#ballet classes london
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european-dance-college · 2 months ago
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Jazz Dance Classes in London: Unlock Your Passion for Movement
London’s vibrant dance scene offers a multitude of styles, and jazz dance remains one of the most dynamic and expressive. Whether you are a beginner looking to learn the basics or a seasoned dancer aiming to perfect your technique, jazz dance classes in London are perfect for honing your skills, improving your fitness, and embracing the art of movement.
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At European Dance College, we provide an excellent platform for dancers of all ages and levels to explore jazz dance. With classes available for kids, teens, and professionals, our comprehensive offerings include full-time and part-time dance courses, diplomas, and even a 1-year professional dance course for those serious about making dance their career.
Why Choose Jazz Dance?
Jazz dance is an energetic and exciting style that combines elements of classical ballet with the latest contemporary movements. Known for its rhythm, versatility, and creativity, jazz dance allows dancers to express themselves with a unique blend of fluidity and strength. The music typically ranges from traditional jazz to modern pop, making classes fun and dynamic for everyone involved.
Key benefits of jazz dance include:
Improved Coordination and Flexibility: Jazz involves a lot of quick, precise movements that help improve coordination.
Cardiovascular Fitness: The fast-paced nature of jazz dance boosts heart health and endurance.
Creativity and Expression: Jazz encourages improvisation and personal style, allowing dancers to explore their own creative limits.
What to Expect from Jazz Dance Classes
Jazz dance classes at European Dance College are designed to cater to various levels of experience. For beginners, our classes focus on building a strong foundation in technique, balance, and movement. As students advance, they can expect to explore more complex choreography, faster combinations, and more demanding physical challenges.
Our courses cover a wide range of essential jazz techniques, including:
Isolations: Learning to control individual body parts for more expressive movements.
Turns and Leaps: Mastering pirouettes, jetés, and other impressive moves.
Syncopation and Rhythm: Understanding the unique timing of jazz music and how to move with it.
Each class is structured to ensure personal growth, giving dancers the skills they need to progress and reach their potential.
Courses for Every Age and Skill Level
European Dance College takes pride in offering a range of jazz dance classes that suit dancers of all ages:
Kids Classes: Our kids' jazz classes are designed to introduce young dancers to the world of dance. These sessions focus on fun and creativity, helping kids build confidence and coordination in a supportive environment.
Teen Classes: Teens who want to explore their passion for dance can dive deeper into technique and performance. Whether you’re looking to dance recreationally or consider a professional future, our classes offer the training you need.
Professional Courses: For those aiming for a career in dance, we offer full-time and part-time courses, including a 1-year professional dance course and a diploma program. These intensive programs are tailored to equip aspiring dancers with the skills needed for the industry.
Why Choose European Dance College?
At European Dance College, we pride ourselves on offering high-quality jazz dance instruction in London. Our experienced instructors are professionals in the industry, dedicated to helping each student achieve their dance goals. We offer a flexible range of courses to fit different schedules and skill levels, ensuring that every student can find the right program for their needs.
Whether you are just beginning your dance journey or are an experienced dancer looking to refine your skills, European Dance College is the perfect place to explore the exciting world of jazz dance. We focus on creating a welcoming and inspiring environment where dancers of all ages can thrive.
Enroll Today
Join the thriving dance community in London by enrolling in jazz dance classes at European Dance College. With our full-time and part-time options, diploma programs, and a 1-year professional dance course, you’ll find the right fit for your schedule and goals. Embrace the rhythm, express yourself through movement, and discover the joy of jazz dance with us!
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europeandance · 1 year ago
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Kids Ballet Classes London
 Unleash Your Inner Diva with Kids Ballet Classes London!
Get ready to step into the world of glamour, confidence, and sensuality. Our Burlesque Classes in London are designed to empower, entertain, and embrace the star within you. Join us and discover the art of burlesque.
Kids dance classes in London at the European College of Dance. London based professional dance school for children and young people.
Embrace Your Inner Showgirl!
Welcome to our Kids Ballet Classes London, where we celebrate the art of tease with style, humour, and sophistication. Our classes are open to all adults, regardless of dance experience.
Why Choose Our Ballet Classes?
Professional Instructors: Our instructors are professional burlesque performers with years of experience on stage. They are passionate about burlesque and dedicated to teaching you the art of tease.
Variety of Styles: We offer a range of classes from classic burlesque to neo-burlesque, chair dance to fan dance. There’s a style for everyone!
Body Positive Environment: Our classes promote body positivity and self-love. We believe that everyone is beautiful and that burlesque is for every body type.
Performance Opportunities: For those who wish to take it to the stage, we offer performance opportunities where you can showcase your newly learned skills.
Central Location: Our studio is located in the heart of London, easily accessible by public transport.
What to Expect:
Sensational Routines: Learn choreographed routines that will leave you feeling like a true burlesque star.
Confidence Boost: Discover newfound confidence as you embrace your body and individuality.
 Performances: Showcase your skills at our exciting performances and events.
 Social Connections: Make new friends in our vibrant and supportive burlesque community.
Ready to Embrace Your Inner Diva?
Explore Classes: Visit our website to see the range of burlesque classes available, from beginners to advanced.
Contact Us: Reach out for more information, class schedules, or any questions you may have.
Free Taster Session: Join us for a free taster session to experience the magic of burlesque firsthand.
Enroll: Sign up for your chosen class and start your burlesque journey!
Contact Information:
 Phone:  +44 7985510192
Email :   [email protected]
 Location: Unit 20 Skylines Village, London, England, E149TS
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Join us today and unleash your inner showgirl! Contact us for more information or to book a class!
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svt-luna · 22 days ago
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let me start by saying I absolutely love your creativity and story telling! Your Luna pieces are so refreshing and I look forward to reading them!!
We have seen a jealous Jeonghan, and I was hoping we could see the jealous side of Luna. As much as I love an unbothered queen, I think it would be interesting to see how she would react in a jealousy situation.
𝜗℘ THE BOY IS MINE
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❛ 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱, 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩. 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘪'𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦— 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦. ❜
synopsis: In the city of love, Luna finally snaps and learns just how far she’ll go to protect what’s hers.
warnings: 18+ mdni, mature content, sexual content, smut, cursing, possessive!Luna, angry!Luna, Luna’s self-conflicting thoughts, sexual tension, flirting, subtle innuendos, alcohol consumption, kisses!, pet names, piv sex, unprotected sex (girly pop is on birth control), teasing, dirty talk, dry humping, riding, degradation, edging, Jeonghan the menace, Jeonghan’s desire to be possessed, lowkey toxic, a little bit of a red flag for the both of them, they are both freaky af, pure filth!
thank you so so much for loving my works! also, thank you for requesting this, i absolutely fell in love with this idea— i have also been getting a lot of possessive!Luna and angry!Luna requests so i have mixed all of those ideas here. plus, you guys voted for a smut for this one on my last poll… so here it is! so i hope you lovely humans enjoy it!!
‘freak like me, you wanna good girl that does bad things to you.’ that reminds me of them.
Disclaimer: The following chapter contains explicit sexual content and mature themes. It is intended for adult readers only. If you are under the legal age or find these subjects uncomfortable, it is advised for you to refrain from reading further. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist
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There was a quiet shadow that hovered over Luna.
It had been there for as long as she could remember— silent, unseen by others, but always present. It wasn’t something she could simply brush away or ignore, no matter how much she tried.
At first, it had confused her, this weight that pressed down on her chest, something that tugged at her insides, tightening like a vine when certain people or situations crossed her path. But over the years, she had learned to understand it, control it, and accept it as a part of her personality.
It wasn’t something to fear— just a quiet burden she had grown used to carrying.
Luna remembers the first time she noticed that quiet shadow.
She was seven years old, back in Kensington, London. Her memories of that time are vivid— her mom, graceful and elegant, the very image of a ballerina, guiding her students with precision and patience. Luna’s mom had once been a professional ballerina, but after an injury ended her dancing career, she became a ballet teacher, molding the next generation of dancers.
She was who Luna aspired to be, her biggest inspiration. Luna loved ballet because of her mom. It was her way of connecting with the person she admired most, the person she wanted to be like— this was before music had stolen her heart before she dreamed of stages and lights and becoming an idol.
One day, during one of their ballet classes, Luna sat at the edge of the dance floor, her small hands gripping the bar as she watched her mom in the middle of the studio. Her mother was focused, and poised, her sharp eyes tracing the movements of each student as they worked through their routine. But that day, her attention was particularly fixed on one new student— Mila.
Mila was good. Even Luna had to admit that. Her lines were sharp, her movements fluid in a way that most of the other girls in the class couldn’t quite replicate.
Luna’s mom corrected her form, praised her posture, and used her as an example for the rest of the class. She wasn’t biased— Luna’s mom would never show favoritism just because Luna was her daughter. She was a professional, and Luna understood that, even at seven.
Luna didn’t expect her mom to treat her differently from the other students, nor did she want her to. She wanted to earn her mother’s praise the same way everyone else did.
And yet, something about that day sat uncomfortably with her. She wasn’t angry, she wasn’t even jealous that Mila was getting all of her mom’s attention.
Luna understood why.
Mila deserved the praise. She was graceful and talented. It made sense that her mom would focus on her. Luna could see that clearly.
But what bothered her was how Mila seemed to cling to her mom, how she wouldn’t leave her side after class ended. She followed her, asking questions, seeking more help with this step or that turn.
It wasn’t the attention itself that made Luna’s heart twist— after all, her mom was the teacher. It was her job to help the students.
Luna understood that, too.
But then, Mila had called her “Mom.”
That was the moment Luna met the shadow.
The quiet shadow that curled inside her, wrapping around her chest like a creeping vine, tightening, making her feel… strange.
She wasn’t mad, not really.
She knew her mom was just doing her job. But hearing Mila call her “Mom” made something inside Luna snap, something she didn’t fully understand yet.
It wasn’t jealousy— it was something different, more deeper.
An anger she hadn’t known existed until that moment.
How dare she? How dare Mila try to claim something that wasn’t hers?
Luna sat there, frozen in place, watching as her mother gently corrected Mila’s posture, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside her daughter.
It was in that quiet moment, with Mila standing so close to her mom, that Luna realized she didn’t want to share.
Not her mother.
Not ever.
Luna remembered how ashamed she had felt for feeling that way.
Even as a child, it hadn’t made sense to her— this sudden, overwhelming wave of anger that had no real direction, no clear target.
It was Mila, but it wasn’t Mila’s fault.
It was her mother, but her mother had done nothing wrong.
The feeling that had curled up in her chest was irrational, something she couldn’t place, and she hadn’t liked it.
Not at all.
Luna hadn’t understood it at the time, but the way it made her skin prickle and her stomach tighten was something she wanted to forget.
She had ignored it, pushing it down deep where she wouldn’t have to face it, wouldn’t have to explain it to herself.
Because how could she? How could she explain a feeling so ugly, so selfish?
She had done nothing about it that day. She had simply sat there, forcing a smile when her mom looked over, her small hands clenched into fists behind her back as she tried to shake off the knot in her throat. And she had told herself it was a one-time thing.
Just a bad day.
She thought she had been tired, maybe hungry, even sick— anything to explain away the strange feelings she couldn’t put words to.
That was it, Luna had thought. She was just having a bad day, and the odd tension in her chest would pass by tomorrow.
But it hadn’t.
Every now and then, when Luna least expected it, that quiet shadow would resurface.
It wasn’t constant— thankfully, it wasn’t something she had to deal with every day. But every once in a while, when someone tried to take or claim something that was hers, the feeling would crawl back into her mind, winding itself around her thoughts like it had all those years ago.
It was subtle and quiet in a way that made it easy to dismiss, but it was there.
Luna could feel it, simmering just beneath the surface.
It could be small things— someone borrowing her Barbie doll without asking or someone stealing her answers in school. Or it could be bigger moments, like when she noticed a friend growing too close to someone she cared about, or when someone new joined a group and immediately seemed to click with people she had known for years.
The feelings were rare, but they came.
And when they did, Luna would find herself reacting in the same way.
She would feel her face flush, red creeping up her neck, and a tightness would settle in her chest. Her gaze would harden, and she’d find herself glaring before she could even stop herself. Her eyes would burn, locking onto the person who had unknowingly triggered that shadow to stir.
But she never did anything about it.
Never once.
Luna was good at brushing it off, pretending it didn’t matter because she knew better. She was logical, rational. She prided herself on being someone who didn’t let her emotions control her. So she never let it show, never let it become something more than a fleeting thought.
Her mind would scream, her heart would pound, but outwardly, she remained composed.
Calm.
Luna never let herself act on it, because she was a good person.
She didn’t lash out, didn’t make a scene, especially not for something so petty. She told herself that it was her problem, not theirs. No one else seemed to notice these things— no one else saw a threat where she did.
It was all in her head, this quiet burden that only she carried.
However, there was only one person in existence who ever seemed to notice this shadow that clung to her, silent and unyielding.
And that was none other than Yoon Jeonghan.
Jeonghan had always been exceptionally good at reading people, an uncanny talent for seeing beyond the surface.
With Luna, though, it was different— he didn’t just read her, he understood her in a way that made her both comforted and unnerved.
He never asked too many questions, never pried, but the way he looked at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking, was something she could never quite shake.
It was during her trainee days at PLEDIS when Luna first realized just how much Jeonghan could see her— really see her.
She was sixteen, and the bright green walls of the infamous training room, known as the ‘Melona Prison,’ loomed around her and the rest of the trainees.
Boys and girls, all in their teens, filled the space, their laughter and chatter bouncing off the mirrored walls. It was another long day of practice, but as usual, they managed to steal moments to goof around, to release the tension building up from endless hours of training.
Jeonghan had been her closest friend back then.
Her best friend.
And she was his.
They were inseparable, the two of them gravitating toward each other with an ease that made everyone else assume they had known each other for years, when in reality, they had only met a few months prior.
Jeonghan had always been Luna’s safe place, the one person who could coax a laugh out of her even when she felt like she was drowning in exhaustion.
But on that particular day, Luna felt something stir inside her, something familiar yet unwanted.
She was sitting against the wall, catching her breath while the others horsed around, when her eyes drifted toward the far corner of the room.
There, Jeonghan stood, his back to her, talking to one of the female trainees— Seoyeon. They were close— closer than Luna liked, though she told herself it didn’t matter.
Jeonghan was charismatic, naturally friendly with everyone, and she had no reason— no right— to feel anything but indifference toward the scene playing out before her.
And yet.
Luna’s gaze sharpened when she saw him lean down, his hand coming up to playfully squeeze Seoyeon’s cheeks. She watched as the girl laughed, a bright, carefree sound that seemed to cut through the room. Jeonghan grinned at her, the way he always did, that smile of his that could disarm anyone in seconds.
Luna felt it again.
That tightening in her chest. The heat rushing to her face. Her hands curled into fists on her lap, her knuckles turning white as she stared at them.
She wasn’t mad.
She wasn’t jealous.
She had no reason to be.
Jeonghan was her best friend, and she knew how he was.
He wasn’t doing anything wrong.
And the trainee— she was just enjoying his attention.
Luna understood.
She understood perfectly well.
But why, then, was she so angry?
Jeonghan’s eyes flicked toward her then, catching her in her quiet storm. His gaze lingered on her for just a second too long before a grin spread across his face.
It didn’t even take him a moment to read her— he had known instantly, like he always did.
Leaving Seoyeon, Jeonghan strolled over to where Luna sat, his expression lazy, amused. He dropped down beside her without a word, his shoulder brushing against hers, and with that same teasing smirk, he reached out and squeezed her cheeks just like he had done to Seoyeon.
“Nana-ya,” he sang in that lilting, sing-song voice of his, his eyes twinkling with that hidden understanding that made Luna’s heart stop for a moment.
That’s when it clicked.
After years of brushing off that quiet shadow, after years of pretending it didn’t exist, Luna finally understood.
She had met this shadow before, but it wasn’t until now— until this exact moment, with Jeonghan sitting next to her, arm slung lazily around her shoulders— that she realized what it was.
Luna wasn’t jealous.
She had never been jealous.
As she sat there, Jeonghan’s presence steady beside her, watching the other trainees continue to fool around, Luna’s mind whirred with realization.
Luna didn’t want to be Seoyeon, just like she hadn’t wanted to be Mila all those years ago. She had no desire to trade places with them, to be in their shoes.
That wasn’t the problem at all.
No, what bothered her— what had always bothered her— was seeing someone else take what was hers. Watching them try to claim something that belonged to her, something she held dear.
It wasn’t envy.
It was never about wanting what someone else had.
It was about protecting what was already hers.
Jeonghan gave her a knowing glance, his arm tightening slightly around her shoulders, and that was all it took.
In that moment, Luna understood.
The shadow she had known since she was a child wasn’t jealousy.
Jealousy was wanting something that wasn’t yours.
Possessiveness, however, was not wanting anyone to take what already belonged to you.
And Luna was possessive.
If jealousy is an ugly green friend, Luna’s friend was possessiveness, a quiet shadow, always hovering close, guarding fiercely and pulling tightly at whatever it holds dear.
Possessiveness.
The word tasted bitter in Luna’s mind, like something dark and twisted that she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried.
