Without, like, overexplaining, I’m going to stop posting on this account. I will keep the posts up so you guys can still read them and go back to them if you want. Thank you guys so much for the support you’ve given me; this was so fun!!
It happens fast enough that most people don’t notice at first.
The room is loud, staff moving, cameras adjusting, voices overlapping, but K does. He always does. It’s the way your smile tightens, just a fraction. The way your shoulders draw in, like you’re bracing without meaning to. You laugh when you don’t need to.
He sees the man standing too close. Hears the tone, casual, joking, but just a little off. Not enough to cause a scene. Enough to make you uncomfortable.
K doesn’t rush in. He watches for a second longer, jaw tightening, eyes sharpening as he takes in the details. Then he moves, calm, deliberate, like he’s simply supposed to be there.
He steps in at your side, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours. Not aggressive. Just present.
“Hey,” he says easily, his hand coming to rest lightly at the small of your back. A grounding touch. “We’re needed.”
His voice is steady, polite. Unarguable.
The man hesitates. K meets his gaze, expression unreadable, smile faint but firm. The kind that doesn’t invite conversation.
You don’t even have to say anything. K shifts his body slightly, placing himself between you and the space that felt too close. It’s subtle, but unmistakable.
As he guides you away, his hand stays where it is, warm and solid. Protective without being possessive.
When you’re far enough that the noise dulls and the air feels easier to breathe, he finally looks down at you.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
Not rushed. Not panicked. Just concerned.
If you nod, he nods too, like he trusts your answer. If you hesitate, his grip tightens just a little.
“You don’t ever have to stay in a situation like that,” he says, low enough that only you can hear. “I’ve got you.”
And then, only then, does the tension leave his shoulders. But his awareness never does.
He stays close for the rest of the day. Not hovering. Just there. Exactly where you need him.
FUMA :
Fuma notices the shift before he understands it.
You’re laughing, because that’s what you do when things get awkward, but it doesn’t sound like you. It’s lighter than usual, a little rushed, like you’re trying to smooth something over instead of enjoying the moment. Fuma’s eyes flick up from across the room, sharp despite the chaos around him.
He sees the distance being ignored. The way the conversation isn’t moving on. The way you glance toward the side, searching for an exit.
That’s enough.
He crosses the room without hesitation, steps falling into place like muscle memory. When he reaches you, he doesn’t interrupt loudly or draw attention. He simply slots himself in beside you, shoulder solid against yours.
“Hey,” he says, warm but firm. “There you are. We’ve been looking for you.”
His arm comes up naturally, resting around your shoulders, not claiming, not showy. Protective. Familiar.
The man pauses. Fuma meets his gaze calmly, the friendliness in his expression not quite reaching his eyes.
“We’re heading out,” Fuma adds, already turning slightly as if the decision has been made. Because it has.
He doesn’t wait for permission.
As he guides you away, he leans down just enough to speak under his breath. “You okay?”
If you hesitate, even a little, his jaw tightens, not in anger, but resolve.
“Next time,” he murmurs, voice steady, “just grab me. I don’t care if it interrupts anything.”
Once you’re clear of the situation, he stops and looks at you properly, hands still warm on your arms, grounding you.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says immediately, like it matters that you hear it. “Not even a little.”
There’s no dramatics. No raised voice. Just certainty.
And for the rest of the day, he keeps you within arm’s reach, not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he does. Because if something feels off again, he wants to be close enough to act before you ever have to smile through it.
NICHOLAS :
Nicholas clocks it immediately, not because you look scared, but because you look too polite.
You’re nodding along, smiling in that careful way you use when you don’t want to make things worse. Your hands are folded tight in front of you. Your laughter is short, clipped, not reaching your eyes.
Nicholas straightens and begins walking towards you.
By the time he reaches you, the conversation is already losing its momentum, because Nicholas has a way of taking up space without trying. He stops close enough that the air shifts, gaze cool and assessing as it flicks from you to the person standing too close.
“Hey,” he says, casual. “We need her.”
No question mark.
His hand comes up, fingers brushing your wrist, not pulling, not gripping. Just enough to give you an out. Just enough to remind everyone watching that you’re not alone.
When the other person hesitates, Nicholas’ expression changes. Not angry. Just flat.
“She’s busy,” he adds, tone light but final.
He turns his body slightly, placing himself between you and them without making a scene. If anyone’s watching, it looks effortless. Natural. Like this is where he’s always meant to stand.
Once you’re a few steps away, he glances down at you. “You good?”
If you shrug it off, he doesn’t let it go completely. His thumb taps once against your wrist, a quiet check-in.
“You don’t owe anyone politeness,” he says under his breath. “Especially not at your own expense.”
Later, when things have settled, he finds you again, leans in just close enough that only you can hear.
“Next time,” he murmurs, voice low, almost teasing but edged with sincerity, “I’ll step in faster. But you can always grab me first.”
It’s not dramatic. It’s not loud.
It’s just Nicholas, clear, protective, and entirely unapologetic about choosing you.
EJ :
It’s subtle, the way your shoulders tense, the way your smile goes a little stiff around the edges. You’re still being polite, still nodding along, but you’re not relaxed anymore. And Euijoo, who’s spent years reading rooms and people, feels it immediately.
He doesn’t interrupt right away.
Instead, he moves closer.
Not rushed. Not dramatic. Just a calm step forward until he’s beside you, presence warm and grounding. His hand finds the small of your back, light and familiar, a silent question: Do you want out?
When you don’t move, but don’t lean in either, he makes the decision for you.
“Hey,” he says, voice even, respectful. “We were just about to head out.”
It’s not rude. It’s not aggressive. But there’s no opening left for debate.
He turns slightly toward the other person, meeting their eyes with a steady, polite smile that doesn’t waver. “Thanks for understanding.”
Again, no question mark.
Only then does he guide you away, his hand never tightening, just present. Protective without being possessive. Supportive without speaking over you.
Once you’re a little farther off, he slows. His hand drops, giving you space, giving you control back.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
If you nod, he doesn’t push. If you hesitate, he stays right there, matching your pace, your breathing.
“I didn’t want to assume,” he says gently, eyes soft. “But I didn’t like the way you looked just now.”
There’s no lecture. No “you should’ve.” Just concern.
Later, when it’s just the two of you, he brings it up again, not to relive it, but to make sure.
“Next time,” he says softly, “you can squeeze my hand. Or just look at me. I’ll get it.”
Then, almost shyly, he adds, “You don’t have to handle things alone. Not when I’m here.”
It’s not loud protection.
It’s Euijoo’s kind, the kind that stays close, listens first, and makes sure you feel safe without ever taking your voice away.
YUMA :
Yuma notices because you stop laughing.
It’s such a small thing, just half a second where your smile falters, where your eyes flick away instead of meeting his. But Yuma has always been good at catching those details. He’s expressive by nature, tuned in to shifts in energy, and the moment he feels the air change, his attention locks onto you.
He steps closer without thinking, shoulder brushing yours.
“Hey,” he says lightly at first, glancing between you and the other person. “Everything okay?”
The tone is casual, but his body language isn’t. He angles himself just enough to stand between you and them, not fully blocking you, just closing the space. It’s instinctive, protective in a way that feels warm rather than suffocating.
When the other person keeps talking, keeps pushing, Yuma’s smile tightens.
He laughs once, short and sharp. “Okay, hold on.” His voice stays friendly, but there’s steel under it now. “She looks uncomfortable.”
The word lands clearly.
He turns to you, eyebrows knitting with concern. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” he adds, softer, like he’s reminding you rather than instructing.
Then he looks back at them, polite but firm. “We’re gonna head out.”
No apology. No over-explaining.
He reaches for your hand, not pulling, just offering, and when you take it, his grip is steady, reassuring. As he guides you away, he glances down at you, voice low and warm. “You okay? I’ve got you.”
Later, when the noise has faded and you’re somewhere quieter, he can’t help the way his concern spills out a little more.
“You don’t have to smile through stuff like that,” he says, running a hand through his hair, frustration flashing briefly across his face, not at you, but at the situation. “I hate that you felt like you had to.”
Then he softens, stepping closer. “Next time, just tell me. Or don’t say anything at all. I’ll notice.”
There’s a gentle confidence in the way he says it, not a promise born of ego, but of care.
“You’re not alone,” he murmurs. “Not on my watch.”
JO :
Jo notices long before anyone else does.
Not because you say anything, you don’t, but because the way you stand changes. Your shoulders draw in just slightly, your smile fixed a fraction too long, like you’re holding it in place instead of letting it come naturally. Jo has always been observant in that silent way, the kind that misses nothing because he’s never trying to fill the space with words.
His gaze lifts, calm but sharp.
He steps closer, not abruptly. Just enough that his presence is felt. His hand settles at the small of your back, warm and grounding, a quiet anchor that says you don’t have to do this alone.
“Hey,” he says, voice low, even. “You alright?”
The question isn’t for the other person. It’s only for you.
When they keep talking, when they don’t take the hint, Jo doesn’t get louder. He simply turns his body slightly, placing himself between you and them without fanfare, without hostility. It’s subtle, but unmistakable.
“We’re going to step out,” he says. Not sorry. Not if that’s okay. Just a statement of fact.
There’s no aggression in his tone, but there’s something unmovable there. A calm finality that makes it clear this isn’t a discussion.
As he guides you away, his hand never leaves your back. His steps are unhurried, measured, like he has all the time in the world, like no one gets to rush you.
Once you’re somewhere quieter, he finally looks down at you fully, concern softening his features.
“You don’t have to explain,” he says gently, thumb brushing small circles against your side. “But if something like that happens again… I want you to lean on me.”
You murmur something, a soft apology, maybe, and he shakes his head immediately.
“Don’t,” he says, firmer now. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
His gaze is steady, reassuring. “I’ve got you,” he adds, simple and sincere. “Always.”
HARUA :
Harua notices the change immediately. Not because you say anything, you haven’t, but because his instincts kick in the moment he senses tension radiating off you. Your eyes dart just a little too fast, your hands fidgeting, your laugh a shade too sharp. The slight unease is enough for him to know something is off.
He moves closer, voice low and soft but carrying a subtle weight. “Hey… are you okay?”
You give a small, nervous smile, trying to brush it off. Harua tilts his head slightly, scrutinizing you. His gaze is firm, steady, and somehow entirely grounding.
When the person making you uncomfortable doesn’t get the hint, Harua doesn’t hesitate. He steps forward, close enough that his presence is undeniable, his shoulder brushing yours almost imperceptibly. “I think we should step somewhere else,” he says, calm but authoritative. No argument, no pleading, just a quiet command that leaves no room for resistance.
He links an arm with yours, a subtle but protective gesture, guiding you away from the situation. His grip is warm, reassuring, and unshakable, and he keeps his voice low, murmuring as you walk, “You don’t have to explain anything… I’ve got you.”
