lifted a shoulder into a half shrug, the motion causing his tousled hair to fall slightly over his forehead. A dark blush tinted the tips of his ears, standing out starkly against his pale skin. “I wasn’t really sure what you might like, so I got everything.”

You couldn't help but let out a disbelieving chuckle. The gesture was absurdly extravagant, almost comical, but undeniably thoughtful. Your gaze shifted from the bag to his face, taking in the earnestness in his eyes. The softness of his brown eyes, filled with a mix of anxiety and hope, caught you off guard. Despite the frustration and anger still simmering within you, the sincerity of his actions tugged at your heartstrings.

The gesture was ridiculous, you decided. But as your eyes finally locked with the softness of his brown ones, you couldn’t seem to ignore the swelling in your chest. The warmth of his gaze, combined with the blush that refused to leave his ears, chipped away at your resolve. A smile forced its way onto your lips despite your desire to maintain the angry mask.

“Well, I guess it’s a start,” you conceded, the corners of your mouth curling up despite your best efforts to remain stern.

He exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing over his features. “I’m really sorry about today. It wasn’t fair to you, and I wanted to make it right, even if just a little.”

You sighed, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders. “It’s not your fault. It’s just... this industry, you know?”

He nodded, understanding evident in his eyes. “Yeah, I get it. It can be tough. But hey, at least you’ve got some snacks now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound lightening the oppressive atmosphere that had settled around you. “True. Thanks for that.”

He grinned, the boyish smile returning and making him look even more endearing as he took a seat in front of you. “Anytime.”

As the two of you continued to talk, the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the park. The earlier tension seemed to dissipate, replaced by a tentative camaraderie that hinted at the possibility of something more. For the first time that day, you felt a glimmer of hope that things might just turn out okay.

박성훈 ── PARK SUNGHOON.

Under the soft glow of city lights and the gentle hum of midnight traffic, Sunghoon stood apprehensively at the entrance of a seemingly lavish apartment complex. The crumpled invitation from Jake was like a heavy weight in his pocket. An internal turmoil raged within him — whether to keep his promise to his friend and attend the gathering or to retreat to the comforting solitude of his bedroom. The flurry of potential outcomes made his head spin, leaving him frozen in place. He couldn’t help but notice the curious glances from the woman behind the front desk, her occasional head tilt suggesting she was trying to figure out what he was doing there, even as she returned her focus to her laptop.

Social gatherings had stopped being Sunghoon’s forte somewhere along the transition from his teenage years to his recent adulthood. Normally, he would have turned down Jake’s invitation without a second thought. But his mother’s worried voice echoed in his mind from their recent phone call, her concern palpable. “You used to have me worried sick every single night when you would go out to all these parties, and now you have me worried sick every night you tell me you’d rather isolate yourself in your room, love.”

Taking a deep breath, Sunghoon willed himself to move forward. The memory of his mother’s concern pushed him to break free from his self-imposed isolation. He finally pressed the buzzer, his heart racing. When the door clicked open, he stepped inside, feeling the unexpected warmth of the building wrap around him in a soothing manner. He sent Jake a quick text, letting him know he would be up in a minute or two.

The elevator ride to the top floor felt interminable, each second stretching out with mounting anxiety. When the doors slid open, he was met with Jake’s bright smile and slightly unfocused eyes. “You made it!” Jake exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug. Sunghoon managed a smile, the familiar comfort of his currently tipsy friend easing some of his nerves.

As they walked down the corridor towards your apartment, Jake’s enthusiastic chatter filled the air. He rattled on about everyone who’d made it, the music, the food, and all the games he’d missed. Sunghoon tried to absorb some of his friend’s excitement, though part of him still longed to retreat to the safety of his room. The door to your apartment was slightly ajar, and lively music and intoxicated laughter spilled out into the hallway.

Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting, with a soft, ambient glow from various lamps and candles. Sunghoon scanned the room, taking in the mix of vaguely familiar and unfamiliar faces. He was pleased to find only a small group present, just as Jake had promised. His eyes finally landed on you, who effortlessly commanded the room’s attention with a level of self-assurance Sunghoon could only yearn to achieve. As if sensing his eyes, you glanced in his direction, finally taking notice of their arrival before making your way over, a welcoming smile on your face that had Sunghoon’s stomach performing pirouettes.

“Jake, you’re back!” You cheered tipsily before focusing on the visibly anxious new guest, bowing as a polite greeting — an action immediately returned. “Is this the friend you told me about? Park Sunghoon?”

The way Sunghoon’s name rolled off your tongue with such sweetness had him reeling. Jake responded for him with an animated nod, slinging his arm around his friend’s shoulder despite being shorter.

“I’m very happy you were able to make it, Sunghoon!” You giggled lightly — a heavenly melody that tugged at Sunghoon’s erratic heart. “Please make yourself at home. There’s food and drinks over there,” you added, gesturing to a table laden with various treats.

As the evening progressed, Sunghoon found himself slowly relaxing, the initial tension easing away. Although he’d made the conscious decision not to consume any alcohol so that he would still be able to bring Jake and himself back home safely, he joined in the laughter, engaged in conversations with other idols, and sampled some of the food. Despite his initial reluctance, Sunghoon was beginning to enjoy himself.

During a lull in the conversations, Sunghoon found himself standing alone on the balcony, looking out over the city lights. The cool night air was a welcome respite from the warmth inside, and he took a moment to breathe deeply, savoring the tranquility. However, his head was tormented by thoughts of you as he almost obsessively replayed a mental film he’d recorded of you throughout the night, capturing candid scenes of you leaning against the wall while talking to one of your guests, sipping your drink between bursts of laughter, engaging in an impromptu dance competition with Jake, and the times he’d catch you watching him from the opposite side of the room with an unreadable expression before looking away timidly. These were memories he hoped to hold close to his heart even if the two of you never crossed paths again after this night. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear you approach until you stood beside him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” You spoke softly, eyes fixed on the glittering skyline. Sunghoon nodded, feeling an electrifying jolt rush through his veins at the unexpectedness of your company, followed by a strange sense of calm that soothed the fresh spike of his anxiety. The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a while — you simply enjoying the view, and him almost hearing the soft whirring of his mental camera as it recorded the moment for him to save.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” you eventually said, turning to face Sunghoon. There was something in your twinkling gaze that made Sunghoon’s heart skip a beat, an unspoken connection passing between you both.

“Me too,” Sunghoon replied, surprised to realize he meant it. As the two of you continued to talk, an unexpected warmth blossomed in his chest, sensing the creation of an unbreakable red thread that linked you to him. It was both thrilling and terrifying. For the first time in a long while, Sunghoon felt as though he was exactly where he was meant to be.

As the night wore on, the two of you found yourselves drifting away from the main party, your conversation deepening with each passing minute. You discovered shared interests and experiences, revealing parts of yourselves neither were usually eager to share with others. Sunghoon was captivated by the stories of your early days in the industry, the struggles and triumphs that mirrored his own journey.

There was a moment when the laughter died down, and the air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken words that neither of you was brave enough to voice out loud but both seemed to understand. Sunghoon looked into your eyes and felt a magnetic pull, an undeniable connection that made his heart race. He wondered if you felt it too, this strange and exhilarating sensation that was both new and familiar.

You broke the silence, voice soft and sincere. “You know, I’ve been where you are now. The isolation, the doubt…it can be overwhelming. But sometimes reaching out, even if it’s just for a night, can make all the difference. So I’m really glad you’re here tonight.”

Sunghoon nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “I didn’t expect to feel this way tonight,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, a warm and understanding expression that made Sunghoon’s heart flutter. “Neither did I,” you replied. “But I’m glad we both took the chance.”

The city lights continued to sparkle below you both, a silent witness to the beginning of something new. As the night drew to a close, Sunghoon knew that this had been more than just an ordinary gathering. It was the start of a bond that held the promise of something deeper, something that could change both of your lives forever.

김선우 ── KIM SEONWOO.

As the limousine pulled up to the grand entrance of the high-fashion show, Sunoo took a deep breath, steeling himself for the evening ahead. Being a part of a rapidly rising KPOP group, he was accustomed to the spotlight, but attending this event alone felt different. The opulent venue buzzed with the energy of the fashion elite, cameras flashing and voices blending into a hum of anticipation. 

Stepping out onto the red carpet, Sunoo was immediately enveloped by the dazzling lights and the flurry of activity. He straightened his impeccably tailored suit, aware of every eye on him. Yet, despite the familiar pressure, there was a unique thrill in the air tonight. As he prepared himself to move forward, his eyes were immediately drawn to a striking figure across from him — another idol, unknown to him, yet governing everyone’s attention with an effortless grace.

You strolled down the velvet red carpet, pausing every few steps to allow the photographers to capture the stunning design adorning your figure, which had been made especially for you. Your movements were fluid, each step exuding confidence and natural charm. As the ambassador for a rival brand, an impeccable aura of sophistication rolled off your skin with an ease that captivated Sunoo in an instant. The way the rays of the setting sun seemed to favor you, casting a perfect golden glow on your flawless features, made it impossible to look away.

Sunoo’s trance was disrupted by the heavy hand of the security guard who had kindly opened the limousine door a moment prior, silently urging him to make haste before the next celebrity arrived. He quickly gathered himself, offering a polite nod to the guard before making his way down the carpet. By the time Sunoo returned his gaze to where your mysterious essence had stood, he was surprised to find you already inside, leaving behind an air of secrecy that lingered in Sunoo’s mind.

Entering the grand hall, Sunoo was greeted by a sea of fashion icons, designers, and celebrities from all around the world mingling under the shimmering chandeliers. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the buzz of conversations and the clinking of champagne glasses. Yet, amidst the glamorous chaos, Sunoo’s thoughts kept drifting back to the enigmatic memory of you.

He navigated through the crowd, exchanging polite greetings and smiles, but his mind was elsewhere. The brief glimpse he had caught of you had sparked a curiosity he couldn’t shake as he found himself subconsciously searching for you. Who are you? What is your story? The questions swirled in Sunoo’s mind, adding a layer of intrigue to the already dazzling event.

