yumiyue07

[yumiyue07]

Hate That I Want You

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

The lab equipment had been sterilized and shelved with military precision, the last data logs saved, tomorrow's anxieties neatly compartmentalized into digital folders. You'd worked through lunch with single-minded focus, the rhythmic pipetting and note-taking a welcome distraction from... certain thoughts. “If I did certain things to her...”

The phantom whisper sent an involuntary shiver down your spine as you shoved your notebook into your bag. Saora's unanswered lunch texts stared up at you from your phone screen. You typed a hasty apology, “Lab emergency”, though the real emergency pulsed under your ribs, hot and insistent.

The hallway outside was mercifully empty. Until…

„Hello, Y/N!“

Professor Han's cheerful call nearly made you drop your keys. She swept past in a cloud of citrus perfume and rustling papers, already halfway into her office before you could muster more than a stiff nod. The door clicked shut behind her.

You froze.

That smirk flashed behind your eyelids again, H/N leaning in close, his breath ghosting over your ear as he painted very specific images in the air between you.

“So that means,” he murmured, “if I did certain things to her... you wouldn’t mind?”

“Damn it.”

You pressed icy hands to your burning cheeks. This was absurd. What did you care if he, with her, if they…

(The way his gaze had dropped to your throat when he said it.)

You were running before you realized it, sneakers slapping against linoleum like a fugitive. Let him do what he wanted. With whomever he wanted.

It shouldn't matter.

It didn't matter.

(Then why did your stomach twist at the thought?)

The Velvet Eclipse welcomed you with its usual opulent hush, the grandfather clock's brass pendulum marking your arrival with a satisfied tick. No reprimand today.

Ms. Laurent glanced up from behind the counter, where she was deep in conversation with a customer. She offered you a pleased smile and a small nod of approval. High praise, by her standards.

The back room smelled of lavender sachets and old paper, its full-length mirror framed in gilded vines that seemed to curl tighter when you approached. The dress slipped over your shoulders like second skin, black silk with a neckline that hinted rather than proclaimed, the sash at your waist tying just so.

The makeup Amy had painstakingly taught you, the art of looking effortlessly luminous, now came easier. The blush applied with a lighter hand, the subtle highlight at your brow bone catching the light. A little more than what you'd worn this morning. Everything here was meant to look polished, charming, ethereal, dreamlike. You were no exception.

Makeup had never been your passion, more of a functional thing. But now... something was shifting. You leaned in toward the mirror. Your lips curved into a smile. How unusual.

“There you are.”

Amy materialized in the doorway, her grin telegraphing mischief. The silver hoops in her ears caught the light as she tilted her head. “You look... different. Fresher. Did you use that new highlighter I gave you?”

You stiffened. “Just following your tutorial.”

“Mmhm.” She tapped one polished nail against her cheek. "And this sudden dedication to our 'ethereal aesthetic' wouldn't happen to coincide with a person? Do I know…"

You nearly tripped over your own feet. “I'm going for a spin,” you said quickly, ducking away before she could ask anything else.

Her laughter followed you like wind chimes as you fled, your cheeks betraying you far more than any highlighter ever could.

The café had settled into that magical liminal space between afternoon and evening, when the sunlight slanted through the windows in molten gold streams, gilding every surface: the polished mahogany tables, the delicate porcelain cups, the swirling steam rising from freshly pulled espresso shots. A vintage jazz record spun softly in the corner, its brassy notes mingling with the murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of silverware. The air hung heavy with the comforting perfume of vanilla bean and cinnamon, underscored by something fresher, the faintest whisper of spring blossoms carried in through the cracked windows.

You wove between the tables with the quiet grace of someone who knew every inch of the space by heart, your tray balanced effortlessly as you delivered drinks with practiced precision. In the corner booth, a young couple sat with their heads bent close together, their fingers brushing over a shared pain au chocolat with the easy intimacy of longtime lovers. You set down their cappuccinos with barely a sound, unwilling to disrupt the quiet magic of their moment. Whatever that feeling was, it hovered in your chest, feather-light but persistent, and you found yourself smiling as you turned away…

…only for your breath to catch at the sight of a familiar figure bent over one of the window-side tables.

Eiden sat bathed in golden light, his chestnut hair turned to burnished bronze by the sun's vanishing rays. Papers were strewn haphazardly across the tabletop, some weighted down by an abandoned book, others threatening to flutter away with each breeze from the open window. His brow was furrowed in concentration, the tip of his pen tapping absently against his bottom lip as he scribbled notes in the margins of some dense-looking textbook.

For a moment, you simply watched. The way his shoulders tensed with focus, the way his free hand raked through his hair in a gesture of mild frustration, the way the sunlight caught in his eyelashes. Then, before you could second-guess yourself, you were moving toward him, your pulse fluttering strangely in your throat.

“Hello,” you said, voice warm despite the sudden tightness in your chest. “Nice to see you here. Can I get you anything?”

At the sound of your voice, he looked up and just like that, the tension drained from his frame, replaced by a smile so disarmingly genuine it made your stomach swoop.

“I wasn't expecting to see you here,” Eiden said, setting down his pen with a quiet clatter. His voice was softer than it had been on campus, warmer, as if the café's honeyed light had seeped into his very tone. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Yeah, same here,” you admitted, your fingers rising unconsciously to tuck a rebellious strand of hair behind your ear. “So?” nodding pointedly at the order notebook clutched in your hands like a lifeline.

Eiden's eyebrow arched in playful confusion. “So?” he echoed, his voice dipping into that warm, teasing register that made your pulse stutter.

You tapped your pen against the notebook's leather cover with more force than necessary. “Did you want to order something or just stare at me all afternoon?” The words came out sharper than intended, but he only laughed, a rich, unfiltered sound that shimmered in the honeyed air between you.

“Oh!” Comprehension dawned across his features as he leaned back in his chair, the movement sending sunlight cascading through his hair. He hand swept over the chaotic spread of papers before him with a self-deprecating chuckle. “You know what? I'll take whatever you recommend. I can't find the menu in this mess anyway.”

There was a gleam in his amber eyes as he spoke, something playful and bright that sent a flock of butterflies loose in your chest. The unspoken challenge glinting beneath the words: Surprise me. Delight me. Know me.

“All right then,” you laughed softly. “Let me surprise you one more time.”

The walk back to the counter felt longer than usual, your thoughts whirling like the steam from the espresso machine. Caramel. That’s what lingered in your memory, warm and rich, with a hint of something deeper beneath. Had you imagined it? Either way, it suited him. Sweet without being cloying. Comforting yet impossible to ignore.

You set to work.

Amy materialized at your elbow, her knowing smirk already in place as she polished a porcelain cup to impossible shine. “Do you know him?” The tilt of her head toward Eiden’s table was anything but subtle. “Because you’re looking at him like he’s the dessert menu come to life.”

You nearly fumbled the caramel syrup bottle. “We’ve…met. Briefly.”

“Uh-huh.” She smirked, not buying a word. “And does Briefly have a name?”

You busied yourself before she could tease you more. Carefully, you assembled a Velvet Caramel Cream Latte, pouring steamed vanilla milk over fresh espresso and golden caramel syrup, topping it with whipped cream and a gentle dusting of toffee nibs. For the dessert, you chose your favorite, Hazelnut Praline Torte, its layers soft and rich, glazed in chocolate and kissed with a tiny fleck of edible gold.

Balanced on a tray, the order looked so elegant that it made your heart flutter.

You approached his table, pausing just long enough to steady your breath.

“Here you are, sir,” you said, half-playfully to catch his attention.

Eiden looked up, and the way his eyes lit up, first at the spread before him, then at you, sent a thrill down your spine. “Thank you,” he said, clearing space with careful hands. “This looks incredible.”

You set each piece down with deliberate care, hyperaware of his gaze tracing your every movement. “It’s one of our signature drinks,” you said. “And the cake, well, it’s my personal favorite.”

“Then I already know I’ll love it,” he replied, though his attention never wavered from your face.

The heat in your cheeks rose, and you tucked another nonexistent loose strand behind your ear. “Well,” you murmured, “enjoy.” You escaped before your nerves could betray you any further.

From behind the counter, you stole glances as he took the first sip, the first bite, the way his expression softened with pleasure, the deliberate way he savored each mouthful as if committing it to memory. Something warm and unfamiliar unfurled in your chest. You couldn't help but feel strangely proud. You were the one who’d chosen exactly what would make him smile.

Maybe it was silly. But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like the invisible girl in the background.

At least, not to him.

Eiden lingered long after his dessert plate had been cleared, sipping what remained of his latte while reading through a stack of annotated notes. Outside, the sun had already dipped behind the skyline, painting the windows in dusky gold. The café had slipped into its evening incarnation. The chandeliers dimmed to a honeyed glow, the jazz transitioning to something slower, smokier, and a new wave of customers trickling in for the cocktail hour.

From your post behind the counter, you watched through your lashes as he turned a well-worn page, his brow furrowing slightly before smoothing again. He hadn’t ordered anything else. Hadn’t even pulled out his phone. No impatient glances at the door. Just the steady rhythm of his breathing and the occasional scratch of his pen, as if this corner of the café had become his whole world.

Eventually, you walked over with a cautious smile.

“Finished with these?” you asked, fingers brushing the porcelain's edge. “Can I get you anything else?”

He looked up, and only then did you notice the faint weariness in his eyes. He must’ve been studying for hours. His shoulders tensed briefly before relaxing into a smile.

“Yes, thank you.” He stretched, the movement pulling his shirt taut across his shoulders. Then, as if on a whim, his gaze softened. “Hmm. I’ll have something else... if you join me for a moment.”

You blinked. “I, well, I can’t just sit down and take a break. I’m on shift.”

“Yes, you can,” he said, with a quiet confidence that disarmed you. Then he casually raised his hand, signaling Ms. Laurent.

Your heart nearly jumped into your throat.

“Wait, what are you…” You started to protest, but the café owner was already walking over, her heels clicking softly across the floor.

“What can I do for you, Eiden?” she asked with a smile that told you this wasn’t the first time they’d spoken.

Your gaze snapped between them. Eiden? Not sir. Just—Eiden. You hadn’t expected her to speak so... warmly.

“Auntie,” he said, lips quirking into a grin, “may I borrow your best employee for five minutes? Just to talk.”

Auntie?

You stared at him, wide-eyed. He glanced at you with amusement and winked, completely unbothered by the shock written all over your face.

Ms. Laurent raised an eyebrow, then looked at you, her expression thoughtful. “All right,” she said slowly. “But just five minutes. The evening rush starts soon.”

“Of course.” Eiden waited until her footsteps faded before turning back to you as if the matter were settled. You were still frozen in place, gripping your tablet a little tighter, heart flaring with nervous anticipation. “Your boss gave you a break.” His grin turned sheepish. “Though I suppose I should've mentioned the family connection earlier.”

The world seemed to tilt slightly as you nodded, the café's ambient noise fading to a distant hum. Eiden's voice dropped to something warm and conspiratorial, his fingers tapping an absent rhythm against the tablecloth.

“Y/N...” The way he said your name sent a pleasant a shiver down your spine. “Pick something refreshing for us, would you? Something you like.” His lips quirked. “I'd rather taste your choice than mine.”

“Yes…sure. I’ll be back in a minute.”

You moved to the counter in a daze, your hands operating on muscle memory while your mind whirled. The polished silver shaker felt cool against your palms as you crafted the drink you always made for yourself after long shifts: jasmine tea steeped to perfection, kissed with citrus slices that curled like crescent moons, crushed berries bleeding their ruby hue into the ice. A final flourish of mint sprigs, arranged just so, decorating them like Amy had taught you: dainty, polished, pretty.

She materialized beside you as you placed the second glass on the tray, her elbow nudging your ribs.

“He’s family?” you whispered in disbelief, fingers tightening around the tray.

“Didn’t know?” Amy's grin could have powered the café's lights. “Ms. Laurent’s sister’s kid. Shows up like a stray cat, once, maybe twice a month.” A pause. “Always alone. Polite enough to make saints look rude.”

Alone. You swallowed. That somehow made you like him more. Or maybe it made him harder to read.

“So you knew him,” you accused, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Amy's laughter was a silver bell. “Where's the fun in spoiling the surprise?” She fluffed your apron ties with theatrical care. “Though I must say, you're taking it rather well.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it nearly hurt. “Yes, thank you for the heart attack.”

“Now, now,” she sang-songed, stepping back with a dancer's grace. “Don't keep your date waiting.”

“He's not…”

But she was already floating away, winking at you. You straightened up, the tray’s weight heavier in your hands as you turned. The clinking glasses suddenly felt thunderous in your ears. You walked back toward his table with the feeling that your evening had just taken a sharp, unexpected turn.

To be continued....

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

♡ Author’s note Oh, Eiden 😍 He’s the sweetest, isn’t he? So kind, so perfect… or is it all just a mask? 👀 Can we really trust him?

Love, YumiYue 🌙

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

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Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by ENHYPEN’s song “Bad Desire”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

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[yumiyue07]

Hate That I Want You

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Part 1 | Part 2

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

The alarms came and went in waves, their insistent chirping fading into the haze of half-sleep as you burrowed deeper beneath the sheets. Your body resisted consciousness with a heaviness that went beyond mere fatigue. It was the weight of yesterday’s lab hours, the lingering tension of H/N’s presence, the restless replay of Eiden’s easy smile that had followed you into dreams you couldn’t quite remember.

The sun was already climbing, warm light pooling at the edge of your sheets, but you didn’t move. Not yet.

Somewhere across campus, H/N was undoubtedly already in the lab, his impeccable posture and sharper tongue waiting like a blade poised above your neck. The image of him checking the clock, then the door, then the clock again, his patience fraying with each passing minute, coaxed a faint smirk to your lips. Maybe he’d even check the hallway, convinced you were playing some petty human game.

Your eyes slipped closed again.

Let him wait.

You weren’t going.

By the time you finally dragged yourself out of bed, the spring sunlight had turned golden, spilling across your dorm floor in soft streaks. You stood in front of the mirror, tying your hair into a quick, messy bun. The shadows beneath your eyes looked darker in daylight, bruised from too little sleep and too many shifts. Your fingers paused as they brushed the delicate skin beneath your lashes.

“So you’re the brains and the beauty.”

That’s when you remembered him. Not H/N.       Eiden.

Eiden’s voice curled through your memory, warm as the sunlight now gilding the edges of your dorm. You huffed a laugh at your own reflection, at the way your fingertips lingered just a second too long against your cheekbone.

Pathetic.

Still, your hand moved to the little pouch of makeup tucked inside your drawer, the one Amy, your colleague at The Velvet Eclipse, insisted you needed when she dragged you into that shop with bright lights and pushy salesgirls. You didn’t wear much. Just enough to soften the shadows and bring a touch of life back to your face. Barely there. Professional. Natural.

Satisfied, you grabbed your bag and headed out, letting the door click softly behind you.

Today would be long.         And for once, you weren’t entirely dreading it.

“Good morning, my dear.”   A melodic voice swept over your shoulder like the first warm breeze of spring.

You turned and met a pair of luminous sapphire-blue eyes.

“Ah, hi, Saora.” A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it. She looked radiant, as always. She was sunlight given human form, her long, blonde hair cascading over her shoulders like spun gold, cheeks dusted rose-petal pink, lips full and soft. Saora didn’t just look like a fairy; she was one. Ethereal. Gentle. Always ready to help anyone in need. Yet for all her ethereal gentleness, you knew better than to mistake her kindness for weakness. Cross those she loved, and those delicate hands could wield vengeance with surgical precision.   She gave you a knowing once-over, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “How unusual to see you at this hour of the morning,” she mused, circling you with exaggerated scrutiny. The scent of vanilla trailed in her wake.

You blinked, clutching your bag a little tighter. “What—?”

Her head tilted. “Are you wearing... make-up?”

You flushed. Hard. “Just a little. I didn’t feel like waking up early, so... yeah.”

A slow, knowing grin spread across her face. “Well, well. You would tell me if there was someone you were trying to impress, wouldn’t you?”

Your heartbeat stuttered. And, traitor that it was, someone flashed through your mind.

Desperate to change the subject, you grabbed her arm. “Of course I would. Now let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

She let you pull her along, laughter bubbling in her throat. “Which would be catastrophic, of course, Ms. Perfectionist.”

You elbowed her gently, feigning annoyance.

The two of you chatted as you made your way across campus, catching up on missed moments in between classes and shifts. When you reached the fork in the path, she slipped her arm free and looked at you.

“Lunch later?”

“I’ll try,” you said, adjusting your bag. “I might swing by the lab after lecture, but I’ll text you.”

“All right.” She pulled you in for a quick hug. “See you later.”

You watched as she disappeared into one of the gleaming glass buildings, her golden hair catching the sunlight like a halo.  A fairy in a city of steel.

Completely lost in thought, you wandered toward your building in a daze, your mind tangled in to-do lists and class schedules, trailing after the echo of Saora’s teasing voice. The campus buzzed faintly around you, distant laughter, hurried footsteps, the rustle of spring leaves, the far-off chime of the clock tower, but you moved through it all like a ghost, guided more by habit than intention.

Which was why you didn’t see him.

Not until the solid warmth of his chest halted your progress with a jolt, the impact sending a sharp thud through your bones. The world snapped back into focus as books tumbled to the pavement in a chaotic flurry of pages, your bag slipping precariously off your shoulder as you staggered back.

“Oh, I’m really sorry, I wasn’t looking…” The automatic apology tumbled out even as you dropped to your knees, fingers scrambling to gather the scattered items before they could be trampled by passing students. Your fingers froze as your eyes landed on the title of one book: Neuroscience and Emotion, its pages splayed open to a diagram of the limbic system.

“I should be apologizing. Happens to the best of us.”

That voice, warm and rich, threaded with an undercurrent of amusement, sent an inexplicable shiver down your spine. You looked up slowly, the morning sunlight catching in your eyes as you tilted your head back.

Amber.

That was your first thought. Not brown, not hazel, but amber, the color of sunlight through whiskey, of maple leaves in late autumn. They crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at you, the expression effortless and bright.

You blinked, stunned for a second too long, your breath catching in your throat. It was him.

Eiden.

He looked different in daylight, softer somehow, despite the sharp lines of his jaw. He wore a light beige coat this time, collar popped slightly against the breeze, and his tie hung loose around his neck as if he’d given up on it halfway through the morning. Somehow, the casual disarray suited him, his chestnut-brown hair tousled, his smile easy and unhurried, as if running into you had simply made his day.

“So soon we meet again, huh, Y/N?” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Your name in his mouth did strange things to your chest, a fluttering sensation that had no business existing this early in the morning.

“You remembered,” you blurted before you could stop yourself, then immediately wanted to crawl into the nearest bush. Heat flooded your cheeks as you hurried to correct yourself. “I mean—yes. Hello, Eiden.”

You reached for the book at the same time he did, your fingers brushing against his. Just for a second. But it was enough to jolt something awake, your pulse surged, betraying you completely.

You snatched your hand back. “Oh. Sorry.”

He tilted his head slightly, that infuriatingly charming smile widening. “You say that a lot.”

The nervous laugh that escaped you sounded foreign even to your own ears as you clutched the textbook against your chest like a shield. What was wrong with you? Yesterday, behind the counter, you'd been all sharp wit and effortless composure. But something about seeing him here, outside of the curated elegance of The Velvet Eclipse, disarmed you. Made him feel... real. Closer.

Dangerously close.

Maybe it was the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, catching in the strands of his hair, transforming them into molten bronze. Or the subtle scent of his cologne that lingered between you. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the simple fact that someone had remembered your name and spoken it like it meant something.

You handed him the remaining books with careful precision, hyperaware of his gaze tracing your every movement.

“Thanks for the rescue,” he said, tucking the last volume under his arm. His smile transformed his entire face. Eyes crinkling, a faint dimple appearing in his left cheek as if joy was his default state.

You shook your head, fingers tightening around your bag strap. “No, really. I should be apologizing. I wasn’t looking where I was going. I guess I was a little... distracted.”

“A lot on your mind?” he asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “If I can help with anything, just say the word. I know what it’s like.”

You blinked, surprised by the casual sincerity in his voice.

It wasn’t the offer itself that startled you. It was how effortlessly he gave it, without any hesitation, any agenda. At Lunaris, favors came with strings, with expectations and carefully calculated returns. You hardly knew each other. Most people didn’t offer help unless they were obligated. But here he was, Eiden-with-the-amber-eyes, offering it freely.

You weren’t used to that. You’d always done everything alone, because you had to.

“That's...” You swallowed around the unfamiliar warmth in your throat. “Very kind of you. I might take you up on that, someday.”

“Good,” he said, his grin crooked now. “Though it might help if I gave you my number. Otherwise, that whole 'reaching out' part could get tricky.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Oh. Yes. I mean, I’d love that.” A beat. “To have your number.” You fumbled for your phone with suddenly clumsy fingers, nearly dropping it in your haste.

His chuckle was warm as his fingers brushed against yours during the exchange, a fleeting contact that sent sparks dancing up your arm. When you glanced at your screen, his contact information glowed back at you, the letters of his name somehow already feeling familiar beneath your fingertips.