Once you’re in a safe, quieter space, he releases a slow, relieved breath. His hand brushes against yours, almost unconsciously, as if grounding himself as much as you. “It’s okay,” he says softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You don’t have to deal with that alone. Ever.”
Even when you try to protest, to downplay it, he shakes his head, a small, gentle smile touching his lips. “No. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just… don’t want you feeling cornered.”
Harua’s presence isn’t loud, but it’s all-encompassing. He doesn’t just remove you from the uncomfortable moment, he makes it clear, without words, that you’re safe, cared for, and never on your own.
TAKI :
Taki notices before you even realize it yourself. There’s a subtle tension in the air, a slight edge in the way someone’s words linger too long, or the way your laugh falters just enough. His sharp eyes catch it instantly, and his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
“Hey,” he murmurs, stepping closer with that casual confidence he wears so easily. “You good?”
You force a small smile, trying to wave it off, but Taki’s not buying it. Not for a second. He tilts his head, grin teasing but eyes serious, and says, “Nah… you’re hiding something. I can see it.”
The person making you uncomfortable doesn’t notice his quiet tension, doesn’t realize how easily it could snap. But Taki does, and he isn’t the type to sit back. In one smooth movement, he casually positions himself between you and the other person, an effortless shield. “Uh… think we should take a little walk?” His tone is light, joking, but there’s steel under the surface, unspoken warning enough to make anyone hesitate.
He loops his arm with yours, tugging gently but firmly, guiding you away from the situation. “Don’t worry about a thing,” he murmurs, voice warm, low, playful, just for you. “I’ve got you. No one’s messing with you while I’m around.”
Even as you try to laugh it off, Taki’s smirk softens, his eyes locking onto yours. “Seriously, you don’t have to put up with that. Not now, not ever.” His grip on your hand tightens slightly, not to control, but to reassure.
By the time you’re in a quieter spot, he nudges your shoulder with his own, teasing a little to break the tension. “See? Nothing to worry about.” Then, softer, just for you: “I’ve always got your back. Always.”
MAKI :
Maki notices it almost immediately, though he’s not one to make a scene. His eyes flick toward you, catching the smallest hint of unease in the way you shift or force a laugh. He tilts his head, calm but alert, assessing the situation quietly.
“Hey,” he says softly, stepping just a little closer, his tone casual but firm. “Everything okay?”
You hesitate, trying to brush it off, but Maki doesn’t let it go. He leans against the edge of the table, arms crossed lightly, studying the other person with an unspoken warning in his gaze. He doesn’t need to raise his voice; his presence alone makes it clear he’s paying attention.
“You don’t have to pretend,” he says, softer now, reaching out to lightly touch your arm. “If someone’s making you uncomfortable, we handle it. No one’s allowed to make you feel small.”
The person notices the subtle shift, the calm authority in Maki’s posture, and instinctively recoils, even if they don’t fully understand why.
He steps a little closer, just enough to close the gap, his eyes on you. “Come on, let’s step away for a bit,” he says gently, guiding you with a firm yet careful hand at your elbow. “Don’t let anyone make you feel anything less than yourself.”
Once you’re in a quieter spot, he exhales softly, glancing at you with that mix of care and quiet pride. “See?” he murmurs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing to worry about. You’re safe with me.”
Maki’s protection isn’t loud or dramatic; it’s steady, precise, and quietly unwavering, exactly the kind of reassurance you need.
note : for some reason I hate this one, like hyung line all kinda suck. I like the maknaes though. idk I redid this so many times and I'm still not happy with it
K :
You’re on the couch ordering food, swinging your feet like you’re doing absolutely nothing suspicious. K’s sitting beside you scrolling on his phone, relaxed, totally unprepared.
Then you say it. Loud enough for him to hear.
“Oh– uh– I’m actually in a relationship… unfortunately.”
K’s head snaps up so fast you hear his neck crack.
“…unfortunately???”
He looks at you like you just committed a federal crime.
You hold up one finger, silently telling him “not now,” and keep going.
“Haha, no really, I am taken!”
K’s jaw drops.
He looks around the room like he’s searching for hidden cameras. Then he points at himself dramatically:
“HELLO?? taken by me!???”
You ignore him completely.
“Hm? Oh, a date? I would, but–”
K grips your arm.
“DATE???”
He scoots closer until his ear is practically glued to your phone.
You keep going, fighting a grin. “Oh my… you’re sweet, but–”
K snatches the phone out of your hand like a raccoon stealing food.
“Hello!?!??” he says loudly into it. “This is their unfortunate relationship. What do you want?!?”
You burst out laughing so hard you can barely breathe.
K stares at the silent phone screen.
“…Nobody’s there?”
“No,” you wheeze. “I was joking.”
He looks at the phone. Looks at you. Looks at the phone again.
Then he shoves your shoulder lightly.
“why would you traumatize me like that!?”
You laugh harder.
K throws himself onto the couch dramatically, hand over his chest.
“I aged ten years,” he groans. “TEN.”
Then he peeks one eye open.
“…unfortunately??”
FUMA :
You’re leaning against the counter ordering takeout, trying very, very hard to keep a straight face.
Fuma’s cooking behind you, casually stirring something in a pan, humming like a dad who thinks everything is normal.
Perfect target.
You answer the phone sweetly.
“Oh– really? Wow. I’m flattered! But, um… unfortunately I’m in a relationship.”
Fuma freezes mid-stir.
Like spoon in the air, posture frozen, eyes widening slowly.
You hear the sizzle of the pan behind him because he literally stopped moving.
“…unfortunately?” he repeats under his breath, incredulous.
You cover the mic. “Shh.”
Fuma’s whole soul leaves his body.
He sets the spoon down very, very gently.
Then he turns around with the most betrayed face imaginable, eyebrows drawn, lips slightly parted, whole expression screaming “what do you MEAN unfortunately???”
You keep going.
“No, yeah, I really can’t go out with you-”
Fuma snaps.
He speed-walks over, whisper-yelling like a parent in a grocery store.
“Go out with who?? who is ‘you’?? why are you smiling like that??”
“Fuma, I’m on the phone–”
Fuma throws his hands up.
“I just–” He rubs his temples, pacing. “I’m literally right here?! hello?!”
Then you laugh. Full-on laughing.
He stops pacing.
“Wait.”
He blinks.
“Was that… was that a prank?”
You nod, tears forming from laughing so hard.
A long silence.
Then Fuma dramatically collapses onto the couch like he’s been shot.
“Do you understand,” he groans into a pillow, “that my SOUL left my BODY? I thought you were leaving me for some guy.”
You flop beside him, and he peeks out of the pillow, cheeks pink.
“…Still can’t believe you said unfortunately.”
He pokes your cheek.
“You’re evil. Cute, but evil.”
NICHOLAS :
Your phone buzzes while Nicholas is halfway through changing the channel, sprawled comfortably on the couch like he owns the place. You glance at the screen and answer without thinking much of it.
“Hello?”
Nicholas barely pays attention until your tone shifts, lighter, polite in that customer-service way you only use with strangers.
“Oh, yeah. No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He flicks his eyes toward you.
You nod along, humming softly. “Mm… that’s sweet, but I’m actually taken.”
Nicholas pauses the TV.
You turn slightly away, covering the bottom of the phone with your hand like you’re being private. “Yeah. Unfortunately, I’m in a relationship.”
Unfortunately.
Nicholas stares at you like you’ve just insulted his entire bloodline.
He sits up, one eyebrow lifting slowly, arms crossing over his chest. “Unfortunately,” he echoes, incredulous. “Wow.”
You keep going, biting your lip like you’re holding back a smile. “He’s really great, though. Very… attentive.”
Nicholas lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re enjoying this.”
“shh, I'm on call.”
He leans closer, voice dropping, fake-sweet. “Oh? Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds like someone’s flirting with my girlfriend.”
You glance at him, whispering dramatically into the phone, “I’m sorry, he’s right here.”
Nicholas snaps, “you got to be kidding me..”
That’s when you break, pulling the phone away and laughing. “Relax, it’s a prank. There’s no one. It’s literally a scam number.”
He freezes.
Then he exhales hard, dragging a hand down his face before letting out a laugh of his own. “You are mean.”
You grin. “You love me.”
He pulls you in by the waist, pressing his forehead to yours. “Yeah. Way too much.”
Then, softer: “Next time you say ‘unfortunately,’ I’m charging emotional damages.”
EJ :
You’re sitting at the kitchen counter, phone tucked between your ear and shoulder while Euijoo rinses dishes beside you. The apartment is calm, familiar, until your voice shifts into that polite, slightly amused tone.
“Oh– no, I can’t,” you say gently. “I’m in a relationship.”
Euijoo pauses.
The water keeps running, but he looks up slowly, brows knitting together just a little.
You hum softly, nodding along. “Yeah… unfortunately.”
Unfortunately.
He blinks.
The faucet clicks off. Euijoo dries his hands carefully, like he needs the extra second to process what he just heard. “…Unfortunately?” he repeats, quiet.
You turn slightly away, lowering your voice. “He’s great. Really kind. Just very present.”
Euijoo steps closer, still silent, eyes flicking between your face and the phone like he’s trying to read the situation without interrupting. He doesn’t say anything, just stands there, hands clasped in front of him, posture a little unsure.
Then, softly: “Is… is that someone you know?”
You cover the phone, whispering, “I think they’re asking me out.”
His shoulders tense. He swallows. “Oh.”
It’s such a small sound, but it makes your chest ache.
You finally crack, pulling the phone away with a laugh. “I’m kidding. It’s a prank. There’s no one.”
He freezes.
Then his eyes widen just a bit, relief washing over his face so clearly it’s almost embarrassing. “…You scared me.”
You smile. “Really?”
He nods, rubbing the back of his neck, shy smile tugging at his lips. “I was thinking… maybe I should say something. But I didn’t know how to go about it.”
You reach for his sleeve. “You don’t have to worry.”
He exhales, then smiles properly this time, soft and warm.
YUMA :
You’re sprawled on the couch, phone to your ear, feet propped on Yuma’s thigh while he scrolls on his own phone beside you. It’s lazy, comfortable, until your tone shifts.
“Oh– no, I can’t,” you say, polite but light. “I’m in a relationship.”
Yuma’s thumb pauses mid-scroll.
He doesn’t look at you yet. Just listens.
You nod like you’re responding to someone. “Yeah… unfortunately.”
That makes him glance over.
Unfortunately? He raises an eyebrow, lips twitching like he’s already suspicious. You keep going anyway.
“He’s great,” you add. “Really caring. Just… very committed.”
Yuma snorts quietly. He leans back, folding his arms. “Wow,” he mutters under his breath. “Poor guy.”
You kick his leg lightly but keep the call going. “I know, right? Timing’s terrible.”