As Sunoo settled into his seat, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. The runway came to life with models showcasing the latest collections, each piece more stunning than the last. But even as the fashion show unfolded before him, Sunoo found his eyes wandering to the rows opposite him, searching for that familiar face.

And then, there you were. You were seated just a few rows away, attention fixed on the runway. Sunoo took the opportunity to observe you more closely, noting the confident way you carried yourself, the subtle elegance in your every movement. There was something magnetic about you, a presence that drew Sunoo in and refused to let go.

The fashion show progressed, each segment more captivating than the last, but for Sunoo, the true highlight was the possibility of a single minute with you. As the final model strutted down the runway and the audience erupted into applause, Sunoo knew he had to find a way to introduce himself. This night, under the dazzling lights of the fashion elite, gave him the unmistakable sensation that it might mark the beginning of something extraordinary — such a thing being yourself.

Following the fashion show, Sunoo took a moment to collect himself. The applause gradually subsided, and the room buzzed with excited chatter as attendees began to mingle and move toward the reception area. Sunoo’s heart raced with a mix of anticipation and nerves as he scanned the crowd, seeking another glimpse of you.

The hall was now a swirl of elegant gowns, tailored suits, and sparkling jewelry, with everyone engaged in animated conversations regarding the slew of unique designs they’d just witnessed. Sunoo made his way through the throng, offering polite smiles and hasty bows while his thoughts remained fixated on you. He couldn’t shake the sense of urgency, the need to introduce himself and learn about you who had so effortlessly stolen his sanity.

As he approached the bar, Sunoo finally spotted you standing near a cluster of fashion executives and designers. You were engrossed in conversation, your laughter echoing like a melody above the hum of the crowd. Sunoo hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage before making his way toward you.

Just as he was about to reach you, a voice called out his name. He turned to see his brand’s creative director, a smile on her face as she beckoned him over. Sunoo’s heart sank slightly, but he knew that ignoring her was not an option. With a polite bow, he approached her, engaging in a brief yet lively discussion about the evening’s show and their brand’s latest collection.

As soon as the conversation reached its natural end, Sunoo didn’t waste a second to glance back to where you had been, only to find you had moved on. Panic set in, though he took a deep breath, determined not to let the opportunity slip away. He began to weave through the crowd once more, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

Finally, he spotted you near the entrance to a quieter lounge area, a serene space with plush seating and soft lighting. Sunoo made his way over, his steps quickening as he neared you. He paused just a few feet away, taking yet another deep breath to steady his nerves.

“Excuse me,” Sunoo said, his voice somehow calm yet tinged with an anticipation you didn’t miss. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his with a curious, welcoming gaze that weakened his knees. “I couldn’t help but notice you during the show. I’m Sunoo, from Enhypen. It is a true honor to meet you.”

A smile spread across your face, genuine and warm. “Hello, Sunoo. I am Y/N from SM Entertainment. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

The conversation flowed easily from there, a mix of introductions, shared experiences, and mutual admiration for the evening’s fashion showcase. As the night wore on, the initial spark of intense curiosity between you grew into a deeper attachment. The surrounding chatter and movement seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of conversation and laughter.

By the time the evening came to an end, Sunoo knew that the unignorable sense of tonight marking a thrilling new beginning had been correct. As you exchanged contact information and made plans to meet again, there was an unspoken understanding that this thread that linked the two of you, born under the dazzling lights of the fashion elite, held the promise of something truly special.

양정원 ── YANG JUNGWON.

It had been an excruciatingly long time since Jungwon had danced purely for the joy of it, even if he kept this yearning to himself. He was well-aware of the sacrifices demanded by his career when he first started as a trainee, and he would make that commitment again without hesitation. Yet, the craving for dance, like a dormant ember, flared up intermittently, refusing to be extinguished by the relentless demands of his life.

At the moment, Jungwon felt an urgent need to escape, a desperate desire to retreat into solitude where he could breathe without the relentless pressure of work bearing down on him. The large headphones that had pressed into his ears for the duration of the recording session now hung around his neck, heavy with the weight of his mounting frustration. As he watched the producing team, whom he had come to know through each Enhypen album, huddled in private discussion, he felt increasingly isolated. The mics were off, their muted voices blending into an unwelcoming silence that amplified his sense of failure. He had repeated the same lines over and over since he first entered, unable to capture the performance they sought. It was baffling why something that should be simple had become so exasperatingly complex.

After what felt like an eternity, the producers nodded curtly at each other, signaling their agreement. They turned to Jungwon through the subtly tinted glass, their faces betraying a hint of resignation.

“Jungwon,” one of them sighed into the microphone, the voice slightly distorted as it came through the speakers. “I think we should try again next Monday. Please take this time to rest.”

Disappointment pierced through him like a cold, sharp blade. He slumped his shoulders, his gaze dropping to the floor as he gave a solemn nod. Swiftly, he removed his headphones and gathered his belongings. The room was filled with pitiful smiles from the team, but Jungwon was too eager to escape to notice. The confined space was stifling, and he was desperate for freedom. As he trudged down the nearly vacant corridors of the company building, his frustration simmered, bubbling up like molten lava, searing through him with each step.

He searched his mind for a place where he could be alone. Going home was not an option with half his members there, their typical boisterousness far from the sanctuary he craved. Restaurants and coffee shops were possibilities, but he lacked the appetite for anything. And then, as if the universe had taken pity on him, memories of hours spent dancing alone in the company’s dance rooms flooded his mind. It was enough to redirect his aimless wanderings. He made a beeline for the elevator, his steps quickening as excitement surged through him, a welcome escape from the stifling environment. He reveled in the knowledge that no one would question his whereabouts, believing him to still be at the recording booth.

With his heart pounding a rhythm of genuine elation, everything around him blurred into insignificance as he focused solely on his destination. The seconds stretched painfully as he awaited the elevator doors to open. The tip of his tongue seemed to taste the sweet promise of freedom as he finally reached the end of the hall, where the rarely used dance room stood, its door a familiar friend in his moment of need.

Had Jungwon not been so absorbed in his whirlwind of emotions, he might have noticed the soft strains of music emanating from within. Instead, he burst into the room, breathless, only to find himself frozen by the sight before him. There, bathed in the warm, gentle light, was you—dancing with a grace that seemed to defy the ordinary.

You were lost in your world, every movement flowing effortlessly with the tender rhythm of the music. There were no goals to reach, no steps to follow—just a pure expression of emotion that dripped from your every move. You danced as if the weight of the world had melted away, a blissful freedom that Jungwon hadn’t felt in ages. Your dance was a vivid reminder of what it was meant to be before fame had ever touched his life.

To Jungwon, who stood silently by the door, watching in awe, you were completely absorbed in your own realm. The peaceful, contented look on your face made it clear that you were in a moment of serene solitude. He tried to retreat quietly, but stumbled over his own feet, causing you to stop abruptly and turn toward him with wide, startled eyes.

In that instant, the world seemed to collapse around you both, leaving only the connection between your eyes and his. The silence stretched, laden with awkwardness, and you were the first to look away. Jungwon’s heart sank, wishing he could lose himself in your eyes forever.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice tentative. “I was just finishing up. I’ll get my stuff and leave.”

The last thing Jungwon wanted was for you to leave in such a rush. He was overwhelmed by conflicting emotions—entranced, confused, dazed, distressed—but the most powerful feeling was the undeniable pull toward you. You, who had suddenly appeared in his world, who moved with effortless grace like a bird in flight, and who had given him the briefest of smiles that seemed to halt his heartbeat. You were an enigma he felt destined to connect with, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Before you could slip past him, Jungwon found himself instinctively reaching out, his hand landing gently on your shoulder. The contact elicited soft gasps of surprise from both of you. His eyes locked onto yours, desperately trying to savor every detail of your features. He realized there might never be enough time to fully appreciate your beauty, but all he wanted was a single minute to bask in your presence. He was acutely aware of his own vulnerability as the desire to remain near you replaced his previous yearning for solitude.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen someone dance the way you just did,” he said, his voice barely audible. The blush that colored your cheeks was all the confirmation he needed that you heard him.

“Oh,” you blinked, caught off guard. “Thank you.”

“If you’re not busy,” Jungwon continued, though he was unsure of where his words would lead, “please stay.”

You studied his face, searching for sincerity and intent. Perhaps it was the raw desperation in his brown eyes or the electric tingle of his touch that convinced you. Whatever it was, you decided to stay, offering him a shy but genuine smile. Your heart raced as you noticed the dimples that appeared on his cheeks, a sign of his radiant smile.

And so you stayed. What began as a moment stretched into hours, then weeks, and eventually a lifetime. In that dance room, amidst the echoing melodies and fleeting moments, something truly extraordinary was born.

西村 力 ── NISHIMURA RIKI.

In the bustling expanse of the airport lounge, the soft hum of conversations mingled with the distant announcements of flight departures provided a backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts in Ni-ki’s mind. Seated amongst  his fellow members, sought a fleeting moment of tranquility before their flight to Tokyo, the next stop on their concert tour. From such a young age, normalcy had been a distant concept, eclipsed by the relentless rush of performances and public appearances that left little room for peaceful introspection. The early morning departure had left them all groggy, their energy sapped by the unforgiving schedule that defined their lives.

Ni-ki leaned back in his seat, his eyes closing as he sought to capture a fleeting sense of peace amidst the chaos. The lounge, a hive of activity, was populated with travelers—some dozing off in their seats, others engrossed in their devices, and a few engaged in low murmurs of conversation. The atmosphere was a curious blend of anticipation and exhaustion, a microcosm of the frenetic life Ni-ki had come to know so well.

When Ni-ki opened his eyes, his gaze drifted across the room, taking in the varied faces of fellow travelers. His eyes settled on a vaguely recognizable group of young idols seated across the lounge, their presence unmistakable even amid the sea of people. Your group, though from a different agency, radiated a camaraderie and vibrant energy that felt oddly familiar. Among them, you stood out—a figure of serene poise amidst the lively chatter of your companions.

Ni-ki’s attention was drawn to you, his curiosity piqued by the quiet aura you exuded. There was a subtle grace in your demeanor that captivated him. You sat with large headphones covering your ears, occasionally glancing around the lounge as if seeking a moment of solitude amidst the bustling environment. Your hair fell gently over your eyes as you absentmindedly adjusted your oversized hoodie, a small, seemingly insignificant action that made you appear both approachable and endearingly shy.