She despised it.
Even the sound of it in her thoughts made her skin crawl.
Possess.
It was a word meant for things— objects, items you could hold, keep, or claim as your own.
But not people.
People weren’t possessions.
They weren’t things you could control, own, or dictate.
And yet, she felt it— deeply.
From time to time, that ugly shadow would wrap its fingers around her chest, tightening with every breath until she felt suffocated by it.
It was a feeling she had grown to hate.
Luna didn’t want to possess anyone.
She never wanted to be the kind of person who clung to someone so tightly that it hurt.
People weren’t objects to own. They had their own lives, their own choices, their own freedom. And yet, the shadow— her shadow— didn’t care about that. It didn’t care about logic or reason. It only cared about keeping what was hers close, about holding on so fiercely that no one else could ever take it away.
Luna hated it.
She found it toxic, the way it crept up on her, curling around her like smoke, impossible to escape. There were moments when the feeling would rise up in her chest like a wave, threatening to crash over everything she held dear.
But Luna always fought it. She had to.
She would remind herself that this wasn’t who she wanted to be, that people were not things to be controlled or claimed. Every time that feeling surfaced, she forced herself to ground it, to bury it deep inside where it couldn’t reach anyone else.
It was her burden to bear.
Even now, sitting in that green training room, the feeling flickered in her veins like an old, unwelcome memory.
Luna could feel it watching her, that quiet shadow, as Jeonghan laughed with someone else, as his hand touched someone else.
But she didn’t act on it. She never did. What would be the point?
Jeonghan wasn’t hers, not in the way that word implied. He was her best friend, sure, but she had no claim over him. No right to feel this way. So, she ignored it. She always did. She let the feeling settle somewhere in her chest, a familiar ache she was used to managing.
But deep down, Luna knew she couldn’t control when it would show up. And every time it did, she made sure to ground herself, to force herself not to react. To breathe through it until the feeling passed.
She never wanted to be ruled by it.
Luna glanced at Jeonghan, still sitting beside her, his arm draped lazily over her shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His warmth was steady and reassuring, but it was also a reminder— a reminder of the one person who could make her feel this way.
Jeonghan had always been the one who stirred something different in her, something she couldn’t quite explain. He was her closest friend, yes, but he was also the person who made her feel like this shadow had more power than it should.
And unbeknownst to sixteen-year-old Luna, at that very moment, the person who would make her feel the weight of this shadow more than anyone else for more years to come was sitting right next to her.
Yoon Jeonghan.
It was him.
It had always been him.
Jeonghan was Jeonghan.
There was something undeniable about him, something that people couldn’t help but notice.
He had the look— handsome in that effortless way that didn’t need to be flaunted. But “handsome” didn’t even cover it.
No, Jeonghan wasn’t just handsome.
He was beautiful.
Strikingly, impossibly beautiful.
His features were delicate but sharp, almost ethereal in a way that made Luna think, God, he’s beautiful every time she looked at him. But that wasn’t what made him special.
Jeonghan’s beauty was simply the surface of something much deeper.
He was naturally easy to be with. Effortless. Comfortable. People gravitated toward him, not just because of how he looked but because of how he made them feel. Jeonghan had a way of making anyone feel seecn like they mattered, like they were worth his time. He was charming, of course, but it was never forced. It was natural, something that seemed to come from him without any effort.
People just liked him, and it was no mystery why.
From their teen years in the cramped, fluorescent-lit practice rooms of PLEDIS to the bright lights of concert stages, from the endless hours of rehearsals to the long nights of sleepless training, Jeonghan had always been Jeonghan.
Their friendship had blossomed during those years, starting as something simple, easy, and natural. And from their trainee days to their debut, to their lives as successful idols, it had been the same.
The bond between them grew and deepened. The long hours spent together, the shared struggles and triumphs, the quiet moments in between it all— it was like they were always meant to find each other.
It had been gradual, a quiet blossoming from friendship into something more. It wasn’t a sudden realization for Luna. It was more like the slow unveiling of something that had been there all along, something neither of them had fully acknowledged until it became impossible to ignore.
And throughout it all, there was that strange feeling, the shadow lurking at the edges of her awareness.
Luna’s possessiveness.
Surprisingly, she realized early on that it didn’t apply to the members of SEVENTEEN, and thank God for that. When it came to them, Luna felt nothing but warmth, affection, and camaraderie. The idea of being possessive over her members felt absurd. They were family, an extension of herself in so many ways. She never minded when they were close with Jeonghan, never minded when they teased or hugged him.
And thankfully, it didn’t apply to the fans either. SEVENTEEN’s fans adored Jeonghan— of course they did. They loved him with a fervor that could only be described as awe-inspiring. And yet, when it came to them, that shadow never reared its head.
Luna felt nothing but gratitude toward them. In a way, they shared Jeonghan, all of them basking in the warmth of his presence, and that was fine.
It never bothered her.
For a long time, Luna thought maybe that strange feeling had disappeared altogether like she had outgrown it— an awkward teenage phase she’d left behind. She thought maybe she had matured, evolved past that irrational emotion, and put it to rest.
Until it showed up again.
And it was always because of Jeonghan.
It always was.
Luna realized, as time went on, that the possessiveness wasn’t something she’d outgrown.
It was just lying in wait, dormant, until the right circumstances stirred it back to life. And those circumstances always revolved around Yoon Jeonghan.
Even before they were officially together, Luna would noticed it.
Little moments that seemed harmless on the surface, but made that old familiar feeling stir within her chest. New staff members, stylists, random people who crossed their paths— everyone seemed to be drawn to Yoon Jeonghan like a magnet.
Luna would watch it happen, time and time again, seeing the way people gravitated toward him, and how they lit up when he flashed that effortless smile.
And each time, that shadow would bloom out of thin air, wrapping its fingers around her tightly.
It would start in her chest, a subtle tightening she tried to ignore. But then, she’d feel her face flush, heat creeping up her neck, and her hands would ball into fists in her lap. Her jaw would clench, and that sharp glare would settle in her eyes. She would sit there, watching, fighting the urge to do anything about it, because what could she do?
It wasn’t like Jeonghan was doing anything wrong.
He was just being Jeonghan.
But every time someone flirted with him— especially when it was right in front of her— that shadow flared, dark and consuming.
And it only got worse once they were officially together.
Once Jeonghan became hers in the way that mattered, the possessiveness grew more potent, more intense.
Luna had always prided herself on being rational, on keeping her emotions in check. But when it came to Jeonghan, there were moments when that possessiveness felt like it might consume her whole.
It wasn’t the members. She was perfectly fine with them. They were family. She trusted them with everything, including Jeonghan. And the fans— she never felt threatened by their love for him. They were a part of their lives, an integral part, and she shared in their adoration of him.
But when it came to other people— people who didn’t know him like she did, people who only saw him as that beautiful, charming idol— Luna could feel that shadow rise up in her like a wave, ready to crash down and smother everything in its path.
The new staff who whispered about him, the random stylist with a too-long gaze, the brief interactions with people who clearly had crushes on him— it all drove her insane.
And Jeonghan… Jeonghan, being the person he was, didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did notice, and he simply didn’t care. He’d smile that lazy, mischievous smile, charm them without even meaning to, and Luna would sit there, her blood simmering beneath the surface.
Luna hated it.
She hated the way it made her feel, the way her emotions spiraled out of control when it came to him.
Because it wasn’t jealousy. No, it was never jealousy. Jealousy was wanting something that wasn’t yours. Luna didn’t want what she didn’t have.
She just didn’t want anyone else to have what was already hers.
When other people gawked at Jeonghan, whispered about him, had crushes on him, and flirted with him—especially when she was right there— Luna felt like she could lose it.
The shadow inside her, that friend she’d grown so familiar with, would flare to life, ready to guard what was hers, to protect it fiercely from anyone who dared come too close.
She wasn’t jealous. She was possessive. And there was a difference.
Jeonghan was hers, and no one else’s.
Luna hated thinking this way.
She despised the possessiveness that clawed at her insides, wrapping around her chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe.
It wasn’t who she wanted to be.
She didn’t want to be the kind of person who felt like she had to hold onto someone so tightly as if they might slip away if she let go for even a second.
People weren’t possessions, least of all Jeonghan. She knew that. She reminded herself of it constantly. He’s not an object. He’s not your property.
But despite her best efforts, that gnawing feeling never truly left.
Every time someone got too close to Jeonghan, every time someone lingered in conversation with him a little too long, every time eyes wandered over his beautiful face and easy smile, Luna felt it stir again. And God, she hated it. She hated that it made her feel this way, irrational and out of control.
And yet, no matter how hard Luna tried to mask it, to suppress it, she could tell— Jeonghan could tell.
Jeonghan always knew.
He could read her like a book, his favorite book, in fact.
Luna could see it in the way his eyes would find hers when she was glaring at whoever had decided to flirt with him.
He never looked surprised or confused. No, Jeonghan knew exactly what she was feeling, and even more, he enjoyed it.
That was the thing about Jeonghan.
He was a mischievous tease to the core, always playing around with people, always stirring up trouble just to see what would happen. He enjoyed the chase, the thrill, the challenge.
And Luna? She was his favorite challenge.
Of course, Jeonghan wasn’t doing it on purpose— not in the way that would hurt her.
He wasn’t cruel— he loves her too much.
He would never actually flirt with someone else to provoke her or make her feel insecure. He wouldn’t do that to her, and Luna knew that deep down. But there was something about the way he reveled in her possessiveness, in the way she reacted to it, that made her blood boil even more.
Whenever that familiar tension rose between them, whenever she was on the verge of snapping, Jeonghan would always, without fail, baby her. He’d get more clingy, more affectionate, more of a tease as if he was purposefully testing her limits. His voice would drop into that soft, teasing tone, laced with a kind of condescending flirtation that only he could pull off.
He’d speak in that sing-song voice he reserved just for her, leaning in close with a playful grin, the words dripping with an infuriating sweetness that made her want to both kiss him and strangle him at the same time.
“Aww, is someone getting a little upset, hm? You know there’s no need for that, pretty girl,” he’d coo, the endearment rolling off his tongue like honey.
Or worse: “What’s the matter? You know you don’t have to worry, baby. No one else could ever take me from you,” he’d say, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against her ear, his tone dipping lower. “Only you, baby.”
And then there was the one that always pushed her the hardest, the one that made her breath catch in her throat every time: “You look so cute when you’re mad, you know that? Like a little kitten, all puffed up. What are you going to do about it, hmm? Just glare at me all day?”
Luna’s glare was sharp, piercing through the teasing words that dripped from Jeonghan’s mouth. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, the familiar flush of frustration mingled with that damned possessiveness.
His words always had a way of igniting something deep within her, something she despised but couldn’t fully control.
Jeonghan, of course, noticed. He always did.
He leaned down, his lips still curled into that maddeningly soft smile, one hand reaching out to cup the back of her neck. His fingers were warm, and the touch, though gentle, sent a shiver down her spine. He held her there, not tightly, but just enough to make her feel trapped in that moment, in his presence.
Jeonghan nudged his nose against hers, brushing their foreheads together as he tilted his head. His voice dropped to that low, teasing tone that he knew got under her skin. “My moon,” he murmured, his breath fanning across her lips, “you know I’d never get taken from you, right?”
His thumb stroked lightly at the base of her neck, his grip softening as if lulling her into a sense of security. “They’d have to drag me away kicking and screaming.” His lips were so close now, almost brushing against hers, his gaze locking onto her eyes, studying the irritation simmering in them, the way her lips twitched like she was fighting back a snarl.
But there was that underlying tone again, that subtle challenge woven into his words, as though he was daring her to act, daring her to stop pretending she could ignore it. He leaned in just a fraction more, his lips ghosting against hers without quite closing the distance.
“No one can compare to you, baby,” His voice lowered even more, a whisper now, intimate, taunting. “You should show them that, hmm?”
The words hung in the air between them, a gauntlet thrown at her feet. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on her neck, not forceful, but just enough to remind her of his presence, of the fact that he was right there, within reach, hers to hold onto if she wanted.
His eyes gleamed with that familiar mischievous spark, the one that always set her on edge. “What’s it going to be, Nana-ya? Are you just going to keep glaring at me?” His voice softened, but the challenge lingered. “Or are you going to show them?”
The way he said it, like a coo, like a teasing dare, made her blood simmer even more. He was pushing her, testing her limits again, and he knew it. He was always so sure of himself, so confident that no matter how hard she tried to keep her composure, he could make her unravel.
There was always that underlying tone in his voice, that unspoken dare woven into his words like he was tempting her— pushing her to do something about it.
No, scratch that… Jeonghan wanted her to do something about it.
He was daring her to let that possessiveness out, to stop holding back, to give in to the anger simmering beneath the surface.
And Luna hated how much she wanted to. She hated that part of her wanted to rise to his challenge, to make it clear to everyone that Jeonghan was hers and hers alone.
But she never did.
Instead, she would just glare at him, her eyes narrowing into sharp slits, her fists tightening at her sides as she fought the urge to snap. She’d take a deep breath, then another, and force herself to look away, to move on, to push the emotions back down where they belonged. She refused to give in to it, no matter how much Jeonghan taunted her, no matter how much his teasing made her want to lose control.
She never let it take over.
Jeonghan knew this about her, though. He could see through her every time, peeling back the layers of her composure with a single glance. She thought she was doing a good job of keeping it together, of staying calm, but Jeonghan could always tell what was really going on beneath the surface. He knew exactly what she was feeling, and he knew, too, that she wasn’t going to act on it.
Not yet, at least.
And that amused him.
Unbeknownst to Luna, Jeonghan enjoyed the game just as much as she feared it.
He found her possessiveness endearing, almost charming in a way, because it was so unlike her usual composed self. It was a side of her that only he got to see, a raw vulnerability that she kept hidden from the rest of the world.
And Jeonghan, with his sly smile and ever-calculating mind, wanted her to act on it.
He wanted to see what would happen if she let go if she stopped holding back and let that fiery possessiveness take over. He wasn’t afraid of it; in fact, he reveled in it. He knew how much it frustrated her, how hard she worked to keep it in check, and it thrilled him to push her just enough to see her struggle with it.
Because Jeonghan always got what he wanted in the end.
Always.
And what he wanted was for Luna to stop fighting it.
Jeonghan wanted her to let go, to show him how much she cared, how much she hated seeing other people fawn over him, how much she wanted to claim him in front of everyone.
He knew she could do it, and he was going to get her there.
He always did.
Then, Jeonghan finally got his way.
It finally happened in Paris, of all places.
Jeonghan always knew how to push her buttons, but Luna had never truly snapped before. She always found a way to hold it together, to remind herself that he was his own person, that she couldn’t— shouldn’t— be so possessive.
But Paris, with its old-world charm, its elegant streets and glittering lights, became the stage where everything came undone.
They had flown out for Fashion Week 2023, the pinnacle of their already busy schedules. Jeonghan, being the brand ambassador for Yves Saint Laurent, was the centerpiece of their show, while Luna, as Miu Miu’s ambassador, would be attending their event.
Their schedules aligned but diverged, each pulled into their separate orbits by the fashion world’s demands.
Everything had been normal up until that point.
Well, as normal as it could be for two idols navigating the storm of fame, fashion, and flashing cameras.
The flight to Paris had been peaceful. The two of them sat side by side, hidden behind the anonymity of first-class curtains, though they didn’t really talk much— both too absorbed in resting in preparation for their individual roles in the whirlwind that was Fashion Week. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a sense of routine, of being used to this kind of life.
When they landed, they were whisked away to separate fittings— Jeonghan heading toward the sleek, moody atmosphere of YSL’s atelier, while Luna was surrounded by the playful and elegant charm of Miu Miu.
They had exchanged texts throughout the day— small updates about their schedules, complaints about too-tight shoes, or a particularly exhausting interview, but they hadn’t seen each other much. The demands of Fashion Week were relentless, pulling them in different directions.
The day of Jeonghan’s YSL show came first. Luna didn’t attend— she was in the middle of her own preparations for Miu Miu—but she saw the photos. Jeonghan looked breathtaking, dressed in sleek black, with sharp lines and an effortless cool that sent waves through the fashion world.
The press and fans fawned over him and so did Luna.
Then came her own day— Miu Miu’s show. It was an entirely different vibe from YSL, more playful and eclectic, but Luna shone just as brightly. She reveled in the attention for a moment, feeling the pride that came with representing such a prestigious brand. But the busyness of it all kept them from each other again, just fleeting texts exchanged between interviews and fittings, always running parallel but never quite crossing paths.
Once their obligations were done, they finally had a few days off together. That was when they started playing tourist, doing all the things they rarely got to enjoy because of their packed schedules. Mornings were filled with museum visits— Louvre, Musée d’Orsay, and even the quirky and vibrant Centre Pompidou. They took photos for each other, snapping candid shots for their fans to see later, knowing these moments would end up on SEVENTEEN’s YouTube channel as part of their SEVENTEEN Records series.
Luna still remembered the way Jeonghan would lean into her as they walked through the narrow Parisian streets, his breath tickling her ear as he made quiet jokes, teasing her about how her coat looked too big for her— “You’re being swallowed whole, baby.” She had shoved him lightly, laughing at his antics, but the warmth between them was undeniable.