“So, Y/N...” He pocketed his phone with a casual flick of his wrist. “This was a nice surprise. Hope it happens again.”

The wink he tossed over his shoulder as he walked away shouldn't have affected you.

“Y-Yeah, please. I mean…me too,” you stammered, heat blooming in your cheeks.

You waved like an overeager tour guide as he turned and walked away, and he glanced over his shoulder once more, still grinning.

Only when he'd vanished around the corner did you realize, your cheeks ached from smiling.

You slipped inside the building and ducked into a quiet corner near the stairwell. The chilled concrete bit through your sweater as you pressed yourself against it, the cold a grounding counterpoint to the warmth still flooding your cheeks. Your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your bag as you tried to calm the storm still humming beneath your skin.

No one had ever looked at you like that before, like you were seen. Not just some tired student on autopilot, not just a pair of capable hands in a lab coat, a ghost in the periphery of Lunaris' glittering elite.

Okay, well... Almost no one. But that was different.

The unbidden image rose before you could stop it: storm-grey eyes tracking your every move, that infuriating smirk curling as he dissected your defenses with surgical precision.

Mr. Annoying.

You rolled your eyes, a practiced dismissal, even as your traitorous pulse fluttered. That wasn't the attention you craved. (Lie.)

“Why do I always have to embarrass myself like that?” you muttered to yourself. You groaned, thumping your head gently against the wall as the memory replayed in vivid humiliation: 'yes please' tumbling from your lips, your hand waving with the uncoordinated enthusiasm of a child.

With a sharp exhale, you pushed off from the wall and hurried down the corridor, slipping into the lecture hall with five minutes to spare. The room was already half full, and you slipped into a seat near the back, grateful for the anonymity. You kept your eyes forward, determined not to glance around, especially not in his direction. If he were here. Which hopefully, he wasn’t.

The notebook had barely touched the desk when the seat beside you groaned under sudden weight.

Your head whipped sideways.

No. There he was.

H/N.

Of course, it was him. Sprawled across the chair like a king claiming his throne, one arm draped over the empty seat behind you in a mockery of casual ownership. The overhead lights caught the silver threading of his watch, the sharp angle of his jaw, the way his stormcloud eyes gleamed with quiet amusement at your reaction.

“There are plenty of other seats,” you said flatly, fingers curling around your pen. “You know that, don’t you?”

He tilted his head, the movement languid, predatory. “Mmm.” A pause. “But this one has the best view.”

His gaze slid over to you, cold and unreadable. The air between you thickened.

“You’re welcome to change seats,” he added with a glint in his eye.

The urge to snarl prickled at the back of your throat. If looks could incinerate, he'd be nothing but cinders and that insufferable smirk.

“Do what you want,” you snapped, wrenching your attention forward only for your elbow to brush his forearm in the motion. The contact lasted less than a heartbeat, but it was enough. Your muscles locked, every nerve ending alight with the shock of it.

He didn’t move.

Instead, he leaned in slowly, voice low. “Careful with your words, sunshine,” he murmured, his breath a warm brush against your ear. A pause that stretched your nerves taut. “If I really do what I want, then—”

But he didn’t get to finish. Professor Han’s voice echoed through the room, calling the class to attention.

H/N straightened, his expression smoothing into polite neutrality. He focused ahead, but not before you caught the faintest flicker of amusement curling on his lips.

And your heart?

Traitor.

And worse, you were sure he knew it.

You stared stubbornly at the whiteboard, willing your pulse to calm, trying to ignore the lingering heat on your skin from where your arms had touched. This was ridiculous. You weren’t affected by him. Not really. You didn’t even like him. Not by his arrogance, his calculated charm, the way he…

You glanced sideways.

H/N was now effortlessly charming Professor Han, answering each of her questions with cool precision, his voice smooth as velvet. The professor, normally so stern, was practically glowing, her laughter too bright, her nods too eager as she hung on his every word.

You felt... nauseous.

And you hated that you felt that way.

How could someone so insufferable, so smug, so deliberately provoking, still unravel you with a glance, a breath, a brush of skin?

When Professor Han dismissed the class and swept out of the room with a final flash of her heels, you didn’t bother to hide the eye-roll that had been waiting the entire lecture.

You slipped your notebook into your bag, slinging it over one shoulder.

“You should’ve asked for her number,” you said, voice desert-dry. “Seems like she was dying to give it to you.”

From beside you, H/N’s low laugh curled around your spine like dark, intoxicating smoke. “Jealous?”

You scoffed. “Of you? Not in this lifetime.”

“Oh?” He moved with liquid grace, his body angling to cage yours between the desks. “That’s not what your heart said a few moments ago.” His gaze dropped to your throat, where your pulse fluttered like a trapped bird. “Or now.”

The room was empty now, desks abandoned, only echoes and tension remaining. You moved to leave, but he rose before you could take a step, his tall frame cutting off your path.

Sunlight through the windows caught the silver in his eyes as you made the fatal mistake of looking up.

He was close, too close, and every inch of him radiated something wild and unbothered. And the way he looked at you as if personal space was a joke, as if he’d already mapped every centimeter of skin he hadn’t yet touched. Like he wanted it gone.

“So that means,” he murmured, “if I did certain things to her... you wouldn’t mind?”

The pause before certain things was a blade drawn slowly from its sheath.

Your traitorous body reacted before your mind could catch up: cheeks burning, breath hitching, nails biting half-moons into your palms. The images came unbidden: his hands tangled in Professor Han’s hair, his mouth on her neck, that smirk as he…

No.

You opened your mouth to retort but found your throat dry. The thought shouldn’t have bothered you, shouldn’t have even crossed your mind. But it did. And worse, it lingered.

You straightened your shoulders, forcing your expression into something resembling indifference.

“Why would I care?” you said coolly. “Now move. I’m not in the mood for your delusions.”

A beat. Two.

He held your gaze for one long, unreadable moment. Then, just when the silence threatened to choke you, he stepped aside with a sweep of his arm, the gesture mocking in its courtesy.

You strode past without a backward glance, but the damage was done. Your pulse roared in your ears, your skin prickling where his gaze still lingered like a brand.

Again. He’d noticed again.

Behind you, H/N remained motionless, his smirk deepening as the door swung shut.

Mine, a voice deep inside him whispered. But he wasn’t ready to listen to it. Not yet.

To be continued....

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

♡ Author’s note What's on your mind H/N?

Love, YumiYue 🌙

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡ Tag list: @reallysparklychaos

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram /🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by ENHYPEN’s song “Bad Desire”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

© 2025 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

[yumiyue07]

Oh gosh, he’s sooo adorable 🥰 the last to photos 🥹🫠💗

희승 : Heeseung ੈ♡

250612

[yumiyue07]

Hate That I Want You

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Part 1 |

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

The morning hit like a backhanded compliment, all cold light and lingering ache.

You reached the lab while Astraris was still yawning awake, its sky bruised purple at the edges, breath frosting white in the air. You shoved your hands into your coat pockets and ducked inside the building. The first lecture wasn’t for another two hours. Perfect.

You went through your mental to-do-list:

Time to:

Clean contaminated data (again)

Prep Professor Han’s temperamental cell cultures

Go through a stack of lab notes

Pretend you hadn’t replayed yesterday’s confrontation 47 times

You took the elevator to the fifth floor. The elevator mirrors showed the truth your pride wouldn’t voice: messy bun, no makeup, oversized sweatshirt slipping like a surrender flag. You stuck out your tongue at your reflection. RLU’s elite might dress for Vogue, but you? You dressed for war. Comfy clothes, a tired expression, and a stubborn glint in your eye. You were in university, not on a runway.

As the elevator dinged open, your sneakers squeaked against sterilized tiles. You walked past locked cabinets and sterile lab benches, heading toward your corner office. Your desk was an organized disaster: Notes stacked like a leaning Tower of Pisa, highlighters scattered like confetti, a single chipped mug (“World’s Okayest Scientist”) half-full of yesterday’s tea.

You sipped your freshly brewed tea and skimmed through the latest lab instructions. It would be best to start in the lab and save the paperwork for later.

The white coat settled over your shoulders like a second skin. Fluorescent lights buzzed to life, painting the sterile world in sharp relief. Your favorite time, when it felt like you were the only one in the world who gave a damn about science. The hiss of the laminar flow hood and the scent of ethanol surrounded you.

Well… almost.

Because five minutes in, the lab door opened with a soft click.

You didn't glance up. Kept labeling tubes like your life depended on it.

You felt his presence before you saw him, that unnatural stillness, the way the air itself seemed to part for his arrogance.

“Wrong building, pretty boy.” Your pipette didn’t waver.

H/N’s chuckle rolled through the lab, low enough to vibrate in your bones. “Morning to you, too, sunshine.”

Focus. Concentrate.

You gritted your teeth and kept pipetting. The solution needed exact measurement, and you’d be damned if you messed it up just because a six-foot plague in designer black had entered your orbit.

“Let me guess,” you said flatly. “Got bored of staring at your own reflection?”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. You could feel him behind you, lingering. His shadow swallowed yours on the lab bench. “Came for the centrifuge. Didn’t realize the attitude incubator was set to maximum.”

You whirled around, putting the pipette down before crossing your arms. “You don’t even work in this lab.”

“Not yet.” He leaned against the lab bench, all lazy grace. “But Professor Han said I could shadow this week, something about learning the biochemical angles for our project. I figured I’d start early.” His smirk widened. “Aren’t you thrilled?”

You stared at him in horror. “You’re shadowing my shift?” This couldn’t be true. Why on earth were all people conspiring against you???

“Mm.” He plucked a vial from your rack, spinning it between pale fingers. “Her exact words were…”

“I don’t care what her exact words were!”

Of course she did. Professor Han always adored him, charmed by his sharp tongue, sharper grades, and too-perfect smile. Meanwhile, you were the background player, the one keeping everything afloat behind the scenes. The one who came early, stayed late, and crumbled quietly in the library bathroom stalls when the burnout hit.

You shoved your goggles higher on your head and turned back to your bench.

“You touch anything, I’ll kill you.”

“Noted.” He leaned against the counter like it was a bar in a vampire film, arms folded, gaze heavy. “Nice form, by the way. You always pipette like your life depends on it?”

You didn’t respond, exhaling sharply.

But he didn’t stop watching. Didn’t leave. Just watched.

Like you were a particularly fascinating specimen under glass. Like he could see the exact moment your pulse jumped when his sleeve brushed the ethanol bottle. Like he knew…

How your traitorous skin prickled under his attention.

You gripped the pipette tighter. “Don’t you have a reflection to admire somewhere?”

His laugh was dark, poisoned honey. “Not as interesting as you, apparently.”

~~~

The lecture hall buzzed with the restless energy of students settling into their seats, their murmured conversations and shuffling backpacks creating a low hum that should have been comforting. Yet as you slumped into your usual spot near the center aisle, the weight of the morning pressed against your temples like a vice. Two hours in the lab with H/N’s relentless presence had drained you more thoroughly than any all-nighter, and the bitter dregs of your neglected tea only emphasized the exhaustion clinging to your bones.

His abrupt departure lingered in your mind like an unfinished equation. The way his shoulders had stiffened mid-sentence, the almost imperceptible flare of his nostrils before he’d vanished without so much as a mocking farewell. It wasn’t like him to retreat without provocation, and the inconsistency gnawed at you even as you tried to focus on arranging your notes with deliberate precision.

The scrape of a chair leg against linoleum cut through your thoughts, the sound too close, too deliberate. You didn’t need to turn to know who had claimed the seat diagonally behind you. The air itself seemed to shift, carrying with it the faintest trace of bergamot and something deeper, something that reminded you of old libraries and storm-chilled winds. H/N had always carried that scent, a contradiction of crisp modernity and something unnervingly timeless.

Professor Kwon’s voice droned from the front of the room, his lecture on synaptic pathways fading into background noise as you became acutely aware of the weight settling against the back of your chair. Not enough to jostle you, just enough to register his presence like a shadow at the edge of your vision.

Then came the silence.

Not the comfortable kind, but the heavy, expectant quiet that coiled between you like a live wire. You could feel it, the unwavering focus of his gaze tracing the line of your neck, lingering at the spot where your pulse fluttered beneath your skin. It was absurd, the way your body betrayed you, the way your fingers tightened around your pen as if it were a lifeline.

You lasted three minutes before the compulsion became unbearable.

Turning your head just enough to glance over your shoulder, you found him already watching you, his textbook lying forgotten on the desk as he reclined in his seat with the lazy confidence of a predator who’d expected this reaction all along. The overhead lights caught the silver undertones in his irises, turning them almost luminous against the muted tones of the lecture hall, and for a heartbeat, you could have sworn they flickered with something far older than his youthful looks.

“Problem?” His lips shaped the word without sound, the curve of his smirk telegraphing amusement at your inability to ignore him.

Your jaw clenched. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” you muttered, low enough that the rustle of notebooks around you masked the exchange.

He tilted his head, the movement slow, deliberate, as if savoring the way your breath hitched when he leaned forward just enough to let his whisper brush against your ear. “Watching you is the better option.”

The lights above you flickered, once, twice, and when they steadied, his attention had returned to his notes as though the entire interaction had been a figment of your imagination. But the weight of his gaze still burned against your skin long after Professor Kwon moved on to the next slide.

~~~

The bell above the door chimed as you slipped into The Velvet Ecplise, its signature scent of vanilla bean and roasted arabica wrapping around you like an old embrace. You’d barely had time to scarf down a sandwich between classes, but here, in this sanctuary of gilded mirrors and marble countertops, exhaustion wasn’t permitted—only perfection.

The manager, Ms. Laurent, arched a penciled brow as you clocked in. “Three minuteslate, ma chérie.” Her French accent curled around the reprimand, sharp as her stiletto heels.

“Tram delay,” you lied smoothly, already shrugging into your uniform, a tailored black dress that clung just right, the VE monogram gleaming at your collarbone. You slipped behind the bar, smoothing your hair and touching up your makeup with muscle memory. There was no room for sloppiness here. You still couldn’t believe you’d gotten this job.

In Astraris’ most infamous café, where minor celebrities held court in the back booths and business moguls tipped in crisp hundreds, you weren’t just pouring coffee. You were part of a spectacle. And here, blending in wasn’t an option.

The afternoon rush bled into a lull. You were polishing the espresso machine’s brass trim when the bell above the door chimed again. Sunlight fractured through the crystal panels, casting geometric patterns in gold across the marble floor.

“What’s good here?”

The voice was warm. Unfamiliar.

You turned and found a young man looking at you. Tall, well-dressed, his wind-tousled chestnut hair falling into his eyes in a way that looked suspiciously effortless. His features were softer than H/N’s, his presence less electric, more grounded. His gaze met yours for a moment.

And he smiled. His amber eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile that didn’t feel rehearsed.

A real smile. Not smirk, not tease. Just… kind.

He leaned against the counter with easy confidence.

“Depends,” you said, slipping into the script you used for charming tourists. “Are you a purist or an adventurer?”

He laughed, bright, clear, and completely at odds with the lazy jazz humming through the café. “Let’s live dangerously.”

You nodded and turned toward the machine, already reaching for the ingredients to make your personal favorite: a cinnamon-cardamom latte, spiced just enough to feel like a secret.

As the milk hissed and frothed, you caught his gaze lingering on you. Not with the icy calculation of H/N’s eyes, not with that unreadable tension coiled just beneath the surface, but with something else. Something lighter. Open curiosity.

You pretended not to notice, but your hands moved a little faster.

“You go to Lunaris, don’t you?” he asked.

The question caught you off guard. Most customers only saw the dress, the practiced smile. Never beyond it.

“Guilty.”

“Molecular medicine?”

Your brows lifted. “How’d you guess?”

He tapped his own book: Neuroscience and Emotion. “Call it educated intuition.”

You glanced at the cover. “Light reading?”

“Stress relief.” He smiled again. “I’m Eiden.”

“Y/N,” you said, blushing slightly.

“Ah, nice to meet you, Y/N,” His fingers brushed yours as he took the cup from your hand, and the contact sparked a jolt of something unfamiliar, nothing like the cold static H/N always left in his wake.

“So you’re the brains and the beauty.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks betrayed you.

“Flattery won’t get you free refills.”

“Worth a shot.” He winked, dropping a bill into the tip jar, a fifty, you realized with a blink. Maybe I’ll see you around campus.”

The bell above the door chimed again as he slipped out, sunlight catching in his tousled hair.

You stared after him, the ghost of his touch still tingling across your skin, and for just a moment, your thoughts weren't filled with grey eyes, velvet smirks, or the ache of tension you couldn’t explain.

By the time your shift ended at 9 p.m., your legs felt like jelly and your thoughts like cotton, soft, frayed, and barely holding together. The glow of The Velvet Ecplise’s crystal chandeliers faded behind you as you stepped out into the cold night, the air biting through your coat like it had a personal grudge.

Your breath curled in pale clouds as you walked home, the streetlamps casting long shadows across the quiet sidewalks. One hand clutched your phone, eyes flicking over tomorrow’s schedule.

Two classes. Lab hours. Work. You groaned.

It was going to be another nonstop day, your body already dreading the early alarm, your brain begging for silence.

When you finally reached your apartment, one of the older, quieter buildings near the edge of campus, you barely made it to your bed. Clothes traded for pajamas. Makeup wiped. Lights off. No scrolling, no playlists, just you and the silence pressing in around you.

Sleep came fast, but not sweet. It wrapped you in a fog, blank and unfeeling. Restful, maybe, but not restful enough.

Still, even in sleep, his voice found you, like a fingerprint burned into the back of your mind.

“Your heart’s racing.”

You’d tell him to go to hell. Again. Probably twice. Maybe throw a mug at him next time. You had enough of those at work. And yet… the echo of his smirk lingered behind your eyelids longer than you’d admit.

What you didn’t see, what you couldn’t have known, was that you hadn’t walked home alone.

Across the street, half-shrouded in the branches of a tree, someone stood under the broken glow of a flickering lamp. Still. Watchful. Eyes trained not on your face, but on the back of your neck as you disappeared into the building.

They didn’t move for a long time.

Then, slowly, they turned, melting into the dark like a shadow never meant to be seen.

~~~

Elsewhere…

H/N stood alone on the rooftop of the dorms, jacket open to the wind, eyes fixed on the jagged outline of Astraris below. The city lights blinked like distant stars, beautiful, hollow things. Too far away to feel.

His fingers curled around the cold iron railing.

He’d been human once. A long, long time ago.

Back when he still believed in second chances. Back when blood wasn’t the only thing that tethered him to the world.

Now, most days passed in greyscale. The hunger, the noise, the ache of immortality, he’d learned to live with all of it.

But her.

The girl in the lab. She burned. Too loud in his senses. Too defiant. Too alive.

She was fire wrapped in tired eyes and bruised ambition. And she looked at him like she knew, even if she didn’t know what.

Too bright. Too dangerous.

And yet…

His jaw clenched. His knuckles whitened on the railing.

And yet, he found himself listening for her heartbeat even now.

He didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to understand it.

But somehow, she’d slipped through the cracks in his armor. And he couldn’t stop the pull.

He couldn’t stay away.

To be continued....

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

♡ Author’s note A new mysterious figure steps into the story… But who is he, and what does he want? Stay tuned to find out…

Love, YumiYue 🌙

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Tag list: @reallysparklychaos

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram /🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by ENHYPEN’s song “Bad Desire”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

© 2025 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

[yumiyue07]

Hate That I Want You

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

POV: Vampire!K-idol x fem!reader Genre: Academic rivals to lovers | Dark romance | Slow burn | University AU Tags: vampire au, enemies to lovers, academic tension, forced proximity, mutual obsession, secret identity, emotional damage

You: just a hardworking scholarship student, trying to survive your molecular medicine degree without strangling your arrogant academic rival.

H/N: the top of the class, annoyingly perfect, dangerously charming… and secretly a centuries-old vampire.

You hate him. He finds you amusing. You refuse to lose. He’s already playing a different game. And now? You’re stuck working together. Late nights. Shared silence. Heated glances. He swore he wouldn’t fall for a human. You swore you'd never fall for him. Too bad fate doesn't care about promises.

Enemies. Rivals. Obsession. And he's getting closer to wanting one thing above all: To make you his.

He could ruin you. Or he could be the one thing that saves you.

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Part 1

The alarm screamed like it knew my life was a mess. You groaned, buried your face in the pillow, and wondered, briefly, what it would be like to just not care.

But you did.

You smashed the snooze button with the desperation of someone already late for their own funeral. Again. Three alarms ignored, four textbooks splayed open like wounded birds across your floor, and your thesis draft blinking accusingly from your laptop. But none of that compared to what hit you when you glanced at the time:

8:37 a.m.

“Crap…”

You launched out of bed, tripped over a stack of textbooks, and elbowed your closet open. The new semester just started, but somehow, you were already drowning. Welcome to Royal Lunaris University, where students dress like they’re going to a gala, stress like they’re going to war, and sabotage group projects like it's an Olympic sport. And it didn’t care about your sleep deprivation.

You pulled on jeans, a clean sweatshirt, and threw your hair into a messy clip. There was no time for makeup. Not that you ever bothered much anyway. While the other girls glided to class in blazers and lip gloss, you wore dark circles like war paint. You’d rather spend that time reviewing protein synthesis pathways or editing the fantasy novels that still live in a secret folder on your desktop, titled Someday.

The folder full of fantasy scenes you wrote between study binges. Someday, you’d finish it. Someday, you won’t feel like an impostor in your own life.

You grabbed your ID, your phone, and the protein bar you forgot to eat yesterday. Then you were out the door, running down the stairs with a lab coat flapping from your backpack and resentment burning in your lungs.

If cities could breathe, Astraris would inhale ambition and exhale pressure. The city was full of glittering windows and people who never seemed to look tired. You wondered if anyone else here had to skip meals just to afford the chemistry textbook.

Probably not. (Three skipped meals = one chemistry textbook. The math never lied.)

The morning skyline shimmered with mirrored towers and low-hanging clouds, the kind that clung to rooftop cafes and business schools alike. Rush hour had spilled into every crevice of the metro, disgorging flocks of students with designer backpacks and executives who wore exhaustion like an accessory.

Somewhere between all that movement stood the Royal Lunaris University, wrapped in steel, glass, and a reputation sharp enough to slice through mediocrity. It was somehow beautiful in the kind of way that felt unfair. Tall silver buildings. Cherry blossom-lined walkways. A clock tower that looks like it belongs in a fairytale instead of a science-driven university.

You adjusted the strap of your tote bag as you crossed the stone plaza, your fingers clenched around your student ID like it might disintegrate at any moment. You kept your head down, earbuds in but music off, just to pretend you weren’t listening to the world judging your every step.

Second year. New term. Same butterflies. You felt like an impostor every time you stepped onto campus. But today, you were too late to care.

“Y/N!”

A familiar voice pulled you back to earth. Saora, your only real friend here, materialized like a glitter bomb in human form with a cup of sakura iced latte in each hand and glitter on her cheekbones. Fairy-like in every way, she looked like spring incarnate in person.

“You forgot your brain fuel,” Saora said, offering you the drink.

You accepted it with a grateful smile. "Lifesaver."

Saora looped her arm through yours as they walked up the wide staircase into the East Wing. “Let me guess…Advanced Cellular Mechanisms first thing?”

Y/N groaned. “With Professor Kwon.”

Saora gave her a pitying look. “Good luck. May you survive the Devil’s class... and the devil himself.”

Y/N furrowed her brows mid-sip. “What devil?”

Saora just smirked and floated away to her fashion lecture, leaving only the ghost of her laughter and the creeping sense you’d just missed something vital.