Minutes stretched into an hour as you and Ni-ki waited for your respective flights. While his group members were absorbed in their own activities—some napping, others lost in games or music—Ni-ki found himself increasingly drawn to you. There was something magnetic about your presence, an unspoken allure that made his heart race each time your eyes briefly met. The pull he felt was inexplicable yet undeniable.

You possessed an effortless charm, a quiet confidence that set you apart from the crowd. Ni-ki found himself imagining what your voice might sound like, wondering what thoughts occupied your mind, and what music you might be listening to—all while grappling with his own doubts and shyness that held him back from approaching you. The mystery surrounding you only deepened Ni-ki’s fascination, turning mere curiosity into a profound longing to know more.

Across the lounge, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. At first, you thought it was a trick of your imagination, but the sensation persisted. Your sensitivity to the energy around you made Ni-ki’s gaze feel like a gentle but persistent tug. Despite your attempts to focus on your group’s animated conversation, your thoughts kept drifting back to the boy who seemed so captivated by you. You wondered what had caught his attention—was it your appearance? Clad in an oversized hoodie and leggings, with minimal makeup, you certainly didn't stand out in the traditional sense. Or was it your demeanor? You had done little more than sit quietly, attempting to conserve your energy and maintain a reserved presence. Though outwardly calm, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, adding to the enigma Ni-ki seemed drawn to.

Finally, a boarding announcement for a flight to Osaka broke Ni-ki’s reverie. He watched as your group began to gather their belongings, preparing to leave. A pang of disappointment struck him, realizing that his chance to approach you and strike up a conversation was slipping away. Just as he was about to redirect his attention back to his own group in a silent acceptance of defeat, he noticed you had lingered behind, your eyes meeting his for a brief, charged moment.

In that fleeting exchange, there was an unspoken connection, a shared understanding that transcended the chaos surrounding you both. You offered a small, almost shy smile before rejoining your group, leaving Ni-ki with a lingering sense of anticipation and curiosity. The way your eyes had held his, as if conveying a silent message, made his heart flutter with a strange, exhilarating hope.

As you followed your group to the boarding gate, you couldn't shake the feeling of Ni-ki’s eyes lingering on you. It was both thrilling and unnerving, sparking a curiosity of your own. In the subtlest way possible, you stole one last glance over your shoulder, finding Ni-ki still watching with an intensity that made your heart race. You smiled to yourself, wondering if fate might bring the two of you together again in the near future.

As you and your group disappeared through the boarding gate, Ni-ki was left contemplating the possibility of your paths crossing again—perhaps amidst the vibrant streets of Tokyo or in the backstage corridors of a concert venue. The brief interaction had left an indelible mark on him, a spark that refused to be extinguished by the routine of his life. Settling back into his seat, Ni-ki’s thoughts drifted back to you, imagining potential conversations, shared laughter, and the possibility of a burgeoning friendship—or hopefully something more—that could blossom in the most unexpected of places.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ My permanent taglist is open!

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @llvrhee @d-dilemma

🫙 LEAVE A TIP? 🫙

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

( 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 ): Release Date: Posted!

💻 LOOK UP TO YOU ( enhypen )

❛ In which you’re the idol and they’re your fanboys.

𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 12.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This was anonymously requested! Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Y/N is an idol, the members of Enhypen are not idols but they are your adorably dorky fanboys.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

Want to be alerted when I post this? Let me know in the comments so I can tag you!

──★ 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( enhypen )

❛ In which you’re the idol who somehow snatched the members of Enhypen’s heart at first sight.

𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 8.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! All of the members are found below the cut! Enjoy! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Love at first sight trope, Idol Y/N AU, inconsistent POV, whether Y/N is a solo artist or a member of a group varies from member to member, lots of mentions of being stressed with work, Y/N in Jake’s piece has some negative opinions on the HYBE company (which doesn’t reflect my own personal opinions), Y/N and Sunghoon are drunk together but it’s all pretty mild, meet-cutes for all members except for Jake — his is more of a one-sided enemies-to-lovers trope, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

이희승 ── LEE HEESEUNG.

An exhausted sigh brushed past Heeseung's lips as he trudged into the empty elevator of his company building. With his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, he leaned heavily against the cold, metallic railing at the back of the enclosed space. The hum of the elevator's ascent seemed to echo his own weary thoughts, a turbulent mix of pride and anxiety swirling in his mind. Images of the countless posters featuring his face, alongside those of his members, plastered all over town flashed before his eyes. Despite the pride he felt in the fanbase Enhypen had garnered since their debut, a gnawing fear tugged at his heart — a fear that after all the sacrifices made for this new comeback, it might still fall short of expectations.

Lost in his own tumultuous sea of thoughts, Heeseung was jolted back to reality by the sudden chime of the elevator, signaling its stop. The sound snapped him from his reverie, and as the doors opened, he stumbled out onto the wrong floor, colliding gently with someone exiting the opposite way. His face flushed with embarrassment as he muttered a hasty apology, realizing he had disembarked prematurely. Flustered, he shoved his arm between the closing doors to force them open again, avoiding eye contact with the stranger who had witnessed his blunder. The mortification deepened as he heard the soft, amused chuckle from the person he’d bumped into.

In the brief moment of awkward silence that followed, your melodic voice broke through, catching Heeseung’s attention. “Aren’t you one of the members of Enhypen? Heeseung, right?”

His gaze, which had been fixed on the floor in embarrassment, hesitantly lifted to meet your bright eyes. The connection felt electric, as if a spotlight had suddenly focused on you, illuminating the exquisite details of your face. Heeseung was struck by an overwhelming sense of awe, his heart racing as he tried to gather his thoughts. Unfortunately, his voice seemed to have abandoned him completely, leaving him with no words other than a timid nod.

The smile that graced your lips was like a burst of sunshine, sending Heeseung’s heart into a whirl. Your eyes sparkled with genuine excitement, and he could almost feel the warmth of your enthusiasm radiating towards him. It was a small yet endearing display of your excitement that tugged at his heartstrings.

“I honestly can’t believe I’m meeting you,” you said, your voice bubbling with unfiltered joy. “I’ve already listened to every song on your new album, Romance: Untold, and it’s truly amazing. My favorite is definitely ‘Moonstruck’ — I’ve had it on repeat so much that it might be considered a bit of an obsession.”

Heeseung managed to curl the corners of his lips into a shy grin, chuckling softly at the sight of your unrestrained praise. Though his mind was still blank and his ability to articulate a response seemed impaired, the sight of you raving about his work was heartening. You didn’t seem to mind, as you turned your attention back to the slowly descending elevator, which gave Heeseung a clear view of your slightly flushed cheeks.

Suddenly, a realization seemed to hit you, causing your eyes to widen in a mixture of panic and embarrassment. “Oh no, I hope you don’t think I’m just a weird fan who snuck in here! I’m actually one of the members of a new group that debuted a few months ago. I’m the eldest member, actually. Um, I’m Y/N.” Your once bold and outgoing demeanor gave way to a nervous, stammering apology as you quickly rattled off your introduction. Heeseung couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the sight of your flustered state easing his own tension.

As if sensing your discomfort, the elevator doors slid open with a familiar chime, allowing you to bow hurriedly before slipping out of the confined space. Heeseung, feeling a sudden surge of determination, followed you into the lobby. His hand reached out, gently grabbing your wrist and bringing you to a stop. The startled look on your face, accompanied by your crimson cheeks, made Heeseung’s heart race. The way your eyes gleamed with curiosity and surprise left him breathless, and he felt a rush of courage to keep you from walking away.

“I – I really appreciate you enjoying our album,” he blurted out, his voice trembling slightly. His eyes darted around, searching for the right words to extend the fleeting moment. “I’ll admit that I haven’t heard your music yet, but... um, if you’re free now, maybe we could grab a coffee? I’d love to hear more about your group and listen to your stuff.”

The transformation in your expression was instantaneous. The soft gasp that escaped your lips, combined with your shy nod of agreement, filled Heeseung with an exhilarating sense of relief and excitement. If the thread of his life had been cut at that moment, he would have died the happiest man on earth. Your smile, so bright and genuine, breathed new life into his day, turning a simple encounter into something extraordinary.

박종성 ── PARK JONGSEONG.

As the award show neared its conclusion, the atmosphere of genuine enjoyment gradually gave way to a palpable restlessness. Idols, exhausted from hours of watching performances and listening to repetitive acceptance speeches, were eager to leave.

Jay, seated among the sea of idols, found himself particularly conscious of the numerous cameras stationed around the venue. Each lens seemed to capture his every movement, broadcasting it to the fans watching from the comfort of their homes. Normally, he was accustomed to this constant scrutiny, but tonight felt different. The hours seemed to stretch interminably, and he watched as a parade of performers and winners he barely recognized took the stage.

His body ached from the relentless dance and vocal rehearsals leading up to their next comeback, the dull pain in his muscles a constant reminder of his exhaustion. Despite his best efforts to maintain a stoic expression for the sake of Engenes, Jay felt the strain, his neck twinging painfully with every attempt to relieve it.

The host, a familiar figure in a sharp suit, made his way to the center of the stage for the final time. Adjusting his tie with a practiced charm, he flashed a bright grin that could be seen even from the back rows. Jay barely registered the words as the emcee began his closing speech, his mind focused on the discomfort in his neck.

“What a night, what a night,” the host began, his voice tinged with rehearsed sentiment. “I can comfortably say that this will be an unforgettable evening for many — myself included.”

He paused, glancing around the audience with a knowing smile. “I know I’m supposed to end the night with a heartfelt speech, but we have one final surprise that I’m sure you’ll all enjoy — a special performance.”

Confusion rippled through the audience as murmurs filled the room. Jay furrowed his brows, intrigued yet weary.

“As you all know, there is a nationally beloved solo artist who has been on hiatus for seven months.” The anticipation in the room grew palpable. “Yes, you know exactly who I’m talking about! Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back our one and only — Y/N!”

