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svt-luna · 2 days ago

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𝜗℘ SOLDIER

❛ 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘪 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯' 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯' 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦— 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯. ❜

timeline: 2024

synposis: At his military training graduation, Jeonghan stands tall as a soldier— but it’s Luna’s surprise arrival that brings him to his knees in love all over again.

warnings: cursing, slightly suggestive (very slight), fluff, flirting, pda, mentions of crying, more fluff, more flirting, more pda, JeongNa!in love, simp!Luna, military jargon i have researched (p.s. i made a few stuffs up with prior research!), mentions of sasaengs

this will be a short one, my loves! also, just a disclaimer! this will focus on Jeonghan’s military training graduation ceremony. and in the Luna-Verse he did his basic training his very first couple of weeks. so! this will take place a few weeks after Him & I (which means this is not Luna and Han’s first time seeing each other in a while!) so check that out if you haven’t already! don’t worry, i made sure i explained and wrote it in a way you guys would understand! happy reading, my loves! 🤍💚

part two: the smut aftermath - coming soon !

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

There was not a single damn thing in the universe that could dampen Luna's mood today.

Not the weather.

Not the aching in her back from the twelve-hour flight.

Not the growing pounding in her head from the lack of sleep.

Nothing.

Not even her alarm— the one that usually earned a groggy groan and a violent swipe across her bedside table, managed to irritate her. For the first time in the history of that obnoxious, blaring ringtone, she was waiting for it. She was awake before it even went off, staring at the ceiling of her hotel room with a grin stretching lazily across her face.

"Come on," she whispered at the phone screen, which read 05:59 AM. "Come on, come on, come on-"

BZZZZZZZZZTTT BZZZZZZZZZTTT.

She snatched it off the table like it had personally offended her, but instead of silencing it, she just sat up, let it ring for a few more seconds like it was a chorus, and then grinned even wider. Her heart felt too full for someone who hadn't slept in what felt like decades.

And she didn't care.

She welcomed the exhaustion with open arms because exhaustion meant movement, and movement meant she was one step closer to seeing him.

The flight back to Seoul from Paris had been long, tight, and exhausting. The air felt stale, she had barely eaten, and her jet lag was knocking at her brain. But none of it touched her mood.

Not one bit.

In fact, she was surprised she hadn't offered to drive the damn plane herself. She had half a mind to march into the cockpit and ask the pilot to go faster. "I need to see my fiancé," she imagined herself saying, arms crossed, sunglasses down her nose. "And he's in uniform today. So either you move it, or I will."

Her team had barely kept up with her the moment they landed. Still in jeans and a trench coat, not even passing through home for a shower or change of clothes, she was already ushering everyone to the van with the kind of efficiency that only came with obsession.

Normally, the idea of heading somewhere else instead of home after a flight would've annoyed her to no end.

Home meant bed. Home meant peace. Home meant rest.

But not today.

In fact, home was the last place she wanted to be.

Luna didn't fly all the way back to Seoul just to fall face-first into her couch and scroll through Instagram.

No.

She flew home for him.

Even the unforgiving Seoul traffic couldn't kill her mood. Cars were barely moving. Her manager sighed for the fifth time in five minutes. “Jiyeon-ah, we should've left the airport earlier."

Luna just smiled, tapping her fingers on her knee.

"I'm not even mad," she said, voice smooth, eyes fixed out the window. "They can honk all they want. They're not the ones about to see their fiancé in a military uniform."

That shut everyone up real quick.

The sun was high and merciless by the time they arrived, the kind of heat that made you question all your life choices. Her trench coat was definitely a mistake, but again… it didn't matter. Her mood didn't waver. If anything, she welcomed the heat like it was part of the ceremony itself.

A little suffering made the reward all the sweeter.

Luna stepped out of the van, sunglasses slipping onto the bridge of her nose like armor. She walked across the training field like it was her own personal runway.

The gravel crunched beneath her chunky black boots, designer of course, and her outfit was the perfect blend of off-duty model and military fiancée— wide-leg dark denim pants, a fitted white tank top that peeked from under a crisp oversized khaki button-up, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her her freshly blown-out hair, tucked behind her ears. A simple gold chain glinted at her neck.