~~~

The classroom was already packed by the time you pushed the heavy doors open. Neatly arranged rows of desks, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a faint scent of cologne and coffee defined the space. You scanned for an empty seat, heat crawling up your neck as everyone turned to glance at the latecomer. Twenty pairs of eyes judged your stumble through the doorway. Twenty pairs…except one.

And there he was.

H/N.

Tall, leaned back in his chair like he owned the whole damn row. Sitting at the far end of the third row, notebook closed, arms crossed, an expression halfway between boredom and mild amusement. His black shirt stretched over shoulders that had no right being that broad. Sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms, exposing a silver watch and veins that had no business looking that good. One leg sprawled into the aisle, claiming it, while the other bounced with restless energy.

(World domination looked good on him…dammit.)

You knew that look. He always looks bored, like this is all just a game, and he’s already won. Of course, the only available seat was next to him.

His head turned lazily at your entrance. Storm-grey eyes raked over you, drinking in your flushed cheeks, your death-grip on your bag. His lips tilted into that infuriating smirk.

Challenge accepted. You braced yourself and walked over. The tension that always burned between you was like static electricity.

“You're late,” he murmured as you sat down, voice low enough that only you could hear. “How unlike you.”

“And you’re still annoying. Some things never change.”

His lips curved. “Missed you, too, sweetheart.”

You didn’t answer. Just slam your bag down in the seat beside him with a little more force than necessary and pull out your notes. The ones you rewrote three times last night. The ones he probably didn’t even glance at.

You stabbed your pen into your notebook. “Don’t you have someone else to torment?”

He leant in, just slightly. You hated that he smelled good. Sweet, clean, like expensive cologne and something darker underneath. Dangerous. Like storm clouds gathering over the university’s perfect skyline.

“But you’re my favorite.”

Professor Kwon’s lecture blurred into white noise. All you could hear was the tap-tap-tap of H/N’s fingers against his thigh. All you could feel was the heat of his gaze tracing your profile as you stubbornly stared ahead.

Worst part? He wasn’t even trying. And you were still losing.

You’ve known him since freshman year. H/N, mysterious, unfairly good-looking, always top of the class by a sliver of a point. Always one seat ahead. One answer faster. One smirk more smug than necessary.

If you got a 96 on an exam, he got a 97. If you asked a great question, he’d ask one better. If you finally reached the top of the curve, he’d already be there, sipping coffee and smirking like he’d been waiting for you.

Magnetic, where you were meticulous. Effortless, where you clawed for every inch. The golden boy who turned lecture halls into stages and professors into doting fans. Even the custodians smiled when he passed, as if he didn’t track mud over their freshly mopped floors with those stupid, expensive boots.

You’ve never seen him flustered. Never seen him try too hard. And somehow, that made you hate him more.

And that smile… (God, that smile.) …sharp enough to cut glass when he caught you staring.

“Problem, sweetheart?”

You’d grit your teeth. “Just wondering how someone so mediocre gets so lucky.”

He’d laugh, low and knowing. “Luck’s for mortals.”

A joke. Obviously. (...Obviously.)

And you?

You were the scholarship kid from a tiny town. The girl with a dream too big and a bank account too small. You studied harder, stayed later, slept less, and yet he still matched you blow for blow.

It was not fair.

But you saw right through him. Too smooth. Too confident. Too… unnatural. Something about him has always felt off. You just couldn’t prove it. And it drove you insane.

Midway through the lecture, you were just starting to focus again when the professor’s voice broke through. “And for your semester project, due Week 10, you’ll be working in assigned pairs.”

A low groan rumbles across the room.

You sat up straighter, anxiety flaring. This project is worth 50% of your final grade. Fifty. Percent. You sat straighter, jotting notes with the urgency of someone trying to earn her future.

“No swaps allowed. You’ll be expected to collaborate extensively,” Professor Kwon announced as he turned to the board.

One by one, names appeared in glowing digital ink.

And there it was:

Y/N … H/N.

Your heart sank. The air left your lungs in one sharp exhale. No. Absolutely fucking not. No, no, no.

The room erupted in whispers.

“No way.” “Those two? They’re going to murder each other before Week 3.” “Or hook up. Or both.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks before you even turned your head. You stared at the board like maybe blinking would change it.

“Lucky me,” he murmured. His knee brushed yours. You jerked away like you'd been burned. “Looks like fate has a sense of humor.”

You turned to glare at him. “Fix this.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Scared?”

“Of you?” A hollow laugh. “I'd rather retake this class in summer school.”

“Liar.” His smile showed too-white teeth. “You've been waiting for this. Admit it.”

The accusation hit like a slap. “Waiting to babysit your lazy ass through a project? Hard pass.”

H/N leaned in. Close enough that his breath ghosted over your ear. “Then why's your pulse racing?”

Damn him. Damn him for noticing.

You wrenched backward, chair screeching. Heads turned. Professor Kwon's glare pinned you in place.

H/N just stretched, all lazy grace, and whispered:

“Relax, sweetheart. I don't bite...” A pause. That look in his eyes. “...Unless you ask nicely.”

You gritted your teeth and stared at the projection screen like it held the secrets of the universe. Maybe if you focused hard enough, you could astral-project out of this hell.

~~~

After class, you tried to slip out unnoticed. You made it exactly three steps before his shadow fell into pace beside you.

“Try not to look too excited,” he said, matching your furious stride effortlessly. “It’s just a project.”

“You and I don’t even speak,” you snapped, refusing to look at him. The cherry blossoms outside seemed to mock you with their tranquility. “Why would they pair us?”

“Probably because we’re the top two in the department.”

Casual. Clinical. Like, he was commenting on the weather rather than your entire academic rivalry. You hated that he was not wrong. Your grip tightened on your bag strap. “Then you’ll be fine doing it without me.”

You quickened your pace. His longer legs kept up without effort.

“I didn’t say I wanted to work with you,” he said, unbothered. “But we'll need to get past this whole enemies thing or whatever this is if we want to survive ten weeks.”

“We’re not enemies,” you bit out. “We’re… rivals.”

He paused, cocking his head. “Cute. You think you’re a threat.”

Something about his tone pissed you off more than anything. So calm. So sure. Like this partnership was just another puzzle he had already solved.

“Well, I don’t need you.”

“Good.” His shoulder brushed yours as they turned a corner. “That makes two of us.”

You stopped walking. He stopped, too, half a step ahead.

You whirled to face him. The movement sent your bag swinging violently between you. “Listen, genius. I don't care how many professors worship you. You don't scare me.”

He leant closer, enough that you could see the flecks of silver in his eyes. “You should,” he murmured.

The words made your pulse stutter. You didn’t even know why. You swallowed, stepping back. “I don’t care how charming you think you are. I’m not impressed.”

“No?” His smile was slow, dangerous. “So the staring in class was just admiration?”

You almost choked. “I was glaring.”

“Still attention.” He shrugged, the movement making his shirt pull across his shoulders. “Still counts.”

Around you, students flowed like a river around stubborn stones. The world narrowed to this: the too-bright gleam of his eyes, the way your pulse hammered against your ribs. You were too close.

“Anyway, if you try to coast through this and leave me with the work…”

He blinked. Once. Then raised one brow. “Do I look like someone who coasts?”

You faltered. Just a little. He didn't. That was the infuriating part. While you burned midnight oil, he made excellence look effortless. Made you feel...

Reckless. Seen. Alive.

You swallowed hard.

Somewhere beneath the loathing, something far more dangerous flickered to life.

“Friday night. Library. Don’t be late.”

You turned, slowly. “And if I am?”

H/N tilted his head, that infuriating, calculated gesture that made your stomach flip. His smirk was all lazy arrogance, but his eyes...

Something primal glinted in those stormcloud irises.

“Then I’ll have no choice but to come find you.”

His tone was playful, but something darker flickered in his eyes.

You didn’t flinch. “Try me.”

He laughed, low, rich, amused.

As you walked away, your pulse still racing, you could feel his eyes on your back like a brand. He wasn’t just the top of the class. He was danger dressed in Armani and a smirk that could ruin lives.

~~~

You didn't see him again until morning.

Lie.

He haunted your thoughts like an unwelcome symphony, every note perfectly designed to unravel you. Not because you wanted him there.

Another lie.

But because he slipped under your skin with surgical precision. No grand gestures needed. Just:

A single raised brow

That voice dripping like honey over razor blades

The way he made excellence look effortless while you bled for every inch

The worst part? He didn't even try.

While you lay awake replaying every barbed exchange, he probably slept soundly, untouched, unbothered, winning even in his dreams.

You hated him. You hated how much you wanted to beat him. You really hated how your pulse stuttered when he said, "find you."

~~~

H/N’s POV She walked away like she always did, chin absurdly high for someone who'd just lost another verbal sparring match. That ridiculous human pride of hers, clinging on even as her traitorous pulse thundered.

Thump-thump-thump. So loud. So... alive.

H/N let his smirk fade when she turned the corner.

Idiot.

That's what she was. Nothing more. Just another mortal playing at being clever.

Then why had he cataloged the exact shift in her scent, from lavender calm to electric adrenaline?

And since when did he care that she was the only one who met his eyes like an equal rather than a prize?

His fingers twitched at his sides.

Pathetic.

Hundred of years of existence, and this scholarship student with a too-sharp tongue and tired eyes... interesting. Not special. Just... different enough to notice.

"Try me."

The challenge in her voice had stirred something ancient in him. For half a second, right there in the hallway, he’d imagined it, crowding her against the lockers, fangs grazing that stubborn jaw.

Would she still glare up at him with those fiery eyes when fangs pressed to her throat?

Would she taste like defiance or fear? Or maybe even…

His phone buzzed. H/N exhaled sharply through his nose.

She'd be late. Definitely, deliberately late.

Good. Let her have her petty rebellions. They made the eventual victory sweeter.

Because the game wasn’t fun if he didn’t give her a head start.

To be continued....

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

♡ Author’s note Hello lovelies,

I’m back with a new story...one that’s been tugging at my heart and haunting my thoughts ever since ENHYPEN dropped their Make You Mine concept. This time, we’re diving into a world of tension, obsession, and slow-burning emotion, where one secret could change everything.

Expect emotional highs, quiet longing, stolen glances, and maybe... a few bite marks. 🖤🩸 Let yourself get swept up, I promise it’ll be worth it.

I can’t wait to hear what you think.

Thank you, as always. 💖

Love, YumiYue 🌙

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Tag list: @reallysparklychaos

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram /🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by ENHYPEN’s song “Bad Desire”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

© 2025 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

[yumiyue07]

Hate That I Want You

♡ Stay tuned... ❣️

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Love, YumiYue 🌙

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram /🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by ENHYPEN’s song “Bad Desire”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

© 2025 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

[yumiyue07]

1st Anniversary - LunaVerse

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｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

THANK YOU (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[yumiyue07]

Always for You

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿ Pairing: gangster!H/N x f!Reader Genre: action | romance | crime drama Rating: 18+ Word Count: ~4k Warnings: kidnapping, attempted sexual assault (non-graphic but intense), violence, gunfights, language, suggestive content, possessive behavior, minor blood/injury, comfort after trauma, spicy fluff, romantic tension, protective male lead Summary: When you're kidnapped as leverage in a turf war, H/N doesn’t just bring backup, he brings hell. The city burns behind him as he fights his way back to you, one bullet and one kiss at a time.

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name M/N 1/2/3= Group members' names

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿

The rooftop restaurant was his idea.

Of course it was. H/N didn’t do anything halfway, especially not when it came to you.

He’d booked out the entire top floor of Seoul’s most luxurious skyline restaurant. A private string quartet played softly in the background, city lights blinking below like scattered stars. The scent of cherry blossom-scented candles mingled with the crisp night air. A silk shawl lay across your shoulders. He’d draped it there himself when the breeze picked up.

And he was sitting across from you, looking like sin in a tailored black suit and an unbuttoned collar, one hand swirling a glass of red wine, the other resting casually beside the silver pistol tucked under his jacket.

God, you were in trouble.

Candlelight flickered across his sharp jawline as he leaned forward, those dark eyes never leaving yours. He looked like he wanted to devour you and not just metaphorically.

“You’re staring,” you teased, kicking his shin under the table.

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he caught your ankle between his legs, trapping it. His lips curled, amused and hungry. “Can’t help it. That dress is a crime.”

His thumb traced your bare knee under the table, slow and deliberate, sending sparks up your spine.

“Might have to arrest you.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to let your smile crack too wide. “Says the actual criminal.”

H/N smirked. “Exactly. So you’re already guilty. Might as well come quietly.”

“Or what?” you dared, tilting your chin. “You’ll interrogate me?”

His eyes darkened, glinting with amusement. “Oh, I don’t need to interrogate. I already know where you’re most... vulnerable.”

Your breath hitched.

He smirked, clearly pleased by the effect, then took a long, slow sip of his wine, never breaking eye contact. The teasing silence between you stretched like a bowstring, deliciously tense.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table, mimicking his smirk. “Do you ever stop flirting?”

He leaned closer, voice dropping low. “With you? Never. I’ll flirt with you in the middle of a firefight, sweetheart.”

You were about to respond, something sharp and clever, when his gaze shifted just slightly, and the air around him went still.

You followed his eyes.

Two men. Suits. Not from his crew.

Your heart stuttered.

H/N’s hand drifted down to his side, under the table. His fingers curled around the gun in his holster.

“Stay calm,” he murmured without looking at you. “Don’t move.”

A click. Right behind his ear. A third man. You hadn’t seen him. “Don’t move,” the stranger hissed. The barrel of a pistol pressed against H/N’s temple.

And just like that, the atmosphere shattered. The string quartet went silent. One of the violinists screamed. Chairs scraped back. Footsteps. Chaos.

You barely had time to scream before a gloved hand yanked you from your seat. Another clamped over your mouth, silencing you as your chair toppled to the ground.

“Y/N!” H/N’s voice barked like a gunshot, lethal and sharp.

The man behind him pressed the gun harder to his head. “We’ll trade her for the eastside docks,” the masked one growled. “Try anything, and she dies.”

You thrashed, kicking, but two sets of arms held you back. Panic surged in your throat.

Then you saw H/N’s eyes. They weren’t scared. They weren’t angry. They were cold. Ice cold.

Like someone had flipped a switch and turned off the man who had been teasing you under the table seconds ago. His voice dropped to a deadly calm. “Touch her, and I’ll peel your skin off.”

No one moved.

You could feel the tension building like a live wire, stretched to its limit.

The man holding the gun to H/N’s head twitched nervously. “You’re outnumbered. Don’t be stupid.”

“I don’t care,” H/N said softly, voice razor-sharp. “You make one wrong move, and I swear to God—”

An explosion thundered in the distance, too loud, too close. A diversion.

They yanked you back in that split second of distraction, fast, brutal, merciless.

You struggled as they dragged you toward the elevator, your eyes locked on H/N’s. He lunged for you, but a thug beside him swung a pistol, cracking it against his temple.

Blood streaked down to his brow, and he staggered for a moment.

“No!” you cried, your voice breaking.

The elevator doors slammed shut, cutting him off from view.

“Hold still or I’ll shoot you in the leg,” one of them growled. “Fuck you,” you snapped, driving your heel into his knee. He howled and grabbed your hair, yanking your head back hard. “Stupid bitch…”

They pulled you through the basement hall into the underground garage, your heels scraping the concrete.

“Where’s the idiot with the car?” one of them barked. “Gotta do everything myself…”

Your eyes darted around. Empty shadows. A distant echo. You searched for an opening.

“Don’t do anything dumb, sweetheart,” another sneered, cocking his gun. “Pretty face like yours won’t stop a bullet.”

Then, a roaring engine. A black SUV screeched into view, headlights slicing through the dark.

They started dragging you toward it.

Ding.

The elevator behind you chimed.

“Didn’t I tell those idiots to stop the elevators?!” the gangster next to you shouted, panic rising in his voice.

H/N stood there.

Blood streaked down his temple. His eyes burned with murder. Behind him, the man who had hit him now lay crumpled in the elevator, broken, barely breathing. H/N had unleashed hell on him.

“H/N!” you screamed, wrenching your arm free just long enough to reach out.

He was already moving. Gun drawn, sprinting, every step powered by rage. But he was too late.

The masked man shoved you into the SUV and slammed the door just as H/N fired. Glass shattered around you like crystal rain. You screamed, shielding your face. Tires screeched against the concrete. The SUV peeled away into the night. Darkness swallowed you.

H/N stood there, chest heaving, gun still raised, fury burning in his veins like wildfire. He slowly turned, eyes stormy, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it could break. H/N wiped blood from his brow, his phone already at his ear.

“They took her,” he growled, voice low and venomous.

Silence.

“We’re on our way.” ~~~

Twenty minutes later, the penthouse buzzed with quiet fury.

Gone was the romantic dinner ambiance. The skyline flickered outside like a war zone waiting to happen, and the soft jazz from the security system's idle screen was the only sound until the elevator dinged.

The first to arrive was M/N1, his right-hand man and personal bulldozer. He stepped inside, cracking his knuckles like they were warm-up exercises. “So,” he said casually, eyes glinting. “Who are we killing?”

M/N2 followed, twirling a butterfly knife between his fingers as he dropped onto the white leather couch like he owned the place. “I call dibs on the one who touched her,” he said, eyes locked on H/N. “I’m taking fingers. Slowly.”

Behind them, M/N3, the calmest of the three, walked in with a tablet already pulled up. His tie was still on from a meeting, but his sleeves were rolled. “I checked traffic cams. Their vehicle was last seen heading west through the industrial zone,” he reported, handing H/N the screen. “Could be headed to one of the abandoned shipyards.”

H/N didn’t speak.

He stood at the center of the room, in front of the massive screen mounted to the wall. His hair was a mess, knuckles bruised from where he’d punched a wall downstairs. He pulled up the restaurant’s rooftop security footage, scrubbing through the grainy feed until…

Pause. Zoom.

The frame focused on one of the masked men shoving Y/N into the SUV. A tattoo snaked out from under the man’s collar. A serpent coiled around a dagger, its fangs bared.

Cobra's mark.

H/N’s voice was ice. “Cobra’s men. They’ve been after Eastside for months.”

M/N2 made a low noise in his throat. “That greasy bastard’s got a death wish.”

“Guess we’re granting it,” said M/N 1, grin sharpening.

M/N3 exhaled, rubbing his temples. “And instead of negotiating like a normal person, he kidnaps your girlfriend?” He looked up, arching a brow. “That’s not just bold. That’s suicidal.”

H/N finally turned to face them. His smile was thin and cold, more threat than expression. “They won’t live long enough to regret it.”

He grabbed his jacket, strapped a fresh clip into his pistol, and looked to his crew. The only people he trusted enough to fix this without a body count that would make headlines for weeks. Unfortunately for Cobra, restraint wasn’t on tonight’s menu.

“Gear up,” H/N ordered. “We leave in ten.”

M/N1 cracked his neck. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this.”

M/N2 stood, flipping his knife closed with a snap. “Bet she’s already made one of them cry.”

M/N3 tapped the screen again. “One of the shipyards has lights on. Want me to prep a drone?”

“No time,” H/N said. His voice was sharp, final. “I want boots on the ground and a gun in Cobra’s mouth before midnight.”

He holstered his gun, pausing only for a second as his fingers brushed over Y/N’s necklace on the counter. He’d taken it off her earlier, playfully, to “hold it hostage” until she kissed him.

Now it was the only thing she’d left behind.

“We’re bringing her home,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

And God help anyone who tried to stop him. ~~~

You woke up tied to a chair in a damp warehouse. Concrete walls. Rusty tools. The overwhelming stench of gasoline and cheap cologne. Fantastic.

Your wrists were bound with thick zip ties, ankles too. Classy.

A dim bulb flickered overhead, casting twitching shadows, and there he was: the idiot with the snake tattoo who ruined your date night.

He crouched in front of you, flicking open a dull pocketknife like it was supposed to scare you.

“Your boyfriend’s got twelve hours to hand over the eastside docks,” he sneered, tracing the blade near your cheek. “Or we start sending little pieces of you back in gift wrap.”

You gave him your most unimpressed look. “You must be Cobra’s dumbest cousin.”

His grin faltered. “What?”

“I mean, clearly. Who kidnaps the most protected girl in the city and thinks her boyfriend, the most feared boss, is just going to fold?”

He leaned in, too close, lips curling. “He’s not getting in here, sweetheart. You’re just leverage. Nothing more.”

You held his gaze, even as your heart pounded too fast in your chest. “You’re so dead.”

He laughed, stepping back. “Cute. Real cute.” Then he leaned in, voice low and smug. “Just wait until our boss finds out we’ve got you locked up. He’s gonna love the gift we brought him.”

The others chuckled darkly behind him.

You raised a brow. “You idiots kidnapped me without Cobra’s permission?” You gave a sharp laugh. “You’re all dead. The only question is who’ll kill you first, him or H/N.”

The laughter faltered.

One of the thugs shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe she’s right… We should’ve told Cobra first…”

“Don’t bullshit me,” the ringleader snapped. “We get the eastside docks and hand them over. He’ll be thrilled. And this pretty little thing…” He looked you up and down, sneering. “She’s the cherry on top.”

They left you alone after that, muttering among themselves.

You slumped back in the chair, the zip ties digging into your wrists. Just hours ago, you had been sitting across from H/N at a rooftop restaurant, candlelight flickering in his eyes, his fingers brushing your knee.

After weeks of barely seeing him, he had finally carved out time for you, real time. You had dressed up just for him. The moment he saw you in that dress, he couldn’t look away. He’d leaned close, murmuring how gorgeous you looked, promising that tonight he’d make up for every moment missed.

And now here you were. In some godforsaken warehouse, tied to a chair, adrenaline still rushing through your veins.

Your chest ached. “Is H/N okay…?” you whispered to yourself.

You could still see his bloodied face. The flash of panic in his eyes as the elevator doors closed. He had fought to get to you. He always fought for you.

He was coming. You just had to hold on.