The moment you stepped onto the stage, the audience erupted in applause and cheers. Your emotional grin barely concealed the tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming support. For Jay, the world seemed to collapse in on itself, leaving only the ethereal vision of you. The simple act of walking and smiling was enough to leave him breathless.

As you took your place at the center of the stage, the music began, and the cheers gradually quieted. Every discomfort Jay had felt moments ago vanished as he watched you raise the microphone to your lips, your eyes turning into crescent moons with your unwavering smile.

Your voice was enchanting, filling every corner of the stadium and striking the hearts of everyone present with its raw emotion. Jay was no exception. He was captivated by the intensity and beauty of your performance, feeling every note resonate deeply within him. As the final gentle notes faded, tears you had held back began to roll down your cheeks, ruining your makeup but enhancing your vulnerability.

The audience's applause was deafening, a testament to their love and admiration. Despite the chaos, your heart swelled with gratitude at the sight of so many people celebrating your return.

The award show faded into a distant memory as you found yourself surrounded by people offering heartfelt praise and excitement. Your cheeks ached from smiling, but the bliss of the moment was worth every second. Faces blurred together as you moved from one conversation to the next, each interaction a reminder of how much you were loved and missed.

Throughout it all, Jay watched you from a distance, his group members having long since left. He desperately wanted to approach you but felt intimidated by the constant stream of admirers. Eventually, he resigned himself to the idea that he might not get the chance to express how profoundly your performance had affected him. With a heavy heart, he signaled to his bodyguard that he was ready to leave.

Outside the stadium, the noise of the city offered a reprieve from the weight of his celebrity persona. Jay enjoyed the simple act of watching cars pass by, lost in thought. He didn’t notice you until you sighed contentedly and took the empty spot beside him.

“Pretty night,” you said softly, your voice tender and soothing. Jay turned to you, stunned into silence by your presence. The fluttering in his stomach intensified.

In an effort to compose himself, he looked back at the road. “You must be tired,” he said, trying to sound casual. “After so long away from the spotlight, I mean.”

You giggled, a sound that squeezed his heart. “Blissfully drained.”

Jay chuckled, stealing a quick glance at you before returning his gaze forward. The comfortable silence between you was enough, each moment charged with unspoken emotions.

“You know,” you began, “I watched your performance from the dressing room. I really enjoyed it.”

The blush that crept up Jay’s ears was immediate, followed by a shy smile. Your compliment left him feeling both flustered and elated. You turned away slightly, your own cheeks flushed.

Before Jay could respond, a black Cadillac pulled up in front of him, signaling it was time to leave. Panic set in as he realized he hadn’t said everything he wanted to. You, however, seemed unfazed, your confident smirk never wavering.

“May our paths cross once more,” you said with a warm smile, taking a step back and waving.

Jay watched you disappear into the night, your words echoing in his mind. He hoped fervently that this wouldn't be the last time he saw you.

심재윤 ── SIM JAEYUN.

Amidst the cacophony of angry voices clashing like a storm, your blood boiled at the pure entitlement of the people standing before you. You'd barely managed to set your bag down on the leather couch of the recording studio you had waited weeks to finally use when the door burst open, revealing the breathless mess of a manager responsible for some boy group you couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge. He claimed that there had been an error in the schedule for the room, that it was supposedly meant to be occupied by his group—never mind the fact that your name had been very clearly stated in the timesheet for weeks.

The sour taste on your tongue intensified as soon as you noticed a group of six boys hesitantly approaching the tense situation, led by a younger-looking boy with almost cartoonishly big doe eyes. His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher the not-so-clean words being exchanged between both teams. Letting your own manager handle the mess, you remained seated on the couch with your arms folded over your chest, hoping you'd be compensated for the reserved time you'd lost to this fiasco, though you were almost certain you wouldn't be.

Somehow maneuvering themselves around the strife, the newcomers entered the recording room, only to awkwardly stand before you as if expecting you to explain the situation. Despite your clear distaste, you let your hands fall limply onto your lap with a frustrated sigh.

"I reserved this room for today weeks ago," you said, the acidity in your tone unmistakable. None of the boys seemed too bothered by it as they continued to watch you intently. "Your manager, however, decided it would be a good idea to waste everyone's time by claiming there must have been some kind of oversight since apparently he also reserved this exact time for you guys."

"Uh, I think there might have really been a misunderstanding since we were also set to record here," Doe-Eyes responded quickly, glancing back towards his manager anxiously as if unsure of his own words. You couldn't help but scoff and roll your eyes.

Pulling your phone out of your back pocket, you didn't try to hide the incredulous shake of your head. Once you found the confirmation email you’d received upon booking the studio, you turned your screen so that all six boys could read. “Unless you also have an email similar to this— which, by the way, your manager has failed to show us instead of calling his boss—then I don’t think there’s really any room to call this a ‘misunderstanding’.”

Almost immediately, Doe-Eyes pulled his own phone out of the pocket of his hoodie, hurriedly scrolling through it while taking a seat a little further down the same couch you'd been glued to for the past twenty minutes. The rest of the members didn’t seem to have anything else to say as they either pursed their lips awkwardly or whispered amongst themselves, their furrowed brows signaling their own concerns about what it would mean for them if you were to keep the studio. And although you were confident that you and your team had done everything right, you were barely able to suppress your own fear of being left high and dry. It wasn’t uncommon for solo artists such as yourself to have no other alternative than to fight tooth and nail for fair treatment in an industry with a clear preference for boy groups like the ones present at the moment—and the company you were currently working for was really no different, as evidenced by the infuriating stories shared by the painfully sparse number of solo artists you’d met in this very building.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Doe-Eyes whipped his head around as though looking for someone. “Where’s Jake?”

The other members uselessly copied their friend’s action, shrugging silently. “I think he was talking with his mom on the phone when we left, but he said he wouldn’t be too long.”

Almost as if the act of voicing his name could summon him, a very disheveled seventh boy skidded to a halt behind the ongoing commotion taking place right outside the studio. His eyes widened in bewilderment as he processed the admittedly rare scene unfolding before him. His attention quickly shifted to the group of idols crowding the already confined space as one of the members waved at him to join them, a silent command that didn’t need to be repeated as he squeezed his way inside. Once he made it past the door, he hunched over breathlessly, a string of gibberish pouring out of his mouth as he tried to explain his tardiness—not a single word of it being even remotely comprehensible to you.

Ultimately, the boy’s excuses didn’t matter as everyone’s attention was drawn to the familiar authoritative figure who finally made his appearance (as requested by the boys’ manager) to solve the ridiculous dilemma, the typical severe expression etched onto his face. You tried to brush aside your rising anxiety to no avail, your leg subconsciously bouncing up and down.

While your mind raced with worst-case scenarios, Jake—the boy who’d just arrived—found himself stilled by the mere sight of you. Encircled by a heavenly bubble that seemed to drown out his surroundings, he found himself captivated by the worry tainting what he was positive would otherwise be the most heart-mangling pair of eyes he’d ever seen. Even with your entire essence emanating a mixture of irritation and anxiety, Jake was sure his eyes would never find anything or anyone that could compare to the profoundness of your beauty. He almost questioned if you were real, or if he had lost his sanity to a sweet hallucination, though he quickly pushed the idea out of his mind for fear of losing sight of you.

“Hi.” It was all that Jake could muster, hoping his heart wouldn’t suddenly stop when your weary eyes landed on him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

Several conflicting emotions passed through your face as you tried to make sense of the unexpected contrast between the serious situation and his dazed expression. In the end, all you could do was scoff nastily at his lack of ability to read the room, a reaction that still made Jake feel as though he could levitate since your simple acknowledgment of his existence was enough for him to obsess over for the rest of his lifetime.

The sight of the newcomer was almost ridiculous as you shifted in your seat almost uncomfortably, unable to understand what could possibly be going through his mind.

“Okay, let’s do this.” The authoritarian voice of your superior was enough to drag your attention away from the oddity of this boy. “Since Enhypen’s comeback is set at a sooner date, I suggest Y/N allow them to use the room first. I’ll be sure to postpone the reservations of the people meant to come here today or tomorrow. That is my final say on the matter.”

He raised his hand in a stern manner the moment he noticed you quickly jumping to your feet to argue, immediately shutting you up as your lips curled into a disgruntled snarl. Even though a part of you had predicted this outcome, you still couldn’t believe it as your eyes found the familiar pair belonging to your exhausted manager.

Since it was clear that you and your team had no other option but to pack up what little had been set up before this whole fiasco began, you begrudgingly snatched your bag to sling over your shoulder—though not before scowling in the boys’ direction, causing them to wince back. Except for Jake, who annoyingly remained in his spot, smiling stupidly at you.

Hours after being kicked out of your own appointment, you found yourself sitting alone under the shade of a large tree at a nearby park. Bitterness still possessed your heart despite coming here to calm yourself in the comforting alternative universe that only seemed to exist in this very spot, usually waiting for your return whenever life took a rough turn. Every other time, the gentle kisses of the wind against your skin, the delicious warmth that dwelled just under the surface of the ground, or the simple serenity that washed over your troubled mind as you listened to the natural melody of small animals and children playing would immediately comfort you. However, your little piece of paradise did not spare any mercy for you today. The chilly wind nipped at your reddened cheeks and nose, the ground beneath you was still moist from the light rain of the previous day, and all you could hear were the exhaustive sounds of distant traffic and the robotic voices of business people on their phones. Your little piece of paradise, your alternative universe hidden in plain sight, had become distressingly bleak.

You were just about to abandon your spot, the disappointment becoming overwhelming to the point of blurring your vision with unshed tears, when the sound of cautious footsteps from behind alerted you. Breath catching in your throat at the thought of what could possibly happen, you hoped whoever was approaching would just walk past and prove you to be foolishly paranoid.

“You hide well, Y/N.”

The sinister words unmistakably belonging to a man hung in the air, making you consider breaking into a run—or perhaps attempting to kick him in the knees to temporarily incapacitate him and give you more time to escape. A million thoughts stormed through your head as your heartbeat picked up.

“I’m sorry about what happened with the studio.” The specificity of the man’s apology made you pause. You noted that he had stopped moving, evidently standing just a foot or two away from you. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. “After you and your team left, I was finally told what went down, and I felt guilty. Obviously, you have every right to be upset considering your name was the only one that appeared to be scheduled.”