Now he’s fully watching you, head tilted, eyes bright with mischief. He waits until you pause, then leans in close and stage-whispers directly into your ear:
“Tell them you’re taken by a very handsome, very funny man.”
You cover the phone, trying not to laugh. “Yuma.”
He grins, loud and unapologetic. “What? I’m helping.”
You finally break, laughing as you pull the phone away. “Okay, okay. I’m not actually on a call.”
He blinks. “…Oh.”
Then he laughs too, throwing his head back. “I knew it! You can’t fool me that easily.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You didn’t look so confident two seconds ago.”
He scoots closer, nudging your shoulder with his own. “Hey, I just wanted to see how far you’d go.” A beat. Softer now: “But for the record? If someone actually tried that, I’d absolutely interrupt.”
You smile at him.
He flashes that warm, easy grin. “Unfortunately for them.”
JO :
You’re sitting at the table, phone to your ear, idly spinning a pen between your fingers. Jo’s across from you, leaning over a notebook, scribbling something down. The room is calm, domestic.
Then your tone changes.
“Oh– no, I can’t,” you say, polite, almost apologetic. “I’m in a relationship.”
Jo’s pen stills.
He doesn’t look up yet. Just listens.
You nod slightly, like you’re following along. “Yeah… unfortunately.”
That makes him glance up. Not alarmed, just curious. His expression stays neutral, but his eyes sharpen, studying you.
You continue, a little smile tugging at your lips. “He’s really kind. Quiet, actually. Very dependable.”
Jo exhales softly through his nose, a hint of a smile flickering before he hides it. He watches you over the top of his notebook now, elbow resting on the table.
You pause, like you’re listening again.
Jo tilts his head and, very calmly, says, “Tell them I make good coffee.”
You almost lose it.
You cover the phone, laughing under your breath. “Jo.”
He shrugs, lips curving just a little. “It’s true.”
You try to keep the bit going. “Sorry,” you say into the phone, still smiling. “He’s… right here.”
Jo sets the pen down and leans back in his chair, finally relaxing. “Also,” he adds, tone polite like he’s part of the call, “I’m very attached.”
That does it. You pull the phone away, laughing openly now. “Okay, okay. I’m not actually talking to anyone.”
He hums, unsurprised. “I figured.”
“Oh?” you tease. “When?”
He stands, walking over to you, hands resting lightly on the back of your chair. “When you said ‘unfortunately.’” A beat. Softer, teasing. “You’re not that mean.”
You grin up at him.
He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “But nice try.”
HARUA :
You’re sitting on the couch, phone in your hand, scrolling idly. Harua’s nearby, folding laundry with quiet focus, the room calm and domestic in that comfortable way you both love.
You lift the phone to your ear like it’s ringing.
“Mhm… yeah,” you say seriously. “Oh– wow.”
Harua glances over, instantly clocking the tone. His mouth twitches like he already knows you’re up to something.
You nod, leaning back into the cushions.
“…That’s really flattering, but unfortunately, I’m in a relationship.”
Harua pauses, a sock halfway folded.
Unfortunately?
He looks at you now, fully attentive, brows lifting slightly in quiet amusement.
You keep going, clearly enjoying yourself. “Yeah. Very committed. Kind of clingy, actually.”
“Hey,” he says softly, not offended, just entertained.
You tilt your head, listening to the imaginary voice. “No, no. He’s sweet. A little shy. Gets embarrassed easily.”
Harua exhales a small laugh through his nose, shaking his head. He sets the laundry down and walks over, stopping right in front of you.
You lower your voice, like you’re confiding something important. “And honestly? I like him too much to mess that up.”
Harua reaches out, gently taking the phone from your hand and lowering it.
“Conversation over,” he says quietly, eyes warm. Then, softer, teasing, “You’re very bad at pretending not to like me.”
You grin up at him. “Was it that obvious?”
He smiles back, small and fond. “You smiled the whole time.”
He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before handing the phone back. “Next time you turn someone down, fake or not,” he adds gently, “don’t sound so disappointed about being with me.”
You laugh, tugging him down beside you. “I would never.”
He rests his shoulder against yours, voice barely above a murmur. “Good. Because I’m not unfortunate at all.”
TAKI :
You’re sprawled out on the floor, legs kicked up on the couch, phone in hand while Taki’s nearby doing absolutely nothing productive. He’s scrolling, humming, bouncing his leg, full restless energy.
You suddenly lift your phone to your ear.
“Hello?” you say, overly serious. “Oh… really?”
Taki’s head snaps toward you immediately. “Huh?”
You wave him off like one second. “Yeah, no, that’s super nice of you, but–” you pause, nodding thoughtfully. “–unfortunately, I’m in a relationship.”
Taki freezes.
“…Unfortunately?” he repeats.
You turn away slightly, like you’re trying to be polite. “I know, I know. Bad timing. You seem great though.”
He scoots closer, squinting at you. “Who are you talking to.”
You put a finger up. “Shh.”
“Shh??” His voice cracks a little, not upset, just dramatic. “Why are you shushing me.”
You sigh into the imaginary phone. “Listen, my boyfriend’s literally right here, and he’s kind of intense.”
Taki gasps. “HEY.”
You nod solemnly. “Yeah. Very intense. Golden retriever energy.”
“That’s not even an insult!” He’s laughing now, half offended, half proud. He reaches for your arm like he’s trying to pull you away from the call.
You lean back, grinning. “But I like him. A lot. So… yeah. Taken.”
Taki finally catches on. His lips press together like he’s trying not to laugh, then he fully loses it.
“Oh my god,” he groans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “You’re so annoying.”
You laugh, lowering the phone. “You love me.”
He lifts his head, pointing at you dramatically. “I was about to start competing. I was ready.”
MAKI :
You’re half-lying across the couch, phone pressed to your ear, legs draped over Maki’s lap while he absentmindedly plays with your fingers. He’s relaxed, comfortable, fully convinced nothing interesting is happening.
“Yeah, hi,” you say into the phone. “Mhm… yeah.”
Maki hums, squeezing your hand once.
Then you pause, nodding seriously.
“…Oh. Um– sorry. Unfortunately, I’m in a relationship.”
Maki doesn’t look up at first.
Then he does.
Slowly.
He arches a brow, glancing down at your intertwined hands, then back up at your face like excuse me?
You continue, perfectly calm. “Yeah. Very committed. Devastating, I know.”
Maki lets out a soft laugh through his nose. “Wow,” he mutters. “Poor guy.”
You bite your lip, listening again. “No, he’s great actually. Really cute. Bit annoying sometimes.”
Maki squeezes your hand tighter. “Hey.”
You glance at him. He’s smiling, but it’s that fondly offended smile.
“Excuse you,” he says. “I’m right here.”
You turn slightly away from him, covering the phone like you’re being discreet. “Sorry, my boyfriend’s being dramatic.”
“Oh, I’m dramatic now?” he scoffs, leaning closer. “Tell him your boyfriend is also extremely handsome and sitting right next to you.”
You nod into the phone. “He says he’s extremely handsome.”
Maki grins, pleased.
There’s a beat. Then he finally glances at your screen.
“you’re just looking at your home screen…”
You immediately break, laughing.
He groans, dropping his head back against the couch. “You’re evil.”
“You loved it.”
“I did not–” He pauses, then smirks. “Okay. Maybe a little.”
He tugs you closer by the waist, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Next time,” he says lightly, “tell them you’re taken by someone very cool.”
&team ot9 — GENRE : imagines fluff headcanon — PAIRING : gn!reader — WARNING : K’s is kinda like melancholy but still comfort! — REQUESTED : yes! ☆ — &t masterlist
K :
The apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt heavier than silence. K sat slouched on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, hands entwined loosely. You could see the way his shoulders carried weight, a quiet tension that didn’t quite belong to exhaustion or work, it was something else. Something more subtle, almost invisible if you didn’t know him well enough.
You sat beside him, your presence a gentle nudge against that invisible wall. He didn’t move closer right away; he rarely did. But you knew him, knew the way he leaned, the way his eyes lingered, and the slight, almost imperceptible sigh that escaped when you nudged his shoulder with yours.
“K…” you whispered, soft, careful, reaching for his hand. Your fingers brushed against his, tentative at first, testing.
He looked at you, eyes dark and unguarded, and then slowly, as if he’d been holding himself back for longer than he realized, he let his hand settle over yours. It was light, unsure, almost fragile, but the small pressure he applied sent warmth spiraling up your arm.
You leaned closer, letting your shoulder press against his. His head tilted toward yours, and for the first time in days, maybe weeks, his guard slipped. He rested his cheek lightly against your hair, fingers tightening slightly around yours, as though he’d been waiting for this touch without even realizing it.
“Been a long day?” you asked softly, your hand brushing the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair.
“Long… but better now,” he admitted, voice rougher than usual. He didn’t say it with words, not all of it, the way he shifted closer, the quiet hum of relief that vibrated through his chest, said more than any line could.
You rested your forehead against his, letting the moment stretch, letting him just be. No expectations, no demands, just the comfort of presence, the unspoken need for connection.
And finally, K let himself exhale. Long, deep, trembling slightly. His other hand came up to cup your face, thumbs brushing lightly over your cheeks, slow and deliberate. “Don’t leave,” he whispered, and you could feel the vulnerability in it, raw and human, the unspoken confession of someone who hadn’t realized how much he craved this closeness until now.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, voice soft, wrapping your arms around him. And he finally leaned into you fully, letting the tension drain from his body as he rested against your shoulder, grounding himself in the warmth you offered.
It wasn’t grand or dramatic. It was quiet, intimate, the kind of touch that healed without words, and for K, it was everything.
FUMA :
The apartment was quiet, just the hum of the air conditioner and the faint ticking of the clock. Fuma was sitting cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through his phone, but his eyes kept flicking to you.
You were curled up next to him, legs tucked under you, reading. Every so often, he’d inch a little closer, until his shoulder brushed yours. A small smile tugged at his lips.
“Can I…?” he murmured, as if asking permission to simply lean against you.
You nodded, heart fluttering, and he settled in, letting his head rest lightly on your shoulder. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining almost automatically.
“You’re really warm,” he said softly, voice low and sheepish, as if he was embarrassed to admit how much he needed this.
You laughed quietly, nudging him. “You’ve been working hard. It’s okay to be a little clingy.”
His cheeks pinked just slightly. “Maybe… I’ve been a little… touch-starved,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Being close like this… it feels nice.”
You leaned into him, tightening your hold. “Then stay close,” you whispered back.
Fuma’s smile widened, small but bright, and he squeezed your hand gently. “I plan to,” he said. And then, without another word, he rested his head more fully on your shoulder, content just to be near you, safe in your warmth.
NICHOLAS :
The room smelled faintly of your perfume, warm and familiar, and Nicholas found himself drawn to it without thinking. He lingered near you on the couch, pretending to read, pretending to scroll through his phone, but his attention never left you. Every small movement you made, every quiet breath, seemed to pull him closer.