Luna didn't want to be too loud, too visible, but… okay, she wanted to look good. She had to look good.

Behind her, her managers and Jeonghan’s managers hustled to keep up, muttering about security and whether they should've coordinated this better, but Luna couldn't hear them anymore. Her eyes were locked on the field ahead, where soon, rows of soldiers were being guided into place.

A sea of camouflage. Rows upon rows of them.

Somewhere in that sea was him.

Jeonghan.

She could barely stop her steps from breaking into a run.

Her lips twitched upward, the excitement nearly bursting out of her skin. "God," she muttered under her breath. "I'm surprised I'm not vibrating."

They made their way to the designated guests' seating area, and even as they moved, she could feel her pulse thumping in her ears like a war drum. Her legs were heavy with anticipation, stomach light with nerves, and still nothing could dampen her mood.

Because today was Jeonghan's basic military training graduation ceremony.

Her Jeonghan.

The same Jeonghan who, just weeks ago, was thrown headfirst into army life with a regulated sleep schedule just like that.

The same Jeonghan who barely survived without his face mist but wrote her long, sappy letters like they were living in a historical drama. The same Jeonghan who snuck in a few calls when he could, telling her to take care of herself and not skip meals, even when he was the one training in freezing weather or the grueling heat.

Luna adjusted her coat as she sat down, heart thudding in her chest. She hadn't seen him in two weeks.

Well… two weeks since the surprise.

That night in Goyang, during the opening concert of their Right Here tour, the lights dimmed and the screams had barely settled when Jeonghan showed up on the big screen like he had never left. Dressed in his usual all black, grin cocky as ever.

The fans lost their minds.

But no one lost it more than Luna.

They'd spent those two days glued to each other. Not even his aching arms or her packed schedule could separate them.

But then he had to go back.

“Just two more weeks,” he said.

And now, here she was.

Returning the favor.

Jeonghan knew her schedule. He knew she had Paris. He knew she had endless solo photoshoots and international press before they kicked off the U.S. leg of the tour next week.

He knew she wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow.

So he won't be expecting her today.

She changed flights. Reorganized schedules. Pulled strings, called favors.

All of it, for him.

And not even the jet lag. Not even the heat. Not even the hellish traffic or the bleary 5AM wake-up could touch her mood.

Because in a few minutes, Yoon Jeonghan was going to step onto that parade ground and see her sitting there, front row, waiting for him.

And he wouldn't see it coming.

But for now… she had to wait. And as she does, she couldn’t help but feel the eyes on her.

Luna had never been a stranger to being looked at.

But there was something about the kind of attention she was getting now— subtle, restrained, like people were trying very hard not to be caught staring that made her lips twitch behind the safety of her sunglasses.

She could feel it, the heat of eyes on her skin, a current in the air buzzing just faintly louder than the cicadas whining under the summer sun.

The guests around her tried to play it cool.

Tried.

A few leaned into each other, whispering. One teenage boy kept glancing over his shoulder so much it looked like he was watching a tennis match. The ajumma two rows ahead was blatantly filming her with her phone, pretending to record the empty stage but angling it far too obviously.

And of course, by the back, there were two people who were definitely not supposed to be there, holding two very not discreet cameras: one pointed directly at the field, and the other fixed, no shame, right at her.

Luna didn't even try to hide the way she rolled her eyes. If anything, she was glad she had sunglasses on. She was pretty sure her pupils had hit the back of her skull.

She exhaled through her nose and adjusted her sunglasses.

"Don't engage," her manager muttered so softly only she could hear. "Let them get their little shots."

And still, not even that could touch her mood.

Because even with that click-click-click of camera shutters and the subtle gasps of "Is that Luna?" echoing in the air, she remained utterly, stubbornly euphoric.

The only thing that might actually kill her right now was the waiting.

She hated waiting.

Patience had never been one of her finer virtues. She could fake it for public events, press interviews, brand deals, maybe even the occasional family dinner.

But now? Sitting here, with her heart racing and eyes scanning the field like it held the holy grail?

Torture.