Only a moment passed before the owner of the mysterious voice stood before you, sporting a shy smile while holding a brown paper bag close to his chest. It was the boy who had arrived late to the recording session, the one with the dazed look in his eyes — the same one still present as he looked down at your sitting figure. His presence reignited the smoldering anger you’d managed to suppress over the past few hours. You didn't bother holding back the immediate glare directed at him, a glare that would have made anyone else shrink back. But he seemed unfazed, his smile only growing into a full, boyish grin that vaguely reminded you of a Golden Retriever, with an infectious warmth that was hard to ignore.

He stood there, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the bag crinkling slightly in his grip. His tousled hair caught the last rays of the setting sun, creating a halo effect around his head that softened his features. Despite your irritation, you couldn't help but notice the genuine innocence in his eyes, as if he truly had no intention of causing any harm — deep down, you were well aware that your anger was misdirected, though your pride didn’t let you back down.

“Anyway, I'm really sorry about earlier," he repeated, his voice gentle and sincere. "I know things got messed up, and it wasn’t fair to you."

The softness of his tone momentarily disarmed you, but you quickly remembered the frustration of being pushed aside. You folded your arms across your chest, maintaining your steely gaze. "It's not your fault, but that doesn't make it any less infuriating," you replied curtly, though a part of you felt a pang of guilt for being so harsh.

He nodded, understanding. "I get that. I really do. That's why I wanted to apologize properly." He held out the bag towards you, his eyes pleading for you to accept his peace offering.

You hesitated, your curiosity piqued despite yourself. Slowly, you reached for the bag, feeling the crinkle of the paper beneath your fingers. Peeking inside, you were met with a colorful assortment of convenience store sweets and chips. The sight was so unexpected that it momentarily broke through your anger, leaving you both surprised and amused.

“Hold on, what is this?” you asked, incredulous, pulling out a pack of sour candies and a bag of your favorite potato chips.

He lifted a shoulder into a half shrug, the motion causing his tousled hair to fall slightly over his forehead. A dark blush tinted the tips of his ears, standing out starkly against his pale skin. “I wasn’t really sure what you might like, so I got everything.”

You couldn't help but let out a disbelieving chuckle. The gesture was absurdly extravagant, almost comical, but undeniably thoughtful. Your gaze shifted from the bag to his face, taking in the earnestness in his eyes. The softness of his brown eyes, filled with a mix of anxiety and hope, caught you off guard. Despite the frustration and anger still simmering within you, the sincerity of his actions tugged at your heartstrings.

The gesture was ridiculous, you decided. But as your eyes finally locked with the softness of his brown ones, you couldn’t seem to ignore the swelling in your chest. The warmth of his gaze, combined with the blush that refused to leave his ears, chipped away at your resolve. A smile forced its way onto your lips despite your desire to maintain the angry mask.

“Well, I guess it’s a start,” you conceded, the corners of your mouth curling up despite your best efforts to remain stern.

He exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing over his features. “I’m really sorry about today. It wasn’t fair to you, and I wanted to make it right, even if just a little.”

You sighed, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders. “It’s not your fault. It’s just... this industry, you know?”

He nodded, understanding evident in his eyes. “Yeah, I get it. It can be tough. But hey, at least you’ve got some snacks now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound lightening the oppressive atmosphere that had settled around you. “True. Thanks for that.”

He grinned, the boyish smile returning and making him look even more endearing as he took a seat in front of you. “Anytime.”

As the two of you continued to talk, the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the park. The earlier tension seemed to dissipate, replaced by a tentative camaraderie that hinted at the possibility of something more. For the first time that day, you felt a glimmer of hope that things might just turn out okay.

박성훈 ── PARK SUNGHOON.

Under the soft glow of city lights and the gentle hum of midnight traffic, Sunghoon stood apprehensively at the entrance of a seemingly lavish apartment complex. The crumpled invitation from Jake was like a heavy weight in his pocket. An internal turmoil raged within him — whether to keep his promise to his friend and attend the gathering or to retreat to the comforting solitude of his bedroom. The flurry of potential outcomes made his head spin, leaving him frozen in place. He couldn’t help but notice the curious glances from the woman behind the front desk, her occasional head tilt suggesting she was trying to figure out what he was doing there, even as she returned her focus to her laptop.

Social gatherings had stopped being Sunghoon’s forte somewhere along the transition from his teenage years to his recent adulthood. Normally, he would have turned down Jake’s invitation without a second thought. But his mother’s worried voice echoed in his mind from their recent phone call, her concern palpable. “You used to have me worried sick every single night when you would go out to all these parties, and now you have me worried sick every night you tell me you’d rather isolate yourself in your room, love.”

Taking a deep breath, Sunghoon willed himself to move forward. The memory of his mother’s concern pushed him to break free from his self-imposed isolation. He finally pressed the buzzer, his heart racing. When the door clicked open, he stepped inside, feeling the unexpected warmth of the building wrap around him in a soothing manner. He sent Jake a quick text, letting him know he would be up in a minute or two.

The elevator ride to the top floor felt interminable, each second stretching out with mounting anxiety. When the doors slid open, he was met with Jake’s bright smile and slightly unfocused eyes. “You made it!” Jake exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug. Sunghoon managed a smile, the familiar comfort of his currently tipsy friend easing some of his nerves.

As they walked down the corridor towards your apartment, Jake’s enthusiastic chatter filled the air. He rattled on about everyone who’d made it, the music, the food, and all the games he’d missed. Sunghoon tried to absorb some of his friend’s excitement, though part of him still longed to retreat to the safety of his room. The door to your apartment was slightly ajar, and lively music and intoxicated laughter spilled out into the hallway.

Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting, with a soft, ambient glow from various lamps and candles. Sunghoon scanned the room, taking in the mix of vaguely familiar and unfamiliar faces. He was pleased to find only a small group present, just as Jake had promised. His eyes finally landed on you, who effortlessly commanded the room’s attention with a level of self-assurance Sunghoon could only yearn to achieve. As if sensing his eyes, you glanced in his direction, finally taking notice of their arrival before making your way over, a welcoming smile on your face that had Sunghoon’s stomach performing pirouettes.

“Jake, you’re back!” You cheered tipsily before focusing on the visibly anxious new guest, bowing as a polite greeting — an action immediately returned. “Is this the friend you told me about? Park Sunghoon?”

The way Sunghoon’s name rolled off your tongue with such sweetness had him reeling. Jake responded for him with an animated nod, slinging his arm around his friend’s shoulder despite being shorter.

“I’m very happy you were able to make it, Sunghoon!” You giggled lightly — a heavenly melody that tugged at Sunghoon’s erratic heart. “Please make yourself at home. There’s food and drinks over there,” you added, gesturing to a table laden with various treats.

As the evening progressed, Sunghoon found himself slowly relaxing, the initial tension easing away. Although he’d made the conscious decision not to consume any alcohol so that he would still be able to bring Jake and himself back home safely, he joined in the laughter, engaged in conversations with other idols, and sampled some of the food. Despite his initial reluctance, Sunghoon was beginning to enjoy himself.

During a lull in the conversations, Sunghoon found himself standing alone on the balcony, looking out over the city lights. The cool night air was a welcome respite from the warmth inside, and he took a moment to breathe deeply, savoring the tranquility. However, his head was tormented by thoughts of you as he almost obsessively replayed a mental film he’d recorded of you throughout the night, capturing candid scenes of you leaning against the wall while talking to one of your guests, sipping your drink between bursts of laughter, engaging in an impromptu dance competition with Jake, and the times he’d catch you watching him from the opposite side of the room with an unreadable expression before looking away timidly. These were memories he hoped to hold close to his heart even if the two of you never crossed paths again after this night. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear you approach until you stood beside him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” You spoke softly, eyes fixed on the glittering skyline. Sunghoon nodded, feeling an electrifying jolt rush through his veins at the unexpectedness of your company, followed by a strange sense of calm that soothed the fresh spike of his anxiety. The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a while — you simply enjoying the view, and him almost hearing the soft whirring of his mental camera as it recorded the moment for him to save.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” you eventually said, turning to face Sunghoon. There was something in your twinkling gaze that made Sunghoon’s heart skip a beat, an unspoken connection passing between you both.

“Me too,” Sunghoon replied, surprised to realize he meant it. As the two of you continued to talk, an unexpected warmth blossomed in his chest, sensing the creation of an unbreakable red thread that linked you to him. It was both thrilling and terrifying. For the first time in a long while, Sunghoon felt as though he was exactly where he was meant to be.

As the night wore on, the two of you found yourselves drifting away from the main party, your conversation deepening with each passing minute. You discovered shared interests and experiences, revealing parts of yourselves neither were usually eager to share with others. Sunghoon was captivated by the stories of your early days in the industry, the struggles and triumphs that mirrored his own journey.

There was a moment when the laughter died down, and the air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken words that neither of you was brave enough to voice out loud but both seemed to understand. Sunghoon looked into your eyes and felt a magnetic pull, an undeniable connection that made his heart race. He wondered if you felt it too, this strange and exhilarating sensation that was both new and familiar.

You broke the silence, voice soft and sincere. “You know, I’ve been where you are now. The isolation, the doubt…it can be overwhelming. But sometimes reaching out, even if it’s just for a night, can make all the difference. So I’m really glad you’re here tonight.”

Sunghoon nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “I didn’t expect to feel this way tonight,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, a warm and understanding expression that made Sunghoon’s heart flutter. “Neither did I,” you replied. “But I’m glad we both took the chance.”

The city lights continued to sparkle below you both, a silent witness to the beginning of something new. As the night drew to a close, Sunghoon knew that this had been more than just an ordinary gathering. It was the start of a bond that held the promise of something deeper, something that could change both of your lives forever.

김선우 ── KIM SEONWOO.

As the limousine pulled up to the grand entrance of the high-fashion show, Sunoo took a deep breath, steeling himself for the evening ahead. Being a part of a rapidly rising KPOP group, he was accustomed to the spotlight, but attending this event alone felt different. The opulent venue buzzed with the energy of the fashion elite, cameras flashing and voices blending into a hum of anticipation. 