He shifted, just enough to let his shoulder brush against yours, and stayed there, letting the contact linger. “I… don’t want to be too far,” he murmured, voice quiet, almost vulnerable.
You turned slightly, giving him a small smile, and that seemed to embolden him. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned his head against your shoulder, the heat of his presence settling against you. His hand edged toward yours, fingers brushing over yours before they intertwined, holding on like he might disappear otherwise.
“I’ve… I’ve been craving this,” he whispered, eyes closing briefly as if to memorize the moment. “Just… being near you, like this. You don’t even know how much I need it.”
You laughed softly, leaning a little into him, wrapping an arm around him. Nicholas let out a contented sigh, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and finally let himself relax. Every tense line in his body softened, every worry eased, just because he was here, with you, close, and finally allowed himself to want nothing more than to stay this way.
EJ :
You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when suddenly a shadow fell over you. Before you could look up, Euijoo had wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind, resting his chin lightly on the top of your head.
“Uh… what–” you started, turning, but he didn’t give you a chance to finish. His cheek pressed against yours, his arms tightening just a fraction, like he didn’t want to let go.
He hummed softly, eyes closed, and you blinked at him in confusion. “Euijoo?” you asked, unsure what was happening.
He didn’t answer, just shifted so he could rest his forehead against the side of your head, letting a small, content sigh escape. His hands smoothed over your arms, gentle, lingering, like he was memorizing the feeling of holding you.
You laughed softly, nudging him lightly. “Are you… stuck to me or something?”
He peeked up at you with a half-smile, eyes soft, and shook his head, as if the thought of letting go never even occurred to him. Then, without warning, he leaned in closer, just to press another fleeting kiss to your temple.
You froze for a moment, then smiled at the absurdity of it. Euijoo was just… clingy. And honestly, it was kind of perfect.
YUMA :
You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, trying to sort through a pile of papers for something important, when Yuma suddenly appeared beside you, crouching low like he’d just remembered you existed. Before you could react, he leaned over and rested his head lightly on your shoulder, murmuring something inaudible as he nuzzled against you.
“Yuma?” you said, glancing at him. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just let his hands hover lightly over yours, like he wanted to be close without demanding attention.
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “What are you doing?”
His head tilted against you, eyes half-lidded, and a small, almost sheepish smile formed. “Just… here,” he whispered. “Don’t move.”
You couldn’t help but grin. “You’re acting like a cat.”
He let out a quiet laugh, the vibration against your shoulder warm and comforting. Then he shifted slightly, resting his cheek against yours, just a bit, as if the world could wait while he soaked in being near you. His hands found yours and laced gently with your fingers, holding on just long enough to make your heart twist in the softest way.
You exhaled, letting him stay, realizing that this quiet, clingy affection was one of the sweetest things about him. He didn’t need a reason, he just wanted to be close, and that was more than enough.
JO :
You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you suddenly felt a warmth settle over your shoulder. You looked up just in time to see Jo leaning against you from behind, arms wrapping loosely around your waist. His chin rested near your shoulder, and his eyes were closed, as if being this close was the only thing that made sense in the moment.
“Jo…?” you murmured, startled.
He didn’t respond, only shifted slightly to press a soft kiss to the side of your neck. You could feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing against you, grounding and intimate.
“Mm… you okay?” you whispered, leaning back just a little.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, voice low, barely above a sigh. “Just… wanted to be near you.”
It wasn’t a demand. He wasn’t asking for attention, he was offering closeness, sharing it silently, like it was something essential he needed but couldn’t put into words. His fingers traced light, absentminded patterns along your side, and you couldn’t help but smile, leaning into him slightly.
“Jo…” you said again, soft, and he hummed in acknowledgment, tightening his hold just a little, as if afraid to let go. The moment was simple, unspoken, and completely him, quiet, steady, and utterly heartwarming.
HARUA :
You were in the kitchen, quietly sipping a mug of tea, when you felt the faint pressure of someone leaning close behind you. Before you could turn, Harua’s hand was brushing against yours, fingers threading together as he pressed lightly against your back.
“Harua?” you asked softly, startled by the sudden warmth.
He didn’t let go, only tilted his head to rest it near your shoulder, voice a gentle murmur. “Just… didn’t want to be far from you.”
It wasn’t urgent, not desperate. It was soft, careful, like he was offering a piece of himself for you to hold, and it was almost impossible not to smile at the quiet intimacy. His other hand came up to cover yours fully, fingertips warm and reassuring, and he hummed softly against your ear.
You leaned back slightly, resting against him, and he exhaled in satisfaction, the kind of quiet, contented sound that made the whole kitchen feel calmer. “Feels better… just being here,” he murmured.
No words were needed beyond that. His closeness was enough, steady, warm, and utterly comforting. Even as he pressed a light kiss to the top of your head, it was clear: this was Harua, and this was exactly how he showed love.
TAKI :
You were on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you felt a sudden, gentle weight settle against your side. Glancing down, you realized Taki had flopped beside you, head resting near your shoulder, arm draped casually across your waist.
“Hmm?” you murmured, looking up at him.
“Nothing,” he said quietly, voice muffled against your collarbone. “Just… didn’t want to sit too far.”
His closeness was effortless, almost lazy, but the way he pressed lightly into you made your chest warm. He wasn’t demanding attention, he was just… there. Steady, grounding, a quiet presence that reminded you he wanted to be near you.
You laughed softly when he shifted again, nudging you lightly with his nose. “Taki, what are you doing?”
“Being near you,” he replied simply, eyes half-closed, smug in the most endearing way. “Feels better.”
You shook your head, smiling, letting him curl a little tighter against you. There were no grand gestures, no proclamations, just the simple truth of Taki, content to be by your side, and you found yourself leaning into him without a second thought.
MAKI :
You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, trying to read through your notes, when a sudden weight pressed against your back. You glanced over your shoulder to see Maki sprawled behind you, arms wrapping around your waist like he hadn’t felt your presence in days.
“Hey,” you said, startled, “what are you–?”
“I’m here,” he interrupted softly, nuzzling his cheek into your shoulder. “I missed you.”
His voice was low, almost vulnerable, and the way his hands lingered lightly on you made your chest tighten. He wasn’t demanding your attention, he was just… claiming a little piece of your world, insisting on closeness without needing to explain.
You laughed nervously, tilting your head back. “Maki… you’re crushing my notes.”
He only grinned, tightening his hold slightly, as if the squeeze itself spoke more than words ever could. “I don’t care about your notes. I care about you.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile was soft, tender. Leaning back against him, letting his warmth seep into you, you realized this was just Maki, playful, restless, endlessly touch-starved, but impossibly sweet. And somehow, that made it impossible to push him away.
I HADNT SEEN YOU IN MY DASHBOARD FOR MONTHS DUDE I THOUGHT YOU HAD DEACTIVATED NEVER SCARE ME LIKE THAT AGAIN
IM SO SORRY FOR THAT JUMPSCARE 😭💔 I promise if I ever give up on this account I'll let you guys know. I'm at least a somewhat respectful thoughtful neglectful absent father yk
dunno how you found me considering i have yet to post any of my writing, but i love your works 🥹!! iirc, i was reading up on your enhypen + &team content a while back, ueueue,,
i think this is the first time i've sent an ask where i'm not actually an anon HELP ????,
hope you have a good day YIP-YIP-YORRAY !!
I felt your immaculate aura illuminating in my followings and I carved a path towards you like Odysseus fought fate itself to return to Ithaca (i saw ur sunoo pfp & pretty page. I had to follow)
whenever ppl tell me they were an anon, it always feels like Spider-man taking off his mask and reveling himself as Peter Parker to me 😭
tysm for the sweet words & I'm excited for when you start to post :) I hope u have a great day as well <3
You laugh when Sooha laughs. You nod when she compliments him. You even smile when she leans just a little too close to him, her hand brushing his arm like she has every right to touch him.
Heeseung doesn’t think much of it at first. He’s friendly to everyone. He’s polite. He’s oblivious to half the social games people play around him.
But he notices you. He notices how your voice gets quieter, how your jokes get shorter, how you stop looking him in the eyes when she’s around.
He finally feels it hit him, sharp and wrong, when you ask, on the car ride home: “Do you think she’s prettier than me?”
Heeseung freezes. Not shocked by the question, shocked that you’d ever think you needed to ask.
He pulls the car over. Not roughly. Just slow enough that you can hear how careful he’s being with you, even before he speaks.
“Baby,” he says, turning to face you fully, “where is this coming from?”
You shrug, but your eyes don’t lift.
“She’s just.. confident. Smart. Pretty. And she talks to you so easily, and I–”
Your voice cracks softly. “I feel like I fade when she’s around.”
There it is. A small, vulnerable truth he would’ve never pulled from you without feeling the tremble in your silence.
Heeseung reaches across the seat, gently hooking a finger under your chin so you have to look at him.
His voice is soft, but the conviction in it shakes you.
“I don’t want confidence,” he says.
“I don’t want loud.”
“I don’t want someone who tries to get my attention.”
His thumb strokes your cheek once, slow and grounding.
“I want you. The quiet you. The shy you. The unsure you. Every version.”
Your breath hitches, but he keeps going, leaning closer so you can’t escape the warmth of his certainty.
“Sooha doesn’t make my heart do anything.”
“But you?” His smile is small, intimate.
“You walk into a room and I swear everything else just.. stops talking.”
You swallow hard. “But she likes you,” you whisper.
“She can like me,” he replies. “It doesn’t matter. I chose you.”
Then he says it again, firmer: “I. Chose. You.”
Heeseung pulls you into him, hand on the back of your head, holding you like he’s putting all your scattered pieces back exactly where they belong.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs into your hair.
“And I don’t see anyone the way I see you.”
You finally melt into him, the insecurity loosening its grip just enough for you to breathe.
Heeseung stays like that, still, warm, endlessly patient, until you believe him.
And he doesn’t let go until you do.
JAY :
Jay senses it immediately. The moment Sooha enters the room, bright and confident, gliding toward him with that too-familiar smile, Jay feels your energy change.
Not dramatically. Not even visibly, unless someone knows you as well as he does.
You go still, your gaze drops, your fingers knot together, you stand a little behind him like you’re trying to shrink yourself smaller than the space you take.
Jay hates it. Not you, never you, but the way her presence makes your light dim.
He doesn’t call you out on it in front of her; he’s too respectful, too composed. But when Sooha laughs too loudly and touches his shoulder while telling a story, Jay’s eyes flick toward you, sharp and quick, and that’s when he sees it:
The insecurity.
The silent hurt.
The belief, wrong, unfair, painful, that you don’t compare.
Jay’s smile fades.
Later, when you’re alone, he doesn’t waste a second.