~~~

Hours passed. The night deepened into something heavy and hollow. Your body ached, every nerve stretched too tight. You tried to stretch your legs, shift your arms, anything to relieve the burn in your joints, when the door creaked open.

You froze. For one aching second, hope flared in your chest. Please... H/N...

But it wasn’t him.

It was the same thug from earlier. The one with the snake tattoo and the punchable face. He stumbled into the room, reeking of alcohol, a half-empty bottle dangling from his hand.

“Looks like your lover’s not coming,” he slurred, voice thick with mockery. “Guess you’re not as special to him as you thought, huh?”

You glared at him, lips pressed into a hard line. He didn’t know anything about you and H/N. He didn’t deserve to know.

“I guess that means you agree with me,” he sneered, taking a long swig from the bottle. Then, without warning, he stepped close—too close—and reached out, running a grimy finger along your cheek.

You recoiled instantly. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

His grin widened. “Or what?” Another swig. His eyes were glassy and dangerous. “Y’know what? I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll keep you. Let the boss have the damn docks.”

Your blood ran cold.

Panic twisted in your gut, but you forced yourself to stay still. Calm. Don’t give him anything.

He leaned in, his breath hot and sickening against your face. “I feel like trying out my new toy tonight.” His laugh was low, stomach-turning. He reached for your face again, grabbed your jaw, forcing your head back. Then he pressed a wet kiss to your neck.

Your entire body recoiled. No one should touch you like that. No one but H/N.

“Stop it. Don’t touch me!” you shouted, thrashing against the ropes, teeth bared. But he was stronger, and drunk, and too far gone to care.

“I like it when you fight,” he growled, dragging his lips up your neck. “Go ahead. No one’s coming. Not even your boyfriend.”

Tears of fury stung your eyes.

He reached for his belt.

You adjusted your posture in the chair, trying not to wince. “Oh, you think he’s gonna sneak in?” You smirked. “He’s not sneaking.”

“Oh yeah?” Snake-for-Brains raised a brow.

“Yeah.” You grinned, teeth bared. “He’s gonna blow the walls off.”

And right on cue—BOOM.

The warehouse shook. The door behind Snake exploded off its hinges in a blast of smoke and debris. You ducked instinctively as concrete dust rained down from the ceiling.

“YAH! Y/N! You alive?!” came a familiar voice through the chaos. M/N1. Loud, dramatic, and about as subtle as a truck in a jewelry store.

You coughed, your hair falling into your face. Relief swelled in your chest. “Of course, he sent you first.”

M/N1 stormed in, clearing the smoke with the swipe of his arm, gun ready, eyes scanning. “Rude!” he called back. “I volunteered, by the way!”

Then he saw Snake-for-Brains, his belt still in his hand, standing way too close to you. M/N1’s playful tone vanished. His expression hardened, eyes burning with fury. “Back off,” he said in a low growl.

Gunfire erupted in the hallway behind him. Shouts, panic, chaos breaking loose in every corner of the warehouse.

“WHERE. IS. SHE.”

That voice. Low. Lethal. Loud enough to freeze the blood in every man’s veins. Your heart stopped.

H/N.

And then he appeared in the doorway like some god of vengeance. Blood on his hands, shirt half-open, black coat billowing behind him. His eyes found yours instantly. Something in them shattered and pieced back together in a single breath.

His shoulders dropped, just a fraction. Relief.

“Took you long enough,” you huffed, voice cracking a little despite yourself.

He was across the room in three strides, ignoring the bodies and bullet holes. He crouched down, hands gentle on your face. “You hurt?”

You gave him a cocky smile. “Just my pride. They tied me to a chair with zip ties like amateurs.”

He brushed a thumb across your cheek, checking for injuries. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m furious,” you whispered.

He smiled faintly. “Good. Hold onto that.”

From behind him came a scream. Snake Boy trying to crawl away.

H/N turned slowly, rising to full height, and the temperature in the room dropped five degrees. “You touched her?” he asked, voice too calm.

Snake stammered, “L-Look, man, it wasn’t personal…”

“No. It’s personal now.”

He stalked forward, pulling a blade from his belt.

You didn’t look away as H/N pinned the man to the wall with a single, savage punch. His crew, M/N2 and M/N3, stormed in behind him, rounding up the stragglers like wolves in a pen.

You heard M/N1 yell, “This one touched her!” M/N2’s knife sang as it came out. “Then he’s mine.”

~~~

Later, when the dust had settled and your restraints were finally off, you stood beside H/N, your hand still trembling slightly from the adrenaline.

The aggressors lay sprawled across the floor, beaten bloody, unconscious, or moaning in pain.

H/N’s eyes swept over them, cold and unmoved. He stepped forward, voice calm but lethal.

“Tell your boss this is my first and only warning. Next time he pulls a stunt like this…” He looked down at one of the groaning men, lips curling into a dangerous smile. “…I’ll blow him to pieces.”

M/N1 chuckled, nudging a barely conscious thug with his boot. “I’d gladly take care of that.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at the idiots on the floor. “Cobra doesn’t even know about this.”

H/N’s eyes met yours, then flicked back to the men. His voice dropped lower.

“Fucking amateurs.” He turned to M/N1. “Let’s send Cobra a message. Let him know what kind of clowns he’s keeping around.”

M/N1 grinned. “Want me to gift wrap it?”

~~~

Two minutes later, H/N walked you out of the warehouse like the building wasn’t burning behind you.

You leaned into him, exhaustion tugging at your bones, but you were alive, safe, held close to the man who had just torn the city apart for you. His jacket was draped around your shoulders, the inside still warm from his body. His arm never left your waist, as if letting go for even a second might make you disappear again.

Outside, the night air hit your face. Cool and quiet.

H/N looked down at you, his gaze softening. “You good?”

You managed a tired smile. “I’m starving,” you muttered. “You owe me dessert.”

He huffed a soft laugh, brushing your hair from your cheek. “We’ll stop for cake on the way home.”

You tilted your head at him, teasing. “Actual cake? Or…”

His eyes darkened slightly, something wicked curling in his smile. “Depends on how long you want to wait.”

“Oh, we’re doing…?” you asked, a smirk tugging at your lips despite the soreness in your body.

H/N leaned closer, voice low and full of promise. “After what you put me through tonight?” He brushed a thumb along your cheekbone. “I’m not letting you out of bed for days.”

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm, cheeks heating. “You’re impossible.”

“Correction…” he whispered, before pulling you in and kissing you—slow, deep, and possessive. Right there beside the getaway car, with the city still smoking behind you. “I’m yours.”

~~~

His bedroom was quiet. Dim lights cast golden shadows across silk sheets, the city skyline glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

You stood by the glass, arms crossed, still in the dress from dinner, wrinkled, dusty, but clinging to you like a second skin. The fabric hugged every curve, a reminder of the night that had started with candlelight and nearly ended in gunfire.

Behind you, his warmth wrapped around you before his arms did. His hands slipped around your waist, his body pressed against your back, solid and steady. His chin rested on your shoulder, and you felt the weight of his breath.

“You were brave tonight,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear.

“I was terrified.”

“But still brave,” he said, pulling you tighter.

You turned in his arms, your eyes locking. The weight of his gaze made it hard to breathe.

“You came for me,” you breathed.

“You didn’t think I would?”

“No. I knew you would.” Your fingers slid up his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath your palm. “I just didn’t know if you’d get there in time.”

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing gently along your jaw with a tenderness that nearly undid you. “Always in time. Always for you.”

You leaned into his touch. “Still… you owe me for that ruined dinner.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “That so?”

You rose on your toes, lips ghosting against his. “I want my dessert.”

His mouth twitched in a grin that turned sinful in an instant. “What flavor?”

You kissed him. Slow, deep, filled with everything you'd held in all night. A kiss that said I’m here. I’m yours. Your fingers fisted his shirt. His hands roamed your body like he had to feel every part of you to believe you were really here.

“Surprise me,” you whispered against his lips.

He didn’t need a second invitation. In one fluid motion, he lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bed. The city lights washed your skin in gold as he laid you down like you were made of something sacred.

His hands were everywhere, sliding up your thighs, unzipping your dress, pushing the ruined fabric down your body. His lips followed the trail, pressing reverent kisses across your collarbone, down to your stomach, and lower.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“Maybe I’m excited,” you whispered.

“Or still in shock,” he teased, voice low and rough.

You reached for him, pulling him down to you. “Make me forget.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, devouring your fear, your anger, your longing. Clothing fell away piece by piece, slow and impatient all at once. Skin met skin. Every inch burned with desire.

The skyline burned behind him, stars drowning in city light, but all you saw was him. He hovered above you, breathless against your skin. “Don’t think I’m letting you out of my sight again.”

You smiled, tugging him closer, hearts beating in sync. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

~~~

Bonus scene:

The elevator dinged open, and before you could step out, confetti exploded in your face.

“She lives!” M/N3 shouted, throwing his arms wide like he’d just won a championship.

You blinked at the mess of balloons, pizza boxes, and cans littering the penthouse.

M/N1 plopped onto the couch, mouth full of chips. "We saved your girl and got revenge. That’s a five-star Friday, boss." “Speak for yourself,” M/N2 muttered, nursing a bandaged hand. “One of those idiots bit me.”

You rolled your eyes and collapsed into the armchair. “Did you seriously prepare a party while I was kidnapped?”

“It is a celebration of survival,” M/N1 replied. “Also, M/N2 made cookies. Real ones.”

H/N stood behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders protectively. “She’s not a war trophy,” he said, but his voice held a rare softness. You reached up, lacing your fingers with his. “It’s okay. I feel like one. I expect a parade and a crown next.” “Noted,” H/N said, deadpan. “Custom tiara. Gold-plated.”

Laughter broke out around the room, tension melting like ice. For the first time in hours, you felt like you could breathe.

M/N3 raised his drink. “To the dumbest gang in the city for thinking they could touch our queen.”

“To the queen!” the boys echoed, slamming their cups together.

You grinned, leaning your head back against H/N’s stomach. “You boys are so dramatic.”

“And you love it,” M/N1 said.

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, hiding a smile.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿

♡ Author’s note

Blame it on ENHYPEN’s MAKE concept. One look at those deadly stares, weapons in hand, and suddenly this whole gangster AU exploded in my brain. ⚔️🖤

Enjoy reading. ( ´ ▽ ` )

Love, YumiYue 🌙

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram / 🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

© 2025 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

[yumiyue07]

Time flies 🥹💗

[yumiyue07]

Say It’s Only Me

ʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞ

Pairing: H/N × Reader (male idol!H/N x fem photographer!Y/N) Word count: ~4k Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, mild smut? (can't believe I wrote this >///<), established relationship, jealousy, reconciliation Warnings: Language, implied intimacy, emotional hurt/comfort, misunderstanding, possessiveness, soft dominance, one bed trope vibes Summary: A simple event shoot turns into a nightmare when Y/N sees her boyfriend looking all too cozy with another woman on the red carpet. The pictures say it all, or so she thinks...

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name M/N = Group member's name

ʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞ

The weight of your camera bag pressed against your side as you walked, each step toward the venue making your pulse thrum louder in your ears. H/N would be there tonight. Of course, he would. Center stage, bathed in adoration, the kind of person who belonged under the spotlight.

You weren’t even supposed to be here.

Your boss had shoved the assignment into your hands at the last minute, and you’d nearly refused. Nearly. But then there was H/N’s voice in your head, smooth and teasing: “Don’t stress about coming, jagiya. I’ll see you later.” Sweet. Casual.

The thought sent a thrill through you, lips curling as you imagined his reaction, the way his eyes would widen, that sharp intake of breath when he realized you were there, watching him from behind the lens, invisible in the sea of photographers.

Your mind wandered to that photo.

A mirror selfie of his outfit for the night, sent hours ago, the kind that made your fingers tighten around your phone. He looked ruinous, ivory tailored blazer hugging his frame, silver rings glinting against his fingers, that smirk he only ever wore for you. The kind of smirk that said I know what this does to you. You’d stared too long, breath caught somewhere between your ribs, forgetting to reply. Let him wonder. ~~~ H/N: Don’t tell me you’re speechless now? (Sent 4:04 PM) (Read 4:42 PM)

You: Yes 😳 I still can’t believe I get to call a man that fine my boyfriend. (Sent 4:43 PM) (Read 4:44 PM)

H/N: My favorite person is full of compliments today… (Or are you just trying to distract me from the fact you never texted back?) 😏 (Read 4:45 PM)

You: Maybe. Or maybe I’m just imagining how easy it’d be to slide that blazer off your shoulders. ❤️‍🔥(Sent 4:46 PM) You:…And I definitely can’t believe I have to wait until after the event to do so. 🔥

(Read 4:46 PM) *(…H/N is typing for 11 seconds, then stops.)*

H/N: Careful. Keep talking like that, and I’ll skip the event entirely. (Read 4:48 PM) *(Attached: A mirror pic. His fingers undo the top buttons of his shirt, gaze heavy-lidded. Caption: “Still speechless?”)

You: …Yes. (Sent 4:54 PM) (Typing…) Now I’m rethinking my life choices. 😫

H/N: Good. Suffer a little. (Read 4:55 PM) (Typing…)H/N: I’ll make it worth the wait. 😘 (Read 4:56 PM) ~~~ You arrived too early and yet not early enough.

The prime spots along the red carpet were already claimed by photographers with bulkier gear and press badges from outlets everyone recognized. You ended up wedged between a jostling freelancer livestreaming his commentary (“Y’all see this lighting? Criminal.”) and a veteran from The Period who smelled like coffee and disdain. Not ideal, but you could make it work.

The summer air clung, thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the tang of metal from the barricades. Golden hour bled into twilight, painting the carpet in molten light. Perfect conditions. You adjusted your lens, the click-whirr of test shots a quiet rhythm under the rising murmur of the crowd.

Wait. Aim. Shoot.

The usual dance. You caught the glint of sequins, the practiced tilt of a star’s chin, the way their laughter never quite reached their eyes. None of them mattered.

H/N would arrive last. Main attractions always did.

Minutes passed, feeling like hours. Then suddenly chaos.

A scream ripped through the crowd, sharp, ecstatic, the kind of sound that only ever meant one thing.

Him.

Cameras swiveled as one, flashes exploding like fireworks. You didn’t need to look. You’d know the shift in the air anywhere, the way the crowd’s energy spiked like a live wire. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, pulse stuttering, hands tightening around your camera.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for her.

There he was. Your H/N, bathed in the glow of a hundred flashes, his effortless magnetism pulling every eye toward him. And there she was, her fingers curled possessively around his bicep, her laugh ringing bright and clear as he leaned down to murmur something in her ear.

She fit…like she belonged there. Elegant. Confident.

That was the worst part. The way her midnight gown draped against his ivory fit, the way they moved in sync, two halves of a perfect whole. The press went wild, shouting their names, begging for a pose.

And he gave it to them.

You froze.

Your camera almost slipped from your fingers, and for a second, you forgot to breathe, let alone shoot. You blinked hard, shook it off, and forced yourself to lift the lens again. This wasn’t personal. You were here for work. Focus.

But your chest ached. Your heartbeat thudded in your ears.

He looked even better in person than in that photo. Like a modern prince carved out of moonlight and fire. And she... she was a match made in heaven. Regal. Radiant. She held onto him like she knew him. Smiled at him like she had him.

H/N turned toward her, his hand sliding to the small of her back, that touch, the one you knew so well, and smiled. Not the smirk he reserved for you. No, this was softer. Warmer. Uncomplicated.

A flash went off in your face. You hadn’t even realized you’d raised your camera.

Click.

The image burned into your retinas: his fingers splayed against her spine, her lips parted in delight.

Your throat tightened.

Is this why he told you not to come?

You forced another shot. Click. Then another. Click. Each one a knife twist.

A voice beside you snorted. “Damn, they’re obvious, huh? Rumor is they’ve been sneaking around for months.”

The world tilted.

Months?

Your camera suddenly felt too heavy in your hands, the weight of it dragging at your wrists like an anchor. You swallowed hard, forcing your fingers to steady, professional, always professional, but then…

It got worse.

H/N’s hand slid around the woman’s waist, pulling her flush against his side like she belonged there. Like he’d done it a thousand times before. Then he dipped his head, lips grazing the curve of her ear, whispering words you couldn’t hear, words that made her tilt her head back with a laugh, bright and knowing.

The crowd erupted. Shutters exploded like gunfire. Someone nearby cooed, “Oh my god, are they finally confirming?”

Your next breath shuddered in your chest, raw and jagged. But your finger kept pressing the shutter. Click. Click. Click. Each frame a perfect, gutting snapshot: his thumb stroking her hip, the way her fingers curled into his sleeve, the ease of it all.

You didn’t realize you’d stopped breathing until your vision blurred.

The scene began to shift. There was movement.

The rest of H/N’s group stepped forward for photos, their laughter grating against your ribs. You mechanically adjusted your lens, your body moving on autopilot while your mind screamed.

Until M/N froze mid-pose.

His gaze locked onto yours through the viewfinder, sharp and assessing. A beat passed, then his brows furrowed slightly, lips parting in recognition.

Oh god.

You jerked back, ducking behind the nearest photographer, your pulse roaring in your ears. You couldn’t let him see you. Couldn’t let anyone see the cracks splintering through you.

But it was too late.

M/N knew. And if he knew… How long until H/N did too?

You were out of the crowd before the final applause faded.

The office was empty when you arrived, just the hum of idle computers and the glow of forgotten coffee cups. Perfect. No witnesses for the way your hands shook as you uploaded the photos, each click of the mouse like a hammer to your ribs.

Then you saw it.

Your colleague’s laptop sat open, a gossip site splashed across the screen:

"A NEW POWER COUPLE IS BORN?"