Stepping out onto the red carpet, Sunoo was immediately enveloped by the dazzling lights and the flurry of activity. He straightened his impeccably tailored suit, aware of every eye on him. Yet, despite the familiar pressure, there was a unique thrill in the air tonight. As he prepared himself to move forward, his eyes were immediately drawn to a striking figure across from him — another idol, unknown to him, yet governing everyone’s attention with an effortless grace.

You strolled down the velvet red carpet, pausing every few steps to allow the photographers to capture the stunning design adorning your figure, which had been made especially for you. Your movements were fluid, each step exuding confidence and natural charm. As the ambassador for a rival brand, an impeccable aura of sophistication rolled off your skin with an ease that captivated Sunoo in an instant. The way the rays of the setting sun seemed to favor you, casting a perfect golden glow on your flawless features, made it impossible to look away.

Sunoo’s trance was disrupted by the heavy hand of the security guard who had kindly opened the limousine door a moment prior, silently urging him to make haste before the next celebrity arrived. He quickly gathered himself, offering a polite nod to the guard before making his way down the carpet. By the time Sunoo returned his gaze to where your mysterious essence had stood, he was surprised to find you already inside, leaving behind an air of secrecy that lingered in Sunoo’s mind.

Entering the grand hall, Sunoo was greeted by a sea of fashion icons, designers, and celebrities from all around the world mingling under the shimmering chandeliers. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the buzz of conversations and the clinking of champagne glasses. Yet, amidst the glamorous chaos, Sunoo’s thoughts kept drifting back to the enigmatic memory of you.

He navigated through the crowd, exchanging polite greetings and smiles, but his mind was elsewhere. The brief glimpse he had caught of you had sparked a curiosity he couldn’t shake as he found himself subconsciously searching for you. Who are you? What is your story? The questions swirled in Sunoo’s mind, adding a layer of intrigue to the already dazzling event.

As Sunoo settled into his seat, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. The runway came to life with models showcasing the latest collections, each piece more stunning than the last. But even as the fashion show unfolded before him, Sunoo found his eyes wandering to the rows opposite him, searching for that familiar face.

And then, there you were. You were seated just a few rows away, attention fixed on the runway. Sunoo took the opportunity to observe you more closely, noting the confident way you carried yourself, the subtle elegance in your every movement. There was something magnetic about you, a presence that drew Sunoo in and refused to let go.

The fashion show progressed, each segment more captivating than the last, but for Sunoo, the true highlight was the possibility of a single minute with you. As the final model strutted down the runway and the audience erupted into applause, Sunoo knew he had to find a way to introduce himself. This night, under the dazzling lights of the fashion elite, gave him the unmistakable sensation that it might mark the beginning of something extraordinary — such a thing being yourself.

Following the fashion show, Sunoo took a moment to collect himself. The applause gradually subsided, and the room buzzed with excited chatter as attendees began to mingle and move toward the reception area. Sunoo’s heart raced with a mix of anticipation and nerves as he scanned the crowd, seeking another glimpse of you.

The hall was now a swirl of elegant gowns, tailored suits, and sparkling jewelry, with everyone engaged in animated conversations regarding the slew of unique designs they’d just witnessed. Sunoo made his way through the throng, offering polite smiles and hasty bows while his thoughts remained fixated on you. He couldn’t shake the sense of urgency, the need to introduce himself and learn about you who had so effortlessly stolen his sanity.

As he approached the bar, Sunoo finally spotted you standing near a cluster of fashion executives and designers. You were engrossed in conversation, your laughter echoing like a melody above the hum of the crowd. Sunoo hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage before making his way toward you.

Just as he was about to reach you, a voice called out his name. He turned to see his brand’s creative director, a smile on her face as she beckoned him over. Sunoo’s heart sank slightly, but he knew that ignoring her was not an option. With a polite bow, he approached her, engaging in a brief yet lively discussion about the evening’s show and their brand’s latest collection.

As soon as the conversation reached its natural end, Sunoo didn’t waste a second to glance back to where you had been, only to find you had moved on. Panic set in, though he took a deep breath, determined not to let the opportunity slip away. He began to weave through the crowd once more, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

Finally, he spotted you near the entrance to a quieter lounge area, a serene space with plush seating and soft lighting. Sunoo made his way over, his steps quickening as he neared you. He paused just a few feet away, taking yet another deep breath to steady his nerves.

“Excuse me,” Sunoo said, his voice somehow calm yet tinged with an anticipation you didn’t miss. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his with a curious, welcoming gaze that weakened his knees. “I couldn’t help but notice you during the show. I’m Sunoo, from Enhypen. It is a true honor to meet you.”

A smile spread across your face, genuine and warm. “Hello, Sunoo. I am Y/N from SM Entertainment. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

The conversation flowed easily from there, a mix of introductions, shared experiences, and mutual admiration for the evening’s fashion showcase. As the night wore on, the initial spark of intense curiosity between you grew into a deeper attachment. The surrounding chatter and movement seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of conversation and laughter.

By the time the evening came to an end, Sunoo knew that the unignorable sense of tonight marking a thrilling new beginning had been correct. As you exchanged contact information and made plans to meet again, there was an unspoken understanding that this thread that linked the two of you, born under the dazzling lights of the fashion elite, held the promise of something truly special.

양정원 ── YANG JUNGWON.

It had been an excruciatingly long time since Jungwon had danced purely for the joy of it, even if he kept this yearning to himself. He was well-aware of the sacrifices demanded by his career when he first started as a trainee, and he would make that commitment again without hesitation. Yet, the craving for dance, like a dormant ember, flared up intermittently, refusing to be extinguished by the relentless demands of his life.

At the moment, Jungwon felt an urgent need to escape, a desperate desire to retreat into solitude where he could breathe without the relentless pressure of work bearing down on him. The large headphones that had pressed into his ears for the duration of the recording session now hung around his neck, heavy with the weight of his mounting frustration. As he watched the producing team, whom he had come to know through each Enhypen album, huddled in private discussion, he felt increasingly isolated. The mics were off, their muted voices blending into an unwelcoming silence that amplified his sense of failure. He had repeated the same lines over and over since he first entered, unable to capture the performance they sought. It was baffling why something that should be simple had become so exasperatingly complex.

After what felt like an eternity, the producers nodded curtly at each other, signaling their agreement. They turned to Jungwon through the subtly tinted glass, their faces betraying a hint of resignation.

“Jungwon,” one of them sighed into the microphone, the voice slightly distorted as it came through the speakers. “I think we should try again next Monday. Please take this time to rest.”

Disappointment pierced through him like a cold, sharp blade. He slumped his shoulders, his gaze dropping to the floor as he gave a solemn nod. Swiftly, he removed his headphones and gathered his belongings. The room was filled with pitiful smiles from the team, but Jungwon was too eager to escape to notice. The confined space was stifling, and he was desperate for freedom. As he trudged down the nearly vacant corridors of the company building, his frustration simmered, bubbling up like molten lava, searing through him with each step.

He searched his mind for a place where he could be alone. Going home was not an option with half his members there, their typical boisterousness far from the sanctuary he craved. Restaurants and coffee shops were possibilities, but he lacked the appetite for anything. And then, as if the universe had taken pity on him, memories of hours spent dancing alone in the company’s dance rooms flooded his mind. It was enough to redirect his aimless wanderings. He made a beeline for the elevator, his steps quickening as excitement surged through him, a welcome escape from the stifling environment. He reveled in the knowledge that no one would question his whereabouts, believing him to still be at the recording booth.

With his heart pounding a rhythm of genuine elation, everything around him blurred into insignificance as he focused solely on his destination. The seconds stretched painfully as he awaited the elevator doors to open. The tip of his tongue seemed to taste the sweet promise of freedom as he finally reached the end of the hall, where the rarely used dance room stood, its door a familiar friend in his moment of need.

Had Jungwon not been so absorbed in his whirlwind of emotions, he might have noticed the soft strains of music emanating from within. Instead, he burst into the room, breathless, only to find himself frozen by the sight before him. There, bathed in the warm, gentle light, was you—dancing with a grace that seemed to defy the ordinary.

You were lost in your world, every movement flowing effortlessly with the tender rhythm of the music. There were no goals to reach, no steps to follow—just a pure expression of emotion that dripped from your every move. You danced as if the weight of the world had melted away, a blissful freedom that Jungwon hadn’t felt in ages. Your dance was a vivid reminder of what it was meant to be before fame had ever touched his life.

To Jungwon, who stood silently by the door, watching in awe, you were completely absorbed in your own realm. The peaceful, contented look on your face made it clear that you were in a moment of serene solitude. He tried to retreat quietly, but stumbled over his own feet, causing you to stop abruptly and turn toward him with wide, startled eyes.

In that instant, the world seemed to collapse around you both, leaving only the connection between your eyes and his. The silence stretched, laden with awkwardness, and you were the first to look away. Jungwon’s heart sank, wishing he could lose himself in your eyes forever.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice tentative. “I was just finishing up. I’ll get my stuff and leave.”

The last thing Jungwon wanted was for you to leave in such a rush. He was overwhelmed by conflicting emotions—entranced, confused, dazed, distressed—but the most powerful feeling was the undeniable pull toward you. You, who had suddenly appeared in his world, who moved with effortless grace like a bird in flight, and who had given him the briefest of smiles that seemed to halt his heartbeat. You were an enigma he felt destined to connect with, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Before you could slip past him, Jungwon found himself instinctively reaching out, his hand landing gently on your shoulder. The contact elicited soft gasps of surprise from both of you. His eyes locked onto yours, desperately trying to savor every detail of your features. He realized there might never be enough time to fully appreciate your beauty, but all he wanted was a single minute to bask in your presence. He was acutely aware of his own vulnerability as the desire to remain near you replaced his previous yearning for solitude.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen someone dance the way you just did,” he said, his voice barely audible. The blush that colored your cheeks was all the confirmation he needed that you heard him.

“Oh,” you blinked, caught off guard. “Thank you.”

“If you’re not busy,” Jungwon continued, though he was unsure of where his words would lead, “please stay.”