They were just two people, away from the madness of their lives for a while, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together.
Afternoons were spent shopping in the chic boutiques of Le Marais, where they wandered hand in hand, occasionally separating to browse different sections, only to reconvene with secret smiles and a few more bags to carry.
They tried on clothes, Luna teasing Jeonghan when he lingered too long in front of the mirror, and he returned the favor by commenting on how she had too many shoes already— though that didn’t stop him from buying her another pair.
It had been peaceful— normal, even— and for a moment, Luna thought that maybe she’d outgrown that old possessiveness. That shadow of possessiveness that once lingered at the edge of her thoughts felt distant. It seemed like an awkward phase she had passed, something she could leave behind in her teenage years.
But she should have known better.
Luna had told herself that possessiveness was something she could overcome, that it was just a phase from when their relationship was new and uncertain.
But now, she realized how wrong she had been.
That shadow had never disappeared— it had simply been lying in wait, simmering under the surface, lingering in the quiet moments between them, waiting for just the right moment to break free.
And Jeonghan knew it, he had always known it. He wanted her to let it out, to snap, to show just how much she wanted to claim him, no matter who was watching.
And, of course, it would all happen here, in Paris— the city of romance, the city that demanded passion in all things.
Their dinner was planned at an upscale restaurant tucked away from the bustling streets. They had reserved a private room to avoid the scrutiny of prying eyes, to keep the illusion of their relationship hidden for just a bit longer.
It was rare for them to have such an intimate setting in public, without the watchful presence of managers or bodyguards. Just the two of them, free to be themselves, free to let their guards down.
As they stepped inside, heads turned immediately.
There was no fanfare, no cameras flashing or crowds gathering around, but Luna and Jeonghan commanded attention just by their presence.
Tall and slender, both of them had an air of sophistication mixed with the slightest edge of danger, as if they didn’t quite belong in the same world as everyone else.
Luna’s long, wavy, blonde hair fell loosely behind her, framing her sharp features, and she was dressed entirely in black. A fitted black top tucked neatly into a black mini-skirt, accentuated with a thick black belt, thigh-high black boots that hugged her legs perfectly, and a long black leather coat that gave her an almost ethereal, otherworldly aura. She looked like she had stepped out of a noir film, every detail perfectly curated.
Beside her, Jeonghan was equally striking, his shoulder-length black hair framing his face in soft waves. He wore a black top that clung to his lean frame, black pants that accentuated his long legs, and polished black boots that added an extra touch of elegance. His long, dark coat fell in gentle folds around him, moving with a grace that was almost hypnotic.
As they walked in, the soft murmur of conversation in the restaurant quieted. Eyes followed them, some openly staring, others trying to be more discreet but failing to hide their curiosity.
A few older patrons, French locals enjoying a quiet meal, looked at them with a kind of bewildered fascination, as if trying to place them in some distant memory. They didn’t know exactly who they were, but there was something unmistakably famous about the two of them.
Younger diners, however, recognized them immediately. A few phones came out, subtle but visible, snapping photos and recording videos, capturing this rare glimpse of Luna and Jeonghan together.
But they weren’t worried.
Their fans were used to seeing them together; they knew how close they were, how often they appeared in public side by side, laughing and touching, their bond evident to anyone who watched.
Some fans were convinced they were dating, while others chalked it up to an unbreakable friendship.
The truth, of course, was the former— a truth that Jeonghan and Luna kept carefully guarded, shared only with their family and the members of SEVENTEEN. They knew all too well how the media could twist things, and they preferred to keep their relationship a cherished secret, just for them.
Luna stepped up to the maître d’, her expression neutral, almost cold at first, as she spoke softly. “Bonsoir,” she greeted, her voice calm and polite, her French accent carefully practiced. “We have a reservation under Bae Jiyeon.”
The maître d’ nodded, checking his ledger, clearly aware of the weight these two held, even without their entourage. As he glanced up, Luna allowed a small smile to break through her composed facade, a warmth that contrasted sharply with her intense gaze, and Jeonghan’s hand slipped to her back, a gentle but firm touch as he leaned in, listening.
“Ah, yes, Mademoiselle Bae,” the maître d’ replied, his tone respectful. “Right this way, please.”
Jeonghan gave the man a brief smile, a subtle flash of charm that was both polite and distant, a glimpse of the man he was when the cameras were on him.
The staff and patrons continued to watch as they were led deeper into the restaurant, a quiet murmur of whispers trailing behind them. There was a low hum of intrigue from the older patrons, and the younger ones, who recognized them, clutched their phones tightly, capturing every second.
The maître d’ guided them down a softly lit hallway to a secluded area, hidden behind dark, ornate doors. He opened one with a flourish, gesturing for them to enter. “Your private dining room, just as you requested. I hope you both enjoy your evening.”
Luna offered him a soft nod. “Merci.”
With a final nod from Jeonghan, the maître d’ closed the door behind them, leaving them alone in the dimly lit room. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over the space, reflecting off the fine crystal glasses and polished silverware.
Luna settled into the plush velvet of the round booth, tucking her legs gracefully beneath the table as she took in the quiet ambiance around them. The dim lighting softened every edge, casting a warm, intimate glow over the room.
Jeonghan slid in beside her, his body close enough that she could feel his warmth without even touching. He stretched one arm along the back of the seat behind her, his hand resting on the cushion just inches from her shoulder, his fingers occasionally brushing the fabric of her coat as he settled in. It felt effortless, as if they belonged there, hidden away in their private world.
Luna picked up the leather-bound menu, her fingers running over the embossed gold lettering on the front before she opened it, eyes scanning the options. She was quickly absorbed in the list, flipping through each page with a quiet focus.
Jeonghan, however, didn’t even glance at his own menu. Instead, he leaned in, reading over her shoulder, his chin nearly brushing her temple as he followed her gaze.
“Not even going to look at your own?” she murmured, a playful hint in her voice as she kept her eyes on the page.
Jeonghan tilted his head, the hint of a smile curving his lips. “Why should I? I trust you to pick something good for me,” he replied smoothly, his voice low and lazy, his hand slipping a little lower on the cushion behind her. His thumb brushed against the back of her shoulder, a gentle, absentminded gesture as he spoke.
Luna gave a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she scanned the menu. “You say that now, but if I end up picking something you don’t like, you’ll be the first to complain.”
He leaned a little closer, his breath warm against her cheek. “Hmm, I don’t think I’ll have any complaints if it’s coming from you,” he teased, the words slipping out like silk.
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at her lips as she focused back on the menu. “Alright, well… let’s see. For appetizers, there’s escargot, but I know that’s probably not something you’d enjoy.” She paused, glancing up at him with a knowing look.
Jeonghan made a face, feigning horror. “Snails? Really? Are you trying to test my love for you? I mean… I’d try for you.” He let out a soft laugh, his fingers brushing lightly against her hip where his hand rested.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I was just making sure,” Luna replied, a grin slipping through. “Alright, no snails for you, then. How about a charcuterie board? Some cheeses, cured meats… I know you like those.”
Jeonghan nodded, his eyes fixed on her face rather than the menu. “Sounds perfect. See? You know me so well.”
Luna flipped to the next page, detailing the entrees. Jeonghan’s hand moved subtly along the back of her seat, his fingertips tracing small circles against her coat’s fabric, eventually resting on her hip with a gentle, almost possessive hold. It was casual, natural, the way his touch lingered on her, as if he had every right to her space and she welcomed it without question.
She continued reading aloud, her tone calm and thoughtful. “For the main course, they have a classic coq au vin, which is chicken braised with red wine, mushrooms, and garlic. Or there’s a filet mignon with a red wine reduction sauce. I think you’d like that.”
Jeonghan’s gaze softened, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles against her hip. “Mmm… I think you’re right. The filet sounds good,” he murmured, his voice almost a purr as he let her continue describing the dishes.
Luna flipped another page, her own shoulder relaxing under his gentle hold. “They also have bouillabaisse, which is a seafood stew. But I’m guessing you’re more in the mood for the filet tonight?” she asked, glancing up at him with a knowing smile.
Jeonghan nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lazy grin. “You always know what I want. Makes it easy for me,” he said, his fingers pressing just a little more firmly against her hip, a subtle reminder of his presence. “I’d be lost without you here to guide me through all this.”
She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, you’d manage just fine. But I’m happy to help.”
His hand stayed on her hip, his touch steady and familiar, as he looked down at her with an expression that was both playful and intent. “And I’m happy to let you,” he murmured, his eyes holding hers for a beat longer, a hint of challenge and warmth flickering in his gaze.
They exchanged an easy smile, the conversation flowing naturally, unhurried, as if this was exactly where they were supposed to be.
The small gestures between them— the gentle brush of his fingers, the quiet way she explained each dish— were all woven with the kind of comfort and intimacy that only came with time and understanding.
Luna didn’t mind his hand on her hip, didn’t mind his arm stretched behind her as if he owned that space around her. It felt right, his touch a steady reminder that he was hers and she was his, even here, in this quiet little corner of Paris where no one else needed to know the truth.
“So, filet mignon for you, then,” she said finally, closing the menu with a satisfied nod.
Jeonghan’s smile deepened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Whatever you say, my pretty moon.” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but filled with a warmth that made her heart skip.
As Luna settled back, the two of them sat in their shared silence, content, feeling the weight of their secret world cocooned within these four walls, away from prying eyes. For now, they had each other, the food yet to come, and the unspoken understanding between them— one that didn’t need words, just the simple, easy closeness they shared in these stolen moments.
The quiet murmur of the restaurant was briefly interrupted as the waitress finally entered their secluded corner, her gaze drifting from the notepad in her hand to the couple seated in the booth.
Luna looked up, ready to greet her with a soft, polite smile, but her expression shifted the moment she caught sight of the waitress’s lingering stare— one that didn’t even attempt subtlety as her eyes moved up and down Jeonghan, taking in every detail as though committing him to memory.
Luna’s smile faltered, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched the way the waitress’s gaze lingered on him.
She couldn’t blame her.
Jeonghan was striking, painfully so. His hair fell in loose, casual waves framing his face, his shirt collar open just enough to suggest sophistication and ease. His presence had a way of turning heads, and Luna was more than used to it by now— people stopped and stared at him every day. They did the same for her too, and in most cases, she brushed it off, almost amused by it.
But there was something different in the way the waitress was looking at him, something just a bit too bold, too unprofessional.
Jeonghan leaned back in his seat, a small, knowing smile on his face as he eyed Luna, his expression amused as if he could read every thought in her mind.
The cocky bastard was egging her on.
Luna shook her head, trying to dispel the initial irritation that had crept in, telling herself it was nothing. She didn’t need to let her imagination get the better of her.
It was probably nothing, just the standard reaction most people had to seeing someone as breathtaking as him.
She was better than this, Luna reminded herself. She wasn’t the type to jump to conclusions or judge someone so quickly. Her mother had taught her better than that.
She was a good person, a good girl, Luna repeated to herself.
Taking a breath, she straightened her shoulders and looked up at the waitress, offering her a renewed, polite smile. “Hi, we’re ready to order,” she said, her tone calm and measured.
The waitress finally pulled her eyes away from Jeonghan, glancing at Luna, but there was a flicker of something sharp, a hint of annoyance as she met her gaze.
It was subtle, almost too quick to catch, but Luna didn’t miss the way the waitress’s eyes hardened, the friendly mask slipping just enough to reveal something beneath it. Luna’s brows raised slightly in surprise, but she held her tongue, reminding herself to give the benefit of the doubt.
Maybe the waitress was just tired, or maybe she was having a bad day.
Luna forced herself to ignore it, smiling gently as she started to place their order.
“We’ll start with the charcuterie board,” she began, her tone steady as she listed the items they had discussed. “And for the main course, he’ll have the filet mignon, medium rare, with the red wine reduction sauce. And I’ll have the coq au vin.”
The waitress scribbled down the order without much acknowledgment, her expression indifferent as she glanced up, her attention sliding right back to Jeonghan with a warm, overly bright smile. Ignoring Luna entirely, she leaned in just a fraction, her eyes locking onto him with an intensity that made Luna’s jaw tighten.
“And what kind of wine would you like to have with your meal?” the waitress asked, her voice suddenly softer, more intimate. Her attention was so fixed on Jeonghan that it was as if Luna didn’t even exist.
Jeonghan, however, barely looked at her, giving a polite nod as he glanced at Luna, his silent way of deferring the choice to her.
“We’ll have the Bordeaux,” Luna said smoothly, her tone polite but firm, making it clear she was still there, still a part of the conversation. She offered a slight smile, determined to maintain her composure.
The waitress shot her a fleeting look, one that barely hid her disdain, before turning her attention back to Jeonghan. “And do you visit Paris often?” she asked him, her tone a little too friendly, a little too familiar.
Jeonghan blinked, clearly taken aback by the question, and gave her a polite but hesitant nod. “Sometimes… for work,” he replied in his choppy English, clearly trying his best.
Luna felt a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement tug at her as she watched Jeonghan struggle to answer. His attempts at English were always adorable, endearing in a way that only he could pull off, and it was something she had fallen for countless times.
But in this moment, watching the waitress’s smile widen with newfound interest, she felt a pang of irritation. It was as though every word out of his mouth only drew the waitress in deeper, her gaze growing more flirtatious, more determined.
The waitress leaned closer, a coy smile playing on her lips as she asked, “Are you a model? You look like you could be one.” Her voice held a breathy quality now, her eyes never leaving him.
Luna clenched her jaw, willing herself to keep her composure. She told herself to let it go, that the waitress probably didn’t know who they were, and maybe that was a blessing in disguise. But that didn’t make it any less irritating.
Jeonghan, however, remained unfazed, his face cool and relaxed as he replied, “Sometimes… we model.” His English was halting, but his tone was confident, and he let his hand drift to Luna’s thigh, his fingers resting there as he gave her a small, almost mischievous smile.
He was referring to both of them, making it clear that Luna was just as much a part of that world as he was.
The waitress’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of irritation crossing her face before she quickly recovered. “Have I seen you before?” she asked, her tone implying something more, her eyes flicking to Luna with a hint of challenge, as if daring her to respond.
Luna’s irritation spiked, but she forced herself to remain calm. Instead, she simply pulled out her phone, her fingers moving swiftly across the screen as she began typing a message to Seungkwan, her fingers practically flying as she poured out her frustration. She knew Seungkwan would appreciate the gossip, and it was the only thing keeping her from doing something she might regret— like flipping the table.
Meanwhile, Jeonghan turned back to the waitress, his face a picture of casual indifference as he replied in his choppy English, “Probably with her… my girlfriend.” His tone was calm, almost bored, as he gestured to Luna with a slight nod, his hand still resting on her thigh.
Luna’s fingers froze mid-text, her eyes snapping up to side-eye Jeonghan.
A small part of her wanted to gush over how adorable his broken English was, how proud she was of him for managing to get the words out so smoothly. But her possessiveness was clouding everything else, making her focus on how risky it was for him to say that out loud, especially when they were supposed to keep their relationship hidden from the public eye.
Jeonghan, however, seemed completely unbothered, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he met her gaze, his expression filled with a knowing, almost smug amusement. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he clearly didn’t care about the risk.
It was as if he was challenging her, daring her to react and do the same, all while maintaining that calm, cool demeanor.
They were so focused on each other, locked in a silent exchange, that neither of them noticed when the waitress huffed quietly and left the room, her frustration evident in her hurried steps as she disappeared back into the restaurant.
Luna let out a slow breath, feeling her irritation slowly melt away as she glanced down at Jeonghan’s hand still resting possessively on her thigh. Despite everything, a small smile tugged at her lips as she looked back at him, shaking her head in quiet exasperation.
“You know, you didn’t have to say it like that,” she murmured, her voice soft yet teasing, her annoyance already forgotten.
Jeonghan simply shrugged, his smirk deepening as he met her gaze. “She needed to know,” he replied nonchalantly, his voice low and casual, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Luna crossed her arms, frustration evident as she glared up at Jeonghan. “What if she tells, Han?” she hissed under her breath, her voice a blend of worry and annoyance. “We’re gonna get in troub—”
But Jeonghan didn’t let her finish.
Before she could get another word out, he reached out, his slender fingers tilting her chin up with the gentlest touch, forcing her to look directly into his eyes. His gaze was intense, smoldering with a fire that seemed to flicker just for her. Her breath caught, heart stammering in her chest as the corners of his mouth curled into a smirk, equal parts mischievous and reassuring.
The kiss was fervent, searing, filled with a raw passion that took her by surprise.
Jeonghan's lips moved over hers with purpose, a demanding rhythm that left her struggling to keep up. He pressed closer, his hand sliding behind her head, fingers threading through her hair as he held her firmly in place. His other hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone in a surprisingly tender contrast to the urgency of his mouth on hers.
Luna's heart raced, pounding against her chest as she surrendered to the moment, her initial shock melting into a haze of sensation. She tried to match his intensity, but Jeonghan's fervor was relentless, his lips guiding hers in a way that left no room for hesitation. His mouth was warm and soft, but his kiss was anything but gentle-each movement a silent declaration, as if he was staking his claim, proving a point without a single word.