Beneath the headline, your own photo stared back at you. H/N’s arm slung around her waist, his smile soft in a way you’d never seen directed at anyone else. The caption read: "Insiders say they’ve been inseparable for months."

Months.

The word lodged in your throat like glass. You’d seen them together for five minutes and felt your bones dissolve. How the hell had he hidden months?

A laugh bubbled up, sharp and humorless. You tipped your head back, willing the ceiling tiles to swallow the heat prickling behind your eyes.

“Good work, Y/N.”

You startled. Your colleague didn’t look up from their monitor. “What’s up there?”

“Nothing,” you lied, voice sandpaper-rough. “Just… yeah. Good work.”

They shrugged. “If you’re done, you’re free to go. Have a good weekend.”

You grabbed your bag, the strap biting into your shoulder like a punishment.

A good weekend.

As if you wouldn’t spend it dissecting every lie, every touch, every time he’d kissed you with those same lips and whispered…“You’re the only one who really sees me.”

The journey home stretched into a cruel limbo.

Every red light taunted you. Every pedestrian crossing felt like a personal affront. By the time your apartment building loomed into view, your knuckles were white on the strap, your breath coming in shallow bursts as if you’d been running for miles instead of sitting in suffocating silence.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, the dam broke.

Your bag hit the floor with a thud. Shoes kicked off haphazardly. You sank into the couch like a marionette with cut strings, the weight of the night pressing down until you swore you could feel the cracks forming in your ribs.

What the hell had just happened?

Was she his girlfriend? His lover? Had every tender moment between you been a lie, every whispered “You’re mine” just another performance?

Your mind raced, clawing through memories for clues. The way he’d been distant lately, his texts shorter, his kisses quicker. “Work’s crazy,” he’d said. “Just need some space.” You’d believed him. Of course, you had.

Your gaze landed on the framed photo on the shelf. The one he had insisted on gifting you. There you were, tangled together in a mess of limbs and laughter, his lips pressed to your temple like a promise.

A shaky finger traced the outline of his smile.

“H/N…” Your voice cracked, barely audible. “You wouldn’t do this to me. Right?”

The glass fogged under your breath. A tear fell against it, distorting his face into a blur. You scrubbed at your cheeks angrily, but the next one fell anyway.

“Get a grip, Y/N,” you hissed. “There’s an explanation.”

But the silence of the apartment screamed back at you. You grabbed your phone, still nothing. No missed calls. No frantic texts. Just the glaring, empty screen, mocking you.

Of course. He was probably wrapped up in her right now, her perfume staining his clothes, her nails leaving crescent moons on his skin.

Your stomach lurched.

Tossing the phone aside, you flopped onto your back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Your heart hammered against your sternum, each beat a frantic no, no, no.

The thought of losing him was a physical pain, a knife twisting deeper with every ragged breath. But as your fingers clutched at your shirt, nails biting into fabric and flesh alike, the truth settled over you like a shroud: It already felt like he was gone.

Time had turned syrupy, seconds stretching into hours, or maybe it was the other way around. You only registered the buzzing of your phone when it vibrated against your thigh, startling you from the numb haze.

A message.

Not from him.

M/N: “Hey Y/N, I saw you at the event. We’re back now. Can I come over or call you? You looked… hurt.”

The words blurred. M/N had always been too perceptive, too kind, of course, he’d noticed. Your thumbs hovered over the screen before typing:

You: “Hey, everything’s fine. Just tired. Going to sleep. Goodnight.”

A lie so brittle you could taste it.

You couldn’t handle pity right now. Not when your ribs felt like they were caving in, not when every breath came with the phantom scent of her perfume clinging to H/N’s collar.

Sleep was a futile hope.

You curled tighter around the pillow, its seams digging into your arms as if it could stitch you back together. But the images kept playing behind your eyelids. His smile, her laugh, the way his fingers had flexed against her waist like he was memorizing the shape of her.

Why hasn’t he called? Is he still with her? Was anything between us ever real?

Your phone screen remained dark. A traitorous part of you kept imagining it lighting up with his name, his voice, any explanation…

Suddenly, a knock echoed through your apartment.

You stiffened.

It came again, sharper this time. Insistent.

Logic said it was M/N, ignoring your brush-off out of concern. But your stupid, shattered heart whispered:

…What if it’s him?

You painted on a smile, thin, cracked at the edges, knowing it wouldn’t fool anyone. Least of all him.

The door creaked open.

H/N.

Even before you looked up, you felt him. The way the air thickened, charged with the weight of his presence. The faint scent of his cologne, something expensive and woodsy, now tainted with the memory of her perfume clinging to his jacket.

When you finally met his eyes, your breath stuttered.

Those eyes. Those eyes you loved so much. The ones that had crinkled at the corners when he’d whispered “I love you” against your skin. The ones that had stared at her tonight with the same devastating intensity.

He flinched at your sight, just a flicker, but enough. The guilt there was unmistakable.

“Y/N...” His voice was rough, cautious, like he was stepping onto thin ice. “Can we please talk?”

Your fingers dug into the doorframe. “I don’t feel like talking…not now.” A lie. You ached to scream, to demand answers, but you refused to break in front of him. Not like this.

You started to shut the door.

His palm slammed against it, stopping you mid-motion. The tremor in his grip betrayed him. “It has to be now,” he insisted, voice dropping lower. “Especially when you’ve been crying.”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing you, for seeing through you even now.

Your resolve wavered. Your body moved before your mind could protest, stepping back in silent surrender. He followed, his footsteps unnervingly quiet. The door clicked shut behind him, a sound too final, too heavy.

Like the last page of a story you weren’t ready to end.

You braced yourself against the dining table, arms locked across your chest like armor. The distance between you felt like the only safe thing left, too much space for him to cross, too little for your heart to handle.

He didn’t move. Good. You weren’t sure what you’d do if he tried to touch you, shatter or combust.

“What are you doing here?” The words spilled out, sharp with venom. “I was expecting M/N. At least he bothered to check on me.” A bitter laugh. “But my…” Your voice cracked. “…boyfriend was too busy, wasn’t he?”

H/N flinched like you’d struck him. His jaw clenched, throat working as he swallowed hard. “Y/N, please. Just let me explain.”

“Explain what?” You forced another laugh, brittle as glass. “How you’ve been sneaking around with her for months? Or how you thought I’d never find out?”

Regret instantly flooded you. You didn’t want to be this person, spitting accusations, voice trembling with rage. But the image of his hands on her waist, his lips at her ear, burned behind your eyelids.

H/N took a step forward. You stiffened, gaze dropping to the floor, fingers twisting into your cardigan until the fabric threatened to tear.

Silence stretched between you, suffocating.

He halted just out of reach, fists trembling at his sides. The air between you crackled with unsaid words, but when he spoke, his voice was devastatingly calm.

“She’s not my girlfriend. There’s nothing between us. It was just a commercial shoot.”

A hollow laugh escaped you. “Just a commercial?” Your fingers dug into your palms. “Then why did you touch her like that? Whisper to her like…” Your voice broke. “Like you do with me?”

H/N’s expression twisted. “I know how it looked. But it was all staged. The director wanted ‘chemistry’, wanted the press to talk. That’s why I didn’t want you there.” He stepped closer, pleading. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you seeing that.”

“And yet here we are.” You swiped at your phone with shaking hands, thrusting the screen toward him, that photo, the one seared into your mind. “Explain this.”

His breath hitched. For a heartbeat, he just stared at the image. His own face, soft with adoration as he gazed at her. Then his shoulders slumped.

“Every shot,” he whispered, “I pretended it was you.” Tears formed in his eyes. “That’s why I looked like that. Because I was thinking of you.”

Your chest ached. This was the man who’d memorized your coffee order, who’d driven across town at 3 AM when you had a nightmare. The man who rarely cried.

But now…

Now he was crumbling in front of you, raw and exposed, and it shattered what little resolve you had left.

You wanted to believe him. But could you?

His phone screen glowed between you, illuminating the sharp angles of his face. The proof right there: the actress, her boyfriend, their linked arms. “I told her about you. She asked about a double date,” he murmured. “I said no to protect you.”

A beat of silence. Then…

He stepped into your space, and suddenly the world narrowed to the heat of his body, the familiar scent of him wrapping around you like a second skin. Your traitorous heart lurched, pulse thundering in your ears.

“I should've told you,” he whispered, voice rough. “I was stupid. Selfish. I just…” His thumb brushed your cheek, catching a tear you hadn’t even felt fall. “I didn’t want you to see me like that with someone else. Even if it was fake.”

His fingers trembled against your skin. That undid you. H/N never trembled.

A sob clawed its way up your throat. “I would never do that to you,” you choked out, the words scraped raw.

And without even thinking, you found yourself wrapping your arms around him.

He crushed you against his chest, his grip desperate, his chin pressing into your hair as he breathed, “Forgive me. Please. I can’t lose you.”

You clung to him, tears soaking his shirt. “I was so scared,” you admitted. “You looked at her like…like she was everything.”

He pulled back just enough to cup your face, his eyes blazing. “Because I was pretending she was you.”

Your breath hitched.

But then reality crashed back in. You stiffened, hands flattening against his chest. “You still let me believe it. Even for a second.” The hurt seeped back in, slow and poisonous. “You looked perfect together. It felt like you chose her. Like I was... nothing.”

His expression shattered. “You’re everything.”

The words hung between you, fragile as glass.

His fingers tilted your chin up, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a reverence that made your breath catch. “We look perfect together," he murmured, lips hovering just above yours. “No one else could ever take your place.” His gaze burned into you…raw, unguarded, the way he only ever looked at you in the dark. “I just want you by my side. Always.”

Then his mouth brushed against yours, feather-light, a tease of what could be. “This is all yours.”

You snapped.

The kiss was supposed to be soft. Sweet. But the second his lips touched yours, something primal roared to life inside you. Weeks of longing, of aching want, the jealousy, surging to the surface. Your hands fisted in his shirt, yanking him forward as you crashed your mouth against his, tongues meeting in a desperate, hungry dance.

H/N groaned, his grip on your hips turning possessive, fingers digging in as he backed you against the table. The edge bit into your thighs, but you barely noticed, not when his lips were searing a path down your neck, not when his teeth grazed that spot beneath your ear that made your knees buckle.

“Ah…H/N…” Your voice was a broken whimper, nails scraping his scalp as you arched into him.

He chuckled darkly against your skin, one hand sliding up to grip your waist. “Tell me what you want,” he breathed, nipping at your collarbone.

His thumb brushed your lower lip, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your mouth with deliberate slowness. “Tell me, and it’s yours. I’ll prove it,” he murmured, voice dipping into that low, honeyed tone that always made your stomach flip. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

The corner of his mouth lifted, that infuriating, gorgeous half-smile, as he leaned in, close enough that his breath warmed your skin. “No one else could ever…”

You cut him off with a sharp tug on his collar, dragging him the last inch until his lips met yours. His words disappeared against your lips as you kissed him. He laughed against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Impatient,” he teased, nipping lightly at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. “But I’m not complaining.”

You arched a brow, fingers tracing the nape of his neck. “Then stop talking.”

His grin turned wicked. “As you wish.”

In one smooth motion, he spun you around, your back pressing against his chest as his lips found the sensitive spot behind your ear. “Still think I want anyone else?” he murmured, his hands gliding aching slowly up your sides, just shy of where you wanted him most.

You shivered. “If you don’t stop teasing me…”

He chuckled again, dark and amused, before turning you to face him once more. “Then shut me up.”

You barely had time to move when his mouth crashed onto yours, hotter this time, more demanding. One hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back as his other hand traced the curve of your hip, then lower, gripping your thigh and hitching it around his waist.

“This is what you wanted?” he breathed against your lips, grinding his hips against yours just enough to make you gasp.

Your gasp turned into a wicked smile as you bit his lower lip in retaliation, earning a groan. “Keep going,” you dared, voice breathless.

He didn’t need to be told twice. His mouth traveled down your neck, leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. His teeth grazed your pulse point, hands roaming with a kind of urgency that felt like possession and prayer all at once. “Mine,” he murmured between kisses. “Every inch of you. Only ever mine.”

When he finally pulled back, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“Convinced yet?” he asked, his voice rough, almost hoarse.

You smirked, dragging your thumb over his kiss-swollen lips. Then you paused, eyes softer now, more vulnerable. “Say it’s only me,” you whispered, barely above a breath.

His breath hitched. For a heartbeat, he just stared, eyes dark, pupils blown, before crashing his mouth to yours in a kiss that felt like a vow.

“It’s only you,” he panted against your lips, dragging you closer until not a single inch remained. “Only you, only ever…”

Before you could protest, he scooped you up effortlessly, one arm beneath your knees, the other cradling your back. You yelped, grabbing onto his shoulders as he carried you toward the bedroom, his laughter warm against your hair.

“H/N!”

“Shh,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I told you I’d prove it.” He nudged the door open with his foot, his voice dropping to that rough, tender tone that always unraveled you. Desire burned in his eyes, fierce and unfiltered. “All night. Every second. Until you believe there’s no one else for me but you.”

Your reply was lost as he laid you gently on the bed, hovering over you like he was both worshiping and devouring. His hands followed, slow and reverent, tracing lines down your body like he needed to learn you again from memory. “And I’m not stopping until every part of you knows you’re the only one I see.” And he did…with lips, hands, and whispered promises that left no room for doubt.

ʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞ

♡ Author’s note

Desire: Unleash is taking its toll on me… 🫠🔥 My once-pure thoughts? Gone. Vanished. Stolen by this burning passion that’s creeping into every word I write. This story might just be my most intense one yet… and my poor little heart can barely handle it. 😩❤️‍🔥

Now...who do you think fits this story best?

Love, YumiYue 🌙

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram / 🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

© 2025 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

[yumiyue07]

Eyes on Me, Hands on You

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Pairing: Male idol x fem!reader POV: Second Person (You/Y/N) Genre: Club AU • Flirty Strangers to Lovers • Protective Romance Warnings: Mild aggression/harassment (quickly shut down), alcohol mention, possessive behavior (consensual tension), club setting Word Count: ~2.5k Summary: "You went to the club for one drink. One dance. Zero mistakes. He looked at you like you were the only girl in the room. Suddenly, ‘Loose’ wasn’t just a song. It was a warning."

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name

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You hadn’t even wanted to come.

A cozy night in, curled up in your softest sweats, the glow of your laptop screen, a half-eaten pint of ice cream within reach, that had been the plan. The perfect plan.

But then your best friend had pouted, whined, and finally resorted to outright begging.

“It’s Mina’s promotion party! You can’t bail!”

“I can,” you’d muttered, but somehow, here you were: wedged into a dress that hugged your curves a little too tightly, heels already biting into your ankles, the bass of the music vibrating through the floor and up your spine.

The club was a riot of neon and sweat, bodies pressed together under pulsing lights, downstairs, at least. Up here on the VIP floor, the crowd thinned to a tolerable hum. Low couches lined the walls, and the bartenders moved with practiced ease.

You clung to the edge of the marble bar, ordering something sweet and definitely non-alcoholic. Someone had to stay sober enough to herd your friends into a cab later.

As you waited, you let your gaze drift past the dancers, past the laughing groups, past the couples pressed too close in shadowed corners.

And then you saw him.

A group of guys in the far occupied the corner booth, reserved, like they owned the place, all sharp grins and effortless confidence. One of them, him, leaned back against the booth, long legs stretched out, a drink dangling carelessly from his fingers. He was beautiful in a way that made your breath hitch: tousled hair, a smirk that promised trouble, eyes dark and knowing even from across the room.

He laughed at something his friend said, head tilting back, throat bared, the sound swallowed by the music, but the energy of it hitting you like a physical thing.

You shouldn’t stare.

You definitely shouldn’t smile.

But you did.

As if he’d felt it, through all the other glances at them, his gaze cut straight to yours.

Time stuttered.

His smirk didn’t fade. No, it shifted, turning sharper, more intentional. Like he’d been waiting for you to look. Like he knew you would.

Your fingers tightened around your phone. Your pulse thundered.

“Look away,” you thought to yourself.

But you didn’t.

The music swelled. The lights strobed.

And then, slow, deliberate, he raised his drink in a silent toast.

To you.

“Y/N, you good?”

Your best friend's voice cut through the bassline, bringing you back to the moment, her eyebrow arched in amusement. You realized you'd been gripping your phone like a lifeline, thumb hovering over your lockscreen like you might call a getaway car.

“Huh? Yeah…” You cleared your throat, willing your pulse to slow.

“Your drink, pretty lady.”

The bartender slid your cocktail toward you with a practiced flick of his wrist. Condensation dripped down the glass like sweat, the ice cubes clinking like tiny warnings. You reached for it too fast, your fingers collided with his retreating ones, a spark of contact that made your stomach flip.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, immediately cringing at how breathy it sounded. The neon-red liquid sloshed violently, licking at the rim. You jerked back just in time, nearly drenching yourself.

“What is with you tonight?” Your best friend leaned in, her grin all teeth. “Nervous?” The word curled around you like smoke. “Or just rusty?”

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hid the way your gaze darted back toward the corner booth. Almost. “I'm fine,” you lied. “Just... forgot how loud the world is.”

And it was. The music vibrated in your molars. Perfume and cologne clashed in the thick air. Every laugh felt too bright, every accidental brush of a stranger's elbow like a brand.

But none of it compared to the weight of his stare still lingering on your back, hot as a fingertip tracing your spine.

“Come on! Dance floor's calling!”

Your friend's fingers dug into your wrist, her grin sloppy from the shots. The bass dropped like a physical weight, rattling your ribs in time with her insistent tugging. You jerked back instinctively, your drink sloshed, the sharp tang of citrus hitting your tongue as you nearly inhaled it.

“No way,” you coughed, swiping at your lips with the back of your hand. “These heels are murder weapons.”

“Oh please,” another friend groaned, rolling her eyes so hard her glittery lids caught the strobe lights. “We didn't squeeze you into that dress just to watch you brood like Batman.”

For a dangerous second, you almost caved. Their laughter was infectious, their bodies already swaying to the rhythm like they'd been born to it. But then, a prickle raced up your spine.

You knew exactly where he was without looking.

“I'll catch up,” you lied, raising your glass with a smile that felt too tight. “Scout's honor.”

They booed, but the music swallowed them whole as they disappeared into the throng, limbs flashing under violet lights, swallowed by the crowd's hungry pulse.

The second they were gone, your shoulders dropped. The noise dimmed to a tolerable roar. You sucked in a breath, finally able to think.

And then you made the mistake of glancing back.

Big mistake.

He was already watching.

Not the lazy, half-interested stare from before. No, this was focused. His drink forgotten in his loose grip, his head tilted just slightly, like he'd been waiting for you to cave and look his way again.

Your throat went dry.

Just as your fingers twitched toward your abandoned glass, one of his friends barked something in his ear. His smirk flickered, eyes darting away with obvious reluctance.

Thank god.

You spun back toward the bar, suddenly fascinated by the bartender's precise wrist flicks as he shook a cocktail. Anything to avoid the dangerous pull of that gaze.

Anything to pretend your skin wasn't still buzzing from it.

But your thoughts kept circling back to him.

That smile, gosh, that smile. The kind that started slow, like he knew a secret you didn’t, before curving into something downright dangerous. The kind that made your stomach swoop like you’d missed a step on the stairs.

And the way he filled out that black button-down? Criminal. Sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing lean forearms under the fabric. The top buttons undone, because, of course, they were, giving just a teasing glimpse of collarbone.

You weren’t the only one staring.

A red-lipped woman by the VIP section was practically undressing him with her eyes. A group of girls near the dance floor kept giggling and glancing his way. Even the bartender lingered a beat too long when taking their order.

As if he’d be interested in me...

The thought hit like a splash of ice water. You gulped your drink, the sweetness turning cloying as it washed over your tongue.

But it was useless.

That dangerous smile of his had already seared itself into your brain, low and steady as the bassline thrumming through the floor, impossible to shake. Like the ghost of his fingers trailing up your spine. Like a promise you hadn’t agreed to yet.

The bartender shot you another wink as he wiped down the counter. Handsome, sure, dimples and all, but next to him? The one with the smile that lingered in your ribs like smoke? Please.

You exhaled through your nose, tracing the rim of your empty glass. Should've stayed home. Should've…

Then the DJ dropped that track.

The bassline hit first, a deep, familiar throb that vibrated up through the soles of your shoes. Your pulse answered before your brain could, that addictive rhythm coiling low in your stomach.

“Screw it.”

You slammed your glass down a little harder than necessary and slid off the stool. The crowd parted just enough to let you through, bodies pressing hot and close as you pushed toward the epicenter of the dance floor.

For one glorious moment, you forgot everything.

The music owned you, hips swaying, hair sticking to your neck, the strobe lights turning the world into a series of snapshots. You didn't see your friends. Didn't see anyone. Just the beat and the way it made your blood sing.

Then he appeared.

All cheap cologne and greasy curls, some guy who clearly thought the dance floor was his personal mating ground. Before you could sidestep, he was there, crowding into your space with the subtlety of a freight train.