You studied his face, searching for sincerity and intent. Perhaps it was the raw desperation in his brown eyes or the electric tingle of his touch that convinced you. Whatever it was, you decided to stay, offering him a shy but genuine smile. Your heart raced as you noticed the dimples that appeared on his cheeks, a sign of his radiant smile.

And so you stayed. What began as a moment stretched into hours, then weeks, and eventually a lifetime. In that dance room, amidst the echoing melodies and fleeting moments, something truly extraordinary was born.

西村 力 ── NISHIMURA RIKI.

In the bustling expanse of the airport lounge, the soft hum of conversations mingled with the distant announcements of flight departures provided a backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts in Ni-ki’s mind. Seated amongst  his fellow members, sought a fleeting moment of tranquility before their flight to Tokyo, the next stop on their concert tour. From such a young age, normalcy had been a distant concept, eclipsed by the relentless rush of performances and public appearances that left little room for peaceful introspection. The early morning departure had left them all groggy, their energy sapped by the unforgiving schedule that defined their lives.

Ni-ki leaned back in his seat, his eyes closing as he sought to capture a fleeting sense of peace amidst the chaos. The lounge, a hive of activity, was populated with travelers—some dozing off in their seats, others engrossed in their devices, and a few engaged in low murmurs of conversation. The atmosphere was a curious blend of anticipation and exhaustion, a microcosm of the frenetic life Ni-ki had come to know so well.

When Ni-ki opened his eyes, his gaze drifted across the room, taking in the varied faces of fellow travelers. His eyes settled on a vaguely recognizable group of young idols seated across the lounge, their presence unmistakable even amid the sea of people. Your group, though from a different agency, radiated a camaraderie and vibrant energy that felt oddly familiar. Among them, you stood out—a figure of serene poise amidst the lively chatter of your companions.

Ni-ki’s attention was drawn to you, his curiosity piqued by the quiet aura you exuded. There was a subtle grace in your demeanor that captivated him. You sat with large headphones covering your ears, occasionally glancing around the lounge as if seeking a moment of solitude amidst the bustling environment. Your hair fell gently over your eyes as you absentmindedly adjusted your oversized hoodie, a small, seemingly insignificant action that made you appear both approachable and endearingly shy.

Minutes stretched into an hour as you and Ni-ki waited for your respective flights. While his group members were absorbed in their own activities—some napping, others lost in games or music—Ni-ki found himself increasingly drawn to you. There was something magnetic about your presence, an unspoken allure that made his heart race each time your eyes briefly met. The pull he felt was inexplicable yet undeniable.

You possessed an effortless charm, a quiet confidence that set you apart from the crowd. Ni-ki found himself imagining what your voice might sound like, wondering what thoughts occupied your mind, and what music you might be listening to—all while grappling with his own doubts and shyness that held him back from approaching you. The mystery surrounding you only deepened Ni-ki’s fascination, turning mere curiosity into a profound longing to know more.

Across the lounge, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. At first, you thought it was a trick of your imagination, but the sensation persisted. Your sensitivity to the energy around you made Ni-ki’s gaze feel like a gentle but persistent tug. Despite your attempts to focus on your group’s animated conversation, your thoughts kept drifting back to the boy who seemed so captivated by you. You wondered what had caught his attention—was it your appearance? Clad in an oversized hoodie and leggings, with minimal makeup, you certainly didn't stand out in the traditional sense. Or was it your demeanor? You had done little more than sit quietly, attempting to conserve your energy and maintain a reserved presence. Though outwardly calm, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, adding to the enigma Ni-ki seemed drawn to.

Finally, a boarding announcement for a flight to Osaka broke Ni-ki’s reverie. He watched as your group began to gather their belongings, preparing to leave. A pang of disappointment struck him, realizing that his chance to approach you and strike up a conversation was slipping away. Just as he was about to redirect his attention back to his own group in a silent acceptance of defeat, he noticed you had lingered behind, your eyes meeting his for a brief, charged moment.

In that fleeting exchange, there was an unspoken connection, a shared understanding that transcended the chaos surrounding you both. You offered a small, almost shy smile before rejoining your group, leaving Ni-ki with a lingering sense of anticipation and curiosity. The way your eyes had held his, as if conveying a silent message, made his heart flutter with a strange, exhilarating hope.

As you followed your group to the boarding gate, you couldn't shake the feeling of Ni-ki’s eyes lingering on you. It was both thrilling and unnerving, sparking a curiosity of your own. In the subtlest way possible, you stole one last glance over your shoulder, finding Ni-ki still watching with an intensity that made your heart race. You smiled to yourself, wondering if fate might bring the two of you together again in the near future.

As you and your group disappeared through the boarding gate, Ni-ki was left contemplating the possibility of your paths crossing again—perhaps amidst the vibrant streets of Tokyo or in the backstage corridors of a concert venue. The brief interaction had left an indelible mark on him, a spark that refused to be extinguished by the routine of his life. Settling back into his seat, Ni-ki’s thoughts drifted back to you, imagining potential conversations, shared laughter, and the possibility of a burgeoning friendship—or hopefully something more—that could blossom in the most unexpected of places.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ My permanent taglist is open!

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @llvrhee @d-dilemma

🫙 LEAVE A TIP? 🫙

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

( 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 ): Release Date: Posted!

──★ 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔

❛ In which you’re the idol who somehow snatched the members of Enhypen’s heart at first sight.

𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 8.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This is my very first Enhypen request, thank you! This kind of trope is not one I'm used to, but I did my best so I hope it's good! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Love at first sight trope, Idol Y/N AU, inconsistent POV, lots of mentions of being stressed with work, Y/N in Jake’s piece has some negative opinions on the HYBE company (which doesn’t reflect my own personal opinions), Sunghoon's piece has brief mentions of being tipsy, Jake's is a one-sided enemies-to-lovers trope, Ni-ki doesn't actually interact with Y/N but trust that he's in love.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

Want to be alerted when I post this? Let me know in the comments so I can tag you!

this was so gorgeous 🥹 thank you so much nova! ugh so sad but oh so so sweet. also, how did you know i have a secret obsession with lockets??? it’s literally a dream for someone to gift me one tbh

me after reading this fic ^

Locket

Pairing: Park Sunghoon x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff, comfort

Warnings: Mention of death, crying

Words: 949

Summary: You don't enjoy your birthday much, but Sunghoon is determined to make you feel special, even if he has to keep it low-key.

A/n: Happy early birthday, green! I hope you have a lovely birthday, because you deserve it. (Ps tumblr, for some reason, wouldn't let me edit this after I started it, so I had to delete it and copy and paste what I had already. That's why I had to take a screenshot of your ask 😭 Sorry it took so long, but I hope you enjoy it!)

@minhosbitterriver

Sunghoon knows you don't like your birthday very much, and he knows the reason why, but he also knows that he wants to make you happy in every possible way he can. So even if he can't throw a big celebration for you like he wishes he could (because that's what he believes you deserve), he still wants to do something.

"Happy birthday, sleepy love," he spoke gently from behind you, rubbing your arm over the fluffy blanket that decorated your bed. You stirred awake when you heard his voice, but your eyes still haven't opened. He chuckles softly before leaning over to press feather light kisses to your eyelids.

He's always quiet and loving with you in the morning, so nothing is different in that aspect. A slight smile appears on your face as you turn your body over further to face him, finally opening your eyes to peek up at him. Your vision was still a bit blurry from just having woken up, but you could see the faint outline of him. "I almost forgot."

"About your birthday?" he asked with faux surprise. He knows you didn't forget, but you wish you could. It makes him a little sad, but he never pushes. "Well it's a good thing I'm here to remember, because it's my favorite day of the year."

You scoff playfully at him, but you knew he was the farthest thing from joking. If there's one thing about Sunghoon, it's that he will follow you to the ends of the earth. He adores you more than he's ever adored anything. That's not something to take lightly with him.

"So what do you have planned for today? I know you have something planned," you asked with a slight squint of your eyes. He smiles before kissing your nose and quickly getting out of bed, leaving the room. You hardly had time to register that he left you before he was returning with his hands behind his back. "What do you have there?"

He didn't respond as he sat on the bed, looking down at you with loving eyes. You also sat up to come eye level with him, waiting to see what was behind his back. "Close your eyes," he finally said. You did as he asked, letting your sleepy eyes fall shut. "Hold out your hands, too," he spoke gently, watching as you did so.

The next moment, you felt a small box being placed in your hands. You opened your eyes after he told you it was okay, and just as you suspected, a small, black box sat in the palms of your hands. You opened it with a small smile, and what you see when you lift the lid is a necklace. A beautiful golden locket hanging off the end of a thin gold chain.

"Go on, open the locket," Sunghoon urged you, his eyes darting between you and the piece of jewelry like an excited kid on christmas. You set the lid of the box down before opening the locket. Your eyes were nearly immediately filled with tears when you were met with a picture of your mother. She died three years ago, a day before your birthday.

It took a moment for you to say or do anything as you stared down at the picture. A few moments later, you looked back up at Sunghoon, and not to your surprise, his eyes were also glossy. He loved your mom, and when she passed, it was hard on him, too. He helped you through one of the toughest points of your life, and that makes this gift all the more special and meaningful.

"Oh, Hoon, it's beautiful." You finally set the box aside before wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. His arms immediately brought you closer as you both let the tears fall down your cheeks. Silence washed over you, but not an awkward silence, no. It was the kind of silence where no words needed to be said in order to understand.

"I know you don't like your birthday, and I don't blame you for it at all, but I also know that your mom would want you to be happy on a day like this. She would want you to celebrate because you deserve to be celebrated."

His words on top of the already lovely and heart-wrenching gift had you breaking down and sobbing in his arms. He only held you tighter as you let out what you'd been holding for a while. After multiple minutes passed and you finally got your breathing under control, you pulled away from him just enough to place your forehead on his.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I love you so much," you spoke barely above a whisper. His tear stained cheeks scrunched up as he smiled at you, his shining eyes filled with love and adoration for you.

"You deserve all of me and more, baby. I love you more than you could know." He placed the most gentle and tender, yet passionate kiss on your lips. It instantly filled your stomach to the brim with butterflies as you kissed back, your lips meshing together perfectly like they have so many times before.