He closes the door behind you, steps forward, and gently grips your wrist, not tight, not desperate, just enough so you look at him.
“What did she do?” he asks immediately.
You blink. “Nothing. I’m just–”
“Don’t lie to me,” he says softly.
Not harsh. Just Jay: honest, direct, eyes searching your face like he’s reading a language only he knows.
You turn away, exhaling, “She’s everything I’m not,” you admit. “Beautiful. Confident. Flirty. And I see how she looks at you, Jay. I see how everyone looks at the two of you together. And I just–”
Your voice trembles. “I feel.. less.”
The second you say that word, Jay reacts. His hand comes up to your jaw, turning your face to him with slow, deliberate tenderness.
“Don’t ever say that,” he murmurs. His voice is low, thick with emotion he rarely lets anyone hear. “Not about yourself. Not because of her.”
Your eyes well slightly, and Jay’s thumb brushes beneath your cheekbone.
“I chose you,” he says. “Before she tried anything. Before anyone had an opinion. Before I even understood why.”
He leans closer. “When I look at you, I feel calm. I feel understood. I feel like myself.”
His forehead touches yours, breath warm, grounding. “When she looks at me, I feel like I’m being observed.”
“When you look at me, I feel loved.”
Your breath catches.
Jay’s voice softens even more. “And if she did anything, anything at all, to make you doubt your worth?”
His jaw tightens a fraction. “I won’t forgive her for that.”
You shake your head. “It’s not her fault. It’s mine. I just–”
“No.” He cuts you off gently. “It’s because you care. And that’s not a weakness.”
He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest with a protective certainty that instantly steadies your breathing.
“You’re the one I go home to.”
“You’re the one I reach for.”
“You’re the one I want.”
Your fingers clutch the back of his shirt, holding on like you finally believe him.
Jay kisses the side of your head, slow, lingering, full of everything he never says in public.
“Next time she walks into the room,” he whispers, “stand beside me. Not behind me.”
“I want everyone to see who I belong to.”
And you do.
Because when Jay chooses you, he does it with his whole heart, his whole presence, and without apology.
JAKE :
Jake notices it before you say anything.
Vampires don’t just see insecurity, they feel it. It threads through the air like a temperature drop.
The second Sooha walks into the coven hall, laughing too loudly and wrapped in perfume that always smells like she’s trying too hard, Jake’s attention shifts. Not to her. Never to her.
To you.
Your scent changes, not fear, because you’ve never feared him, but something thinner, quieter, something that tightens at the edges. A lonely kind of doubt. It’s subtle to anyone else, but to Jake, it hits like a sudden chord.
He catches the way you step back when Sooha drifts closer to him, her bold touch brushing his arm, her compliments too sharp and too sweet. You retreat only an inch, but to a vampire tuned to the rhythm of your heartbeat, it feels like you’ve backed across the room.
You leave early, polite and composed, the way you always are when you’re hurting.
Jake lets it happen. For exactly two minutes.
Then he’s following you through the corridors, your shifting emotions guiding him until he finds you in a dim hallway, leaning against the wall like you’re trying to hold yourself together.
He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He simply steps in front of you, slow and sure, placing a hand beside your head and lowering his forehead to yours. Your breath stumbles in your chest.
“Why did your scent change when she touched me?” he asks, his voice low enough to vibrate against your lips.
“Jake–”
“Don’t lie,” he murmurs, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. “Your heartbeat jumped. You pulled away.”
You look down. “She’s… everything I’m not.”
His jaw tightens, the smallest crack in his control. Jake can take danger and loss and centuries of war, but your self-doubt? That’s the one thing that cuts too deep.
He cups your face gently, thumbs sweeping over your cheeks like he’s grounding himself with the feel of you.
“Look at me.”
When you do, the uncertainty in your eyes hits him harder than any blade. He shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe you don’t see it.
“Do you know what you smell like to me?” he says, his voice softer now. “Warmth. Peace. Home. I crave you more than blood.”
You draw in a shaky breath.
“Sooha smells like perfume and vanity,” Jake continues, almost dismissive. “Pretty, sure. But empty.”
“And me?” you whisper.
He leans in until his lips nearly brush yours, his voice barely above a breath.
“You smell like someone I’d die for.”
Your heart stutters, and he feels it immediately, pressing closer like he’s trying to absorb every flicker of emotion you’re giving off.
“She makes you insecure,” he says quietly, “but she doesn’t even register to me.”
You look away, but he gently turns your chin back toward him.
“You think she could tempt me?” he murmurs, almost astonished. “You’re the only one who matters.”
Then he kisses you, slow, deliberate, nothing but devotion. No hunger, no frenzy, just a vow pressed to your lips.
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours again.
“Next time she tries something,” Jake whispers, his breath warm against your mouth, “don’t step away.”
You swallow. “Why?”
His fangs brush your lip, barely there, a promise, not a threat.
“Because I want her to smell exactly who I belong to.”
SUNGHOON :
Sunghoon doesn’t react when Sooha steps close to him.
Not because he misses it, he misses nothing, but because he refuses to give her attention she clearly wants. She talks with that bright, sugary tone she reserves for the vampires she finds attractive, her fingers brushing his sleeve again and again.
He stands perfectly still.
But his awareness isn’t trained on her.
It’s on you.
Your heartbeat is usually the one thing that calms him in a crowded room, steady, soft, familiar. Today, though, it falters. A sharp, uneven rhythm, like the sound of someone swallowing something painful.
His eyes flick to you. In that brief moment, he sees the way your arms fold in, shoulders pulled slightly forward as if trying to fold yourself out of sight. And beneath that quiet posture is something he never wants to see on your face: Insecurity.
The realization lands heavy in his chest.
When the coven finally disperses, he searches for you, not out of obligation, but because his instincts won’t let him walk away. He finds you in the silent training hall, sitting on the floor with your knees pulled to your chest, staring at nothing.
You don’t hear him approach, but you flinch when he sits beside you.
He hides the way that reaction cuts him.
Sunghoon rests his elbows on his knees, eyes fixed straight ahead. His voice, when it comes, is quiet but unwavering. “Why did your heart hurt earlier?”
You try to deflect, but he doesn’t let you.
“I heard it,” he says, steady as stone. “Something upset you.”
There’s a long pause before you finally speak, your fingers worrying at the fabric of your sleeve.
“Sooha’s just.. confident. Pretty. And she talks to you like it’s the easiest thing in the world. She stands so close, laughs so easily, and I just–”
Your breath falters. “I don’t really compare.”
Sunghoon closes his eyes for a moment, jaw tightening like he’s restraining something sharp from slipping out, a flash of cold protectiveness he knows won’t help you.
When he looks at you again, his expression is darker, more serious. “Come here.”
You hesitate, but only briefly. His hand slides behind your knee, guiding you forward until you’re settled between his legs. His hands lift to your jaw, warm against your skin despite the coolness of his body.
“Don’t fold in on yourself like that,” he murmurs. “Not because of her.”
You look away, but he tilts your chin back with quiet insistence.
“She doesn’t matter to me,” he says, voice low, steady, utterly true. “She never has.”
Your lips part. “But–”
“Listen,” he interrupts gently.
His forehead comes to rest against yours, his breath brushing across your mouth. The small contact steadies him in a way he’d never admit aloud.
“When she looks at me, I feel nothing,” he says. “When you look at me…” His thumb traces your cheekbone in a slow, deliberate stroke. “I feel everything I’m not supposed to.”
Your breath catches.
“She doesn’t intimidate me,” he continues, softer now. “But the thought of you doubting yourself? That’s what unsettles me.”
You blink, startled. “Unsettles you?”
He nods, once, small, but honest.
“Because I never want you to forget what you are to me.”
His fingertips slide to the back of your neck, his touch instinctive, protective.
“You’re the only person I let this close. The only heartbeat I listen for. The only thing that still feels dangerous.”
Your throat tightens.
“And if she makes you feel like that again,” Sunghoon says quietly, “I’ll handle it.”
You whisper, “You don’t have to–”
“I know.” His eyes soften almost imperceptibly. “But I will.”
He draws you into his chest then, slow, certain, as if anchoring you to something solid, and you melt into his embrace, tension slipping out of your muscles one thread at a time.
His arms wrap around your waist, holding you close enough that your heartbeat brushes his senses again.
“You don’t have to compete with her,” he murmurs against your shoulder. “Or with anyone.”
Your breathing steady now. “Why?”
His lips brush your ear, barely there, but enough to make your pulse jump.
“Because, sweetheart…”
“beauty never moved me.”
“You did.”
SUNOO :
Sunoo notices fast.
Not just because of his heightened senses, though they help, but because he reads emotions the way others read body language. Feelings are loud to him, even when people try to hide them.
So when Sooha enters the gathering all polished and bright, Sunoo barely glances her way. He’s used to people gravitating toward him, complimenting his beauty or trying too hard to impress him. It usually only irritates him.
But what catches him off guard is the subtle shift in you.
You pull back, your shoulders curve inward, your eyes dim just slightly and you inch away from him without even realizing it.
The sight hits him like a quiet heartbreak.
While Sooha laughs at something he didn’t say, Sunoo’s attention is already on you, watching, not judging, simply concerned. And when you slip out early, like the room has lost its air, he excuses himself immediately.
He finds you in a dim corridor, perched on a windowsill, staring out at the moon as though you’re hoping it might reflect you back differently.
He approaches softly. “Pretty moon,” he says, voice gentle as he stops beside you. “But you look sad.”
You look down, embarrassed. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” he replies lightly, without teasing or pressure, just truth spoken in his usual, disarming way.
He sits next to you, folding himself gracefully, hands resting on his knees as he studies your face with patient warmth.
“Tell me,” he murmurs. “Before your heart actually cracks and I have to cause a scene.”
You let out a breath. “It’s stupid.”
“Then it probably matters,” he says with a small, knowing smile.
After a moment, you whisper, “It’s Sooha.”
Sunoo doesn’t react outwardly. No annoyance, no surprise. He simply waits, giving you the space he knows you need.
“She’s so confident,” you say. “And beautiful. And bold. Everyone notices her, especially when she talks to you. And I just.. felt–”
Your voice wavers. “Less.”
Sunoo’s expression softens, not dramatically, but with a quiet ache, like the word itself wounded him.
He lifts his hand, brushing his knuckles along your cheek.
“You think I want someone who makes you feel small?” he asks softly. “Someone who tries so hard to seem perfect she forgets to be real?”
Your eyes widen, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.
“When she looks at me, she sees a vampire,” Sunoo says. “Something to admire. Something to chase.”
His fingertips trail to your wrist, lingering where your pulse flutters beneath his touch. “When you look at me.. you see a person.”
Your breath stirs in your chest, uneven.
“That’s why she’ll never compare,” he adds.
He shifts closer, bringing his hand to your jaw, thumb brushing the soft line of your cheek.