He angled his head slightly, deepening the kiss, his lips parting to invite her in, his tongue brushing teasingly against hers, coaxing her to respond. The warmth of his breath mingled with hers, filling the small space between them with a dizzying sense of intimacy. Every touch, every brush of his lips, felt deliberate, designed to make her melt under his touch.
Luna's hands moved instinctively, grasping at his shoulders to steady herself as his kiss grew more insistent, more consuming.
Her fingers tightened against the fabric of his shirt, holding on as he continued to kiss her with a fervor that bordered on overwhelming. She could feel the strength in his hold, the way his hands held her close, anchoring her to him as though he couldn't bear to let her go.
Her mind spun, her senses flooded with him-the scent of his cologne, the softness of his hair brushing against her forehead, the heat radiating from his body as he pressed closer. The world around them faded, leaving only the taste of him on her lips, the warmth of his skin under her fingertips.
The world around them faded away, leaving just the two of them in this intimate bubble, a silent declaration of their connection.
Just when she thought she'd drown in the intensity of it all, Jeonghan's pace slowed, his lips lingering against hers in a series of softer, slower kisses, as if savoring the moment. His hand moved from her face to her jaw, thumb gently tracing the curve of her cheek, while his fingers splayed possessively along the back of her neck, keeping her close. His lips parted from hers just enough for them to share a breath, his forehead resting against hers as his eyes remained closed, as though he were still savoring the taste of her.
Slowly, he pulled back, his gaze meeting hers with a satisfied, almost smug gleam, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he observed her dazed expression. He didn’t let go of her face, his hands lingering, fingers tracing gentle circles along her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin in a way that sent shivers down her spine.
“People will believe what they want to believe,” he murmured softly, his voice low and soothing, each word wrapping around her like a warm blanket. “Our fans… they already think we’re together, and even if some don’t, it doesn’t change what’s real between us.”
His words were so matter-of-fact, his tone so calm, it eased something within her. His thumb continued to stroke her cheek, his gaze unwavering, steady and reassuring. “Besides,” he added with a little smile, “that waitress? She has no proof. She clearly doesn’t know who we are, and even if she did, it wouldn’t matter.” He leaned back slightly, tilting his head to study her, as if gauging her reaction. “No one can touch us. Not here. Not like this.”
Luna felt her heart rate begin to slow, her body relaxing under the weight of his calm certainty. Her lips parted slightly as she tried to form a response, but Jeonghan was already there, cradling her face as though she were something delicate, precious. His fingers traced along her jaw, then down to her hands, where he lifted her fingers to his lips, pressing gentle kisses to each one. His lips were soft, feather-light as he moved from one finger to the next, then finally to the center of her palm, where he lingered, eyes never leaving hers.
“You’re too good for this world, my angel,” he murmured, voice filled with a gentle affection that left her chest feeling tight.
His words were soft, coaxing her like one would soothe a child, and somehow, despite her normally assertive, strong-willed self, she felt herself softening under his touch, the tension slipping from her shoulders as she let herself be pulled into the warmth of his adoration.
Only Jeonghan could make her feel like this— vulnerable, small, and cherished, all at once.
She pouted, her lips curving downward as she finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “But… what if she spits in my food?”
Jeonghan chuckled, a warm, deep sound that reverberated through her, and for a brief moment, his gaze softened even further, filled with a fondness that seemed to overflow. “Then we’ll switch dishes,” he replied, his tone halfway between serious and playful. “Or,” he continued with a slight smirk, his fingers still caressing her hand, “I’ll get her fired if you want.”
She gasped, swatting at his chest lightly. “Hannie!” she scolded, though her voice held no real anger, just the remnants of her lingering irritation mixed with a playful reprimand. “That’s mean!”
His smirk softened, morphing into a gentle smile as he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, a feather-light touch that was far less urgent than before, filled with a quiet reverence instead. “You’re an angel,” he murmured against her lips, his voice a hushed whisper as he pulled back just enough to look at her. “My pretty angel. Such a good girl.”
His words sent a rush of warmth through her, leaving her speechless, her face heating up at his doting tone. There was something about the way he was looking at her, the softness in his eyes, that made her want to melt, to let go of every worry and just stay here with him, lost in this moment.
As they settled back into their seats, Luna felt an almost tangible shift in the air between them. The kiss had left her dazed, a gentle flush still coloring her cheeks, and Jeonghan’s casual return to their conversation only added to the surreal nature of the moment. She found herself leaning into him, their shoulders brushing, her hand casually resting on his thigh beneath the table.
They spoke in hushed tones, laughter and soft smiles passing between them, as though they were in their own world where time moved a little slower, and the rest of the restaurant faded into the background.
Every once in a while, Jeonghan would reach out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary, making her pulse quicken all over again. She responded by nudging him with her shoulder, pretending to be annoyed, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.
When their food finally arrived, it was the same waitress who reappeared, balancing their plates and the wine bottle with a practiced ease. Luna glanced up to thank her, but Jeonghan’s gaze was already fixed on the waitress, his expression carefully unreadable as he watched her approach. As she moved to set the dish in front of Luna, Jeonghan’s voice cut in smoothly, yet with a hint of something sharper beneath his polite tone.
“Here.” He pointed to the space in front of him, gesturing for the waitress to place Luna’s dish there instead.
The waitress hesitated, a slight flicker of confusion crossing her face as she looked between the two of them. But she quickly masked it, her expression returning to the same blank professionalism she’d shown throughout the evening. She set the dish down in front of Jeonghan without a word, her gaze momentarily meeting his.
Jeonghan held her stare, searching for any sign of guilt or discomfort, any indication that she might have tampered with their order out of petty jealousy. But the waitress remained stoic, her demeanor calm and unbothered, which he noted with a slight nod of approval.
“Thank you,” Luna said politely, offering a small smile as the waitress set down her own dish and poured the wine. Jeonghan echoed her thanks with a subtle dip of his head, his attention already shifting back to Luna as the waitress left them in peace.
Once the waitress was out of earshot, Jeonghan reached across the table, nudging Luna’s plate toward her with a grin. “Well, I didn’t see any poison in it,” he murmured, his voice teasing, though the protective glint in his eye made her heart skip a beat. She couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a bit ridiculous for her earlier concerns, yet touched by how quickly he’d picked up on her worries and how naturally he’d moved to reassure her.
They settled into their meal, casually swapping bites from each other’s plates. Jeonghan’s utensils found their way to her dish as often as her own did, a shared rhythm developing between them as they tasted each other’s choices. He’d lift a piece of food to her lips, his gaze warm and attentive, waiting for her reaction with a small smile. She’d make a face if it was something she didn’t particularly like, and he’d chuckle, offering her his glass of wine to wash it down.
“Here, try this one,” Luna said, holding out a forkful of her dish to him. Jeonghan leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers as he accepted the bite, savoring it with a small, appreciative nod. His hand found its way to hers on the table, his thumb idly tracing circles on her skin, grounding her in the intimacy of the moment.
The wine bottle sat between them, and they poured for each other in turns, watching the liquid swirl in their glasses before clinking them together softly. Jeonghan raised his glass, a playful glint in his eye. “To dealing with overly friendly waitstaff and stealing each other’s food,” he toasted, his smirk making her laugh.
“To stealing each other’s food,” she echoed, touching her glass to his, feeling the warmth of the wine spread through her with each sip.
Their conversation flowed effortlessly as they enjoyed their meal, slipping into easy banter and shared glances, as though they’d done this a thousand times before. Each bite, each sip of wine, felt like a part of the dance between them—unhurried, comfortable, intimate. It was as if the restaurant around them had faded away, leaving only the two of them and the soft glow of candlelight illuminating their little corner.
By the time they’d finished eating, their plates nearly empty, they sat back in their seats, both satisfied and content. Jeonghan reached over, his fingers brushing a stray crumb from the corner of her mouth, his touch lingering as his eyes softened.
Luna’s heart fluttered, a smile playing on her lips as she looked up at him, her fingers lacing with his beneath the table. She felt a profound sense of gratitude and joy, as though every part of this night was a precious memory they were crafting together, one that would stay with her long after they’d left this place.
And as they sat there, basking in the quiet intimacy that had settled over them, Luna couldn’t shake the feeling that moments like this— moments that were simple, genuine, and filled with laughter and warmth— were what made everything worth it.
As dinner came to an end, Jeonghan signaled for the check, slipping his card to a new waiter without a second thought. They exchanged quiet smiles as they waited, still reveling in the comfortable intimacy that had blossomed over the evening. When the waiter returned, Jeonghan handled the payment swiftly, and with one last glance around the cozy, dimly-lit restaurant, they made their way out into the crisp night air.
The cab ride back to the hotel was quiet, but in a way that felt perfectly right. Luna rested her head on Jeonghan’s shoulder, her hand intertwined with his in her lap, their fingers loosely laced together. They didn’t need words; the warmth of his hand in hers and the faint thrum of the car engine beneath them were all they needed in that moment. It was as though the rest of the world had faded, leaving only the two of them and the soft hum of the city around them.
Once they reached their hotel, they navigated their way through the lobby, exchanging tired smiles as they waited for the elevator. By the time they reached their room, a gentle, lazy fatigue had settled over them, the kind that made them crave the cozy confines of their space together.
As soon as they were inside, Luna kicked off her shoes, the satisfying clack of her heels hitting the floor filling the room. She shrugged off her coat, letting it fall to the floor in an unceremonious heap, before draping herself across the sofa with a sigh of relief. She stretched out, curling her legs up beneath her as she settled back, pulling out her phone and beginning to scroll lazily.
Jeonghan, meanwhile, slipped out of his own coat, his gaze drifting over to her as he hung it up. His eyes raked over her relaxed form, taking in the way her hair tumbled over her shoulders, her casual posture, the slight pout on her lips as she focused on her phone. He smiled, an affectionate warmth spreading through him as he crossed the room toward her.
Without a word, he settled beside her on the sofa, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently into his side. Instinctively, Luna leaned into him, snuggling up without looking away from her phone, her head coming to rest on his chest as she continued scrolling. Jeonghan watched her from above, a soft smile playing at his lips as he took in the way she fit perfectly against him.
They sat in comfortable silence, a quiet intimacy enveloping them. Some couples might have found this unproductive, or even a little boring, but for them, this was everything. This was where they were most at home, in the quiet spaces between words, in the shared stillness that felt like a world of its own. Both of them, introverted and often easily drained, found a sense of peace in simply being together like this, with no need for conversation or grand gestures.
Luna shifted slightly, curling up closer against him, her body fitting perfectly into the crook of his side. Jeonghan held her a bit tighter, his hand slipping up to run through her hair, his fingers combing gently through the soft, blonde strands. He removed a stray strand from her face, tucking it behind her ear with a tenderness that was second nature by now.
Then, suddenly, Luna gasped, her body jolting slightly as she sat up, startling Jeonghan. His face remained composed, though his eyes widened a touch as he looked at her in surprise.
“What?” he asked, eyebrows raising as he watched her.
“We forgot to eat dessert,” Luna pouted, her expression serious as though this was a matter of utmost importance.
Jeonghan blinked, and then his concerned look melted into one of pure, unfiltered fondness. His lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling as he watched her, a quiet chuckle slipping out.
“Aigo…” he cooed, slipping into his sing-song, babying tone. “What do we do? Hmm?” His voice held a teasing lilt, his gaze resting on her pout as if it were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.
Luna huffed, still pouting as she glanced back at him, her eyes holding that familiar glint that told him she was about to ask for something. He waited, raising an eyebrow, letting the silence hang between them as if to say, Well?
“You want us to order room service?” Jeonghan asked, already knowing her answer.
Luna nodded, her eyes lighting up with a hopeful gleam as she met his gaze.
Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head at her fondly. “Alright.”
Her face lit up, a beaming smile spreading across her lips as she practically bounced off the sofa, following him to the small telephone on the desk in the corner of the room. She reached for the room service menu, flipping through it as Jeonghan hovered beside her, watching her with that same indulgent look.
“What do you want, Nana-ya?” he asked, his voice soft, playful.
“Cake,” Luna replied simply, her eyes still scanning the menu before she glanced up at him. “You?”
“We can share,” Jeonghan said with a grin, his eyes meeting hers as she nodded in agreement.
Satisfied, Luna picked up the phone, dialing the number for room service. As she waited for someone to pick up, she felt Jeonghan’s presence close behind her, his hand coming to rest gently on her shoulder. Then, without warning, he leaned down, his head nestling into the curve of her neck as he inhaled her familiar scent, the faint aroma of her perfume filling his senses.
“Room service, how can I assist you?” the receptionist’s polite voice crackled through the phone.
“Yes, hello,” Luna began, her tone polite and measured. “We’d like to order a dessert, please. Just a slice of your chocolate cake.” She paused, glancing at Jeonghan to confirm, and he gave a lazy nod against her shoulder, his breath warm on her skin.
As she spoke, Jeonghan’s lips found her neck, placing gentle, feather-light kisses along her skin, his face nestled in the crook where her neck met her shoulder. She could feel the soft brush of his hair against her cheek, the subtle scrape of his teeth as he teased her with a playful nip. She bit back a smile, her cheeks warming as she focused on the conversation with the receptionist.
“Yes, just one slice of the chocolate cake, please,” she continued, trying to keep her voice steady as Jeonghan’s lips trailed lower, his hand wrapping around her waist as he held her close. He let out a soft, almost petulant whine against her skin, the sound vibrating through her neck, as though he was annoyed she wasn’t paying attention to him.
“Uh… yes, that will be all,” Luna finished, a hint of breathlessness creeping into her voice as she ran her fingers through his hair to appease him, scratching lightly at his scalp in a way that made him sigh contentedly against her.
“Very well, it will be delivered shortly. Thank you,” the receptionist replied.
“Thank you,” Luna managed, before hanging up and setting the phone down with a soft exhale.
“Thank you,” Luna managed, before hanging up and setting the phone down with a soft exhale.
The dim light of the room cast a warm glow across Jeonghan's face as he and Luna held each other's gaze, a silent but magnetic pull between them. His eyes traced over her face, taking in every detail as if he was committing it to memory-the subtle curve of her lips, the flutter of her lashes, the way her cheeks held a faint flush that only deepened as he looked at her.
And she, in turn, scanned his face with equal intensity, noticing the playful glint in his eyes, the slight tilt of his lips that hinted at his next move.
"So," Jeonghan began in a low, teasing murmur, "you think dessert was really worth interrupting our time alone, hmm?"
Luna smirked, shrugging in that casual, flirtatious way of hers. "A girl has her priorities," she quipped, her voice as cool as her expression, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. "And it's not my fault you dragged me out of the restaurant early."
Jeonghan chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to fill the room and reverberate through her chest. He took a slow, deliberate step closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "Oh, is that right? I'm the one to blame?"
She tilted her head back to maintain eye contact as he advanced, her posture cool and composed, though her heart was racing beneath her calm facade. "If you have something to say, Hannie," she teased, her voice just above a whisper, "you should say it instead of just staring."
He arched a brow, clearly amused. "Maybe I'm saying plenty... without words."
Their banter flowed with ease, layered with unspoken tension, each word a deliberate nudge in a game neither wanted to end. As he took another step, Luna found herself instinctively moving back until her legs bumped against a chair, forcing her to sit.
She watched him intently, eyes wide and breath held as he loomed over her, one hand braced on the back of the chair near her head.
Jeonghan leaned in, his dark hair falling forward, nearly brushing her face. His free hand reached up, fingers ghosting over her cheek as he cupped her face gently, his thumb tracing her skin in slow, tantalizing circles. Luna's breath hitched as she looked up at him, her expression softening, her eyes reflecting an unspoken plea. She wanted him to close the distance, to eliminate the aching space between them.
He dipped his head lower, his face so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with hers. She closed her eyes, leaning in, lips parted in anticipation as their mouths brushed. But just as their lips met, Jeonghan paused, his smirk growing as he pulled back ever so slightly.
Her eyes flew open, meeting his with a mixture of frustration and longing, but he only grinned, his gaze holding a wicked gleam. "What's the rush, hmm?" he murmured, barely containing his laughter as he watched her reaction.
She let out a small, frustrated whine, her voice soft but audible, as she chased his lips again. But he leaned back just enough to keep her wanting, teasing her with the closeness yet denying her what she craved. He cooed at her, his tone dripping with playful condescension, "Aigo... are you that impatient, baby?"
Luna's lips formed into a pout, her eyes pleading as she whispered, "Please, Han..."
His laughter was soft, warm, a gentle rumble that made her heart skip. "Now, how can I say no to that?" he replied, finally relenting as he closed the gap between them.
Their lips met in a kiss that was anything but gentle-he pressed against her with a fervor that matched the tension that had built between them, his mouth moving over hers with practiced ease. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer. His lips were soft but firm, tasting faintly of the wine they'd shared at dinner, and she could feel the warmth of him seeping into her as their mouths moved together, slow and deep.
His hand stayed on her cheek, fingers brushing back the stray strands of her hair as he tilted her head, deepening the kiss with a controlled intensity that left her breathless. Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging lightly, drawing a soft, muffled groan from him as their mouths continued their unhurried exploration.