“Nice moves,” he slurred into your ear, hands already sliding toward your waist.

You jerked back, planting a firm palm against his chest. “Not interested.”

His grin didn't falter. “C'mon, don't be like…" His fingers dug into your waist before you could react.

You shoved against his chest again, this time harder, but he just laughed, the sound swallowed by the music. His grip tightened, pulling you flush against him. The reek of alcohol hit you full force as he leaned in.

“Well, well... playing hard to get?”

Your stomach lurched. “Let. Go.” You twisted, but his fingers were vise-tight around your wrist now, the bones grinding together.

“Make me.” His breath was hot and sour against your cheek.

The bass pounded louder, the crowd a blur of indifferent bodies. You jerked your knee up.

He blocked it with a thigh, crowding you backward until your spine hit something solid. A pillar. Nowhere left to go.

“What kind of girl comes to a club alone, huh?” His free hand grabbed your chin, forcing your face up. The smirk that had seemed sleazy before was gone now, replaced by something colder. Darker. The music throbbed around you, but all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears.

“Let go of me.” Your voice came out steadier than you felt.

“Or what?” His eyes narrowed, dark and threatening.

Your heart pounded. This had escalated too quickly. You hadn’t expected him to get this aggressive.

“Or else you'll be dealing with me.”

That voice. Low. Calm. Dangerous.

Him.

You knew it before you even turned your head.

There he was. Mr. Dangerous-Smile.

Close. Too close. Close enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne, something expensive and woodsy, but undercut with a sweetness. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in his otherwise dark eyes. Close enough to see the way his pupils dilated when your chest almost brushed his.

And when your breath hitched?

His lips curved. Just slightly.

Grease Curls' grip on your wrist slackened just slightly. “The fuck…”

“Her boyfriend.”

The lie came out smooth, effortless. His arm slid around your waist like it belonged there, his palm splaying possessively over your hip. You could feel every finger through the thin fabric of your dress.

“Now let her go.” His thumb stroked once, slow, against your side, a silent trust me.

Grease Curls' laugh was all bravado. "Shit, man, you could've just said…"

“I did.” A beat. The music dropped, leaving his next words crystal clear: “You didn't listen.”

Something in his tone made even you shiver.

Grease Curls dropped your wrist like it burned.

Mr. Dangerous-Smile didn't move. Instead, he pulled you flush against him, your back to his chest, his heartbeat a steady thud against your spine. You could feel the hard planes of his body, the way his breathing stayed perfectly even despite the adrenaline humming between you.

For a suspended second, no one breathed.

Then Grease Curls’ sneer faltered. His eyes darted between you two, the way your body molded into his, the possessive grip on your hip, the promise in those dark eyes, and something in him deflated.

“Whatever,” he muttered, backing away with raised hands. “Didn’t know she was taken.”

The crowd swallowed him whole, leaving the two of you standing there.

His breath warm on your neck. “You okay?” his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

Two words. That's all it took to melt your bones.

His voice had changed, softer now, the edge of danger replaced by something warm. Concern.

You nodded, your pulse still fluttering wildly. The moment you did, he released you, putting a respectful distance between you both.

The absence of his touch was instant cold. You can hold me again. Please.

“I'm sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture so boyishly awkward it clashed with the steel in his voice from moments ago. “Didn't mean to manhandle you. I just…” His jaw tightened. “Couldn't watch that.”

“No, thank you,” you blurted, too fast. “I was…I didn't know how to…”

“I noticed.”

A beat.

“I was watching you,” he admitted, gaze flicking away for a fraction of a second before meeting yours again. “Before. Could tell you weren't having fun with that guy.”

Watching you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

“I'm H/N,” he added, his smile shifting, less confident now, almost shy. The kind of smile that made your stomach flip.

“Y/N,” you managed, biting your lip to stop the grin threatening to take over your face.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” His voice wrapped around your name like it was something precious. “For the record, I didn't plan to introduce myself by pretending to be your boyfriend.” A low chuckle. “But I had been trying to figure out how to talk to you all night.”

Your heart stuttered.

“I noticed you, too,” you admitted, then immediately wanted to kick yourself for how eager it sounded.

His grin turned downright sinful. And just like that, your cheeks were on fire.

“While we're here...”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a barely-there caress that sent sparks up your arm. When you looked up, his gaze was dark with something new. Not just amusement. Intent.

“Dance with me?” The question was low, rough around the edges. Not a suggestion. A request.

Your stomach swooped. He wants to dance with me. “I'd love to.”

His fingers laced through yours like they'd been made to fit there, tugging you toward a pocket of space where the crowd thinned. The music here was softer, the lights dimmer, just enough to make the world feel small. Just you. Just him.

And gosh, could he move.

Hips rolling to the beat, his body a breath away from yours. Close enough that when you turned, your hair brushed his jaw. Close enough to catch the hitch in his breath when your back accidentally pressed to his chest.

Then the song changed.

The rhythm slowed, thickened, a sultry bassline that pooled low in your belly. Without a word, his hands found your hips. His grip was firm, guiding, like he'd mapped out every curve of you already.

“Y/N.” Your name was a rumble against your ear as he dipped his head. “Let me take you out. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere, I can actually hear you.”

You turned in his arms, tilting your face up. His eyes weren't playful now. Just hungry.

“When?” you breathed.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Tomorrow. Tonight. Five minutes ago.” His nose brushed your temple. “Your call.”

The club melted away. The music. The people. There was only his scent, his heat, the way his fingers flexed against your waist like he was holding himself back.

You opened your mouth to answer.

A shrill ringtone sliced through the moment. His phone. Your phone. It didn't matter. The spell was broken.

But when you were to step back, he didn't let go. “Don't,” he murmured, chasing your gaze. “I'm not done with you yet.”

And just like that, your world caught fire, again.

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♡ Author’s note

This story was inspired by ENHYPEN's song "Loose".

It ended up carrying a lot more tension and emotion than I first expected…but maybe that’s exactly what it needed.

Guess which Enha member kept sneaking into my thoughts while I was writing this...🫠😩

Love, YumiYue 🌙

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram / 🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by ENHYPEN’s song “Loose”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

© 2025 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

[yumiyue07]

Until the Seventh Moon

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

POV: K-idol x fem!reader

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 Part 32 | Part 33

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Afterword

Hello dear readers,

What an emotional journey this has been! 🥹 Another story that grew close to my heart has come to an end.

Originally, I had only planned a short story... but somehow, it got a little out of hand again. 😅 One plot point led to another, and eventually, I had to draw a line under it. I know that some storylines aren't fully developed, but going into more detail would have gone far beyond the scope of this series.

The idea for this story came to me while listening (for the thousandth time!) to ENHYPEN’s beautiful song Moonstruck. 🌙✨ After reading the lyrics carefully, I knew exactly where I wanted to take the story. Naturally, the pink full moon became an important symbol throughout. If you’ve seen the MV XO, you might have spotted it there too. That’s where I found the visual inspiration! It was one of the small tributes to ENHYPEN woven into the plot.

Another detail I really wanted to include was the number seven, symbolizing the seven ENHYPEN members. It took seven full moons to bring the two protagonists back together. 🌕🍂🌕🍁🌕❄️🌕🏮🌕🧧🌕🌱🌕🌸

Funnily enough, the timing worked out almost perfectly: the story begins with the October full moon and ends in April, right when the real Pink Moon appears. (I didn’t even know it was called the Pink Moon back then!) Although in the story, my seventh full moon happened a week later than in reality, but... I'd say that was no coincidence. It felt like fate. 🥰

The melody that H/N played on his flute for his princess was, of course, Moonstruck. It couldn’t have been any other song! Every time I hear it, I get goosebumps. Heeseung’s voice is simply magical and touches me deeply. 💖

A large part of the story revolves around H/N. Unaware of what had happened in the celestial realm, he carried an invisible emptiness within him, a deep sense that something, someone, was missing. He mistook the stirring emotions for his princess as feelings toward Mei. Yet even without his memories, he remained loyal to his true beloved, never truly giving his heart to another. (Okay, okay, thanks to Eunbyeol’s intervention, he was saved from making any foolish mistakes! 🐾) But once the memories returned and he realized the depth of their love, the longing to be with her nearly drove him mad. The fear of losing her forever if he failed to find the missing pendant weighed heavily on him. Once again, it was his little companion who guided him, and thanks to her, he was able to succeed.

Oh sweet little Eunbyeol... ⭐ When I first introduced her, she was only meant to make a brief appearance. But somehow, she grew into such an important character! As it often happens in stories like this, a bit of drama couldn't be missing: Eunbyeol sacrificed herself so that her Princess Y/N and H/N could finally reunite. I cried while writing that scene. T^T

Another part that emotionally tore me apart was when H/N and Y/N almost had to say goodbye forever. T^T The thought of them being separated for so long, especially Y/N, who remembered everything, only to see each other for a brief moment before facing another goodbye... It really broke my heart. I cried writing that scene, too. T^T

In general, the idea of being separated from your soulmate, watching them live on without any memory of you, and maybe falling for someone else... it’s such a heavy, bittersweet feeling. Y/N suffered so much. That’s why I’m all the happier that she finally got her well-deserved happy ending. 💕

And Mei, too, having to deal with H/N’s rejection and growing distance while still living under the same roof, it wasn’t easy for her either. Her transition to Seo-Joon was a little rushed, I admit, but I really wanted to give her a new beginning, too. She deserved her happy ending as well.

So did Lán Yīn. Blinded by hatred, she despised everything and everyone who still believed in love. An ambush had taken not only her beloved, but also the happiness she once knew. Fueled by this bitterness, she became the reason Y/N and H/N were torn apart. Yet even as death approached, Y/N was determined to uncover the truth and give Lán Yīn the peace she so desperately deserved.

Imagine living—or rather, wasting your entire life—consumed by a lie, despising the very person you once loved the most. How heartbreaking is that? 💔 Thankfully, Princess Y/N's heart was warm and forgiving enough to save even those who had hurt her the most.

In the end, Lán Yīn chose to give up her own life, not only to be reunited with her lost love, but also to save Y/N, just as Y/N had done for her. Incidentally, Lán means "orchid" in Chinese, and so her life force appeared in the form of a delicate orchid blossom. 🀣

There are still a few loose threads I would love to explore further. I've actually been thinking about turning this story into a full book. 📖 Would you be interested in that? Let me know!

For now, it's time to say goodbye (just for a little while). Thank you for staying with me through this story. It accompanied me for weeks. 🫶 Now it’s time to meet a new pair of characters. I'm planning to try something a little different next time... Let’s see if you’ll like it!

Thank you to everyone who took the time to read my story. Your support, no matter how small, means a lot to me. 💖

Until our next adventure, with love, YumiYue 🌙

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram: @yumiyue07 🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by ENHYPEN’s song “Moonstruck”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

© 2025 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

[yumiyue07]

Until the Seventh Moon

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

POV: K-idol x fem!reader

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 Part 32

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Part 33 - Final part

Epilogue

From the pavilion's carved railings, the view unfolded like a painting, the waterfall's silken cascade catching the last golden rays of the setting sun. A soft rainbow shimmered where the mist met the light, arching over the still waters of the heavenly lake. The air hummed with the lingering notes of a flute melody, sweet and familiar, weaving through the rustle of cherry blossoms.

Y/N nestled deeper into H/N's lap, her fingers tracing the embroidery on his robes on his chest. "At last," she sighed, "we're alone." Her lips brushed his collarbone. "I missed this. Missed you."

H/N let out a soft chuckle and wrapped his arms around her, setting his jade flute beside him—the moon and star pendants swaying gently in the evening breeze.

“Not half as much as I missed you.” He kissed her forehead, then hesitated, his voice softening. “You know… You remind me of my little kitten, Eunbyeol.” A quiet lump formed in his throat at the memory. “She used to curl up with me just like this whenever I came back to my room. I wish you could’ve met her.”

Y/N's fingers stilled on his chest. Then, gently, she turned his face toward hers. “But I did.”

H/N blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Eunbyeol was me,” she confessed, her smile tinged with mischief. “Or rather, a piece of my soul I sent to watch over you.”

His eyes widened. “That was you?”

She nodded, laughing at his stunned expression. “Didn’t you ever wonder why she never really ate? Why she never grew?”

H/N nodded slowly, the puzzle pieces falling into place.

“She ‘fed’ on your warmth,” Y/N continued. “Your presence gave her strength. It gave me strength. That’s how I could keep holding on.”

H/N exhaled sharply, the memories slotting into place—the way Eunbyeol had always known his moods, how her silver eyes had held too much understanding for a mere cat.

“So all those nights,” he murmured, “when I whispered my secrets to her...”

“I heard every word.” Y/N ducked her head, suddenly shy. “I just... needed to be close to you. Even if it was only as a shadow of myself.” She paused, cheeks tinged with pink. “And also because…

“Because?” H/N echoed with a knowing smile.

Y/N looked down, then up again with a shy laugh. “Because I missed you more than the moon misses the sun at dawn.”

A warm laugh escaped H/N’s lips as he held her tighter, resting his cheek against her hair. “No wonder, now it all makes perfect sense.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked with genuine curiosity, tilting her head slightly.

The lake shimmered before them, and above, the first star constellations began to appear—gentle witnesses to a love that had defied lifetimes.

“Well, this need for love… but also the jealous streak,” H/N replied with a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Whenever another woman got too close to me, Eunbyeol would sulk for hours afterward—even if she hadn’t been there. It always amused me how that little ball of fluff reacted. She reminded me of someone…” He brushed a tender finger along her cheek. “Of you, though I didn’t know it back then.”

Y/N let out a dramatic gasp, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “Well, someone had to keep Mr. Heartbreaker in check. Imagine what might’ve happened if she hadn’t intervened.”

She made a move to get off his lap in mock offense, but H/N didn’t let her go far. With a swift, possessive motion, he grabbed her by the hips and settled her firmly back into his embrace.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “No one else has ever held my heart but you. No one else ever will.” His fingers slid up to cradle her jaw, tilting her face toward his. “These lips?” A brush of his mouth over hers. “Only yours.”

His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips, and Y/N could hardly breathe. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, every inch of her on fire.

“H/N…”

She didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence. He kissed her deeply, fiercely, as if all the years they had lost were pouring into this single moment. The familiar fire ignited between them, spreading like liquid warmth through her entire being.

Her arms looped around his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing him closer. She returned his kiss with the same passion, melting into him, as if they could never be close enough.

When his teeth grazed her lower lip, she whimpered—a sound that sent his hands tightening possessively on her waist. “H/N… ah…”

“Perhaps,” he whispered between kisses, “we should take this somewhere more... private, Your Highness.”

Y/N's blush spread to the tips of her ears, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Are you suggesting we abandon this perfectly lovely pavilion, Your Grace?”

“I'm suggesting,” he said, standing with her still in his arms, “that I intend to worship every inch of my princess properly tonight.”

Above them, the full moon had risen high in the sky, its light painting their intertwined shadows across the marble tiles, a tapestry of devotion. It shone brighter than ever, as if smiling down on its favorite couple—fated, reunited, and finally free.

Down on Earth, no one remembered H/N. It was as if he had never been there at all — as though the wind had gently erased his footsteps from the Crescent Moon village paths. The Lee family lived on peacefully, surrounded by laughter and light. Mei, her smile softer now, often walked hand in hand with her husband through the cherry groves, while Min’s engagement bracelet gleamed in the sunlight as she teased her younger sibling.

And yet, on quiet nights when the moon was full and the wind whispered through the bamboo trees, the villagers still told the old tale of the Moon Princess — a story once filled with longing and loss, now graced with a happy ending.

“And so,” the storytellers would say, “though they were torn apart by curses and time, their love defied the heavens. For you see, children…" A pause for dramatic effect, small faces leaning closer. “On nights like these, if you listen very carefully to the wind… You might just hear her laughter echoing through the stars, reunited with her beloved at last.”

And high above, where the celestial lanterns glowed eternal, two shadows danced beneath the moon—closer than breath, brighter than fate.

The End

♡ Author's note

🌕💖 And that’s a wrap! 🎉

Thank you so much for joining me on this journey. 🌙✨ Even if it was a little quiet, just knowing that some of you were out there reading and feeling the story with me truly means a lot. 💜

Love, YumiYue 🌙

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram: @yumiyue07 🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by ENHYPEN’s song “Moonstruck”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

© 2025 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

[yumiyue07]

Until the Seventh Moon

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

POV: K-idol x fem!reader

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

At the sight of her expression, H/N sat up as well, the muscles of his chest tightening in response to the shift in her energy. His heart began to pound with a sudden, creeping dread. Y/N looked at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, sorrow written in every delicate feature.

“What’s wrong, my love?” he asked softly, reaching out to her, his fingers brushing her cheek with all the tenderness he could muster. The skin there was warm, real, alive, but her expression held a grief that turned his blood to ice.

She leaned into his touch and placed her smaller hand over his, holding it tightly. “H/N… I can’t return to the palace with you,” she whispered, her voice cracking like thin glass.

A chill ran through him. “Why not?” The question tore from his throat, raw and ragged. “Are you… Are you still bound to the moon?”

Her slow, shuddering headshake sent the first tear spilling over. It traced a silver path down her cheek, and H/N felt something inside him splinter at the sight. No—he had promised her. Promised she would never have to cry like this again.

“Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice cracking under the weight of impending loss. “Please. Tell me what's happening.” He would have bargained with the gods themselves in that moment, would have torn the stars from the sky if it meant keeping her beside him. But her eyes, those eyes he adored, were filled with something he hadn’t expected: farewell.

“H/N,” she breathed, struggling to remain composed, “I used nearly all of my life energy to come here. I had to see you, just once more. Had to know... You still remembered us. That you still loved me.”

The world tilted on its axis. H/N stared at her, his mind recoiling from the words as if they were blades. This wasn't a reunion.

This was goodbye.

The realization struck him like a physical blow. Her life energy, once a brilliant flame, now flickered like a candle in the wind. How had he missed it? The signs had been there all along: the way her touch lingered as if memorizing him, the quiet sorrow beneath her smiles.

“Every sign I sent you," she confessed, her voice barely audible, “every flicker of light, every whisper in the wind, every reflection in the lake…they all took pieces of me.” She inhaled shakily. “That’s why they were so faint, so brief. But I never regretted it. Not for a second. I'd do it all again. Because in the end, I got this moment. I got you.”

Tears streamed freely down her cheeks now, like diamonds cut from the stars themselves.

“I got to hold you again,” she whispered, voice trembling, her hands tightening around his, “and got to see the love in your eyes. That’s enough. Please, H/N… don’t forget me. Promise you won’t forget us.”

“No,” he breathed, shaking his head, eyes wild with disbelief. His grip on her hands turned desperate, his knuckles whitening. “No—Y/N, don’t say that. We just found each other again. I’m not going to lose you now. I won't accept this. I can’t.”

His mind raced, wild with denial. There had to be a way.

“Tell me what to do,” he begged, voice cracking. “There has to be a way. I’ll find it. I’ll do anything—just say the word.”

Y/N cupped his face tenderly. Her thumb brushed away the tears he hadn’t realized had fallen.

“As soon as the sun rises,” she said quietly, “I’ll turn into stardust.”

The words sliced through him like a blade. His breath hitched.

“Then I’ll stop the sun from rising,” he owed, voice trembling with fury and grief. “I’ll tear the sky apart if I have to. I’ll split the sun in two—I won’t let it happen.”

He was trembling. Chest aching. The pain was unbearable. His world was slipping away in his arms again. But even as he spoke, the first golden rays kissed the horizon, and her fingertips began to glow, translucent at the edges.

“Please… Y/N… don’t fade. Don’t go.” His voice cracked. “Tell me there’s something I can do. Anything.”

“H/N, just hold me,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. “I want to feel your warmth, your heartbeat… hear your voice one last time.”      Bitter tears streamed down her cheeks. H/N’s heart shattered with every drop. He couldn’t look at her—couldn’t bear the thought that this might be the last time. But he gathered her into his arms, clutching her tightly, wrapping her robe around her delicate form as if by doing so, he could shield her from time itself.  “If I hold you tight enough… maybe the dawn won’t take you from me again.”         Her fingers clutched at his sleeves, her nails pressing faint crescents into his skin. “I’ll follow you,” he vowed, pressing his lips to her temple. “Wherever you go, I’ll find you. I won’t leave you alone. Never again.” A faint, fragile smile curved her lips, one that held more love than sorrow. He kissed her forehead, then hugged her even tighter, as if his soul could anchor hers.

But the sky was betraying them.

The horizon began to glow with the blush of morning. The midnight blue faded into a soft orange hue, streaked with rose and gold. A thick, burning lump rose in H/N’s throat. Why? Why had fate reunited them only to tear them apart once more?

“H/N?” Y/N’s voice was soft, so soft it felt like a sigh in the wind.        He closed his eyes. Even now, the sound of his name on her lips made his heart skip. He tried to memorize the way his name sounded on her lips—soft, intimate, his.       “Yes, my love?”

“When did you fall in love with me?” she asked, her head resting against his chest, where his heart beat like a war drum.