Her nails tapped a quiet, anxious rhythm against the denim stretched over her knees, too rhythmic to be casual, too restrained to be a full-blown bounce, which was exactly what she wanted to do.

Tap-tap-tap.

Pause.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

She sighed and crossed her legs, then uncrossed them immediately because that made her more jittery. Her manager beside her handed her a small water bottle without a word.

She didn't even drink it. Just held it like it might distract her.

It didn't.

Finally, a voice came over the speakers.

The short welcome announcements began— brief, dry, and formal.

Luna straightened slightly in her seat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the basic military training completion ceremony. Please be seated as we begin."

A murmur of movement. A few last-minute guests shuffled in behind her. The heat settled heavy on her shoulders, but she didn't notice.

The announcer formally opened the ceremony with a clear, practiced tone. "We will now begin the graduation ceremony."

Luna's fingers froze mid-tap.

"Let us honor our nation. All guests, please rise for the playing of the national anthem."

The field turned solemn in an instant. Everyone stood. Some bowed their heads. Soldiers already stationed on the far ends snapped to a sharp salute.

Luna rose too, standing straight between her managers. She had heard the South Korean anthem a hundred times before, but this time it felt different. Grander. Louder. It hit her chest like a drumbeat.

Once the anthem faded, the announcer's voice returned.

"We now welcome the graduating class of the 25 Regimen, 11th Company, 4th Platoon, 3rd Squadron."

And that's when it happened.

Luna's head jerked up, body perking like someone had pulled a string in her spine.

Her entire posture shifted, her mouth parted just slightly. The tapping stopped. Her sunglasses were on but that didn't help. She pushed them up on top of her head in one smooth motion and scanned the field like a hawk.

Rows and rows of soldiers began to march in, each step measured, each line sharp. Boots hit the ground in synchronized thuds. They filed in perfectly, moving like one body.

Her eyes jumped from face to face, trying to pierce through the uniformity. Everyone looked the same from this distance, same camo fatigues, same buzzed heads, same stern expressions.

But he had to be here.

She could feel it.

She sat forward slightly, elbows on knees, ignoring the now even more aggressive stares she was getting for removing her shades.

Then…

A gentle nudge to her shoulder.

Jeonghan's manager.

He leaned in discreetly, pointed across the center left row of soldiers still filing in, and whispered low near her ear, "There. Fifth from the left."

Luna's head whipped toward the direction he gestured, breath caught in her chest— and there he was.

Yoon Jeonghan.

There was no mistaking him now.

Even in matching uniform, even under the rigid posture and lack of expression, he stood out like a firework in daylight.

His gait was slightly more fluid than the rest. His shoulders, broader than she remembered. His buzzcut? It was hidden under his beret but it was clearly short, shorter than she expected and somehow, it worked. His face looked sharper, clean and striking even from this distance. His jaw more defined, his skin glowed as if he wanted people to know where he was.

Luna's smile broke across her face before she could stop it.

Something in her chest twisted tight.

That's my fiancé.

There was a wild thrill building behind her ribs.

She hadn't seen him in uniform before. Not like this.

The photos he managed to sneak to her before were blurry, rushed, and never full-body. But now? Now he was right there, standing tall and proud, and looking like every boyfriend fantasy rolled into one.

Her stomach fluttered.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes dancing as she continued to admire him. The way he squared his shoulders. The way his eyes stayed locked ahead.

He didn't even know she was here yet. He didn't have a clue.

And that made it all the better.

He looked… strong. Disciplined. Different, but still so utterly him.

And Luna?

Luna loved it.

She couldn't stop looking at him.

Luna had seen Yoon Jeonghan in every stage of his life— barefaced, bed-headed, sulky at 4am, radiant on stage, sunlit and soft after showers, smug and teasing across practice rooms… but this?

This uniformed, serious, clean-cut version of him?

It wrecked her.

The way the military fatigues hugged his frame should've been a crime.

The standard-issue belt cinched his already tiny waist, the sleeves just barely pushed up enough to expose those forearms— those forearms, slightly tanned and taut from weeks of outdoor drills.

Even from this distance, she could see the way he carried himself.

Regal. Effortless. Shoulders squared, spine tall, chin slightly lifted like he was born for this.