Just as she was beginning to lose herself entirely in the kiss, her senses drowned in the taste of him, a sudden sound interrupted them-the shrill ring of the doorbell. Jeonghan pulled back, breathing slightly heavier, his lips curving into a smirk as he glanced toward the door.
Luna's eyes flew open, her expression one of dazed frustration as she realized what had happened. She whined again, softer this time, her fingers still clutching his shirt as she leaned forward, trying to capture his lips once more.
But Jeonghan laughed, straightening as he gently extricated himself from her grasp.
"Guess dessert couldn't wait," he teased, reaching down to press a quick, affectionate peck to her pouty lips before pulling away entirely. “Priorities right?”
She huffed, crossing her arms as she sank back into the chair, watching him move toward the door with an exasperated expression. "I regret mentioning dessert," she muttered under her breath.
“Oh I bet you do,” Jeonghan looked back at her, chuckling softly. "Don't pout, Nana-ya. I'll be right back," he cooed, his voice teasing as he shot her a wink.
Jeonghan moved gracefully to the door, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, and pulled it open, revealing a young woman dressed smartly in the hotel’s uniform. Her eyes widened a fraction as she took in his features, her gaze lingering a bit longer than necessary, clearly caught off guard by his ethereal presence. Jeonghan offered her a polite smile, his usual charm dripping effortlessly as he opened the door wider to allow her in.
The staff member seemed momentarily stunned, her steps hesitant as she entered the suite with the cake on a silver platter.
Luna, watching from her seat with narrowed eyes, tilted her head back slightly, caught in a moment of exasperation. She wasn’t sure if she should thank the universe for blessing her with such a gorgeous boyfriend or curse it for how every other woman seemed to be magnetically drawn to him. She sighed, the sound soft but noticeable, and leaned back in her chair, arms folded.
“You can place it there. Thank you,” Luna said, her voice polite yet firm as she gestured to the table in front of her.
The staff member barely glanced in Luna’s direction, seemingly dismissive as she followed her instruction but kept her attention fixed on Jeonghan. She set the cake down with a smile that was far too warm for a mere transaction, and as she straightened, her gaze returned to Jeonghan with a coyness that was impossible to ignore.
Jeonghan, sensing Luna’s mood shifting, subtly leaned back against the cabinet behind him, his eyes sliding over to her as though waiting for her to finally reach her limit. His eyebrow lifted in a silent challenge, a playful gleam dancing in his eyes as he watched her closely, a silent spectator to the tension building in the room.
The staff member, oblivious to the silent exchange between the couple, stepped closer to Jeonghan, her tone lilting with a French accent as she spoke. “You are staying long in Paris?” she asked, her voice filled with a flirtatious curiosity. “It is a beautiful city, no?”
Jeonghan offered her a polite nod, his understanding of English limited at best. He caught only pieces of what she said, but he remained courteous, his eyes shifting momentarily to Luna, who sat perfectly still, her gaze fixed on the woman with a barely concealed edge.
Luna, on the other hand, understood every single word. Every subtle inflection, every soft laugh, every lingering glance— all of it rang clear as day to her. She was used to seeing women fawn over Jeonghan; it was practically part of dating him or simply being friends with him. Luna usually had no issues with it, didn’t blame them for admiring what was hers.
But what grated on her now was the lack of respect— the dismissal in the way these women acted, first the waitress earlier and now this. The feeling of possessiveness simmered within her, a dark and shadowy friend she knew well.
The staff member’s next words, however, set something off within her.
“Is she your sister?” the woman asked, gesturing subtly toward Luna without even glancing her way. Her tone was deceptively innocent as she continued, “If so, I can give you my number, and we can get to know each other more. I bet we’d hit it off.”
The question barely registered in Jeonghan’s mind, his limited English leaving him clueless, but Luna? Luna understood every syllable, and as the words settled, she felt the blood rush in her ears, a wave of red tinting her vision.
Jeonghan, however, seemed to sense the shift in the air. His gaze snapped to hers, and there was an unmistakable glint in his eyes— something dark and almost wicked, as if he was daring her, waiting for her to react.
No, he wanted her to react. He wanted her to claim him, just as he’d claimed her earlier at the restaurant, making it clear that she belonged to him.
The woman’s suggestion was the final straw.
“Oh honey, it would take a miracle for him to like you,” Luna’s voice cut through the room, her tone sharper and deeper than usual, each word laced with a lethal edge.
The woman’s head snapped to Luna, her eyes widening in surprise, clearly not expecting such a reaction. Jeonghan leaned further back against the cabinet, arms crossed and an amused smirk curling his lips as he watched the scene unfold, his ego clearly enjoying the moment. If anything, he looked more intrigued by Luna than ever, his gaze holding a fierce appreciation for the fire in her eyes.
“Actually,” Luna continued, her tone unyielding and dripping with sarcasm, “I’m his girlfriend.” She smiled, the expression so sugary sweet it could have given someone a toothache, but there was no mistaking the bite beneath it. “Thank you for going above and beyond as our hotel staff— your service is no longer needed. I’ll make sure that your management gets my feedback on your… attentiveness.” She paused, letting the word hang in the air before adding, “You can leave now.”
Jeonghan may not have understood the specifics of what she said, but he didn’t need to. Her body language, her voice, and the way the staff’s face twisted in irritation before she huffed and turned on her heel told him everything he needed to know. The woman left the room with her head held high, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving the air heavy and charged with an electric tension.
Jeonghan’s smirk widened as he watched Luna, a low chuckle escaping him as he took in the defiance and possessiveness radiating off her. She sat there, her arms still crossed, her gaze challenging as she held his eyes, waiting for his reaction.
“So,” he drawled, moving from the cabinet to stand in front of her, his eyes glinting with amusement, “you were jealous.”
Luna scoffed, though the slight pink tint on her cheeks betrayed her. “Jealous? Don’t make me laugh, Han. You know me, I am never jealous.” she repeated, lifting her chin. “I was simply reminding her of her place.”
Jeonghan laughed softly, the sound rich and smooth as he leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers. “Oh, is that all it was?” he teased, his voice low and taunting. “Looked a bit like jealousy to me.”
Luna’s eyes narrowed, the spark in her gaze sharp and unyielding. She leaned forward, her voice firm as she shot back, “I am not jealous, Yoon Jeonghan. Not of someone like her, not of anyone like her. Do you really think I’d waste my time and energy on something so… so… trivial?”
Jeonghan’s lips curved into a knowing smirk, his amusement only growing as he watched the fire flare in her eyes. “Of course not,” he replied, dragging out the words with deliberate ease. “I must have it wrong, then.” His tone was mockingly thoughtful as he tilted his head, studying her intently. “It’s not jealousy, hmm?” He paused, then added, “No… it’s just my possessive little bunny finally showing her true colors.”
The nickname made Luna’s retort die on her lips. She inhaled sharply, a flicker of awareness flashing across her face as his words settled, leaving her momentarily speechless. Because as much as she wanted to deny it, she knew he was right. The word “possessive” rang true, and he could see the admission in her eyes before she even had to say it.
Unwilling to concede completely, she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a huff, her expression guarded yet defiant. Jeonghan’s eyes softened with an amused glint as he took in her posture, seeing through every layer she tried to hide behind. He lowered himself down, crouching directly in front of her, bringing their faces level. His gaze was warm yet teasing, as if he were savoring this moment of truth between them.
Luna met his eyes, her gaze unwavering, though there was a slight flush in her cheeks. She might have given in this time, but her defiance lingered, a silent reminder that this battle between them was far from over.
Luna narrowed her eyes, though she couldn’t help the corner of her lips tugging upward. “Don’t flatter yourself, Yoon Jeonghan. I was being considerate,” she replied coolly, the fire in her eyes flickering dangerously. “Thought she’d appreciate knowing that she was wasting her time.”
He grinned, clearly enjoying the way she held her ground, the tension between them sizzling with every exchange. “Well,” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering at her cheek, “considerate or not, I have to say, I like seeing this side of you.”
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with a challenge. “And which side is that?”
“The side that knows I’m hers,” he replied smoothly, his gaze never leaving hers.
Luna’s breath hitched slightly, but she kept her composure, refusing to let him see just how much his words affected her. Instead, she leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper as she said, “Then I hope you remember it, too.”
Jeonghan’s smirk softened into something deeper, his eyes warm as he leaned down, his lips just a breath away from hers. “Trust me,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Luna raised an eyebrow at him, her gaze unwavering, an amused spark dancing in her eyes. "Yeah?" she asked, her tone laced with playful skepticism as her arm snaked around his neck, pulling him just a little closer.
Jeonghan held her gaze, unflinching, the corners of his mouth curling in that infuriatingly charming way. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly rose from his crouching position in front of her, her arms still looped around his neck, lifting with him as he stood. Their faces remained mere inches apart, the tension between them crackling like electricity in the air.
"Yeah," he breathed out, his voice low and filled with certainty. He gently guided her to rise with him, his hands steady at her waist, and in one fluid motion, he turned them around. Before she fully registered the shift, Jeonghan had slipped into the chair she'd been sitting in moments earlier, leaving her standing between his legs, his hands still firmly on her waist.
Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he tugged her closer, pulling her down onto his lap in one swift motion that caught her completely off guard. She gasped, her voice spilling out in a startled laugh as she found herself straddling him, her knees bracketing his hips as she settled in his lap.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other, her heart pounding as she gazed down at him, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck once more. She began to absentmindedly toy with a strand of his long hair, letting it curl around her fingers as a small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips.
Meanwhile, Jeonghan leaned back in the chair with a lazy, contented grin, his fingers pressing into her waist with a possessive hold. He adjusted himself in the seat, pushing his hips deeper into the cushion and sinking further into the chair, all while his gaze never left hers.
"You seem comfortable," she remarked, a teasing edge to her voice, but the way her fingers trailed through his hair betrayed just how much she was enjoying this, too.
Jeonghan's grin only widened, his fingers tracing gentle circles against her waist.
"Comfortable?" he echoed, his eyes glinting up at her. "With you right here? Very comfortable." He gave her waist a light squeeze, leaning back even further, as if daring her to keep her balance as he gently guided her hips to move against his with a teasing smirk, showing him how much her little stunt earlier had affecting him.
"How about you, hmm? Are you comfortable?" Jeonghan asked her.
Luna's breath hitched as she felt the hard length of him straining against his pants, pressing against her through the thin fabric of her skirt that has ridden up. She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she savored the sensation, her hips instinctively rolling against him in response. When she opened her eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that mirrored his own.
"Not quite," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers tightening in his hair. "But I could be."
Jeonghan's smirk faded, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated desire. His grip on her waist tightened, his thumbs tracing circles on her skin, pushing her skirt higher up her thighs. "What do you want, my angel?" he growled, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down her spine.
She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "I want you to prove to me that your mine, Hannie."
He groaned, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her closer, his hips bucking against her. "Fuck, Jiyeon," he swore, his voice ragged, "you drive me crazy. Is that what you want?"
She smirked, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she rocked against him, her eyes locked onto his. "Uh huh. That's the plan," she purred, her voice laced with a sultry promise.
Jeonghan's hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt up until it bunched around her waist, baring her to him. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, his breath hitching as he watched Luna grind onto him, her blonde hair messy as she leaned back, his fingers tightening around her waist as he helped her grind on him.  His cock throbbed, pressing painfully against his zipper, desperate to be freed. He could feel her heat through her panties, and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to rip them off and bury himself inside her right then and there.
"Fuck, Luna," he groaned, his voice strained as he watched her, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. "Just like that."
She smirked, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she continued to ride him, her movements growing bolder, more confident. "Your mine right?" she whispered, her voice husky with desire. "Say it, Han. Please, tell me you're mine."
Jeonghan's grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he thrust his hips upward, meeting her grinding movements with his own. "I'm yours, Bae Jiyeon," he growled, his voice ragged with need. "Always fucking yours. I’m yours, every single part of me… don’t ever forget that.”
Luna’s smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with triumph as she reached down between them, her fingers finding the button of his pants. With a quick flick, she popped it open, her knuckles brushing against his straining erection as she lowered the zipper.
Jeonghan hissed, his hips jerking involuntarily at the contact, his eyes never leaving hers. Luna licked her lips, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling both his pants and underwear down, freeing his cock. It sprang forth, hard and ready, and she couldn't help but admire the sight of him, her mouth watering at the thought of having him inside her.
Jeonghan watched her, his chest heaving as he waited for her next move. Luna's eyes flicked up to meet his, a wicked glint in them as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, giving it a slow, firm stroke that made him groan. Jeonghan's grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he fought to maintain control.
"Baby," he purred, his voice ragged. "You're killing me."
She smirked, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she continued to stroke him, her thumb swirling around the sensitive head of his cock. "Not yet, baby," she whispered, her voice laced with a sultry promise. "But I will." His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, his breath hitching as he watched Luna grind onto him, her blonde hair messy as she leaned back, her fingers tightening around his shaft.
His cock throbbed, desperate to be inside her, but he wanted to watch her, to see her lose control.
"Grind on my lap, pretty angel," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Show me how much you want me."
Luna's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and excitement, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. She hesitated for a moment before slowly started moving her hips back and forth faster while Jeonghan leaned back, his hands falling off her waist as he let her do all the work.  Luna's eyes fluttered closed, her head tilting back as she focused on the sensation of his hard length rubbing against her clit through her soaked panties. She moaned, her fingers tightening around his cock, stroking him in rhythm with her movements.
Jeonghan watched her, his eyes darkening with lust as he took in the sight of her. Her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, her lips parted, and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. He could feel her heat, her wetness seeping through her panties, coating his length.
The friction was exquisite, driving him wild, but he wanted more. He wanted to feel her bare, to slide into her warmth without any barriers. He reached up, his hands finding the hem of her shirt, and in one swift motion, he pulled it off, revealing her lacy bra underneath. Luna's eyes flew open, her pupils dilated with desire as she looked down at him, her chest heaving.
"Han..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Shh," he hushed her, his fingers trailing up her stomach, between her breasts, until they reached the clasp of her bra.
With a flick of his wrist, it came undone, and her breasts spilled out, her nipples already hard and aching for his touch. Luna gasped, her back arching as he cupped one breast, his thumb circling her nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.
"Fuck, Han… Hannie," she moaned, her hips grinding harder against him, seeking friction, needing release. "I need you."
He growled, his eyes locked onto her bouncing tits, his cock throbbing with need. "You want my cock, angel?" he rasped, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me how bad you want it."
Luna whimpered, her hips rolling against him, her pussy aching for him. "I want it so fucking bad, Han," she panted, her nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you inside me. Now."
Jeonghan's grip on her hip tightened, his other hand moving to her ass, squeezing it roughly as he helped her grind against him. "You want me to fuck you, my pretty girl?" he coos, his voice low and dirty.
"Say it, Jiyeon. Beg for me."
Luna's breath hitched, her eyes flashing with a mix of surprise and excitement. She loved it when he talked to her like that, when he took control and demanded things from her. It made her feel alive, desired, and utterly fucking sexy.
"I want you, oppa," she moaned, her hips rolling against him, her pussy throbbing with need. "I need you to fuck me hard. Please."
“You do?” Jeonghan hummed as his eyes darkened, his grip on her hip and ass tightening as he lifted her slightly, sliding her panties to the side before positioning himself at her entrance.
Luna's breath hitched as she nodded, her eyes locked onto his as she felt the head of his cock press against her, hot and ready. She was soaking wet, her panties drenched, and she could feel her arousal coating his length, making it slick and easy for him to slide in.
"Look at me, Jiyeonie. Let me see that beautiful face," Jeonghan instructed, his voice low and rough. "I want to see your eyes when I fuck you."
She nodded, her gaze never wavering as he slowly pushed into her, inch by inch, filling her completely. Luna's breath hitched, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to his size, her inner walls stretching to accommodate him. Jeonghan groaned, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the feeling of being inside her, her tight heat enveloping him completely.
"Fuck, angel," he moaned, his voice strained as he opened his eyes to look at her. "You feel so fucking good."
She smirked, her hips rolling against him, taking him deeper. "I could say the same to you, Hannie," she purred, her voice laced with satisfaction.
She began to move, her hips rolling in a slow, sensuous dance as she rode him, taking him deeper with each thrust. Jeonghan's fingers dug into her flesh, his grip tight as he helped guide her movements, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Nana-ya," he groaned, his voice ragged as he watched her, his cock throbbing inside her. "You feel so good. All mine."
Luna smirked, her nails raking down his chest, leaving red lines in their wake. "All yours, huh?" she taunted, her voice low and sultry. "Prove it, Han. Fuck me like you mean it."
Jeonghan's eyes flashed with a primal hunger, his grip on her hips tightening as he slammed up into her, making her gasp. "Like this, baby?" he growled, his voice laced with a dark intensity that sent shivers down her spine.
“Han– Oh, fuck, baby,” Luna's breath hitched, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she met his thrusts, her hips rolling against him, taking him deeper with each stroke.
“Look at you, getting all flustered… my little bunny can’t handle a bit of the attention now, hmm?” Jeonghan's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he slammed into her, his cock filling her completely, hitting that sweet spot deep inside her that made her see stars. “That feel good? Yeah? Just like this?”
