Bangchan
Chan really isn't the type to get mad he could never be mad at y/n but this time is way different...
y/n never wanted to make him mad. Tonight's a Friday night y/n just got home she started her period yesterday and would get very angry over stupid things chan kept messing with her and she broke "can you just stop!" she said obviously mad "stop what?" he said in a funny tone as he always does when messing with people. "Your being annoying!" she said realizing what she had said "you better watch what you say princess." he said his voice now low "Whatever!" she was about to storm on but she suddenly felt a firm but soft grip on her wrist. "Do you wanna be punished." he asked, his voice a husky, low-frequency hum as he finally said "Because I think you do." that's when he pulled her into a deep passionate kiss then finally breaks the kiss after a while and says "what's wrong? no words princess" He chuckles as he said it in a low husky tone.
Hyunjin
Y/n is in his shared studio, perhaps bringing him coffee grains (which he once used to experiment with painting) and an americano. Y/n trips, and a jar of deep indigo or black acrylic paint splashes directly across a delicate, almost-finished section of his latest work. That is when he walks in eyes widening at the soaked artwork "y/n what did you do!" he said, his tone carrying a raw, husky rasp that trembled with exhaustion. It was a wounded sound, heavy with the weight of eighteen hours of work vanishing in a single, indigo-stained second. "Goddamnit y/n!" he yelled, his voice raw and strained, echoing sharply off the concrete studio walls. The sound wasn't his usual melodic voice it was a guttural outburst of pure frustration, laced with the kind of immediate, searing anger that steals the breath right out of a room. Every syllable was delivered with a desperate, harsh force, a shock of sound that made her own heart jump into her throat. "I-i'm sorry hyunie, I didn't mean to," she whispered, her voice small and shaky.
Hyunjin let out a harsh, jagged breath, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he looked from y/n to the ruined indigo canvas. His chest was still heaving with leftover adrenaline. For a long, suffocating moment, he didn't move. Then, he closed his eyes tight, his head dropping as he let out a low, pained groan then looks at it realizing it looks actually pretty good and finally breaks the silence. "Wait... Y/N, don't move. Look at how the indigo bled into the center. It added a... a depth I couldn't have painted if I tried. It’s like it finally has a soul." He said his tone sweet and calm "You’ve got to be kidding me. I spent all night trying to make it look 'organic,' and you just... perfected it with a trip. God, it’s beautiful. It’s messy and perfect... just like you." that's when she looks and him and gets pulled into a warm embrace "God I don't know what I would do without you." he said chuckling and kissing her all over her face making her laugh
Seungmin
It is 2:00 AM in early 2026. Seungmin finally emerges from his studio, his frame slumped with exhaustion. The "sharp, clinical" anger from earlier has softened into a heavy, quiet sadness.
He finds her asleep on the sofa, clutching her phone as if she were waiting for a text that never came. On the coffee table sits a handwritten note she left: a list of every lyric and melody of his she could remember, painstakingly transcribed so he wouldn’t have to start from zero.
Seungmin stares at her messy handwriting. He realizes that while he was mourning the digital files, she was desperately trying to salvage his heart.
He sits on the edge of the cushion, the dip in the sofa waking her. She starts to apologize again, her voice thick with sleep, but he stops her by gently pressing his forehead against hers.
"I was too harsh," he whispers, his voice returning to that "sweet, honey-like" tone. He finally reaches out, his fingers "clinging" to the sleeve of her sweater. "I let my perfectionism get ahead of my person. I’m sorry I made you feel like she was less important than a few recordings."
He pulls her into a "long, tight hug," burying his face in her shoulder. The cold wall he built earlier has completely crumbled.
"The memos are gone," he murmurs against her skin, a small, weary smile finally touching his lips, "but I still have the muse. As long as your here, I can write them again. Just... let’s not touch the 'Delete' key tomorrow, okay?"
Changbin
Changbin’s usual "cheerful and active" energy vanishes when he discovers she hid a high fever just to stay with him during a late-night studio session. His anger isn't loud; it's a "dark," suffocating intensity.
"You lied to me," he says, his voice a low, raspy growl as he avoids her touch at the gym. His eyes are "sharp and intimidating," devoid of his usual playfulness. "I’m supposed to be the person you lean on, but you treated my support like a burden you had to perform for. If you don't trust me enough to be weak, what are we doing?"
He leaves her in a heavy silence, but two hours later, he returns to the apartment with his anger simmered down into "thoughtful worry." Seeing her clumsily making tea, he silently takes over, his large hands steady and "protective."
He places his favorite plushie in her lap and pushes a warm mug toward her. "I was only mad because I can’t protect you if you’re hiding from me," he murmurs, his "shiny eyes" finally softening. He pulls her into a "protective cuddle," his "husky" chuckle returning as he whispers, "I’d rather miss a hundred recordings than miss one day of you being healthy."
Leeknow
Lee Know’s usual "mischievous but warm" nature turns into a cold, clinical wall after he discovers she’s been skipping meals and sleep to afford an expensive gift for him.
"Take it back," he says, his voice a calm, biting edge as he refuses to even look at the box. His "cat-like eyes" are "sharp and unapologetic" as he maintains a "clinical detachment," stepping out of her reach. "I don’t want a gift bought with your health. It’s a debt I never signed up for. Until you care about yourself, we have nothing to talk about."
Hours later, the silence in the apartment shifts from "stinging" to "thoughtful" as he silently prepares a high-protein meal for her. He places the bowl down and sits close enough for their shoulders to touch—his silent peace offering.
"Eat," he commands, his voice softening into a "sweet but firm" tone. As she eats, he pulls her closer, resting his hand on the back of her neck. "I’m not mad about the money," he murmurs, his "serious and honest" nature resurfacing. "I’m mad you thought I’d value a thing more than you." He lets out a small, "mischievous" huff. "Do it again and I’m giving your next gift to the cats to shred."
Han
Han’s usual "energetic and talkative" personality vanishes into a heavy, uncharacteristic silence after she shares a deeply personal, unfinished demo he wrote for her with people who leaked it online.
"Why?" he asks, his voice low and "unapologetic," devoid of his usual quippy humor. He stares at his studio monitors with a "sharp and clinical" detachment. "That song was the only place I wasn't an idol—it was the only place I was just Jisung. If I can't trust you with my lyrics, I can't trust you with what's in my head."
Hours later, the "dark" cloud of his anger shifts into a "thoughtful and anxious" need for connection. He finds her on the balcony and pulls her into a "clinging" back-hug, burying his face in her shoulder.
"I hated every second of that silence," he murmurs, his voice returning to its "sweet, melodic" tone. He turns her around, his eyes now soft and vulnerable. "I'm sorry for shutting you out. I just need one thing in my life that isn't for the world to see. Let's keep the next one just for us, okay?"
HOPE YOU LIKE ITT
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