“You don’t fade next to her,” he murmurs. “You shine in ways she’ll never understand.”
You swallow, overwhelmed by the warmth in his eyes.
“And if she made you doubt that,” Sunoo says, a quiet protectiveness threading through his tone, “I won’t let it happen again.”
“Sunoo, you don’t have to–”
“Yes,” he interrupts softly, leaning forward until his forehead meets yours, “I do. Because you’re mine. And I won’t let anyone, not even you, convince you you’re anything less than precious.”
His thumb strokes your cheek, slow, reassuring.
“You don’t see what I see,” he whispers. “But I’ll keep reminding you until you do.”
You exhale, tension easing from your body as he wraps his arms around you, drawing you gently into his chest. The insecurity loosens its hold, replaced by the quiet safety only Sunoo can give.
Moonlight spills over you both, soft and silver.
And Sunoo holds you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens his grip even for a moment.
JUNGWON :
Jungwon picks up on it, not because Sooha is subtle, she never is, but because the change in you is so abrupt it sinks straight into him.
Sooha approaches him in that graceful, practiced way she uses around powerful vampires. Her compliments sound airy, almost rehearsed. She stands closer than necessary, her fingers brushing his sleeve like she’s waiting for him to react.
It’s supposed to look flattering.
To Jungwon, it’s nothing but background noise.
Even with Sooha right in front of him, his attention keeps drifting past her to where you stand across the room. You’re turned slightly away, pretending to reorganize books he knows you already put in order. Your shoulders are tense, your breath shallow, and your heartbeat..
It’s the hurt in it that makes something in him go still. Not fear. Not jealousy. Just pain you’re trying to swallow down quietly.
He watches you for the rest of the gathering, eyes flicking back whenever Sooha inches closer. You avoid looking at him, and that alone tells him more than any scent or heartbeat ever could.
When the coven finally disperses and Sooha gives up with a tight smile, Jungwon slips away in the opposite direction, searching.
He finds you in a dim back corridor, leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped around yourself, eyes fixed on the floor like you’re trying not to feel something too heavy.
He says your name softly, and the way you flinch makes his chest tighten.
He approaches slowly. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Talk to me.”
You force out a small laugh that sounds brittle. “It’s nothing. Really.”
But he hears the tremor in your voice. He feels the insecurity curling through your thoughts like fog. His expression softens, though his voice stays steady.
“Don’t hide from me,” he whispers. “Not this.”
Your eyes finally lift, and the vulnerability in them makes his breath catch. “Sooha’s just.. everything I’m not,” you say quietly. “She’s confident and beautiful and she talks to you like she belongs next to you. And I know it’s stupid, I know I shouldn’t care, I just–”
Your voice cracks.
“I felt small.”
Jungwon steps closer, but gently, giving you a chance to stop him. When you don’t, his hand lifts to your jaw, brushing along your skin with a touch soft enough it almost startles you.
“You’re not small,” he says, voice low. “You’re hurting. That’s not the same.”
You swallow hard, eyes stinging. “I just don’t compare.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, grounding himself in the feel of you, the warmth of your breath, the sound of your pulse settling under his.
“Sooha doesn’t matter to me,” he murmurs. “Not the way you’re imagining.”
You open your mouth to argue, but he stops you gently.
“She wants attention,” he says. “She wants status. She wants to be admired.”
He lifts your hand, pressing it to the center of his chest.
“But she doesn’t want me.”
Your breath catches. “And me?”
His eyes open, glowing faintly in the dark hallway.
“You’re the only reason I feel anything at all.”
Your heartbeat jumps beneath your own fingertips, pressed to his chest, and Jungwon smile, small, sincere, almost shy. The kind of smile he never shows anyone else.
“This,” he whispers, covering your hand with his own, “only reacts to one person. It’s not her.”
You let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t want to bother you with this.”
“You could never bother me,” he says, voice warm and certain. “But watching you doubt yourself?” His forehead brushes yours again, soft and intimate. “That’s what really gets to me.”
He slips his arms around you then, drawing you in so carefully it feels like he’s afraid you might break if he moves too fast. You melt against him, your body uncoiling as his hold becomes your anchor.
“If she ever makes you feel like that again,” Jungwon murmurs into your hair, “you come find me.”
“Why?” you whisper.
He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. His hands settle on your waist, firm and protective.
“Because you’re the one I watch,” he says softly.
“You’re the one I’m drawn to.”
“The one who actually gets under my skin.”
His thumb grazes your lower lip, his voice dropping to something barely audible.
“Sooha was never competition.”
His gaze flickers to your mouth, then back to your eyes.
“You,” he whispers, “are the only one who ever could be.”
NIKI :
It isn’t Sooha’s perfume, or her voice, or the way she positions herself right in his path as if it’s a coincidence. Those details have never been enough to pull his attention.
But you do.
He sees the moment something shifts inside you, a faint tightness in your shoulders, the slight hitch in your heartbeat, the way your arms fold across your body like you’re holding yourself together. It isn’t fear, or surprise. It’s a quiet, sinking kind of hurt, the one he recognizes instantly.
Sooha steps closer to him, smiling in that perfectly practiced way she uses on vampires. “Ni‑ki, you looked incredible during training today. Your form was–”
He doesn’t register a single word after your heartbeat stumbles.
His gaze is already locked on you.
You’re standing near the edge of the training mat, eyes fixed on the floor. You’re not trying to get his attention, you’re trying very hard not to be seen, and that’s exactly what makes him move.
He turns away from Sooha mid‑sentence.
She stops, surprised, but he doesn’t spare her a glance. He walks toward you with quiet, measured steps, slipping through the room as if no one else exists.
You jump when he appears beside you. That tiny flinch makes something go tight inside him, but he keeps his voice calm and steady.
“Hey,” he says, leaning slightly forward. “Can you look at me?”
You try. Your eyes flicker up for a second, then drop back to the floor.
He steps closer, not crowding you, just gently blocking out the rest of the room, giving you privacy in the middle of a crowd.
“What happened?” he asks quietly.
“I’m fine,” you say, but the words don’t match the soft shake in your voice.
Ni‑ki studies you, taking in the way your breathing shifts, the way you won’t lift your head. “You’re not,” he murmurs. “I feel it.”
Your fingers tighten around your arms. “Sooha’s just a lot. She’s confident. She’s pretty. She talks to you like she has a chance. And I know I shouldn’t care, but…”
You swallow, and the softness of the next words nearly undoes him: “I don’t exactly compare.”
Ni‑ki goes still.
Not in a dramatic, dangerous way, more like someone quietly absorbing something that hurts in a place he didn’t know was vulnerable.
Then he steps in front of you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, far enough that you never feel trapped. His eyes search yours, and when he finally speaks, his voice is gentler than he intended.
“You think I notice her?”
A faint hesitation. “…kind of.”
He lets out a slow breath, almost like it hurts to hear. “Then you don’t understand me at all.”
His hand rises, stopping near your cheek. When you don’t pull away, his fingertips brush lightly along your skin, a careful, grounding touch rather than something dramatic.
“Sooha can talk to me every day,” he says quietly. “She can smile, flirt, try whatever she wants.”
His thumb wipes a tear you didn’t realize had escaped.
“But she doesn’t get my attention. Not really.”
He takes your hand then, guiding it to his chest. His heartbeat kicks beneath your palm, steady and strong, like he’s letting you listen to something he doesn’t show anyone.
“This is what you change,” he whispers. “No one else.”
Your breath catches, and his eyes soften even more.
“I feel it when you doubt yourself,” he continues. “I feel it when something makes you shrink. I feel it when you think someone like her could ever matter to me.”
His forehead drops gently against yours, his voice lowering with sincerity instead of intensity.
Then he wraps his arms around you, slowly, like he’s giving you time to step away if you want. You don’t. You melt against him, and his hold tightens, protective and sure.
Against his chest, with his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, the truth settles in: Sooha never stood a chance. But you? You’re the one he orbits without even realizing it.
Sungho always had something to say, a smirk, a joke, a tease. But the second you stepped into the room, everything in him stalled.
You were busy adjusting a bracelet, not even looking at him yet, but Sungho saw everything: the way the light skimmed your outfit, the confidence in your posture, the soft curve of your smile.
His usual grin never showed. Instead, he let out a quiet, stunned, “Wow.”
You finally looked up, and the shift in his expression was obvious, surprise melting into something warm, soft, and way too genuine for him to hide.
“…You’re seriously showing up like that? With me?” he said, voice lower than usual, like he couldn’t quite catch his breath.
Your laugh made him blink again.
He crossed the room in a few slow steps, hand settling at your waist with a gentleness he rarely used. He leaned in, breath brushing your cheek.
“You look insane,” he murmured, awe disguised as teasing. “I’m actually mad you didn’t warn me.”
You smirked. “Would you have dressed up?”
He huffed a soft laugh. “Obviously. I need to keep up.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you again, really look, and a small, stunned smile tugged at his lips.
“…Yeah,” he whispered, more to himself. “You’re too pretty.”
When he finally took your hand, he didn’t move right away. He just held it, thumb brushing your knuckles, letting himself take you in one more time.
And when you walked out together, he stayed a half-step behind, not shy, just wanting the view a moment longer.
Sungho, for once, had no joke ready.
Only a quiet, breathless: “…I’m in trouble.”
RIWOO :
Riwoo was sitting on the couch with his phone, half-distracted, half-lost in whatever he was scrolling through. You walked in quietly, not trying to make an entrance, just existing like you usually do.
But the moment he lifted his eyes, his whole body stilled.
His thumb froze on the screen.
His breath caught.
And for a long second, he just.. stared.
You weren’t posing. You were just smoothing your outfit, adjusting a necklace, completely unaware of the way he was looking at you, like he’d been hit with something he wasn’t prepared for.
Riwoo blinked slowly, his lashes dropping and lifting like he needed a second to process it.
“…Wow,” he said softly, almost accidental, like it slipped out before he could think.
You looked over, smiling. “What?”
He sat up straighter, eyes following you like you’d become the only thing in the room worth focusing on.
“You look…” He exhaled, searching for the right word. “Really, really good.”
Not flirtatious. Not dramatic. Just honest in that gentle, Riwoo way that always hits harder than he means it to.
When you stepped closer, he rubbed the back of his neck, bashful, but unable to look away.
“I didn’t think you’d dress up,” he admitted quietly, a shy smile tugging at his mouth. “I mean… I’m glad you did.”
You teased, “You like it?”
His ears went a little red. “Yeah. A lot.”
He offered his hand, small, simple, but intentional, and when you took it, he held it more tightly than he usually does, thumb brushing your knuckles in a tiny, nervous motion he hoped you wouldn’t notice.
And as you two headed out the door, Riwoo walked beside you, not behind, not ahead, just close enough that your shoulders brushed every few steps.
Every now and then, he snuck a glance at you.