"Fuck, Jeonghan!" she cried out, her head tilting back, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. "Yes! Just like that!"
Jeonghan chuckled, his teeth sinking into her neck, marking her as he pounded into her, his hips moving with a ferocity that took her breath away.
Luna's fingers clawed at his back, her nails digging into his flesh, leaving red welts in their wake. She could feel the heat building inside her, her orgasm approaching like a freight train, threatening to consume her whole.
"Oppa– Han…," she gasped, her voice ragged, "I'm close."
He lifted his head, his eyes burning into hers, his jaw clenched as he fought for control. "Not yet, baby,” he tutted, his voice low and rough as he stopped making Luna whine.  "Not until I say so."
She glared at him, her chest heaving, her body aching for release. "You're being mean, Hannie," she panted, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
He smirked, before lifting her as he stood up off the chair, her legs wrapping around his waist as he placed her on the bed. "Am I being mean to you, bunny?" he cooed, his voice laced with amusement, "But you like it when I’m like this."
Luna's eyes flashed with anger, but he could see the desire burning in them, too.
She wanted this, needed this, just as much as he did. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a fierce, demanding kiss, his tongue sliding in to tangle with hers. She moaned, her body melting into his, her legs tightening around his waist as she ground against him, seeking friction.
Jeonghan broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin, leaving marks that would remind her of this moment, of him, long after tonight was over. He pushed her back onto the bed, his body following hers down, his hips settling between her thighs.
Luna's breath hitched as she felt the weight of him, the hard length of him pressed against her, throbbing with need. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and defiance, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.
Jeonghan smirked, his eyes darkening as he took in her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips, and her heaving chest. "You're so fucking beautiful, my love," he murmured, his voice low and rough.
His hands traced patterns on her skin, his fingers skimming over her curves, making her shiver. She could feel his hardness pressing against her, hot and insistent, and it made her ache for him even more.
"Hannie," she whispered, her voice laced with desperation. "Please."
He chuckled, a low, dirty sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Please what, Nana-ya?" he teased, his fingers dipping lower, tracing the edge of her panties. "What do you want me to do to you?  “What is it, baby? You want more? Just say the word, and it’s yours.”
Luna's breath hitched, her body arching into his touch, her eyes locked onto his. "Fuck me, baby, please," she pleaded, her voice ragged with need. "Make me come.”
Jeonghan's eyes darkened, his grip on her thigh tightening as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down roughly. He grabbed her thighs, spreading them wide, and positioned himself at her entrance. She was soaking wet, her arousal coating his length, making it slick and easy for him to slide back in.
Jeonghan's eyes locked onto hers as he slowly pushed into her, inch by inch, filling her completely. “You know I’d do anything for you, right? Anything to make my baby happy. God– I’m in fucking love with you.”
He groaned, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the feeling of being inside her, her tight heat enveloping him completely.
“You have no idea what you do to me, do you, my sweet girl?” Jeonghan groaned as he continued to thrust into her. She could feel the heat building inside her, her orgasm approaching like a storm on the horizon.
“Han," she gasped, her voice ragged, "I can't... I can't hold on much longer."
Jeonghan moaned, his grip on her hips tightening, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. "Come for me, Jiyeonie," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Come all over my cock, baby. Show me how much you love it."
Luna's breath hitched, her fingers clawing at his back as she felt the heat inside her coil tighter, ready to snap. "Han," she gasped, her voice ragged, "I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."
“I know, I know baby,” He tightened his hold on her, his hips slamming into hers, his cock filling her completely. "Do it, bunny," he grunted, his voice strained. "Come for me.”
And just like that, she shattered, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, consuming her whole.
“Fuck, Han!” She whined his name, her body convulsing beneath him, her inner walls clamping down around him, milking him for all he was worth. Jeonghan groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed her over the edge, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her with his hot seed.
They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies entwined, their breaths ragged as they came down from their high. Jeonghan rolled off her, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her close as he spooned her from behind.
Luna's breath was still ragged, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to regain some semblance of composure. She could feel Jeonghan's cock, still semi-hard, nestled against her ass, and it sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
"Fuck," Jeonghan murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice still heavy with desire. "You drive me insane. Only you, baby. Only ever you," Jeonghan told her, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down her spine.
She hummed in agreement, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the warmth of his body pressed against hers. "Only me," she agreed, her voice soft, intimate, as she turned to face him, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. Her back pressed further into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart matching her own.
"My pretty girl," he muttered against her lips, breaking the kiss to look at her, his gaze dark with desire and affection. "You're insatiable."
A smirk danced across her lips as she pulled away slightly, just enough to settle her head on his chest, draping herself over him with a kind of lazy confidence. "I can't help it," she whispered, her voice taking on a sultry edge. "You bring out the best and worst in me, Hannie."
Jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, wrapping his arms around her, fingers tracing idle patterns along her back. "Well, l'd hate to deprive you of such excellent inspiration," he replied, a playful glint in his eye. "Though if this is the 'worst' in you... I think I might be the luckiest guy alive."
She gave him a playful glare, swatting at his chest. "Don't get too cocky now," she teased, though her smile betrayed her amusement.
"Oh, baby," he cooed, eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. "I think you're the only one allowed to be cocky here." He leaned down, brushing his lips over her forehead with a featherlight touch. "I'm just here to keep up, give you what you need, and maybe make you a little crazy along the way."
Luna let out a soft laugh, rolling her eyes at his words, but she felt her heart swell with the warmth only he could give her. "Maybe?" she challenged, arching an eyebrow.
"Fine," he conceded, smirking. "A lot crazy. But only for me, right?"
She settled back into him, her voice barely a whisper. "Only for you. Only ever you."
Luna hummed in satisfaction, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest as she snuggled closer, her body worn out from the intense lovemaking.
They lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Luna could feel Jeonghan's chest rising and falling rapidly under her, his heart beating rapidly against her ear. She could feel his lips pressed against her forehead, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close.
Luna savored the way Jeonghan made her feel— a feeling of belonging so profound that it left her utterly captivated. She felt claimed, possessed in the best possible way, like she was both his entire world and something he would fight to keep all to himself. No one had ever made her feel like this before, like she was more than just someone to hold.
Jeonghan made her feel desired, cherished, protected… all at once.
She loved the softness in his touch, the gentleness in his eyes, and the way he could melt her defenses with a single word. But she also loved the way he unleashed something wilder within her, something she hadn’t even known existed until she met him. He made her feel wild and untamed, free to give in to desires that once felt foreign, unrestrained in a way that sent a thrill racing through her.
For the first time in her twenty-six years of existence, Luna found herself thankful for the presence of that lingering shadow she usually kept hidden—possessiveness. It was always there, lurking quietly, rarely stirred.
But Jeonghan, with his effortless charm, his mischievous smile, and that knowing gaze, he brought it to life. And instead of shying away from it, she welcomed it. She embraced it because it meant she didn’t have to hold back when it came to him. She could be unapologetically hers and his all at once, unguarded in her feelings, reveling in the thrill of knowing he was hers to claim just as much as he claimed her.
Just as she was sinking into this feeling, basking in that delicious sense of belonging, a sudden thought shot through her mind, jolting her from the warmth of Jeonghan’s arms.
Luna gasped, sitting up abruptly.
Jeonghan’s eyes widened, his hand immediately coming up to steady her, a flash of worry crossing his face. “What?” he asked, his tone laced with confusion and a hint of alarm.
She pouted, her gaze darting toward the table. “My cake!” she exclaimed, voice tinged with frustration as she moved to get up.
Jeonghan watched her, and after a second of stunned silence, he sighed and chuckled, shaking his head in amused disbelief. “You’ve got to stop scaring me like that,” he muttered, standing up to grab the cake himself before she could.
Luna huffed, crossing her arms and shooting him a playful glare. “The cake, Han!” she complained, her pout only deepening at his apparent lack of urgency.
He held up his hands in surrender, smirking as he reached for the cake on the table. “Alright, alright,” he said, indulging her with a gentle tone, his voice full of doting affection as he brought it over to her. “Here’s your precious cake, my demanding little bunny that I love so much.”
“I love you more,” Luna replied instantly, her focus shifting entirely to the cake now in her hands, a gleam of satisfaction lighting up her face.
Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smirk. “Are you talking about the cake or me?” he asked, his tone deadpan but his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Luna’s head snapped up, her gaze narrowing as she glared at him, lips curling into a stubborn pout. She held the cake protectively, as if shielding it from any further teasing.
Jeonghan chuckled, clearly entertained by her reaction. He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against her cheek, his voice dropping to a soft, affectionate coo. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Nana-ya,” he teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I know you love me more. But you’re still adorable when you’re pretending otherwise.”
Luna’s pout deepened, but the hint of a smile betrayed her. She rolled her eyes, and despite herself, her lips quirked upward just slightly.
Jeonghan’s chuckle turned into a warm laugh, his gaze filled with that familiar mix of mischief and adoration that only he could pull off. And in that cozy, sweet moment, with Luna clutching her beloved cake and Jeonghan’s laughter filling the room, the night felt perfect— just the two of them, in their own little world.
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mdni banner: @cafekitsune
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ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!
: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ
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Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea @jihoonsbbygirl @cocopuff2424 @okoknotco
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descnetwork12 · 2 years ago
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Adults ballet classes London
Looking for Ballet Dance classes in London, we offer one of the best ballet dance classes in London, Visit us now
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verstappensseatcushion · 11 months ago
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✩°。⋆ pas de deux, ln4 ⋆。°✩
next part
pairing: lando norris x fem! ballerina! reader
[face claim: luna montana is largely used as faceclaim but some other pinterest girlies in there too]
summary: y/n is new to monaco and quickly finds herself dancing with mclaren driver lando norris despite all intentions she has of focusing on only her career
a/n: this is my first smau ever, any feedback is appreciated :) also, i am not a ballet dancer by any means so i apologize for any misuse of terms or incorrect depictions
yn.ballet
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yn.ballet coucou monaco
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username1 mother moved to monaco ??
ybfusername you left me in london :/  
╰ ynusername you could always come here
username2 please god i-
⟡⟡⟡
"hows monaco ma fille," your mother said to you over the phone.
"s'alright maman, i finished unpacking everything today," you sigh. "i got to tour the company and meet the instructors before classes start next week."
you can hear her sigh before asking, "have you spoken with your father?"
"not since he kicked me out, and i dont plan to speak to him. i've said what i needed to say to him,"
"i expected more maturity from you y/n,"
"he's an adult, if he has something else to say to me he can reach out. i'm done talking about this. goodnight maman love you," you say hanging up the phone
⟡⟡⟡
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⟡⟡⟡
staring around you can't help but feel overwhelmed by the half-filled flat surrounding you. reflections of the street lights outside your window shine on the wall, highlighting the lack of decorations. there's no trace of you here yet, nothing but empty walls and boxes. you can only hope that in time it will feel like home.
⟡⟡⟡
landonorris
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landonorris miamiiii you brought the heat, now onto monaco
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username1 slay landooooooo
mclaren lando 🤝 helmet designs
username2 MIAMIIII
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themultifandomgal · 1 year ago
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Tommy Shelby- His Ballet Girl
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I had the idea of Tommy dating someone who is a ballet dancer and one of my followers gave me the idea of Tommy cheating on his wife. This does not represent my beliefs, cheating is horrible
Warnings- Tommy cheating on his wife and reader not caring.
YN has been dancing since she could walk, she feel in love with ballet when her parents took her to her first theatre show. From that moment on YN begged her parents for ballet shoes and lessons.
Now being 29 years old she is now dancing in the same show she first saw, The Nutcracker.
YN sits in the garrison with the Shelby's, who she's known for many years. Even though she was from a different social class she always got on with the brothers and Ada, but she's specifically close with Tommy... very close to Tommy.
YN walks through the garrison to their room. Not knocking she walks in and sits next to Arthur 
"Whisky?"
"No thanks Arthur. Have rehearsal early tomorrow"
"How is it going?" Lizzie asks sitting on Tommys lap. Although YN feels a little jealous, she knows that tonight Tommy will be warming her bed not theirs which puts a smile on YNs face
"Good thank you. Are you guys coming to the first show?" YN asks looking around
"Actually I wanted to ask you for a favour" YN looks at Lizzie "I'm not sure if you know this, but Tommy is throwing me a huge party for my birthday" YN did know because Tommy was in her bed moaning about having to throw this party "and I was wondering if you would perform"
"Of course. Tommy can let me know the date" Tommy sits quietly, he's not uncomfortable with this situation, his wife and his mistress talking
"So YN how's your mystery man?" Esme asks
"He's great. Bought me this" YN shows off her necklace
"When are we meeting this mystery man?" Lizzie asks, oh if she only knew
"Not sure. He needs to leave his wife first" Tommy coughs nudging Lizzie off his lap
"I have to get going if I want to get to London at a decent time"
"Ok. I'll miss you" she leans down and kisses his lips
"Yeah you too" he replies leaving the room
"Well I'm going to head off home" Lizzie says saying goodbye to everyone
"You sure you don't want a drink?" Arthur asks
"No I'm good thank you. I probably should also go home, go to bed early. I'll see you all tomorrow".
"When are you telling her?" YN asks Tommy lying in bed
"Soon. I want to get her birthday out of the way" YN groans "I know your having fun messing with her though. Showing off your necklace"
"Yes but she's sitting on you lap, asking me to dance at her birthday, it's a bit fucked"
"You agreed to do it" Tommy chuckles making YN smile
"Yes because I wasn't going to get invited else and I would love to sneak off with you at some point during the day"
"I'm sure you would" YN yawns interrupting Tommy "tired?"
"Mmm" YN hums
"Go to sleep. I'll be here in the morning" Tommy kisses her forehead.
Weeks later and it's Lizzie's birthday, she's going around bragging about how amazing Tommy is for making this party possible. YN is stretching before performing when Esme walks over to her
"I know who the mystery man is"
"I'm guessing you spoke to the spirits" YN jokes standing up
"Don't be stupid YN. How long have have you and Arthur been sleeping with each other?"
"Arthur!" YN yells getting you "you think I've been sleeping with Arthur?"
"Well you sit next to him every time we're at the garrison, he's always getting you a drink, taking you home"
"I promise you it's not Arthur" YN watches as Tommy walks into the house without Lizzie "I'll be back later Esme" YN follows Tommy into the house looking for him. Suddenly she's pulled into another room by Tommy locking the door behind him. His lips are immediately on YN's smudging her lipstick.
"Who the hell is it Thomas?" Lizzie whisper yells at Tommy while YN is performing. After Tommy and YN's rendezvous Tommy went back to his wife, not knowing their was lipstick on his shirt
"I'm not doing this now Lizzie"
"Not doing... it's my birthday and you've been fucking someone?"
"Lizzie" Tommy sighs rubbing the temples of his head "just enjoy your birthday and we will talk about this tomorrow" Lizzie crosses her arms in a huff and turns to look at YN who's dancing. She notices YN glances in their direction, she looks at Tommy and notices him staring at her. That's when it clicks
"It's her. You fucking bastard Thomas Shelby" Lizzie storms off but Tommy doesn't go after her. He stays to watch YN.
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wintfleur · 4 months ago
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⚘ ˖˙𓈒ִֶָ☾.˙ ᰋ ── WHERE’D ALL THE TIME GO?
aka ophelia’s timeline
━━━ ❛ it’s starting to fly
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ᯓᡣ𐭩 EARLY LIFE & SCHOOLING !
april 11th, 2002: ophelia is born on a bright and sunny Thursday afternoon in Vernon, British Columbia.
may 9th, 2006: ophelia (4) takes her first ballet class
2008 - 2013: early childhood / elementary school
august 2010: ophelia (8) joined the soccer team and met her now best friend Amber Jameson; they have been inseparable since.
october 2013: ophelia (11) got an ankle injury during a soccer game and sadly had to quit the sport. Her love for ballet was stronger and she didn't want to risk not being able to dance again.
She had to stop dancing for the rest of the year so her ankle could heal, it was miserable for her.
2013 - 2016: start of her teenage years / middle school
march 2015: ophelia (12) joined the theater club and helped make the costumes for their play, in turn finding her love for fashion designing.
april 2016: ophelia (13) went to get her photos taken for her ballet portfolio and was approached by a teen modeling agency.
summer 2016: ophelia (14) went to south korea for a ballet summer intensive program.
She was housed by a sweet family, where she met one of her bestest friends seunghan and his younger brother park sunghoon who is her age. Seunghan is a fellow ballet dancer and went to the training camp with her.
Ophelia became very close with the family, only becoming closer with them as the years go by, she's an honorary park! Seunghan’s parents think of her as their own child and his little sister thinks of her as her big sis!
2016 - 2020: teen years / high school / start of her modeling career
december 2016: Ophelia (14) was on the cover of pointe magazine.
june 2017: ophelia (15) won first place in the Helsinki international ballet competition, in juniors for women.
august 2017: ophelia finished her first wedding dress that she made for her cousin's wedding.
may 2018: ophelia (16) won first place in the american ballet competition
july 2018: ophelia won first place in the varna international ballet competition
was invited to be on jimmy fallon after her win.
february 2019: ophelia (17) made her debut by walking the catwalk and attending the New York fashion week.
may 29th - june 2, 2019: ophelia walked and attended the miami fashion week
september 2019: ophelia walked and attended the paris fashion week
october 9th 2019: the creation of ophelia's youtube channel
Ophelia created her youtube channel so she could have another way to communicate and become closer with her fans.