The question caught him off guard, but the answer had always lived in his heart.

“From the moment I first saw you,” he breathed. “It wasn’t just your beauty… it was your light, your soul, the way it made the world seem brighter, kinder. You were… You are everything to me, Y/N. Something rare. Something eternal.”

Her arms tightened around him, her fingers curling into his back as if she could fuse their souls together.

“I felt it too,” she whispered. “My heart belonged to you from the beginning. Only you. And even in my next life…” Her voice faltered, but the promise hung between them, luminous as the dawn. “It will still be yours.”

“Y/N…” H/N’s breath hitched. He gently pulled back, taking her face in his hands. He looked at her as though memorizing every line, the curve of her lashes, every shimmering tear.

And then, he kissed her.

Not with the desperate hunger of before, but soft. Slow. As tender as the very first time their lips had met beneath the moonlight. It was a kiss full of longing, full of goodbye. The salt of their tears mingled as his lips moved against hers, slow and reverent, pouring every unsaid word into that final touch.

But the world moved on. Time was merciless.

The sun’s rays broke fully over the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant red and gold. The moon's silver glow dimmed, flickered, and began to fade.       So did she.

“No… No.” H/N felt her form growing lighter, as though the air itself was stealing her away. He crushed her to him in desperation. “Don’t go. Y/N, please.”

Her arms rose to embrace him one last time, just as tightly, her body trembling.

“H/N… I love you,” she whispered, voice barely audible now, fading with the moonlight.

“Y/N, I love…” His voice broke.

But she was slipping.

Slipping through his fingers like light through the leaves.

“Look at them. The two miserable traitors, reunited at last.”

The voice sliced through the air like a dagger through silk, honeyed with malice, dripping with old hatred.

Both H/N and Y/N flinched. Instinctively, H/N tightened his arms around her, shielding her with his body as fury surged through his veins.

Lán Yīn.

"So she was still alive."

A mocking smile twisted her lips as she stepped into view, her black robes pooling around her like a shadow spreading across the light.  “Well, well,” she sneered, her gaze raked over Y/N's fading form. “Tell me, princess—how did you manage to break my spell?” Her eyes glinted with malice as she narrowed them at Y/N. “You were meant to be separated for the rest of your wretched lives. So… how?”

Y/N turned to face her, still wrapped in H/N’s embrace. Though her strength was fading, she held herself with the grace and courage of the princess she had always been. H/N was ready to strike, to burn the world down if he had to. He had so little time left with her, and this, this confrontation, was the last thing he wanted.

“Dearest Lán Yīn,” Y/N said calmly.

The witch blinked, caught off guard by the gentle address.

“It’s good to see you again.” Her voice trembled only slightly. “I don’t have much time, so listen carefully.”

Lán Yīn’s lips curled. “You’ve burned your life force. I can feel it.” She tilted her head, mock pity in her tone. “How poetic—to die in your beloved's arms after all this time.”

H/N's vision went red. „You venomous…”

But Y/N's hand on his wrist stopped him. Her touch was featherlight now, barely substantial. “Listen, I was not alone on the moon,” her voice turning firm, unshaken.

Lán Yīn's sneer faltered. A flicker of unease crossed her features.

“The Moon People came to me,” Y/N continued. “They don’t reveal themselves to just anyone… but they chose to speak to me. And they told me something. About you.”

H/N stiffened slightly behind her, alarmed by the new revelation. Moon People? The legends whispered of them—keepers of celestial secrets, watchers from the silver shadows. But they were myths. Weren't they?

Y/N swayed slightly, her strength visibly draining. H/N caught her and held her upright, pain etched into every line of his face. His heart fractured as he felt how light she'd become, as if she were already half-spirit. "My love, please," he begged, his voice raw. "Don't waste your strength.”       "This can't wait," she whispered back, pressing a trembling hand to his chest before turning to face Lán Yīn fully.

Lán Yīn’s eyes narrowed. “And what, pray tell, did they say?” Her hands began to glow with black magic, swirling with dark energy, ready to strike.

But so was H/N. He raised a protective shield, golden and glowing, wrapping it around himself and his beloved.

Y/N looked up, her eyes shining with truth. “The Moon People see all things. They see through illusions and lies—even the ones you were told.”

Lán Yīn’s magic faltered for a second. “What… what are you talking about?” Her voice had lost its mocking edge. For the first time in centuries, she sounded... uncertain. “What lie?”

To their side, the sun's rim breached the horizon, staining the sky blood-red. Time was running out.

“Your beloved never abandoned you.”

The words struck like a thunderclap. “Shut up!” the witch screamed. “You’re lying! He left me for someone else!”

With a furious cry, she hurled a bolt of black magic straight at Y/N. But it struck H/N’s golden shield held firm, scattering the attack into embers that died in the morning air. Y/N didn’t flinch. She knew H/N was there. He always had been.

“I have nothing to gain by lying to you,” Y/N said, her voice calm and unwavering. “I only want you to know the truth… and find peace in it.”

She drew a shuddering breath, her body growing more translucent with each passing second, yet her words remained clear: “Your beloved went to find a special flower for you that day. The rarest kind, that only blooms once a year.”

Lán Yīn’s eyes widened. Her lips parted in disbelief. “No one... no one knew that...” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“He never returned,” Y/N continued gently, “because he was deceived by black magic. His life energy was stolen while he searched for a gift meant only for you.”

Lán Yīn stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat.

“That same dark force forged the farewell letter you found,” Y/N said softly. “It twisted your pain into poison and made you believe a lie. It turned you into what you never were.”

The witch’s voice trembled. “You're wrong,” she rasped, but the venom had drained from her voice. “He left because I wasn’t enough…” Her lips quivered, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“Honored Lán Yīn, you were everything. And you've been mourning a lie,” Y/N said with solemn grace, “please… see for yourself.”

The witch recoiled. “I... I can't.”

“You can,” Y/N urged. “Before the sun takes me, let me give you this.”

Y/N extended her palm, and from it rose a sphere of golden light, small but radiant like a miniature sun, pulsing like a captured heartbeat. It hovered between them, casting long-forgotten warmth across Lán Yīn's face.     “The Moon People sent this for you.”

Lán Yīn stared at it, hesitant. Then, as though drawn by something ancient and buried, she reached out and touched the sphere.

Memories flooded her. Golden, radiant, and bittersweet.

She saw him—her beloved—smiling at her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her forehead in the morning sun. His eyes crinkled with a secret joy as he promised to return before dusk. She saw him leave, excited, full of love, setting off on his journey to find the rare flower she had once admired.

Then came the darkness.

The ambush. The trap. Black tendrils of magic were draining the life from his body as he clutched the flower in shaking hands. His last thoughts were of her.

And then—her. Alone. Heartbroken. Reading a letter that he never wrote. Feeling abandoned. Becoming consumed by the same darkness that had claimed him.

The vision ended. The orb vanished like mist.

Lán Yīn lowered her trembling hands. Her legs faltered, but she did not fall.

Something inside her shattered. All those years. All that hatred.

He had never left her. He had loved her until the very end. And she… she had cursed his memory. She had drowned in vengeance when all he had ever offered was love.

She hadn’t even said goodbye.

“My beloved…” she whispered.       A single tear slid down her cheek. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she sank to her knees upon the soft cloud, tears falling freely now, silent apologies for a lifetime of sorrow. “I’m so sorry… for everything.” The words were inadequate. They would always be inadequate. But they were all she had left.

The fiery red sun now crowned the horizon, its light spilling across the heavens like liquid fire.      H/N turned back to his princess—his moonlight in the dark, his heart. She shimmered like mist, becoming more translucent with each passing second.

“Y/N…” His voice broke. “Stay with me. Please.”

She lifted her hand with effort, touching his cheek, her fingers as light as starlight. “I will always be with you,” she said softly. “Play my favorite melody, and I will answer you.”

“Y/N…” His voice trembled. He clung to every second, memorizing her—her voice, her eyes, her soul.

“Here…”

He turned.

A figure stood before him, cloaked in flowing purple robes, adorned with golden blossoms that shimmered like the stars themselves. He opened his mouth to speak, confused—until his eyes met hers.

Those eyes.

“Lán Yīn…” His voice was breathless.

She gave a slow nod, and for the first time in an eternity, her expression was at peace. The darkness that had once twisted her features was gone, revealing the ethereal beauty she had once been—pure, radiant, untainted.

“This is my life essence,” she said, her voice calm and clear.

Floating in her open palm was a single golden orchid, luminous and pulsing with light. It hovered gently, as though carried by the wind.

“Give it to your princess Y/N… and she will live.”

H/N stared at the glowing flower, his throat tight. “And you?”

Lán Yīn smiled, a smile so tender, it ached.

“Thanks to Princess Y/N, I learned the truth and was freed from the darkness that consumed me.” She gazed toward the rising sun, her expression wistful. “Because of me, the two of you were separated for years… I want to make amends.”

She paused, her eyes shimmering like stardust. “And besides… my beloved is waiting for me beyond the veil. It's time I went to him.”         She looked toward the rising sun, a soft, almost shy smile blooming on her lips.

“It’s true what they say about you two,” she added quietly. “Your love is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Treasure it. Never let it fade.”

She stepped back, her form beginning to shimmer at the edges. “Farewell.”

And with that, she dissolved.        Her body shimmered, turning into thousands of glittering lights that danced around them like fireflies—then rose into the sky, vanishing into the morning light.

All that remained was the golden orchid, glowing softly in H/N’s hands.

H/N pressed the golden orchid to his heart, its light pulsing gently, like a heartbeat. Without hesitation, he leaned down and kissed Y/N.

It was no ordinary kiss. It was a kiss steeped in the terror of these final moments when dawn threatened to steal her away, in hope, in an aching kind of love that defied the heavens. The orchid's energy flowed between them, a golden river of borrowed time, and he clung to her as if his soul depended on it. His lips trembled against hers, eyes clenched shut—not just from fear, but from the sheer weight of it all.         He couldn’t bear to open them, not if it meant seeing empty air where she had once been. Not if it meant she had slipped through his fingers again. “Please,” he thought desperately, eyes shut tight against the unbearable possibility of failure. “Not again. Never again.”

But then—     Warmth. Her exhale against his lips, sweet as morning dew. Her fingers, solid and real, curling into his hair. The dizzying sensation of her life force strengthening beneath his touch.

Her lips moved against his, slowly, sweetly—alive.        Her light was no longer fading. It glowed. Stronger. Warmer.

He pulled back just enough to see her face, the sight stole his breath.

Y/N glowed like captured moonlight, her skin radiant, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears and quiet joy. The translucency was gone; she was here, whole, alive.

“Looks like you're stuck with me a while longer,” she whispered with a playful smile, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his face.

A sound burst from him—a laugh tangled with a sob, relief and wonder crashing over him in waves. He cradled her cheeks as if holding something sacred.

“As if I'd ever want otherwise,” he murmured. “You are my heart. Where you go, I follow.”

She nodded, her eyes shining as she leaned in to kiss him again—this time slow and lingering, with the promise of every tomorrow they’d once lost.

When they parted, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the warmth of his chest, her heartbeat echoing with his.

“Let’s go back home.”

He smiled, brushing a kiss to her temple, the morning light painting them both in gold.

“Your wish is my command, Your Highness.”

And hand in hand, heart to heart, they descended from the clouds—no longer lost in time, no longer torn apart.

They were fated not to suffer, but to find their way back.         Fated not to end, but to begin again. Together. As they were always meant to be.

To be continued...

♡ Author's note

🌕🌸 They made it. Finally, they’re reunited for good. (T^T) Y/N was even willing to sacrifice herself just to see H/N one last time. 💔

True love knows no boundaries, no obstacles, it will always find its way. 💖

Stay tuned for the final part — Part 33 is coming soon!

Love, YumiYue 🌙

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram: @yumiyue07 🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by ENHYPEN’s song “Moonstruck”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

© 2025 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

[yumiyue07]

Until the Seventh Moon

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

POV: K-idol x fem!reader

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

H/N parted from his father with barely a word, offering only a quick goodbye before disappearing into the house. His father lingered, brow furrowed as he stared at the empty space where his son had been. He remained behind, puzzled and a little concerned, watching his son vanish like a gust of wind into the night.

H/N didn’t slow down. The moment he reached his room, he called forth the enchantment that cloaked his most precious possession. The flute revealed itself to him, shimmering into existence where no one else could have seen it, drawn into his hand as if answering a silent call.

The moment his fingers wrapped around it, he felt the familiar surge of energy rushing through him, warm and powerful, flowing from his fingertips to the very tips of his hair. It embraced him like an old friend, like a part of his soul that had been waiting for this moment.

It must have been just after midnight. The village had long since fallen asleep, the streets silent and still. He weighed the risks but decided it was worth it—this night could not wait. There was no time left.

Flying would draw too much attention, even cloaked in magic. So he ran, swift as lightning, wind curling around his form, the world blurring around him.

Within moments, he stood at the lake’s edge.

It was empty, quiet, serene—just as he had hoped. A soft breath escaped his lips as relief settled over him. The cherry trees stood tall and graceful, their blossoms whispering in the night breeze. A few delicate petals floated across the lake’s glassy surface, drifting gently like small boats.

H/N could feel the anticipation rising in his chest, bubbling up until it tingled across his skin. His gaze lifted toward the heavens. The full moon, round and radiant, adorned with a delicate veil of clouds. Beside it, Venus gleamed brightly, a steadfast companion keeping silent watch.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, a small smile curling on his lips. “Just like you, my princess.”

His heart pounded with emotion, heavy with hope and memory. In just a few moments, he would see her again, feel her presence, hear her voice.

Tonight, the waiting ended. Tonight, everything would change.

H/N took his place on the small rock by the water’s edge, just as he had so many times before. His hands closed around the cool jade of the flute, grounding him—anchoring him in the present, even as his soul reached across realms.

“It will work. I’m going to save her,” he told himself, quietly but firmly. The words hung in the air between promise and prayer.

He drew a deep breath, steadying the storm within, and brought the flute to his lips.

The melody poured into the night—her melody. It was her favorite song, the one she had always loved, the one he had played until his fingers remembered it better than his own heartbeat. Yet now it carried something more: the weight of his purpose, the depth of his longing, the entirety of his love given voice through the rising and falling phrases. With each note, his heart spoke the words he had never been able to say. His breath, his soul, every fiber of his being merged with the tune.

The flute pulsed in his hands, glowing softly. The twin pendants, the crescent moon, and the recovered star began to shimmer, their light growing brighter with every rising note. Their light pulsed in time with the music, casting dancing reflections across the water's still surface. A gentle breeze stirred, curling through the trees. The cherry blossoms responded, their petals swirling in the air like whispers of magic.

The petals danced over him, spiraling down and scattering across the lake’s surface, creating ripples that mirrored the ones trembling through his heart.

H/N lifted his gaze toward the sky. The moon, his guiding light, began to glow. Its usual silver pallor deepened moment by moment, suffusing with the delicate blush of first dawn until it hung heavy and pink in the vault of night, its light falling upon the water like a pathway of scattered rose quartz.

It was happening. The sight sent his heart racing, each beat a thunderous proclamation of hope and fear and desperate anticipation. “Y/N.”

“H/N…”

Her voice echoed softly through the air, as clear and gentle as moonlight. Relief, sweet and overwhelming, flooded his veins, carrying with it the weight of years of longing finally answered.

“You made it.”

The words brushed against his mind, tender as a caress, and his heart swelled with a joy so profound it threatened to undo him. “My love,” he thought in reply, the words spilling from his soul with all the reverence of a prayer, “just as I promised.”

Then the night itself seemed to exhale. Silver stardust shimmered beneath his feet, swirling upward into the night sky. From the lake’s edge all the way to the moon, a celestial path began to unfold—glowing, radiant, and impossibly real. A bridge between worlds.

Without a moment’s hesitation, H/N stepped onto the stardust path. The melody still flowed from his flute, the music threading through the starlit path like golden wire through pearls.

He glanced down one last time—the sleeping village bathed in moonlight, the quiet lake cradled by cherry trees, petals floating peacefully on its surface.

But his heart was no longer tethered to Earth.

As he ascended, he reached a resting place—a soft cloud near the moon, glowing faintly under its light. He paused, eyes searching the horizon, his pulse a wild thing in his throat.

“Where is she?” he thought, scanning the gentle glow surrounding the moon.

As if in answer, pink stardust shimmered to life at the cloud's edge, curling toward the moon in a graceful arc. His breath caught as he followed its trail—

And there she was.

Emerging slowly from the moon’s radiant glow, her silhouette took shape—elegant, luminous, as if sculpted from moonlight itself.

Her eyes met his, and the universe stilled.

She was as beautiful as ever. The curve of her cheek, the starlight in her eyes, the way her very presence made the air hum with forgotten magic—she was more breathtaking than memory had dared preserve.

For the first time in years, they stood beneath the same sky.

His heart thundered in his chest, wild and unrestrained. His breath hitched, caught somewhere between disbelief and overwhelming joy. Every emotion he had buried, every memory he had clung to, surged to the surface in a tidal wave that threatened to drown him. Every whispered prayer in the dark, every night spent aching for this moment when she would be real again, solid and warm in his arms.

It was just like the first time he had seen her in the celestial palace gardens. And just as then, helplessly, inevitably, he fell in love all over again.

H/N lowered the flute with trembling hands, his gaze locked on hers. There were no words, there was no need for them. Only the quiet storm of emotion in her eyes—years of loneliness, of waiting, of love that had never dimmed.

Y/N stood frozen for a breathless moment, as if afraid to move, afraid that it might all disappear. Then she took one tentative step forward onto the stardust path… and another… and then she ran.

H/N barely had time to open his arms before she collided with him, her body fitting against his as though no time had passed at all.

She felt soft and real and warm, and he held her as tightly as he could, afraid to let go, afraid that if he loosened his grip even a little, she might vanish like a dream. She clung to him with the same desperation, her arms wrapped around him as though they could stitch the time and pain back together.

His face found her hair—familiar, fragrant, hers. He breathed her in, buried himself in the safety of her presence.

“Y/N…” he whispered into the hollow of her neck, his voice cracking. “You're here. You’re finally back with me.”

When he finally drew back, just far enough to see her face, his hands cradled her cheeks as though she were something precious, something sacred. Tears traced silver paths down her skin, catching the light like dewdrops on petals. They sparkled—tiny, glimmering diamonds, carved from all the lonely nights they had spent apart.

The sight of them sent a fresh ache through his chest. He never wanted her to cry again. Not now. Not ever.

“H/N…” Her voice, thick with tears, trembled in the still air. And yet, it was the most beautiful sound in the world. His name on her lips—his name, spoken with such reverence, such yearning.

“My love,” she choked out, her hands reaching to cradle his face, with a tenderness that made his chest constrict. “I thought…I truly believed I'd lost you forever.”

Her voice trembled, laced with fear, and it broke something inside him. H/N felt like he was being torn apart, the terror of near-loss carving through him anew. His thumbs traced the paths of her tears, brushing them away with reverent strokes, as if he could erase every moment of sorrow they'd endured.

“I’m here,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “And I swear to you, on every star in the sky, on every breath left in my body, I will never let you go again. We were always meant to find our way back.”

With gentle fingers, he wiped new tears from her cheeks, his thumbs lingering. Their eyes met, soul to soul, and in that single, silent moment, the moon, the stars, the very fabric of time seemed to pause, as if the universe itself was bearing witness to this reunion. Their bodies leaned closer, drawn together by a force neither of them could resist, even if they had tried.

H/N couldn’t wait another heartbeat and closed the distance between them

The first brush of his lips against hers was soft—a question, a promise, a prayer all at once. But then—

The fire ignited.

A spark, long smoldering in the depths of their souls, burst into flame. The kiss deepened, no longer careful but desperate, hungry, aching to make up for every lost second. Even the moon, still glowing a soft, pulsing pink, seemed to beat in time with their hearts.

H/N wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her flush against him. One hand clutched her waist, anchoring her to him, while the other caressed her cheek, as though she were something precious, something holy.

Y/N answered with equal fervor. One hand slipped into his hair, her fingers tangling at the nape of his neck, while the other fisted the fabric of his robe over his heart as if trying to hold him closer still.

He kissed her like he was starving for her, like she was air and he had forgotten how to breathe without her. And when they finally pulled apart, breathless and dazed, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Y/N…” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “I love you with every fiber of my body, every piece of my soul. I belong to you. Always have. Always will. My place is by your side.”

Y/N’s answering touch was featherlight against his cheek, a whisper of stardust against skin. “And I love you,” she breathed, “with every thought that has ever stirred my mind, with every dream that has ever carried me through the darkness. There is no part of me that does not belong to you.”

Their smiles were like a sunrise after a long, bitter night. And before another word could be spoken, they melted back into each other’s arms, their lips finding one another again in a kiss filled with every promise they had ever made.

The fire that had ignited between them refused to be soothed by kisses alone.

H/N's lips trailed from her lips to the delicate curve of her neck, each kiss a reverent exploration, a rediscovery of terrain once known by heart. He lingered at the hollow of her collarbone, breathing her in—the salt of her skin, the faint floral sweetness that was hers alone. His hand cupped the swell of her breast, his touch achingly tender, yet charged with a need that threatened to unravel them both. He pulled her even closer, needing her, anchoring himself in her warmth as if she were the only real thing in the universe.