And then his face… God, his face-stoic and expressionless, and yet she swore he still looked like he was plotting something.

Like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on her.

And he hadn't even seen her yet.

She knew she wasn't supposed to be staring this hard.

The ceremony was still going. Someone was giving a speech she could hear the vague, muffled cadence of words echoing through the speakers.

Something about pride. Loyalty. Service. But Luna? Luna wasn't processing a single syllable.

It was all white noise behind the hum of blood in her ears and the sight of Jeonghan standing still, looking like he walked straight out of a fever dream in camo print.

He didn't stand out because she recognized him.

Not because he was her fiancé.

Not even because he was a well-known idol with a face that had graced billboards across the globe.

No.

He stood out because he was Yoon Jeonghan.

Because even if she hadn't known him, had never laid eyes on him before in her life, her gaze still would've found him. Her breath still would've caught. Something in her chest still would've paused, some ancient instinct whispering, There. That one. Him.

And oh, has she talked about the way he wore that uniform yet? (yes she has). She'd been teasing him for weeks over the phone, threatening to steal his uniform and wear it herself just to see his reaction. But now that she saw it in real life, tight in all the right places, slightly wrinkled at the waist, with his name embroidered neatly over his heart?

She didn't want to wear it.

She wanted him to wear it while standing between her legs with that exact same unreadable expression, only this time in her bedroom.

Woah… what?!

Luna let out a slow, silent exhale, blinking as if that would calm her thoughts. It didn't. She folded her arms and subtly pressed her thighs together.

God help her, she was having unholy thoughts in a military base.

She looked back at him, smiling softly, head tilted as she watched his jaw flex slightly while standing at attention.

He looked grown. He looked… strong.

And still, even beneath all that discipline and formality, she could see him, her Jeonghan, the one who pulled her into bed by her ankles, who always had a smug comment ready, who pressed kisses to the inside of her wrist when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

Luna was sure she had heart-eyes.

She must've been staring too hard. She knew she was.

The kind of stare that could set skin on fire, the kind of gaze that carved tunnels through distance and reason and logic because suddenly, impossibly, Jeonghan turned his head.

Right there, in the middle of formal military formation, as uniformed men stood stock-still in proud discipline with heads facing forward and backs ramrod straight, he turned his head.

And looked straight at her.

For a second, Luna's breath caught mid-inhale. Her body went rigid, the sound of the ceremony dulling beneath the roar in her ears.

Jeonghan didn't flinch. He didn't smile. Not right away.

He stared. Just stared.

And then, the corners of his eyes crinkled, barely perceptible, just enough for her to see.

A double take.

Subtle. Too quick for anyone else to catch— anyone but her. Because she knew every micro-expression etched onto that face like the back of her hand. She saw it.

First the stillness.

Then the slight flicker of disbelief behind his dark eyes. Then-

A twitch of his brow.

A small, slow widening of his eyes. Not by much, not enough for the stern commander two rows ahead of him to notice.

But Luna caught it. Luna felt it.

And then… there it was.

That smirk.

That trademark, godforsaken, infuriating Jeonghan smirk— lazy and lopsided, smug and amused, like he'd just caught the biggest secret in the room and tucked it under his tongue to chew on later.

His eyes didn't linger. He didn't gawk. He looked, smirked, and then turned his head back forward, shoulders still as ever, the corners of his mouth threatening rebellion even as the ceremony continued around him.

But his mood had shifted.

She saw it.

His whole posture had lightened. His shoulders rolled back more confidently. His chin tilted up just slightly. He looked taller. He looked pleased.

And even from where she sat, Luna could feel it, that familiar current of mischief crackling just beneath his skin. The one that meant he'd seen her, clocked her presence, and now planned to torment her with it in the most excruciating, unspoken ways until the moment they were alone again.

And Luna?

Luna almost melted into a goddamn puddle right there in her seat.

She felt her knees buckle even though she was sitting down. Her palms went clammy where they rested on her thighs, her perfectly-manicured nails now lightly indenting the soft fabric of her pants. Her throat constricted, mouth parting just slightly as her stomach did a violent somersault, like her body was fourteen again and her crush just called her pretty in the school hallway.