She mainly posted vlogs of her days as a model and a ballet dancer, and her just traveling and doing random activities with her friends.
december 2019: ophelia walked and attended the NYFW: December pre-fall and fall-winter, fashion week.
february 2020: ophelia walked and attended london's fashion week, fall-winter.
Ophelia meets Ryan James, a fellow model, they exchanged numbers and Ophelia then got in a relationship with him in may.
June 2020: Ophelia (18) graduated highschool with honors.
july 2020: ophelia moved into her apartment/loft in manhattan, New York. With her best friend seunghan.
Throughout 2016 - 2020 ophelia modeled for many different high end brands, her favorites being Dior, Dolce and Gabbana, and GQ.
She was given the nickname “the next model it girl” for her sudden dominating presence in the modeling world.
ᯓᡣ𐭩 JUILLIARD & JACK !
september 2020: ophelia (18) starts her first year at juilliard
february 23 - march 1st 2020: ophelia walked and attended milan’s fashion week
march 2 - 9th 2020: ophelia walked and attend paris fashion week
Throughout the rest of the year ophelia really focused on her ballet career, putting modeling to the side, and focusing on her studies.
march 2021: ophelia (19) won the Youth America Grand Prix (YAGP)
may 2021: ophelia won first place in the american ballet competition
july 2021: ophelia won first place in the varna international ballet competition
for the rest of the year, Ophelia modeled for many different brands, but she really just focused on her ballet career and getting more known in the fashion design world.
2022 : breakup era
april 11th 2022: Ophelia (20) broke up with Ryan after finding out he has been cheating on her for many months.
april, may, june, july 2022: ophelia took a break from anything that evolved with modeling during those months, trying to heal from her breakup. Throwing herself into training, practices, and her studies.
august 2022: ophelia modeled for celine as her comeback into modeling
was invited back on the jimmy fallon show where they talked about what she's been up to, the celine shoot, and her comeback to modeling
october 6-9th 2022: ophelia walked and attended los angeles fashion week
november 2022: ophelia was interviewed by WIRED where she talked about ballet and modeling and her love for fashion design
2023: meeting jack
march 3rd 2023: curtis gets traded to the new jersey devils
march 28th 2023: ophelia and Jack meet for the first time at a club and share a kiss.
april 18th 2023: ophelia joins curtis out at a bar to meet some of his teammates, and she sees jack for the first time since the club.
they keep what happened at the bar to themselves (besides Jack freaking out about it to Luke), and pretend to just meet each other for the first time.
april 25th 2023: ophelia and jack run into each other at a bar, things escalate and jack ends up bringing her back to his place where they hook up for the first time.
the next morning they talk about what happened, and how they need to keep what happened between them a secret. They want to keep seeing each other, so they decide to become friends with benefits.
july 2023: ophelia models for calvin klein
july 17th 2023: jack confesses his feelings to ophelia after 3 months of being friends with benefits.
Ophelia didn't take it well and left his apartment in haste (girly was afraid of her feelings and commitment) and they didn't talk for two weeks.
july 31st 2023: ophelia goes to jack’s apartment where she apologizes and asks him on a date.
august 1st 2023: jack and ophelia have there first date and officially start dating (secretly)
november 6th 2023: curtis holds a dinner at his home for his teammates, curtis finds jack and ophelia kissing in the garage and did not take it well.
curtis gives her an ultimatum ‘him or me’ in a moment of anger and that leads to ophelia not talking to either of them for a week, locking herself in her apartment.
november 14th 2023: curtis comes to see her early in the day to apologize for his reaction and what he said, later in the day jack comes to see her and they have a sweet moment, happy that everything is now okay between them.
january 12th 2024: ophelia and jack said i love you for the first time
january 24-28 2024: ophelia walked and attended miami fashion week
february 9-14th 2024: ophelia attended new york fashion week fall-winter
february 16th 2024: ophelia and jack's relationship is exposed to the media when videos and pictures of them at the njd’s family skate go viral.
february 26th - march 5th 2024: ophelia walked and attended paris fashion week
may 2024: ophelia did the 73 questions with vogue
june 2024: ophelia did the “10 things I can't live without’ with GQ
may 6th 2024: ophelia (22) attended the met gala for the first time
ophelia did a get ready with me / last looks with vogue for the met
june 2024: ophelia did diary of a model with vogue
july 2024: ophelia and jack do a couple quiz with GQ
may 2025: ophelia (23) graduates at juilliard
ᯓᡣ𐭩 WHAT'S TO COME !
aka phia and jacks future
. . . to be added
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ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓇oro's note. I didn’t add every detail about her modeling and dance career in the ‘julliard and jack’ section, it would have taken forever for me to do that 😭 I will update the timeline as time goes! I hope this helps give you a better understanding about the AU >.<
au masterlist
˖ ་ feel free to send in any thoughts/requests you have !! And please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist mwah
˖ ་ taglist : @yoontwin @toasttt11 @winterbarnesblog @iceflwers @cixrosie @bunbunbl0gs
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catherinetheprincessofwales · 8 months ago
Text
Kate is not your drama queen Her self-possession drives people wild - Jenny McCartney UnHerd.
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Just over a decade ago, the late novelist Hilary Mantel delivered a lecture to an event at the London Review of Books and triggered national outrage. In the course of a talk on “Royal Bodies”, which ranged widely across royal women from Anne Boleyn to Marie Antoinette and Princess Diana, she had made what many perceived as disparaging remarks about Kate Middleton, then the Duchess of Cambridge. The Duchess, she said, appeared to have been “designed by a committee and built by craftsmen, with a perfect plastic smile and the spindles of her limbs hand-turned and gloss-varnished”. Indeed, Mantel said, Kate “seems to have been selected for her role of princess because she was irreproachable: as painfully thin as anyone could wish, without quirks, without oddities, without the risk of the emergence of character”.
At this, the newspapers were soon in uproar. The prime minister David Cameron called the comments “completely misguided and completely wrong” and the Labour leader Ed Miliband agreed they were “pretty offensive”. Mantel doggedly refused to back down, saying that her remarks had been twisted out of context, and that she was in fact writing with sympathy about the perceptions that are forcefully projected on to royal women, the cage in which they are held to be goggled at. That was true, but also perhaps not the entire truth, for there was still a perceptible trace of authorial vinegar in the portrait: which of us would be happy to learn, even in sympathy, that we were held at low risk for “the emergence of character”?
Royals are public as well as private figures, of course, and authors are free to hang intellectual ideas on them to try out, as designers do with clothes. Yet while much of the lecture was sharply perceptive, I didn’t agree with the portrait of Kate. That word “selected” had rendered her passive, when in fact her behaviour thus far had suggested both an active intelligence and an unusual degree of self-discipline. The context of her entry into “The Firm” was different from that of other royal brides. Unlike Diana, who had barely emerged from the fractured chrysalis of her troubled aristocratic family when she first met the much older, more worldly Prince Charles, Kate was a contemporary of Prince William’s at the University of St Andrews. Her family background, which appeared warm and supportive, was comfortably middle-class. She seemed generally cheerful and unruffled, even when the press was at the barbed peak of its “Waity Katie” hysteria, trying to goad Prince William into a proposal or abandonment.
After the wedding, in her approach to royal duties, she clearly took the role she had inherited with marriage seriously. The royal whose attitude her own most resembled was the late Queen Elizabeth II, who had long understood the essential nature of the job: to turn up to public events looking the part, intuit precisely what was needed — gravitas, fun, consolation or reassurance — and deliver it while keeping one’s personal emotions on the back burner. This is what a monarchy demands, and the ability to act as an impeccable interpreter of the public mood, year after year, is a particular and testing art. A few have a natural aptitude for it, but most of us do not, and would quickly find its scrutiny and restrictions intolerable.
Grace under consistent pressure is an admirable quality. Were a ballet dancer to execute a string of flawless performances, or a pilot to conduct numerous flights without incident, it would not be deemed evidence of an absence of character: quite the opposite. Yet in Kate — especially for those who increasingly conduct their lives online — serene self-possession seems to drive a proportion of onlookers insane: what lurks behind it, what dark secret is waiting to destroy it, how best might it be disrupted? The uncomfortable truth is that what many people deeply crave in a young and beautiful royal wife and mother is not competence, but crack-up
The increasingly bizarre treatment of Kate, or the idea of Kate, is connected to the most dominant phenomenon of our age: a cultural prioritising of drama over duty. The supply of drama has spilled beyond the confines of the novel, theatre, cinema or television to become a commodity on which our public figures are judged. When Mantel spoke of Kate’s apparent absence of emerging “character” she was assessing her primarily through the hungry eyes of a novelist. In books, central female characters often generate dramatic tension by chafing against their circumstances, by the intensifying dazzle of their discontents, something that Kate refused to transmit. In contrast, Mantel described Diana as a “carrier of myth”: Diana, publicly trapped in the disappointments of her marriage, certainly carried more plot twists than any author had a right to expect. Unfortunately for her, the final one was her shockingly premature death.
Set against this artistic conception of “character” — distinctive qualities or flaws that, one way or another, deliver drama — is the societal judgement “of good character”, meaning someone who is broadly reliable and respected in relation to their behaviour to others. In recent years the electorate, in line with Neil Postman’s warning in his 1985 book, Amusing Ourselves To Death, has proved increasingly ready to select the former over the latter, even to the marked detriment of our civic health. The former prime minister Boris Johnson instinctively understood it as his job not to deliver the detail of workable policy, but to satisfy the public’s appetite for story: “People live by narrative,” he once told UnHerd’sTom McTague. In the US, Donald Trump — that relentless generator of low mockery and high fury — is now running for a second term as president, after his first one ended in his supporters storming the Capitol building.
Men are often permitted to survive the frantic generation of drama: it is everyone around them who suffers. Yet women — in art and life — have a greater tendency to be destroyed by it. There is no strutting female equivalent of the male “hellraiser”, but rather a woman who, soaked in the crocodile tears of the tabloids, is tragically “causing concern” among friends. Art and its audiences have always relished the restless struggle and disintegration of female characters who are, or become, unmoored from the harbour of marriage and children. Flaubert’s Emma Bovary — her imagination inflamed by reading novels — is bored with her marriage and disenchanted with motherhood; she seeks solace in affairs and excessive spending, the consequences of which hasten her suicide. Zola’s Nana, a courtesan who ruthlessly captivates Parisian society, has her beguiling face eaten away by smallpox. Janis Joplin and Amy Winehouse, immolated on their blazing talent, are hung posthumously high in the musical hall of fame, next to Sylvia Plath in the poetry section and Marilyn Monroe in cinema.
In Jean Rhys’s Good Morning, Midnight,a middle-aged English woman called Sasha Jansen, mourning an unhappy marriage and a dead child, finds herself in Paris, a vulnerable drifter seeking solace from stray men. Rhys herself, who died at 88 after a precarious but surprisingly long life, had much in common with her literary creations. As the writer and editor Diana Athill crisply put it: “Jean was absolutely incapable of living, life was just hopelessly beyond her. When she was young, she floated from man to man in a hopeless way… by the time she was old, she floated from kind woman to kind woman.”
In Rhys’s latter years — hard-drinking, irascible and impoverished — Athill and a small group of female friends formed what they called “The Jean Rhys Committee” which met regularly to ask “what should we do next?”. Rhys’s claim to such loyalty, I suppose, was the weight of her literary talent, her ability to exert an odd kind of fascination, and the fortunate soft-heartedness of her friends. The dramatic collided with the dutiful, and was kept alive by it.
From what I can see, the Princess of Wales exists at the opposite end of the feminine spectrum from Jean Rhys. Pinned firmly in place by her royal obligations, her wealth, her marriage and three children, she belongs to the realm of the respectable and dutiful rather than the erratic and dramatic. She is not a “character” in the artistic sense, nor does she desire to be, but both a survivor and upholder of an institution: hers is the territory of the prompt thank-you note, the kept promise, the commitment to public service, the uncomplicated pleasure in children, the stoic endurance of difficult times in the hope that better ones will come along soon. The public senses an emotional solidity in her, and it is partly why she is held in broad esteem. In this age of insistent self-definition, duty to others might be an unfashionable concept, but it is nonetheless one that keeps families and institutions from chaos and collapse.
With the advent of the internet, however, anyone with a keyboard can become a form of author, with the freedom to insert a toxic form of drama into real-life situations. What was extraordinary, during the Princess of Wales’s recent health problems, is how speedily and carelessly such speculations overrode the bounds of decency. It was already known that she had undergone major abdominal surgery, and was taking time to recover. And yet — egged on by the participation of silly celebrities and malicious US comedians — conspiracy theories about cosmetic surgery and affairs and nervous breakdowns spread like knotweed. According to social-media researchers, these were also vigorously introduced and amplified by fake accounts set up on Twitter and TikTok, some associated with Russia-linked disinformation eager to spread the termites of mistrust and doubt in Western institutions. Only the Princess of Wales’s revelation of cancer, which carries a testing drama all its own, served to shut up the majority of them.
Unlike these callous gossips, Mantel recognised her own complicity in dehumanising royalty. Upon encountering the late Queen, the novelist said: “I passed my eyes over her as a cannibal views his dinner, my gaze sharp enough to pick the meat off her bones.” The Queen looked back at her, she said, briefly hurt. Mantel warned of the way in which “cheerful curiosity can easily become cruelty” precisely as it has done in recent weeks. Her talk concluded with a prescient instruction for those who comprehend monarchy mainly as a source of entertainment: “I’m asking us to back off and not be brutes.”
In the midst of treatment and recovery, the most hitherto stable of royal women could be forgiven a keen sense of injustice: her job description, it seems, must now include the ability to weather the online public’s fits of brutish mania for drama. With its contempt for duty, and its savage appetite for story, it is hungry to chew up far more than just the Princess of Wales.
72 notes · View notes
wolfstarlibrarian · 7 months ago
Note
hello! you probably won't answer this but do you have any recs for a ballet!wolfstar au? thank you :)
Oh, but I will! There's already a dancer list in the library because this is one of my favorite AUs. I'll link that list below along with ballet specific recs.
Wolfstar Dancers Wolfstar + Ballet
Dulcet by bluepeony Remus has devoted his life to ballet.
Pas de Deux in the Upper West Side by wilteddaisy (taotu) Remus Lupin is a principal dancer with the New York City Ballet. A lead role comes up for grabs in the company's newest ballet and Remus is determined to have it. But only when Sirius Black — oozing talent, charisma and all the elements of a world-class distraction — joins the company does it hang in the balance.
Fire On Fire by WolfstarGarden Sirius’ frown deepened. After a moment he murmured in a low voice, “I don’t understand you at all, Remus Lupin. Oh, but I would so very like to.” A flush crawled boiling heat up Remus’ neck as he fumbled for an answer. “Goodness Sirius … I’m no one special.” Sirius’ gaze didn’t waver. He said simply, “I think you could be very special to me.”
the elasticity of time by @mordax101 Where Remus gets into a bit too many fights, running from these fights brings him to his favourite record store and the ballet studio behind it, and a subsequent friendship that carries him through the years. (set in 70s muggle London)
Icarus by EkaFricai After six years performing as a professional ballet dancer, Remus Lupin returns to the Hogwarts Dance Academy to teach. (modern wolfstar AU)
Share this list with your own recs and headcanons!
69 notes · View notes
thepastisalreadywritten · 8 months ago
Text
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Just over a decade ago, the late novelist Hilary Mantel (6 July 1952 – 22 September 2022) delivered a lecture to an event at the London Review of Books and triggered national outrage.
In the course of a talk on “Royal Bodies,” which ranged widely across royal women from Anne Boleyn to Marie Antoinette and Princess Diana, she had made what many perceived as disparaging remarks about Kate Middleton, then the Duchess of Cambridge.
The Duchess, she said, appeared to have been “designed by a committee and built by craftsmen, with a perfect plastic smile and the spindles of her limbs hand-turned and gloss-varnished."
Indeed, Mantel said, Kate “seems to have been selected for her role of princess because she was irreproachable: as painfully thin as anyone could wish, without quirks, without oddities, without the risk of the emergence of character.”
At this, the newspapers were soon in uproar.
The prime minister David Cameron called the comments “completely misguided and completely wrong” and the Labour leader Ed Miliband agreed they were “pretty offensive.”
Mantel doggedly refused to back down, saying that her remarks had been twisted out of context, and that she was in fact writing with sympathy about the perceptions that are forcefully projected on to royal women, the cage in which they are held to be goggled at.
That was true but also perhaps not the entire truth, for there was still a perceptible trace of authorial vinegar in the portrait:
Which of us would be happy to learn, even in sympathy, that we were held at low risk for “the emergence of character”?
Royals are public as well as private figures, of course, and authors are free to hang intellectual ideas on them to try out, as designers do with clothes.
Yet while much of the lecture was sharply perceptive, I didn’t agree with the portrait of Kate.