Y/N arched into him with a gasp, her fingers tightening in his hair. “H/N…”

His name on her lips, breathless and wanting, shattered the last remnants of his restraint.

They sank into the cloud together, lost in each other, their silhouettes cradled by the heavens.

His need for her surged—fierce, tender, overwhelming. With a flick of his fingers, he wove a shimmering magical veil around them, a protective shield of silver stardust that cloaked them from the world. This moment belonged to them alone.

His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the knot of her robe, pausing, giving her every chance to stop him. But Y/N only smiled, her cheeks tinged with a delicate pink as she slowly undid the belt of his robe in return. Her fingers brushed his chest, and he gasped softly at the feeling of her touch, so real, so right.

He kissed her again and again and again, as if trying to memorize her all over again. His mouth worshipped every inch of her skin, trailing lower with every kiss, every whisper of breath. She arched into him, her hands pulling him closer, her body answering every movement of his with aching need.

Y/N's moan curled into the night, a sound so sweet it sent lightning through his veins. H/N answered with a growl low in his throat, his hands mapping her body with a desperation that bordered on worship—every touch a prayer, every sigh a hymn.

“Y/N,” he murmured against her skin, voice rough with longing. “You are the most beautiful thing the stars have ever given me.”

“Ah… H/N…” Her hands clung to his back. “Don’t ever let me go.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his lips brushing her ear. “Not now. Not ever.”

They moved together beneath the glow of the full moon, wrapped in silk shadows and silver light, sharing the heat of their bodies, her nails scoring his back as he moved over her, in her, with her.

And when the crescendo came, when pleasure crested like a wave breaking upon the shore, it was with her name on his lips and his whispered devotion in her ear.

“Forever,” he promised, as their bodies stilled, as their breaths slowed. “This time, forever.”

Time unraveled around them. Each touch, each kiss burned deeper, branding the love that had never died. Their hands stayed entwined, their hearts beating as one, their bodies echoing the rhythm of a love too powerful to be forgotten.

They didn’t stop at once. Nor twice. Again and again, they found each other—like the tide returning to the shore, like the stars answering the call of night. They gave themselves over to the passion, to the ache of time lost, and the joy of time reclaimed.

And in the end, as the moon bathed them in soft silver light, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms—two souls reunited, woven back together under a sky that had waited far too long to witness their love again.

She lay in his arms, her head resting against the steady rise and fall of his chest. His fingers traced soft, soothing circles along her back, while his other hand remained interlaced with hers, their palms still warm from everything they'd shared. The cloud beneath them cradled them gently, wrapped in their robes like a shared cocoon, bathed in the tender glow of the moonlight.

H/N’s lips brushed the crown of her head, his voice a hushed reverence in the stillness. “I still can’t believe this is real,” he confessed, the words trembling with wonder. “That I get to hold you like this again.”

“I feel the same way,” she murmured, lips brushing his chest, right above his heart. A perfect echo. A promise in return.

“I’m sorry...,” his voice trembled with guilt, “for the years you waited. No, worse than that, I’m infinitely sorry that I couldn’t protect you back then.” His fingers tightened around hers. “Please, forgive me, my love.”

But Y/N only lifted her head, her eyes luminous with unshed tears—not of sorrow, but of a love so vast it could eclipse even time’s cruelest wounds. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she said softly, her thumb brushing away the guilt etched into his brow. “You’re here. You’re safe. That’s all that matters. I’m just... so glad to have you back by my side.”

He stared at her, awestruck by her grace, her kindness, her strength. “Oh, my princess Y/N,” he breathed, lifting her chin gently with a single finger. “What have I done to deserve you?”

His lips captured hers in a kiss that spoke volumes—of devotion, of longing, full of aching love—as if he could pour every unsaid word into that kiss. A fire kindled between them once more, warm and wild, but Y/N gently pulled away, nestling against his chest instead. H/N didn’t press further. He simply tightened his arms around her, thinking she must be tired, savoring the quiet of her heartbeat against his, the warmth of her skin.

He was the first one to notice it—the horizon was shifting. The deep velvet of night giving way to the faintest brush of dawn.

“The sun will rise soon,” he said, almost absentmindedly, brushing his thumb along her knuckles. “Shall we make our way back to the palace?”

The moment the words left his lips, he felt it—her entire body tensing in his arms.

Y/N sat up slowly, the silken robe slipping like water over her shoulders as she gazed toward the lightning sky. Her expression was distant, troubled. When she turned to him, her eyes held a sorrow that sent ice trickling down his spine. “H/N…” she paused, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s something you need to know.”

To be continued...

♡ Author's note

🌕🌸 They’re finally reunited!!! 🥹 A moment we’ve all been waiting for. So beautiful, so full of emotion...🥰 But wait, why is Y/N reacting like that? 👀 Something’s not right.

🌸 Fun fact: The real Pink Full Moon rose just last week on April 13th, and in the story, it’s also April, the very night they reunite under the pink moonlight. I wouldn’t call that a coincidence… I’d call it fate. 🌕💖

The grand finale is near. Part 32 coming soon.

Love, YumiYue 🌙

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Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram: @yumiyue07 🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by ENHYPEN’s song “Moonstruck”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

© 2025 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

[yumiyue07]

Until the Seventh Moon

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POV: K-idol x fem!reader

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29

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The night stretched on, endless and heavy, as sleep remained just beyond his grasp. Though the riddle had been solved and the star pendant rested safely on the now complete flute, H/N felt anything but complete. Relief and triumph pulsed faintly beneath his skin, yet they were eclipsed by the ache of loss—the hollow space beside him where Eunbyeol used to curl up now a sharp reminder of sacrifice.

He lay on his side for a while, eyes fixed on the untouched pillow. The faint indentation where her tiny form used to settle seemed to mock him, the sheets still marked by silvery hairs. “Oh, Eunbyeol,” he whispered, voice hoarse with emotion, “why did it have to be you?” His fingers curled into the blanket as if seeking comfort, but all he found was silence. “I had to lose you... just to find the pendant.”

Moonlight filtering through the window, painting delicate shadows across the room. He could almost imagine her silhouette, sitting by the door, tail flicking, eyes gleaming with mischief and ancient wisdom. But there was no soft meow, no gentle weight settling against his side. Only silence. Only memory. And longing.

With a slow exhale, he turned onto his back and stared up at the wooden beams that stretched across the ceiling. The room, once his haven, now felt too quiet, too still. A deep sigh escaped him, threading into the dark.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, as though speaking her name aloud might summon her closer. “My love, tomorrow... tomorrow we will finally be reunited. I can hardly wait.”

His eyes fluttered shut, but not to sleep. Instead, he held onto her name, letting it drift through his thoughts like a lullaby—until the first glimmers of dawn began to color the sky and, with it, the promise of a long-awaited reunion.

The palanquin swayed gently as it carved its path through the dappled forest light. H/N sat beside his father, the rhythmic creak of wood and the steady clop of hooves marking their progress toward the imperial palace. They had set out early in the morning, knowing that although the village lay relatively close, the journey would still take several hours. Accompanying them were a group of imperial guards, whose presence meant to ensure the safe transport of the imperial jewels entrusted to their care.

Not that H/N truly needed any protection.

Even without them, he would have been more than capable of defending both himself and his father. In the Celestial Empire, he had once led a large division of royal guards, his name whispered in awe throughout the palace as one of the strongest warriors of his time. Even now, the weight of a blade felt like an extension of his own body.

The hours passed without incident, the journey smooth and uneventful beneath the gentle warmth of the spring sun. As the heat began to intensify, they decided to pause and give the horses a chance to rest. Water skins were passed between men, laughter and quiet conversation mingling with the rustle of leaves.

But just as they were preparing to continue on, H/N’s instincts stirred.

He tensed, his senses sharpening like a drawn blade. His fingers flexed imperceptibly against his knee as he focused on the forest beyond. Somewhere, not far beyond the trees, he felt them—strange auras weaving silently through the woods. Too many. Too coordinated. They were not part of his entourage.

“Father,” he whispered without moving his lips, “we’re surrounded.”

His father remained composed, only giving a subtle nod in reply. His hand drifted casually to the hidden sword at his waist, the motion seamless, as natural as adjusting his sleeve.

H/N shifted his gaze to the nearest guard, catching his eye and conveying a silent warning. The man stiffened, then gave the slightest of nods. He understood.

And then, all at once, the forest erupted.

A wave of shouts shattered the calm as bandits burst from the undergrowth, their cries tearing through the quiet like wild animals on the hunt. Branches snapped underfoot, and startled birds took flight in a frenzy of wings. Twenty at least, armed to the teeth, their blades glinting with lethal intent.

The first assailant rushed him, and within seconds, fell to the ground, disarmed and unconscious. Another followed and met the same fate. There was no flourish to H/N's movements, no wasted motion—only the lethal efficiency of celestial combat, each action honed through lifetimes of discipline.

Around him, the guards fought valiantly, blades flashing as they held their ground, protecting the palanquin and its cargo. But H/N moved like a shadow, a force of calm fury, slicing through the chaos with silent determination.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Yet despite the numbers, H/N remained perfectly still.

His pulse did not quicken. His breath remained steady. He stepped forward, placing himself between the attackers and his father, his expression unreadable. The magic coiled in his veins begged for release, but he knew he could not—not here. The laws of this realm forbade it, and besides, there was something deeper, more personal, at stake.

“Father, stay back!” H/N called out, his voice sharp as steel. “Guard the jewels. I’ll handle the rest.”

With one fluid motion, he drew his sword. The sound of it leaving its sheath was soft but lethal, like a whisper of steel.

Before his father could respond, H/N was already gone, vanishing into the fray with the speed and precision of a predator unleashed. He moved like a shadow across the battlefield, his body fluid yet purposeful, striking with deadly accuracy.

Three of the attackers lunged at him at once, but they stood little chance. Within moments, the sound of fists meeting flesh echoed through the clearing, and the three crumpled to the ground, groaning in agony, unable to rise again.

His sharp gaze scanned the battlefield. The guards were holding their ground but struggling to keep the attackers at bay. Even his father had drawn his sword and was engaged in combat, fending off an opponent with the calm determination of a man seasoned in defense, though his breath came harder with each swing.

H/N didn’t hesitate.

And there, looming above the others like a stormcloud, was the bandit leader: a brute whose shoulders blocked the sun, whose axe could cleave a man in two.

But not H/N. He smiled. The challenge only fueled him. His muscles thrummed with exhilaration. Steel shrieked as their weapons met, the impact shuddering up H/N's arms. The giant roared, swinging with the force of a landslide—but H/N was already elsewhere, pivoting on the ball of his foot, his counterstrike a flash of moonlight.

This was where he belonged. Where the void in his chest filled with purpose. Every clash of blades, every gasped breath of his opponents, sang to the part of him that had once been legend.

And the bandits were learning—too late—why the empire had once feared the sound of his name.

But just as he began to enjoy the rhythm of the fight, a scream cut through the air—sharp, real, and deeply familiar.

His heart stopped. He didn’t need to turn. He felt it in his bones.

His father.

Without hesitation, he delivered a flurry of powerful strikes that brought the giant to his knees, and before the man even hit the ground, H/N had already turned and dashed back toward the center of the ambush.

Three bandits had his father cornered. One held a dagger glinting with fresh blood.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” H/N roared, his voice ringing with fury. The nearest bandit whirled—just in time to catch a boot to his chest. The impact lifted him clean off his feet, sending him skidding across the forest floor until his body crumpled against an oak.

H/N barely registered the thud. His hands were already on his father, scanning for wounds.

“Father—look at me. Are you hurt?” The words came too fast, the fear beneath them barely contained. He positioned himself protectively in front of him.

His father's grip on his arm was steady despite the labored breathing. “Only my pride, son. Thanks to you.”

Relief flooded H/N’s chest for the briefest of moments, but his gaze had already shifted to the remaining two enemies. His fists clenched. Rage sparked in his veins.

“I’ll make them regret laying a hand on you.”

Something inside him cracked. The next two bandits were down before they could raise their weapons. H/N didn't remember moving—only the dull crunch of bone under his fists, the way their bodies folded like paper. Their blades hit the earth with finality.

From that moment on, he never left his father’s side. His sword became his shield, his steps an unspoken promise.

Because all he could think, burning behind his eyes and echoing in his chest, was what he would have told his mother and sisters if something had happened to their father. What he would have told himself. But he didn’t allow the thought to fully form. He silenced it with action, driving forward with unwavering determination, his heart thundering like a war drum.

The battle would not take his family from him.

The last bandit slumped forward as the final knot tightened.

H/N wiped his palms against his thighs, watching as the guards secured the remaining attackers with thick hemp ropes. None resisted—whatever fire had driven them to ambush imperial envoys had been thoroughly extinguished. They would be marched the rest of the way and delivered into the hands of the imperial guards, who would know how to deal with such offenders.

The skirmish had cost them valuable time. Thankfully, no one among them had been seriously wounded. Yet the attack had left its mark, not in blood, but in the tautness of every movement, the way their eyes kept darting to the tree line, as though expecting another wave of attackers to come crashing through the foliage.

Inside the palanquin, H/N's father sat unnaturally still. His hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists against his lap, his complexion several shades paler than usual. For a long while, he stared blankly at the passing scenery, until at last he broke the silence.

“H/N,” he said quietly, but with a gravity that pulled H/N’s full attention. “Thank you. You saved my life today.”

H/N turned to look at him, surprised by the emotion in his father’s voice—rare and solemn. Their eyes met, and in his father’s expression, H/N saw it clearly: deep gratitude, mingled with the heavy weight of what could have happened.

“I don’t know what would’ve become of me… of any of us, if you hadn’t been there,” his father added, his voice rougher now, as though the realization had just begun to settle in fully.

H/N shook his head gently. “You never need to thank me for that,” he said, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Besides…” He leaned back and gave his father a sideways glance. “Just imagine Mei’s reaction if you’d come home with even a single scratch. Her punches sting worse than a giant’s hammer.”

A breath of laughter escaped his father, and for a fleeting moment, the sound loosening the invisible vise around both their chests.

“That is true,” he said with a weary smile. “Mei can be quite the tempestuous one.”

They both chuckled softly, the warmth of shared understanding settling between them. No further words were needed. As the palanquin continued its steady journey, the two men settled into a comfortable silence, the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the distant silhouette of the palace gates the only signs marking their progress.

They were received at court with the formality such an occasion demanded. Though their arrival was delayed, the guards and officials maintained a courteous veneer, even if their stiff shoulders and clipped words betrayed a hint of tension. H/N could feel the unease ripple subtly through the air as they were led inside, like the hush before a thunderstorm.

However, the mood shifted entirely when the captured bandits were presented. The tension unraveled with astonished murmurs. A senior guardsman broke ranks to examine them closer, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. “These are the ones,” he murmured to his companion, voice thick with disbelief.

As word spread, court officials began to gather. Apparently, the empire had been searching for this group of bandits for some time, culprits of multiple thefts and attacks along royal trade routes. Their capture, however unintentional on H/N’s part, was received as an unexpected triumph.

“You've delivered more than jewels,” a silver-haired advisor told H/N's father, pressing his hands together in sincere respect. “You've brought the empire's justice to our very steps.” The words rang with genuine admiration.

Soon after, they were graciously invited to dine with the nobility. A sumptuous banquet was prepared in their honor, laid out with golden dishes, lacquered trays, and foods H/N scarcely recognized—candied lotus roots, pheasant stewed in jujube, translucent dumplings shaped like crescent moons. Zither music wove through the scent of sandalwood and steamed rice, while attendants poured tea with ceremonial precision.

The emperor, they were told, would inspect the jewelry later. For now, they were to rest and enjoy the hospitality of the palace.

Seated beside his father at the low banquet table, H/N forced himself to partake in the feast. The flavors, sweet, pungent, and floral, might as well have been ash on his tongue. Every sip of wine, every polite laugh at a noble's anecdote, was a mask over the restless energy thrumming beneath his skin. He was grateful they had avoided punishment for their lateness, but the hours slipping through his fingers weighed heavily on him. The seventh full moon was drawing closer with every passing moment. His fingers tapped an inaudible rhythm against his thigh, counting down invisible hours. Outwardly, he was the picture of courtly composure. Inwardly, he was a bowstring drawn taut—every second slipping away like grains through an hourglass he couldn't afford to empty.

The summons came as the afternoon sun slanted golden through palace lattices.

A breathless servant delivered the news: the Emperor was pleased—more than pleased. The craftsmanship had exceeded all expectations, and even the empress had personally admired the elegance of the adornments. In response, they were summoned for a private audience—a rare honor, especially at such short notice.

H/N noticed immediately how his father straightened his robes, how his hands smoothed down imaginary creases with uncharacteristic precision. His nerves were written plainly across his features, but H/N remained calm, offering him a quiet look of reassurance. “Breathe,” H/N murmured, catching his father's eye. The quiet reassurance steadied the older man's hands, if not the anxious flutter at his throat.

They were led through corridors where jade pillars caught the light, their surfaces carved with celestial motifs that seemed to watch their progress. Gold-leafed murals depicted imperial triumphs from dynasties past, their splendor muted only by the grandeur of the reception hall itself. Sunlight poured through high windows, setting the lacquered floors aglow like liquid amber. Court attendants stood still as statues, and the imperial insignia shone from the banners above.

Both men knelt and bowed low. H/N did so more out of respect for his father than reverence for the empire. The ruler before him was not his own, and every inch of him longed to be elsewhere.

The emperor, robed in layers of deep crimson and gold, received them with regal composure. Yet his tone, when he spoke, was gracious.

“You honor us with your craft,” he said to H/N’s father, his voice deep but kind. “The empress was especially taken with the phoenix hairpin. She says it feels as if it were made with her in mind.”

“Your Majesty is too generous,” H/N’s father replied humbly, his forehead still close to the floor. “It was made with reverence. To bring joy to the Imperial Household is the highest blessing I could imagine.”

“You may rise.” The command came with unexpected warmth. “Know that your name will not be forgotten. There will be further commissions. Of that, I have no doubt.”

H/N watched the exchange with detached focus. He was proud of his father, of course—but he felt more like a man standing on a dock, watching the last ship drift out to sea while he was trapped behind the ceremony.

After the audience, a few palace stewards offered to show them around select parts of the estate. H/N followed politely, his eyes flicking over opulent silk hangings, marble courtyards, and koi-filled ponds with barely contained impatience. Every step they took through the labyrinthine corridors felt like a detour away from his true purpose.

His thoughts were already with Y/N—his beloved princess, still waiting.

By the time they departed, dusk had already settled over the land like a soft veil. The sky bled into shades of violet and indigo, and the first stars had begun to twinkle shyly in the heavens. It was clear they would return home under the cover of night. H/N’s father had suggested they find a place to stay until morning, reasoning that the journey would be easier and safer with the sun as their guide. But H/N had refused, almost too sharply, the urgency in his voice leaving no room for discussion.

He couldn’t leave his father behind after what had transpired earlier that day—not after the attack. The mere idea turned his blood to ice.

His father studied him for a long moment before yielding with a resigned sigh. “Your mother and sisters are waiting,” he murmured, more to himself than to H/N, as if convincing his own heart.

Their pace was cautious, the palanquin moving slowly through the darkening forest paths. The silence outside was broken only by the gentle clatter of hooves on stone and the occasional chirp of crickets. The night air grew cooler with each passing hour, but H/N barely noticed.

He sat restlessly, shifting in his seat as if his body could no longer contain the storm building inside him. Every passing minute felt like an eternity. His eyes kept drifting to the small window, searching the sky, and then he saw it.

The moon had risen.

Round and resplendent, it bathed the world in a silver glow. The Pink Moon. The full moon of the fourth month. It hovered like a promise, like a doorway waiting to open. Its light seemed to seep into his very bones.

“Hold on a little longer, Y/N,” he thought, his breath catching as his chest swelled with emotion. “I’ll be with you soon.” His entire body trembled—not from fear, but from anticipation, from longing so deep it rooted itself in his soul.

To be continued...

♡ Author's note

🌕 It’s time to bring the princess back. 👑💖 The final journey begins...

Stay tuned — Part 31 coming soon.

Love, YumiYue 🌙

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

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Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by ENHYPEN’s song “Moonstruck”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

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[yumiyue07]

Week 2 of Coachella, and ENHYPEN absolutely owned the stage! 🔥👑

Another breathtaking performance that left us speechless! The energy, the vocals, the presence… everything was perfection. 😍 You’ve proven once again that you’re not just performers, you’re true artists. 🎤

And just when our hearts were full, you hit us with that announcement—Desire: Unleash coming June 5th! 😭💿 We’re not ready, but also... we’ve never been more ready. ENGENEs are counting down the days!

Thank you for constantly inspiring me. You've sparked a whole new wave of creativity in me...I already feel a story forming. 📝🌌

Let’s go, ENHYPEN. The world is yours. ❤️‍🔥

Love, YumiYue 🌙