Her entire body buzzed with the weight of that look, like it had tunneled through her bones and planted itself somewhere near her spine.

She could hear her own heartbeat.

Goddamn him, Luna thought, eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to cool the blush creeping up her neck. She pressed her lips together, trying to fight the stupid grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. She even turned slightly away, burying her face halfway in her hand under the guise of adjusting her sunglasses on top of her head.

It was so stupid. So ridiculous.

But he always did this to her.

Only he could do this to her.

Because Luna, the Luna— top idol, composed, confident, always unbothered, was blushing like an idiot in public because her fiancé smirked at her. Because he saw her, like he always did, like he always would. And worse, he knew what it did to her. He could read her fluster like a goddamn map.

Luna exhaled slowly through her nose, shaking her head with a tiny, breathless laugh as she pulled herself together.

No one would know. No one saw that. That was between them.

But inside?

Inside she was screaming. Kicking her feet. Blushing down to her soul.

Yoon Jeonghan was the only person on earth who could make Luna feel like this.

And the worst part?

He absolutely knew it.

The ceremony continued, but for Luna, everything blurred at the edges.

She heard the voices of the commanding officers, distant and muffled, as though underwater. The echo of a patriotic speech rippled through the speakers, and everyone around her politely nodded, clapped, stood on cue. But Luna didn't move. Her hands were folded on her lap, her sunglasses still perched on top of her head, and her entire body tilted forward ever so slightly as her eyes stayed rooted on one person only.

Yoon Jeonghan.

Everything else faded. The banners, the salutes, the line of soldiers standing proud with their chin high and boots aligned to exact angles— it was all background noise to her. The sounds, the ceremony, even the scorching sun overhead-they were like static behind a single clear radio frequency locked on Jeonghan.

She admired how still he stood, how confident he looked in uniform, how the rigid posture suited him in a way that somehow still whispered of his playful nature. She had half the mind to laugh. How could a man in strict military attire still look like he was plotting something mischievous behind his eyes?

With a final salute and a crisp bow to the national flag, the ceremony officially ended.

Just before the chairs around them scraped and the rustling of families preparing to head down began, a tall figure in uniform approached them discreetly. He was a senior officer, lean and polite with a neutral face that softened slightly as he addressed them.

"Ma’am," he said with a quiet nod, eyes flicking to the two managers beside her. "We've been instructed to escort you to Private Yoon before the crowd goes down the field. It'll be less chaotic that way."

Luna blinked, straightening in her seat. She could feel her heart hammering.

"Right now?" she asked, rising slowly, brushing invisible wrinkles off her pants.

The senior officer gave a curt, respectful nod. "Please follow me. He's still in formation, but we'll intercept him quietly before the families approach."

Jeonghan's manager exchanged a quick glance with hers and offered a small smile. "Let's go," he said, nudging his head slightly for her to follow the officer.

Luna didn't need to be told twice.

She stood up, slid her sunglasses back over her eyes and began walking, her heeled boots clicking lightly against the pavement. Her pace was steady, her expression composed, but inside, anticipation pulsed like an electric current.

They followed the officer as he made his way across the small barricade and onto the side of the field, where the line of graduating soldiers remained standing in their rows.

As they reached the edge, the officer turned his head and called, firm but quiet, "Private Yoon."

Jeonghan, still standing in line, turned his head slightly at the sound of his name. His brow quirked in that familiar, instinctive way, curious, calculating, aware. His eyes scanned across the field, and then landed on her.

Luna.

Walking toward him.

Even with the sunlight behind her and the sunglasses obscuring half her face, he knew. The way his mouth twitched was all the confirmation she needed— he'd understood immediately.

Jeonghan's head dipped briefly in acknowledgment to the officer before he pivoted from his position, stepping out of formation with precise steps that somehow still looked relaxed. His walk was smooth, purposeful, confident, and as he made his way toward the back of the field, his gaze barely flickered from Luna's direction.

And hers, from his.

They were walking towards each other now. One measured step after another. It wasn't fast. It wasn't frantic. But the air between them thickened like it was laced with something electric, something magnetic, pulling them closer with every passing second.