That word “selected” had rendered her passive, when in fact her behaviour thus far had suggested both an active intelligence and an unusual degree of self-discipline.
The context of her entry into “The Firm” was different from that of other royal brides.
Unlike Diana, who had barely emerged from the fractured chrysalis of her troubled aristocratic family when she first met the much older, more worldly Prince Charles, Kate was a contemporary of Prince William’s at the University of St Andrews.
Her family background, which appeared warm and supportive, was comfortably middle-class.
She seemed generally cheerful and unruffled, even when the press was at the barbed peak of its “Waity Katie” hysteria, trying to goad Prince William into a proposal or abandonment.
After the wedding, in her approach to royal duties, she clearly took the role she had inherited with marriage seriously.
The royal whose attitude her own most resembled was the late Queen Elizabeth II, who had long understood the essential nature of the job:
To turn up to public events looking the part, intuit precisely what was needed — gravitas, fun, consolation or reassurance — and deliver it while keeping one’s personal emotions on the back burner.
This is what a monarchy demands, and the ability to act as an impeccable interpreter of the public mood, year after year, is a particular and testing art.
A few have a natural aptitude for it, but most of us do not, and would quickly find its scrutiny and restrictions intolerable.
Grace under consistent pressure is an admirable quality.
Were a ballet dancer to execute a string of flawless performances, or a pilot to conduct numerous flights without incident, it would not be deemed evidence of an absence of character: quite the opposite.
Yet in Kate — especially for those who increasingly conduct their lives online — serene self-possession seems to drive a proportion of onlookers insane: what lurks behind it, what dark secret is waiting to destroy it, how best might it be disrupted?
The uncomfortable truth is that what many people deeply crave in a young and beautiful royal wife and mother is not competence, but crack-up.
Tumblr media
The increasingly bizarre treatment of Kate, or the idea of Kate, is connected to the most dominant phenomenon of our age: a cultural prioritising of drama over duty.
The supply of drama has spilled beyond the confines of the novel, theatre, cinema, or television to become a commodity on which our public figures are judged.
When Mantel spoke of Kate’s apparent absence of emerging “character,” she was assessing her primarily through the hungry eyes of a novelist.
In books, central female characters often generate dramatic tension by chafing against their circumstances, by the intensifying dazzle of their discontents, something that Kate refused to transmit.
In contrast, Mantel described Diana as a “carrier of myth”: Diana, publicly trapped in the disappointments of her marriage, certainly carried more plot twists than any author had a right to expect.
Unfortunately for her, the final one was her shockingly premature death.
Set against this artistic conception of “character” — distinctive qualities or flaws that, one way or another, deliver drama — is the societal judgement “of good character,” meaning someone who is broadly reliable and respected in relation to their behaviour to others.
Tumblr media
In recent years, the electorate, in line with Neil Postman’s warning in his 1985 book, Amusing Ourselves To Death, has proved increasingly ready to select the former over the latter, even to the marked detriment of our civic health.
The former prime minister Boris Johnson instinctively understood it as his job not to deliver the detail of workable policy but to satisfy the public’s appetite for story:
“People live by narrative,” he once told UnHerd’s Tom McTague.
In the US, Donald Trump — that relentless generator of low mockery and high fury — is now running for a second term as president, after his first one ended in his supporters storming the Capitol building.
Men are often permitted to survive the frantic generation of drama: it is everyone around them who suffers.
Yet women — in art and life — have a greater tendency to be destroyed by it.
There is no strutting female equivalent of the male “hellraiser,” but rather a woman who, soaked in the crocodile tears of the tabloids, is tragically “causing concern” among friends.
Art and its audiences have always relished the restless struggle and disintegration of female characters who are, or become, unmoored from the harbour of marriage and children.
Flaubert’s Emma Bovary — her imagination inflamed by reading novels — is bored with her marriage and disenchanted with motherhood.
She seeks solace in affairs and excessive spending, the consequences of which hasten her suicide.
Zola’s Nana, a courtesan who ruthlessly captivates Parisian society, has her beguiling face eaten away by smallpox.
Janis Joplin and Amy Winehouse, immolated on their blazing talent, are hung posthumously high in the musical hall of fame, next to Sylvia Plath in the poetry section and Marilyn Monroe in cinema.
In Jean Rhys’s Good Morning, Midnight, a middle-aged English woman called Sasha Jansen, mourning an unhappy marriage and a dead child, finds herself in Paris, a vulnerable drifter seeking solace from stray men.
Rhys herself, who died at 88 after a precarious but surprisingly long life, had much in common with her literary creations.
As the writer and editor Diana Athill crisply put it:
“Jean was absolutely incapable of living, life was just hopelessly beyond her.
When she was young, she floated from man to man in a hopeless way… by the time she was old, she floated from kind woman to kind woman.”
In Rhys’s latter years — hard-drinking, irascible and impoverished — Athill and a small group of female friends formed what they called “The Jean Rhys Committee,” which met regularly to ask “what should we do next?”
Rhys’s claim to such loyalty, I suppose, was the weight of her literary talent, her ability to exert an odd kind of fascination, and the fortunate soft-heartedness of her friends.
The dramatic collided with the dutiful and was kept alive by it.
Tumblr media
From what I can see, the Princess of Wales exists at the opposite end of the feminine spectrum from Jean Rhys.
Pinned firmly in place by her royal obligations, her wealth, her marriage, and three children, she belongs to the realm of the respectable and dutiful rather than the erratic and dramatic.
She is not a “character” in the artistic sense, nor does she desire to be, but both a survivor and upholder of an institution:
Hers is the territory of the prompt thank-you note, the kept promise, the commitment to public service, the uncomplicated pleasure in children, the stoic endurance of difficult times in the hope that better ones will come along soon.
The public senses an emotional solidity in her, and it is partly why she is held in broad esteem.
In this age of insistent self-definition, duty to others might be an unfashionable concept, but it is nonetheless one that keeps families and institutions from chaos and collapse.
With the advent of the internet, however, anyone with a keyboard can become a form of author, with the freedom to insert a toxic form of drama into real-life situations.
What was extraordinary, during the Princess of Wales’s recent health problems, is how speedily and carelessly such speculations overrode the bounds of decency.
It was already known that she had undergone major abdominal surgery and was taking time to recover.
And yet — egged on by the participation of silly celebrities and malicious US comedians — conspiracy theories about cosmetic surgery and affairs and nervous breakdowns spread like knotweed.
According to social-media researchers, these were also vigorously introduced and amplified by fake accounts set up on Twitter and TikTok, some associated with Russia-linked disinformation eager to spread the termites of mistrust and doubt in Western institutions.
Only the Princess of Wales’s revelation of cancer, which carries a testing drama all its own, served to shut up the majority of them.
Unlike these callous gossips, Mantel recognised her own complicity in dehumanising royalty.
Upon encountering the late Queen, the novelist said: “I passed my eyes over her as a cannibal views his dinner, my gaze sharp enough to pick the meat off her bones.”
The Queen looked back at her, she said, briefly hurt. Mantel warned of the way in which “cheerful curiosity can easily become cruelty” precisely as it has done in recent weeks.
Her talk concluded with a prescient instruction for those who comprehend monarchy mainly as a source of entertainment: “I’m asking us to back off and not be brutes.”
In the midst of treatment and recovery, the most hitherto stable of royal women could be forgiven a keen sense of injustice:
Her job description, it seems, must now include the ability to weather the online public’s fits of brutish mania for drama.
With its contempt for duty, and its savage appetite for story, it is hungry to chew up far more than just the Princess of Wales.
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NOTE: Additional photos have been included in this article.
95 notes · View notes
queereads-bracket · 2 days ago
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Queer Adult SFF Books Bracket: Round 1
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Book summaries below:
Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
According to the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter - the world's only totally reliable guide to the future - the world will end on a Saturday. Next Saturday, in fact. Just after tea...
People have been predicting the end of the world almost from its very beginning, so it’s only natural to be sceptical when a new date is set for Judgement Day. This time though, the armies of Good and Evil really do appear to be massing. The four Bikers of the Apocalypse are hitting the road. But both the angels and demons – well, one fast-living demon and a somewhat fussy angel – would quite like the Rapture not to happen.
And someone seems to have misplaced the Antichrist…
Fantasy, humor, supernatural, adult
The Mars House by Natasha Pulley
In the wake of environmental catastrophe, January, once a principal in London’s Royal Ballet, has become a refugee on Tharsis, the terraformed colony on Mars. In Tharsis, January’s life is dictated by his status as an Earthstronger—a person whose body is not adjusted to Mars’s lower gravity and so poses a danger to those born on, or naturalized to, Mars. January’s job choices, housing, and even transportation options are dictated by this second-class status, and now a xenophobic politician named Aubrey Gale is running on a platform that would make it all worse: Gale wants all Earthstrongers to be surgically naturalized, a process that can be anything from disabling to deadly.
When Gale chooses January for an on-the-spot press junket interview that goes horribly awry, January’s life is thrown into chaos, but Gale’s political fortunes are damaged, too. Gale proposes a solution to both their problems: a five-year made-for-the-press marriage that would secure January’s financial future without naturalization and ensure Gale’s political future. But when January accepts the offer, he discovers that Gale is not at all like they appear in the press. And worse, soon, January finds himself entangled in political and personal events well beyond his imagining. Gale has an enemy, someone willing to destroy all of Tharsis to make them pay—and January may be the only person standing in the way.
Science fiction, romance, fake marriage, adult
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european-dance-college · 1 month ago
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Discover the Art of Movement with Professional Dance Courses in London
Dance is not just a form of art; it's a way to express emotions, stay fit, and develop discipline. Whether you're a complete beginner or have some experience, Professional Dance Courses London can help you refine your skills, expand your techniques, and bring out the best in your performance. At European Dance College, we offer a range of comprehensive dance courses designed to suit your needs and goals.
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europeandance · 1 year ago
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Ballet Classes London
Looking for Ballet Dance classes in London, we offer one of the best ballet dance classes in London, Visit us now.
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svt-luna · 4 months ago
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* ˚ ✦ LUNA
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﹟STAGE NAME ‣ Luna ❨ 루나 ❩
﹟BIRTH NAME ‣ Bae Ji-Yeon ❨ 배지연 ❩
﹟ENGLISH NAME ‣ Luna Bae
﹟POSITION ‣ Lead Vocalist, Visual
﹟BIRTHPLACE ‣ Kensington, London, United Kingdom
﹟BIRTHDATE ‣ January 30, 1997
﹟ZODIAC SIGN ‣ Aquarius
﹟CHINESE ZODIAC SIGN ‣ Ox
﹟HEIGHT ‣ 170cm ❨ 5’7" ❩
﹟WEIGHT ‣ 43kg ❨ 94 lbs ❩
﹟BLOOD TYPE ‣ O+
﹟MBTI ‣ INTJ
﹟NATIONALITY ‣ Korean-English
﹟REPRESENTATIVE EMOJI ‣ 🌙
﹟SUB-GROUP ‣ Vocal Team
﹟INSTAGRAM ‣ @/lunabae
﹟SOLO FANDOM NAME ‣ Moonlights
﹟MIC COLOR ‣ Periwinkle
﹟LUNA FACTS ‣
She was born in Kensington, London, United Kingdom
She is an only child
She comes from a wealthy family
Training Period: 3 years and 4 months
She moved back to Seoul, South Korea in 2011 at the age of 14 years old and started training as an idol when she was just 15 years old back in 2012
She was a trainee at YG Entertainment for a year and was constantly offered to train at PLEDIS Entertainment which she accepted hesitantly a year later
She started training in ballet at the age of 3 years old
Her mother is a retired ballerina while her father is an anthropologist
Education: Southbank Internation School Kensington, School of Performing Arts Seoul
She can speak in English, Korean, and Japanese
Her nicknames are ‘Lulu’, ‘Nana’, ‘Ace’, and ‘Elsa’ (because she can be cold according to the members), ‘It Girl’, ‘Siren’, and ‘Bunny’
She was dubbed the ‘Ace’ by fellow trainees because she was an all-rounder who could adapt and do anything asked of her, and also because she would always get high scores during monthly evaluations
She ranked 1st on TC Chandler’s Most Beautiful Faces of 2020
She is very smart and was always top of her classes
She has a talent for manipulating situations and the rest of the members during their Going Seventeen games making her one of the scariest players
When asked what made her want to be an idol, Luna said, “I was performing on a big stage as a ballerina and there was just a voice in my head that made me want to start singing at the same time.”
Out of all the members, she's the cleanest and has an obsession with cleaning her surroundings
She has mentioned a lot of times that she dislikes doing aegyo but strangely enough, can do it naturally and unknowingly
All the members have confessed that they found her intimidating upon meeting her for the first time, idols and people who meet her for the first time have the same impression (because she has a resting bitch face)
Charming Point: Visuals, siren eyes, charisma, presence/aura, dimple, flirty personality, smirk smile, rbf
Specialty: Facial expressions, stage presence, versatility, flexibility, vocal prowess, trendsetter
Likes: Performing, dressing up, shopping, eating, baking, listening to music, sleeping, working out, reading, legos, classical music, ballet, bunnies
Dislikes: People who walk slowly, when the door gets left open, unorganized plans and surroundings, aegyo, spiders, darkness, tightly closed spaces
Motto: “I believed that I could and I did.”
Show more Luna facts. . .
Related: SEVENTEEN Discography | SEVENTEEN Members Profiles | SEVENTEEN Vocal Team Members | SEVENTEEN Hip Hop Team Members | SEVENTEEN Performance Team Members
╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST
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Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3
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random-brushstrokes · 8 months ago
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Thea Proctor (Australian, 1879-1966)
Alethea Mary Proctor's life as an artist encompassed more than half of the twentieth century. Born in Armidale in 1879 to parents who were soon to divorce, she weathered a disrupted childhood and a choppy education before beginning art study under Julian Ashton in Sydney when she was sixteen. At the Ashton school her fellow students included George Lambert, with whom she was to be closely associated in public and private over the next thirty years. In 1903, burning with a need to learn to draw, she travelled to London, where Lambert and his family were established. She became one of his favourite models, a regular in his household, and his pupil. Although she was desperately poor, her beauty and livery nature allowed her to meet many of the leading figures of the fin de siecle art world, and all her life she was to carry with her the modernist precepts and influences she absorbed from figures such as Clive Bell, spectacles such as the Ballets Russes and exhibitions such as the post-Impressionist show at the Grafton Galleries in 1910-11. Aside from a return to Australia in 1913-14, she was to remain in England throughout her twenties and thirties. Upon her return to Australia in 1921, which coincided with Lambert's, she immediately came to occupy a significant role in Sydney's volatile art world, and to disseminate her very strong ideas on modern art, interior decorating, fashion, costume, ballet and matters of taste in articles, lectures, formal classes, sketch clubs and at all conceivable social and artistic events. Strikingly beautiful, she never married, but supported herself into her eighties through art alone. She lived in a tiny rented flat in Double Bay, but until the early 1960s she was also able to maintain a studio in George Street, where she had lived before World War 2. In the inner city and the Eastern suburbs she became a familiar figure as immaculately dressed in brilliant purples, fuchsia and petunia shades she made her stately progress, parasol in gloved hand, seeking out the beautiful. (source)
The scenes of female intimacy in many of Proctor’s works have always been open to lesbian and queer readings. Women gaze intently at each other holding unfurled fans or proffering roses, symbols associated with female sexuality. Proctor moved in queer circles in Sydney in the 1920s and 1930s and was a valuable ally. JS MacDonald, the Art Gallery’s extremely conservative director from 1928 to 1936, wrote in 1934 of ‘the emergence of numbers of what the Americans call “pansies” … They rule the art world today, and, unless real painters speak up for themselves and right art, the women and their near-men abettors will ruin both.’ (source)
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bibliophilicwitch · 4 months ago
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I read the Mars House by Natasha Pulley. It's a fiction book that has footnotes, which is my favorite kind of fiction book, and it was so incredibly well written. I fell in love with that book. So much.
Mars House by Natasha Pulley
In the wake of an environmental catastrophe, January, once a principal in London's Royal Ballet, has become a refugee in Tharsis, the terraformed colony on Mars. There, January's life is dictated by his status as an Earthstronger-a person whose body is not adjusted to lower gravity and so poses a danger to those born on, or naturalized to, Mars. January's job choices, housing, and even transportation are dictated by this second-class status, and now a xenophobic politician named Aubrey Gale is running on a platform that would make it all worse: Gale wants all Earthstrongers to naturalize, a process that is always disabling and sometimes deadly. When Gale chooses January for an on-the-spot press junket interview that goes horribly awry, January's life is thrown into chaos, but Gale's political fortunes are damaged, too. Gale proposes a solution to both their problems: a five year made-for-the-press marriage that would secure January's future without naturalization and ensure Gale's political success. But when January accepts the offer, he discovers that Gale is not at all like they appear in the press. They're kind, compassionate, and much more difficult to hate than January would prefer. As their romantic relationship develops, the political situation worsens, and January discovers Gale has an enemy, someone willing to destroy all of Tharsis to make them pay-and January may be the only person standing in the way.
I've honestly been digging for more sci-fi to read this year and this sounds EXACTLY up my alley - and footnotes can be SO good in fiction!
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