Every time, the same quiet whisper escaped him:
“…You look so pretty.”
JAEHYUN :
Jaehyun was halfway through tying his shoes when he heard you call his name.
He looked up with that usual bright grin, and then his face just stopped. Completely froze.
You stepped into the doorway, adjusting the hem of your outfit, barely even looking at him yet. But Jaehyun was already staring like you’d just walked out of a movie scene.
His mouth fell open just a little, eyes going huge.
“Oh my god,” he blurted, louder than he meant to.
You laughed. “What?”
He scrambled to his feet so fast he almost tripped over the shoelaces he hadn’t finished tying.
“No, wait– wait– hold on–” He circled you once, actually circled you, in total awe. “You look.. you look amazing.”
You arched a brow. “Amazing?”
He ran a hand through his hair, stunned in the most Jaehyun way, wide-eyed, glowing, desperately trying to think of a better word.
“Like– like stop-the-world, break-my-brain amazing,” he said, hands dramatically flying up before he caught himself. His voice dropped, softer, real. “You look really pretty.”
You stepped closer and he blinked rapidly, cheeks warming.
“Are you doing this to kill me?” he asked, half joking but fully serious.
“Is it working?” you teased.
“Yes,” he said immediately.
He grabbed your hand without thinking, swinging it lightly, that jittery excitement he couldn’t hide. And the whole walk to the door, he kept glancing over at you every few seconds, smiling like he’d forgotten how not to.
And right before you stepped outside, he murmured, almost shy for once: “..I’m the luckiest person alive.”
TAESAN :
Taesan heard your footsteps before he saw you, but he didn’t look up right away. He was fiddling with something, adjusting his rings, checking something on the table, just being himself.
Then you stepped into his line of sight.
He froze. Not dramatically. Not wide-eyed. Just this tiny, stunned pause, like someone had unplugged him for half a second.
His gaze lifted slowly, drifting over you in one long, steady sweep he couldn’t stop even if he tried.
His fingers went still.
His breath hitched so quietly you might’ve missed it.
“…Oh,” he whispered, almost to himself.
You smiled. “Oh?”
He swallowed, eyes flicking away for a moment like he needed to recover. When he finally looked back at you, his ears were already turning pink.
“You look…” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “Really pretty.”
It came out soft. Bare, honest. The kind of compliment he didn’t give unless he meant it entirely.
You took a step closer and Taesan instinctively stepped back, not because he didn’t want you near, but because he was that flustered.
Then, realizing how it looked, he rubbed the back of his neck and let out a breathy little laugh.
“Sorry. You just caught me off guard.”
You teased, “In a good way?”
His eyes softened immediately.
“In the best way,” he said quietly.
When you reached for his hand, he hesitated only a second before letting his fingers lace with yours. His palm was warm, his grip gentle but certain.
On the way out, he stayed beside you but kept sneaking glances, each one followed by him biting back a shy smile he couldn’t hide.
LEEHAN :
You stepped into the hallway, ready to go, expecting maybe a polite nod from Leehan at best. He was calm, composed, scrolling through something on his phone like always.
Then he looked up, and everything about him paused. Not frozen, just still.
He blinked once, slowly, phone lowering in his hand.
“…That’s new,” he said quietly.
You frowned. “What is?”
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes moved from your shoes to your neckline to your face, not in a flustered way, more like he was trying to understand what changed and why it knocked the air out of him.
Finally, he cleared his throat, voice steady but softer than usual. “You look.. different. In a good way.”
You joked, “So not normally good?”
That earned the smallest huff of laughter. “No. You always look nice.”
A beat.
“But this is.. something else.”
He stepped closer, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve like he needed his hands to be busy. When he stopped in front of you, his posture shifted, shoulders a little straighter, chin slightly raised.
“Turn around,” he said simply.
You blinked. “What? Why?”
“Just turn.”
You did, half amused, and he gave a barely audible hum, like he was genuinely assessing your outfit. When you faced him again, his expression had softened in that soft way that made it almost feel intimate.
“..Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes steadily. “It suits you. A lot.”
There was no smirk, no fluster, no dramatics, just sincerity wrapped in calm.
When you started walking toward the door, he stayed beside you, then gently guided you forward with a hand at the small of your back. A subtle gesture, but protective in a way he rarely let himself show.
Right before stepping out, you caught him looking at you again.
He didn’t look away.
He just said, almost like an afterthought but really not at all: “You look beautiful.”
Then, as if he hadn’t just knocked the wind out of you, he added in his usual calm voice: “Let’s go. We’ll be late.”
WOONHAK :
You walked out wearing something a lot nicer than usual, clean, sharp, definitely intentional.
Woonhak didn’t notice at first.
He was busy fighting with the zipper of his jacket, mumbling to himself like it personally wronged him.
Then he looked up.
And he immediately dropped the jacket.
“W– HEY. Hold on.”
He pointed at you like you’d done something illegal.
“Why do you look like THAT?”
You blinked. “Like what?”
He took three fast steps toward you, eyes huge, mouth hanging open.
“No, seriously, what’s going on? Why are you– you look– you look like you’re going to accept an award or something!”
You laughed, and he threw his hands up dramatically.
“It’s not funny! You didn’t tell me you were gonna look THIS good. I would’ve–”
He glanced down at his hoodie. “–I would’ve worn literally anything else.”
You told him he looked fine.
He stared at you.
“..Don’t lie. I look like your younger cousin who got dragged along. You look like you’re about to walk a red carpet.”
You rolled your eyes, but he wasn’t done.
He circled you once, not suave or slow, more like a curious puppy assessing a new toy.
Then he stopped in front of you, suddenly quiet. “Okay but.. seriously?”
His voice dropped, all the chaos softening into sincerity. “You look really pretty.”
You nudged him. “So it’s okay?”
“Okay?” He scoffed. “I’m telling everyone I came here with you.”
On the way out, he jogged ahead, then spun around to look at you again.
“No, because who gave you the right?”
He put a hand over his chest.
“My HEART wasn’t prepared.”
You pushed his shoulder, laughing, and he grinned like he’d been waiting for that moment all day.
At first, he’d kinda tease you lightly about being quiet, but it’s never mean ‼️more like his way of coaxing you out of your shell. When you blush or look down, he can’t help but grin, charmed by your shy habits.
K has this natural confidence that balances out your shyness. In group settings, he never forces you to speak. Still, if someone accidentally talks over you, he’ll smoothly redirect attention back: “Hold on, she was saying something,” with a soft glance your way that encourages you without pressure.
He notices your subtle cues, like fidgeting with your sleeves or avoiding eye contact when you’re nervous. Without words, he’ll slide his hand into yours or place his palm on your back, grounding you. It’s his way of saying, I’ve got you.
In private, you’re a little less shy, and he treasures that side of you. He’ll say things like, “I love this version of you,” when you’re laughing or rambling, because he knows how rare it is for you to open up completely.
K loves introducing you to new experiences but always checks in first. If you look overwhelmed, he’ll lean down and murmur, “Do you wanna go?”, ready to drop everything if you nod.
He finds it ridiculously cute when you get shy about PDA. He’ll deliberately brush his fingers against yours or lean in too close just to see the way you hide your face.
But he also takes your shyness seriously. If you’re ever upset because someone mistook your quietness for being cold, he’ll defend you instantly, making it clear that he admires your softness.
Secretly, he loves being the one who pulls you out of your shell. When you’re shy around others but open with him, it makes him feel like he’s earned something special, your trust, your true self.
FUMA :
Fuma instantly notices your shyness, but instead of teasing (like K), he instinctively adjusts his energy to make you comfortable. His voice gets softer, his movements slower, as if to say, take your time, I’ll meet you where you are.
He never rushes you to speak in group settings. If people are chatting over each other and you get drowned out, he subtly steps in, not in a loud way, but with a steady presence. I kinda see him smoothly directing the conversation to you when he knows you want to say something: “Oh wait that? Weren't you just talking about that the other day, y/n?”
He’s very observant of your body language. If your hands tighten around your bag or you glance at him when someone addresses you, he’ll jump in seamlessly, answering for you without making it obvious that you were nervous.
Fuma’s favorite thing is watching you slowly open up around him. The first time you get excited enough to ramble without overthinking, his whole face lights up. He’ll lean back, smile softly, and just watch you with so much love.
He’s gentle with PDA. He knows being shy means you might get self-conscious, so he won’t grab you dramatically in public. Instead, it’s little things: brushing hair from your face, resting his palm against your back, holding your hand under the table.
But if you’re alone, he melts. He’ll cup your face and kiss your forehead just to watch you go pink, chuckling softly. “You’re too cute when you get all shy like this,” he’ll murmur, voice low and affectionate.
He’s the type to encourage you without pushing. If you’re nervous about meeting new people, he’ll say, “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want. Just stand with me.” That safety net makes you brave enough to try.
Deep down, he loves being your safe place. The quiet trust you give him feels like the most intimate thing. He’d never trade it for a louder, flashier kind of love.
NICHOLAS :
Nicholas wouldn't really comment on your shyness, he’d act like he doesn't even notice it. He doesn't think of you any less if you stutter over words, and he won't treat you any differently.
BUT!! when you two get closer he definitely will start finding your shyness endearing. He'd be playful, teasing you about it, but only when you’re comfortable.
That being said, he has a sharp protective side. If anyone mistakes your quietness for rudeness or tries to push you too hard, he gets serious fast. His jaw tightens, and he’ll step in with a firm, “She doesn’t have to explain herself to you.”
He lowkey becomes your spokesperson in group settings. If you’re too shy to order food at a restaurant, he’ll casually do it for you, no questions asked, like it’s second nature.
But he’ll also encourage you, “C’mon, just try saying it this time. I’ll back you up.” And when you do, he looks at you like you just conquered the world. If you're unable to, he'll give you a kiss on the back of your hand. “I’m proud of you for even considering it.”
Nicholas is affectionate in a way that helps ground you. He’ll rest a hand on your thigh or hook his pinky with yours when he feels you getting anxious, silently reminding you he’s there.
And when you finally open up around him, rambling or laughing without holding back, he just stares at you like he’s memorizing every second.“I feel so lucky I get to see this version of you,” he’ll admit quietly, pulling you close.
EJ :
Euijoo is so soft with your shyness. He never rushes you, never makes you feel bad for not being the loudest in the room. If anything, he finds it calming, like your quiet balances out the chaos he deals with as leader.
He notices the little things, how your hand fidgets when you’re nervous, how your shoulders tense when too many people are watching. Without a word, he’ll reach for your hand, rub his thumb across your knuckles, and suddenly the tension melts.
In public, he’s very subtle about protecting you. He’ll guide you through a crowd with his hand on your back, step slightly in front of you if he senses you’re uncomfortable, or start a conversation so you don’t feel pressured to speak.
He never minds being your “translator.” If a waiter asks you a question and you freeze up, Euijoo smoothly answers for you, without drawing attention to the fact that you were shy about it.