And then…

At the far back of the field, where the crowd thinned and trees cast narrow strips of shade, Jeonghan veered right. It was quiet there. The kind of quiet they needed.

Luna didn't wait another second.

She jogged.

Boots clicking faster now, hair bouncing behind her, her grin uncontrollable and wide, she sprinted the remaining steps toward him, and when she reached him, she jumped.

"God, I missed you," she breathed with a giddy laugh as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Jeonghan caught her in one swift motion, his arm automatically slipping beneath her thighs, scooping her up like she weighed nothing at all. He didn't stop walking. Just kept moving, like carrying her was second nature, like she belonged there, with her body curled around his.

Luna giggled again, the kind that trembled slightly from relief and joy and disbelief. Her face tucked into the crook of his neck, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, as if grounding herself in the fact that he was here and she was here and this wasn't a dream.

And Jeonghan?

He was smiling. Wide. Proud. Radiant.

Like she was the only person in the world that mattered.

Like this— her in his arms-was his prize for surviving the four hardest weeks of his life.

People were pointing. Filming. Whispering. Some were already reaching for their phones. And both of them saw it.

And neither of them gave a single damn.

Because when it came to moments like this, everything else faded.

All they saw was each other.

Once they reached the end and once the two sasaengs who unbeknownst to them had managed to sneak and follow after them were finally intercepted and escorted away by security— kicking, complaining, lenses still clicking in desperate vain, Jeonghan gently set Luna down onto her feet.

It wasn't particularly graceful. His arms lingered a second too long around her waist, and hers curled just a bit tighter around his shoulders before slipping down. There was a subtle hesitation in letting go, like gravity itself was annoyed at being reunited with them.

When Luna looked up at him, her smile was soft, but undeniable. The kind of smile that made breathing a little harder for whoever it was directed at. "Hello," she said quietly, brushing invisible lint off his chest, her fingers trailing just a little longer than they needed to.

Jeonghan's mouth pulled into that smirk, the one she'd recognize with her eyes closed, the one that warned trouble, flirtation, and safety all in the same breath. "Hi."

They stood close. Too close for public decency but far too far for the ache in their chests.

Luna's hands drifted up to his uniform without thinking, smoothing the slightly crooked edge of his collar, flattening the fabric over his chest. Her fingertips grazed the edge of the name tag, her thumb brushing the curve of the his embroidered name. She adjusted his beret next with delicate precision, even though it was perfectly fine.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan's hand moved with idle care along her arm, stroking up and down from wrist to elbow like he couldn't help himself. The pad of his thumb skimmed the sensitive skin just above her elbow, and he leaned in slightly, breath fanning the edge of her hair as his eyes drank her in up close.

"Sneaky girl," he murmured, tugging his beret off entirely and raking a hand through the minimal length of his buzzed hair. "You always surprise me when I least expect it."

Luna smiled, slow and teasing, head tilted as she let her gaze trace the slope of his jaw. "And yet somehow you still act like you knew I'd be here."

"I didn't." He grinned. "But now I'm wondering if I manifested it."

She blinked, one brow raised. "You manifest me a lot, huh?"

"Only every night."

She chuckled, biting her lip. Her hands, traitorous and sure, slid down from his collar and rested over his chest. "You look good, soldier."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow and stepped closer, so close that the edge of her heels bumped the toes of his boots. "Yeah? You into this, Nana-ya?”

"I won't lie," she said, glancing at the collar again, then letting her eyes trail a little lower. "It's… doing… things."

"Good things?"

"Dangerous things."

His smirk stretched wider. "Should I keep it on later, then?"

"Only if you're okay with me taking it off."

"Oh, I was counting on that, baby."

A beat.

The kind of silence where everything else around them dimmed. A bird chirped somewhere. A camera clicked somewhere. Neither noticed. Neither would care.

They stared at each other.

Jeonghan's eyes dropped to her lips. Luna tilted her chin up, ever so slightly.

"Did you miss me?" she asked, voice soft but steady, like the question had been clawing at her throat for weeks and she'd only now let it free.

Jeonghan didn't speak. He didn't have to. He reached forward and caught her wrist in his hand, pulling her into him, close enough for her perfume to invade what little space he had left for air.