Once you both were finally ready to get out of bed, Sunghoon made you your favorite breakfast, and you watched a movie together. He also ordered dinner for the both of you, as well as a special dessert. That was all the day was. You got a few happy birthday texts from friends and family, but you spent the whole day with Sunghoon. You wouldn't have it any other way.

SOBBING RN I WANT THIS FOR MY FIRST TIME TOO ㅜㅜ

Hii! I just finished the ot7 imagine of the first snow with enha! And I gotta say it was really cute! I don't know if your asks are open atm, but I was wondering if you could do another situation wherein enha's s/o is reacting to seeing snow for the first time and like they got mesmerized and enha is just there admiring them >< I thought it would be cute so I immediately went to your asks hehe

I really love your works ever since tumblr recommended it to me hehe it's ok if you also can't do my ask! hope you hand a good day! thank you <3

──౨ৎ ˙☃ ̟ seeing snow for the first time

엔하이픈 | Enhypen | ot7

──Pairing: enha ot7 x reader

──Genre: fluff, scenarios, imagines

──Synopsis: It's been only a few months since you moved to Korea to live with your boyfriend. You came from a warmer place that never got any snow. As winter rolled around, you were so excited to see snow for the first time in your life

──A/N: Thank you for the request. My requests are always open! I'm also trying to start a taglist so if you want to be tagged please comment !!

이희승 | Heeseung

Your eyes were covered by Heeseungs large hands. He told you he had a surprise for you. He wouldn't disclose what the surprise was though. You didn't expect the cold outside air to hit your face. Your nose scrunched up as you shivered from the sudden chill.

Your boyfriend uncovered your eyes. "You can look now, angel." He whispered in your ear.

In front of you was the city of Seoul covered in white. Your eyes widened, seeing snow for the first time. Quickly, you covered your mouth with both your hands. Snow had fallen while you were at Heeseungs house and you hadn't even noticed. You were way to busy hanging out with your boyfriend to realize that the moment you had waited for all your life had finally come to fruition.

Small flakes were still falling from the sky, some landing on you. You held your hands out to catch the cold snow. Hands wrapped around your waist from behind as you felt a warm breath on your cheek.

"Isn't it beautiful, Seungie?" You giggled, showing him the snowflakes you had caught.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you." He said, kissing your cheek gently.

박종성 | Jongseong

Jay led you out of the apartment building, holding your hand. He had told you not to look so your eyes were closed and your free hand covered your eyes. You heard a door open and cold air engulfed you.

"Hurry up or it's going to melt." He said sarcastically. You tilted your head in confusion. You felt hands wrap around your waist from behind, making your cheeks red not just from the cold.

"Is it raining?" You asked as what felt like a raindrop landed on your cheek. Jay laughed from behind you.

"Even better. Open your eyes." You did as you were told and removed your hand from your eyes.

Your lips parted as you took in the sight in front of you. The city was covered in pretty white snow. You put your hands up to catch the falling snow. It was more pretty in person than seeing it in pictures.

"Once you're done looking, let's go inside and I'll make hot chocolate. We can drink it on the balcony and watch the snow."

심재윤 | Jaeyun

Your door slammed open, causing you to flinch. In the doorway stood your boyfriend, Jake, wearing a huge grin.

"Come look! It's snowing!" He yelled, jumping up and down. He ran over to you, grabbing your arm and pulling you off your bed. Once you processed what was going on, your body flooded with excitement.

"Jakey, this is my first time seeing snow!" You gasped, hurrying to grab a coat. He grabbed your shoulders, turning you to look at him.

"I know how special it is to see snow for the first time. That's why you need to see this." He cupped your face, leaving a hasty kiss on your lips before promptly opening the door for you.

You rushed out the door, per his request. As you left the apartment building the chilly air hit your face. All around you, tiny snowflakes fell covering the city. You held your hands out in front of you, catching snow in your palms.

"Isn't this so cool!?" Jake squealed, skipping around in the snow. You laughed in response to his childish behavior. He stopped in front of you and grabbed your cold hands. "I'm so glad I get to show you snow for the first time."

박성훈 | Sunghoon

"Come on we're gonna be late." Sunghoon yelled from the doorway as you quickly tied your shoes. Sunghoon still hadn't told you where you were off to. Whenever you would ask he would say it was a surprise.

When you got into his car, he handed you an eye mask, insisting you wear it until you arrive. You reluctantly put the mask over your eyes with a huff.

The car stopped and Sunghoon hopped out of the car, running over to your side and opening your door. The two of you walked a few feet- Sunghoon holding your hand to guide you.

Light flooded your vision the second you took off the mask. The city was covered in perfect white snow. In front of you was a skating rink. You looked up at the snow still falling from the fluffy clouds above. Cold flakes landed on your face making you giggle.

"I've always wanted to see snow, Sunghoon." You turned to your boyfriend, squeezing his hand gently. He smiled at your excited expression, his favorite sight in the entire world.

"I've always wanted to take you to see snow, princess." He brought your hand up to kiss it. "I knew you would love it."

김선우 | Sunoo

"Can you at least tell me why you're recording me?" You asked as your boyfriend pushed you out the door. He chuckled before shaking his head. You pouted as the two of you hurried outside.

Once you were outside, you realized exactly why he wanted to capture this moment. Snow was falling in the city of Seoul. The fluffy snow covered the city from the streets to the tops of the buildings. You smiled brightly as the tiny snowflakes landed on your head.

You turned around to face Sunoo as you pointed at the city. "Am I seeing this properly!? It's so pretty!" You said in awe. He laughed at how cute your excitement was.

Sunoo walked up to you putting an arm around your waist. He began showing you the pictures he took of you. Your nose was red from the cold and your hair was slightly messy from the gentle wind. Snowflakes rested on top of your head.

"I've taken many pictures of snow, but none as beautiful as these." Sunoo claimed, staring at you with stars in his eyes. "You make any picture beautiful because you're the prettiest girl I know." You smiled at his words and rested your head on his shoulder.

양정원 | Jungwon

"You're not gonna believe it. This is the best surprise yet." Jungwon giggled as he pulled you by your hands. He had a surprise for you that he was supposed to wait to show you until the boys arrived but your boyfriend couldn't help himself. He got too carried away with excitement that he had to show you now.

"Wonnie, can you tell me why we have to go outside though?" You asked. You're eyes were closed- Jungwon being your only source of navigation.

"Well if I tell you, it won't be a surprise anymore." He explained. You could tell he was pouting from the tone in his voice.

The sound of the door opening rang through your ears before you were hit with a gust of cold air.

"Wonnie, it's cold. Why is the surprise outside?" You whined, pulling your hands away to wrap around your body.

"Then I'll warm you up. Open your eyes now." His arms wrapped around you from behind. When you opened your eyes layers of white snow were covering the city. You looked up with stars in your eyes, watching as the tiny specks of snow fell.

You turned to face Jungwon who had a big smile on his face, showing off his cute dimples. "Just don't tell the boys I showed you the snow without them." He said while laughing.

니키 | Niki

Niki had asked you to come to the store with him so you quickly complied. You loved walking around the city with your boyfriend. Today was slightly different though.

He wrapped his brown leather jacket around your shoulders. His hand slithered around your waist as he led you outside. You saw a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. You wondered what that could be about.

"Hey, Ki, what store are we going to?" You asked curiously. You held onto his large jacket to prevent it from falling off your petite shoulders.

"You'll see." He responded briefly.

The cold air made you shiver as soon as the door was opened. Outside it was bright and everything seemed to be covered in white. Snow. It was beautiful fluffy snow.

You were quick to cover your face as you gasped at the sight in front of you. The snow crunched under your feet as you hopped around, giggling like a little kid.

"It's snowing, Ki! Look!" You squealed, staring up at him with a wide grin.

"I know. We were never going to the store. I just wanted to show you the snow for the first time." Niki said quietly before pulling you by your waist to kiss your cheek.

© strawberrynull, 2024. Do not copy my work. Please DM for permission before translating or reuploading. Thank You

i left my friend on read to read this #priorities

THE WEEKEND ! [LHS]

pairing(s): nonidol!lee heeseung x gn!reader genre(s): angst?? fluff lolz, romance, pining, best friends to lovers warnings: curse words, bold & jealous hee >:D a/n: i love lee heeseung and i would love for him to use me as a rug ,, anyways inspired by the weekend by bibi

"just why why why isn't park jongseong into me? i mean i got the hots! what else does he want?" you whine and collapse next to heeseung on your queen bed.

heeseung sighs, getting annoyed with the same and endless complaints that falls from your mouth.

"maybe cause you're a bitch." he remarks, a smirk paints his face while scrolling through his instagram feed.

"oh fuck you," you grab the nearest pillow and hit his arm. "this is why you pull no bitches, and your dms are dry." turning your back to him while hugging the pillow against your body.

heeseung chuckles. he sets his phone aside to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest and rests his forehead on the back of your neck. leaving you both in a heart-fluttering, cuddling position. only sounds heard was his soft breathing, and the loud thoughts running in your mind.

"you asked the wrong question, y/n." he presses small kisses on your neck, and shoulder. "why why why aren't you into me?"

you tense at the kisses and sudden confession, "what?" you muttered. you weren't sure you heard correctly.

"i said, why aren't you into me? i like you so much, goddamn it." he mumbles against your skin, thumbs rubbing against your hips. “you only call me on the weekends.”

unaware of your very own best friend’s feelings, your heart flutters at the way his lips rest on your skin. abandoning the pillow, you turn around to face the boy who stares at you with sparkles in his eyes. full of love and adoration.

“heeseung..”

his hand reaches over to caress the soft of your cheek, every move was so hesitant. he takes in the beauty of your features, wanting to treasure this precious moment of finally being so close to you. just as his eyes flicker to your lips, he whispers.

“can i kiss you?”

you nod, nothing more than wanting to feel his lips on yours.

he smiles in response and caresses your bottom lips this time. not wanting to wait any longer, he immediately presses his lips on your own. finally, he kissed the love of his dreams.

heeseung was full of smiles and butterflies in his stomach. god, you are so perfect to him.

“now i hope that was enough for you to forget park jongseong because you’re mine now.”

oh for sure, you’ve forgotten about the boy.

because you’re so so so into lee heeseung now.