But he also gently encourages you (like Nicho). If he knows you want to speak up but just feel nervous, he’ll whisper, “You’ve got this,” or squeeze your hand under the table. When you do manage it, he looks so proud it makes your chest ache.
He thrives on your quiet affection. You don’t need big words. When you quietly bring him water while he’s working late, or curl up next to him without saying much, it makes him feel so loved he could burst.
Your shyness doesn’t make him think you’re fragile; it just makes him want to be the safe place where you don’t have to be shy at all. Around him, he wants you to feel free, unjudged, and adored.
And when you finally do ramble or laugh loudly in front of him, he freezes for a second, then smiles so wide, dimples deep, eyes shining.
YUMA :
Yuma notices your shyness instantly, but not in a “you’re quiet” way, but in a “you think too much before you speak” way. And it makes him so soft for you.
He becomes your personal hype team without even trying. If you say something quietly in a group, he’ll naturally echo it louder to make sure everyone heard you. (kinda like what he does with jo </3)
He loves getting you to laugh. If he sees you getting overwhelmed or retreating into yourself, he’ll lean down and whisper something ridiculous just for you, not loud, not attention-seeking, just to pull a smile out of you.
He has this instinct to stand slightly closer to you in crowded or unfamiliar places. Not clingy (well…), not obvious, just enough that you always feel grounded by his presence.
He gets lowkey obsessed with your little signals. The way you tug on your sleeve when you’re uncomfortable? The way your eyes widen a tiny bit before you talk? He reads them like a book and adjusts before you even ask.
But he never forces you to talk. Yuma is loud, funny, expressive, but he respects quiet more than people expect. If someone tries to make you speak when you clearly don’t want to, he’ll smoothly step in, answering for you without making it seem like you “can’t.”
Around the boys, he gets very “mine” in the sweetest way. If they try to tease you about being quiet, Yuma instantly shoots them a look like, hey, not her, then ruffles your hair with this protective affection.
In private, he’s the type to flop next to you and say dramatically, “I used up all my talking for the day. Your turn.” And when you mumble a tiny, “No…” he just laughs and tucks himself against you like you’re the softest pillow on earth (he's so cuteI'm gonnaeat him whole).
He loves when you initiate things in your own quiet way, slipping your hand into his, leaning your head on his shoulder, whispering his name gently. It hits him harder than grand gestures.
And whenever you think you’ve embarrassed yourself socially, he’s immediately reassuring: “Hey, you did great. And even if you didn’t, I still like you. A lot.”
Your shyness doesn’t make him want to change you, it makes him want to be the person who makes you feel brave enough to un-hide, even if it’s only with him.
JO :
Jo doesn’t just understand your shyness, he relates to it on a soul-deep level. He notices the way you retreat into quiet when things get overwhelming, and it makes him feel close to you immediately.
He picks up on your small cues better than anyone else. The way you shift your weight, glance at the exit, or fidget with your sleeves, Jo reads those like they’re actual words. especially since he's the same way.
He never pressures you to speak or socialize. If you stand beside him silently while the others talk, he considers that perfect. You don’t have to perform with him.
Around the members, he becomes subtly protective of your comfort. If someone asks you a question and you freeze a little, Jo answers naturally, smoothly, like it was directed at him. Not talking over you, just stepping in so you don’t feel cornered.
It’s the trope of introvert x introvert, and one of them becomes the extrovert just for the other. You and Jo can take turns being each other's extrovert <3.
He always checks in with a quiet, “You okay?” just for you, in a voice softer than the one he uses with anyone else.
People think he’s calmly zoning out in group situations, but he’s actually keeping track of you. Making sure you’re not overwhelmed, cold, or stuck in a conversation you don’t want.
He absolutely adores it when you do speak, though, even small comments. His eyes flick toward you instantly, and he gives you this soft smile like he’s genuinely honored you said something.
He matches your pace naturally. If you walk slow because you’re nervous, he slows down with you. If you talk quietly, he speaks quietly back. If you get shy in public, he subtly shifts closer so you can lean into him.
Affection is quiet but meaningful. He’s the type to slip his hand into yours under the table or let your shoulder lean against his while you two sit in silence.
When you express insecurity about being quiet or “boring,” he looks at you like you said the strangest thing. “I like you like that,” he says simply. “Really.”
And he means it, he loves the tiny, gentle ways you show affection, brushing his sleeve as you walk, peeking at him then looking away, whispering things only he can hear. Those soft gestures hit him harder than anything big.
He’s the king of subtle protection. Someone talks over you? He politely redirects. Someone teases you? He gives them a look that shuts it down.
The trust between you grows in silence. Late-night walks, shared headphones, sitting beside each other without talking, Jo thrives in those moments.
And when you initiate something, a quiet “Jo,” reaching for him, or leaning into his side, it makes his entire chest go warm. He cherishes it because he knows it took courage.
HARUA :
Kinda like Jo, Harua notices your shyness not in a judgmental way, but in that gentle, careful way he sees everything. He can be quiet himself, so he naturally falls into step with you.
He never forces conversation. If you’re standing beside him silently, he just smiles softly and stays there with you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
When you’re in a group, Harua is your safe zone. He doesn’t pull you toward the spotlight; he makes himself the quiet corner you can tuck into.
If people talk over you or ask too many questions, Harua steps in with calm, easy comments to take the pressure off. “She’s a little shy,” he’ll say with a small smile. “It’s okay.” (Never patronizing, just gently protective.)
He adjusts to you without making you feel like a burden. If you slow down while walking, he slows too. If a room is too loud, he suggests stepping out for some fresh air, like he was the one who needed it, not you.
He gets this soft, proud look when you finally say something in a group. Not dramatic, not drawing attention, just a tiny spark in his eyes, like there you are.
When you’re overwhelmed, he guides you through it wordlessly: a warm palm at your back, a quiet “It’s okay,” or just standing beside you so you feel grounded.
Harua melts for your small signs of affection, grabbing his sleeve, leaning your head on his shoulder, whispering something only for him. Those things mean the world to him.
He’s so patient. If it takes you a while to warm up to someone or speak up, he never comments on it. He would rather wait quietly than push you before you’re ready. (I’m a firm believer that Harua loves so softly)
He compliments you in ways that don’t make you freeze up. “You look pretty,” he says softly, almost to himself, like he can’t help it.
When you’re nervous around strangers, Harua stays a little closer than usual. Not crowding you, just making sure you feel safe.
He’s very good at turning uncomfortable moments into something light. If someone asks you something and you blank out, he’ll chuckle softly and answer with you or for you, keeping the mood easy.
He secretly finds your shy habits adorable, the way you hide your face in his jacket, the hesitant way you hold his hand, the small smiles you reserve only for him.
And he always reassures you without making it a big deal. “You don’t have to talk a lot,” he murmurs when you worry about it. “I like being quiet with you.”
Being with you feels peaceful to him, like a shared silence that speaks louder than words ever could.
TAKI :
Taki adores your shyness in the softest, most genuine way. He doesn’t tease you for it, he treats it like something precious he wants to protect. (he's the sweetest boy to ever exist)
He’s energetic, yes, but around you? He tones it down naturally. Still bright, still smiley, but softer at the edges so you don’t feel overwhelmed.
When you get too quiet in a group, he’s the one who fills the space without drawing attention to you. He’ll start talking animatedly so no one notices you’ve gone silent.
And if someone tries to drag you into a big conversation, Taki smooths it over instantly: “She’s a bit shy! I’ll explain,” he laughs, light and disarming. You always feel relieved, never exposed.
He does this cute thing where he checks on you with small glances, bright-eyed and warm, like he’s making sure you’re okay without needing to ask. (he's like a puppy, what can I say)
Physical reassurance is his favorite way to comfort you. A gentle nudge of his shoulder, his pinky hooking yours, his hand lightly brushing yours as if offering, You can hold it if you want.
When you actually do hold his hand in public? He practically lights up. He tries to act normal, but the tips of his ears turn red every time.
He’s your biggest cheerleader in the softest way. “You spoke really clearly today,” he’ll say with that proud little grin. Or, “I know that took courage. I’m really proud of you.”
If you hide behind him when you’re flustered, he giggles. Like, tiny giggles. He thinks you’re adorable.
He loves when you whisper things to him instead of saying them out loud, it makes him feel trusted and special.
He really cherishes your softer affection. The shy compliments, the hesitant hugs, the way you lean into him when you’re tired, all of it goes straight to his heart.
When you worry about being too quiet, too reserved, or too hard to read, he shakes his head immediately. “I like that about you,” he says simply. “You don’t have to be loud for me to understand you.”
And when you’re overwhelmed, he’s the first to whisk you somewhere calmer, a balcony, an empty hallway, outside for fresh air. “Here,” he’ll murmur, offering his hand again. “Just breathe. I’m with you.”
To him, your shyness doesn’t make you small, it makes your affection feel rare and special. Every shy smile, every soft word, every gentle touch feels like something only he gets to see. (changing my username to takilover18297_)
MAKI :
Maki is incredibly observant. Before you ever tell him you’re shy, he already knows, not in a teasing way, but in that quiet, considerate way he has of reading people.
He adjusts to you so naturally it doesn’t even feel like he’s doing anything. His tone softens, his gestures slow down, and he makes sure you never feel rushed to speak or act.
He’s patient. Always. If you need a moment to answer, he waits without filling the silence or pressuring you. It’s one of the things that makes you relax around him so quickly.
He tends to stand a little closer when you’re in crowded or unfamiliar places, never smothering, just quietly protective. A subtle “I’m here if you need me.”
Maki is the king of small, grounding touches. The brush of his knuckles against your arm, his hand lightly resting on your back, his pinky hooking yours when you look uneasy. Nothing showy, just presence.
He’s also surprisingly good at running interference. If someone asks you too many questions or tries to put you on the spot, he jumps in smoothly: “Actually–” and answers for you without making it obvious he’s doing damage control.
He loves your quiet humor. When you mumble a tiny joke only he hears, he laughs like you told the funniest thing in the world.
He’s gentle, but he’s also honest. If you tell him you feel insecure for being shy, he doesn’t immediately throw compliments, he gives thoughtful reassurance. “You don’t have to be loud for people to like you. I like the way you are.”
Maki adores when you get brave in small bursts: taking his hand first, speaking up in a group once, leaning your head on his shoulder. He never makes a big deal out of it, but later he’ll murmur, “You did great today,” like he’d been waiting for the right moment to say it.
He appreciates how soft your affection is. The shy smiles, the tentative kisses, the way you tuck your face into his hoodie when you’re flustered, he thinks it’s adorable. But he never says that word; he just looks at you with warm eyes that say it for him.
And the truth is, he feels lucky. Not because you’re shy, but because you open up for him. Because he gets the quiet side of you that no one else gets to see.
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