"Every second," he said lowly, eyes serious now, intense, fond. "I don't even know how I survived it."

"Four weeks," she whispered, her palm now flat against the firm rise of his chest. "I almost went insane, Jeongie.”

He grinned, playful again, like it had never left. "Did you cry?"

"I had wine."

"Same thing."

She laughed, bumping her forehead gently against his in affection, the moment so utterly theirs that it didn't matter the faint murmurs behind the fences or the guards pacing nearby.

"You're so annoying," she mumbled.

"You love it."

"I really, really do."

Then he kissed her.

There wasn't a countdown. There wasn't hesitation.

Just him leaning down and her rising up on her toes. His hand cradled the back of her head with such care it made her knees weak, while her fingers clutched at his collar, his chest, anything to ground herself as their lips met with the force of everything they hadn't said the past month.

It was slow and unhurried. But deliberate. Thorough.

The kind of kiss that says I missed you so much I almost lost my mind.

The kind of kiss that says You're home.

And nothing else existed.

Not the soldiers breaking formation in the distance.

Not the reporters being escorted further off.

Not the families and visitors running to greet their love ones.

Not the ache in Jeonghan's back or the jetlag in Luna's bones.

Just them— back in their orbit.

Eventually, when they pulled apart, breaths short and foreheads still resting together, Jeonghan sighed as though releasing the final weight of the last four weeks. His hand dropped to her waist and gave it a soft squeeze, grounding them.

"You're real," he murmured.

"You're sweaty," she murmured back.

He grinned. "Still turned on though?"

She rolled her eyes with a laugh, smacking his chest, but didn't step away. Instead, she reached up again and gently tucked back a strand of her own hair that had caught between them, only for Jeonghan to beat her to it, brushing it behind her ear and letting his fingers trail down the side of her neck.

"You like the buzz?" he asked, wiggling his brows.

"I'm… getting used to it," she admitted. "You're lucky your face is still handsome."

"Only still?"

"I'll give it a nine. Out of ten."

He scoffed, dramatically offended. "Jiyeonie."

"Okay, okay. Fine. An eleven."

Jeonghan leaned in, nose brushing hers. "Better."

"I'll shave your eyebrows next time though, just to test the limits… to see if your beauty will withstand.” Luna teased with a smirk.

"I'll marry you either way."

That made her pause, biting back the grin that threatened to consume her entire face. She blinked up at him, expression soft and betraying just how ruined she was by his easy charm.

"Yoon Jeonghan."

"Yes?"

"Stop flirting or I'll kiss you again."

"Not exactly the punishment you think it is."

And Luna did kiss him again— short, snappy, a soft peck to shut him up. She pulled back just as his hands gripped at her sides tighter like he didn't want to let her go.

"God, I missed you," he said again, breathless this time.

Before Luna could respond, Jeonghan’s manager stepped in with a slightly sheepish cough. "Sorry to interrupt the early honeymoon, but we've been told it's time to head out."

Jeonghan playfully groaned and joked. "One more minute."

Luna chuckled, brushing his hand but intertwining her fingers with his. "We'll make up for it later."

"Promise?" he asked, bringing her knuckles to his lips.

She smirked. "Better keep that uniform on just in case."

And with that, fingers still laced and grins still lingering, they followed their managers back toward the waiting van, the sounds of the crowd behind them faded into nothing more than a distant hum, as if the world had the decency to quiet down just for them.

Jeonghan’s grip on her hand stayed firm, his thumb brushing softly along her knuckles, while Luna leaned into his side like her body knew exactly where it belonged. Every step they took was unhurried, like neither of them was in any rush to let the moment go. Her head tilted gently toward his shoulder, and his chin rested briefly atop her hair.

It was nothing grand or dramatic— just the quiet, comforting rhythm of two people slipping back into each other like no time had passed at all.

And as they disappeared behind the tinted doors, the last glimpse of them was simple… a boy in uniform, and the girl who crossed oceans and showed up just to remind him he was always worth waiting for and that he was loved in every version, in every season, and in every wait.

[part two: the smut aftermath - coming soon !]

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